Look at some of Roy McMakin’s furniture and you just know who made it. No nonsense chairs, plain but sturdy beds, comfortable armchairs covered in handwoven fabrics: the kind of furniture that could only have been lovingly manufactured far away from New York in a small bespoke workshop in Seattle by nice, plaid-shirted, clog-wearing crafts people. An exhibition at Garth Greenan Gallery wants you to hold your triple latte. What looks at first like a pleasant trip to a furniture showroom, quickly turns into a family outing to the fun house. While it is true that the objects are hand-crafted by the good people of Big Leaf Manufacturing in the Emerald City, McMakin slyly denies them their functional purpose. Try sitting on a chair with a glass back or open the non-existing drawers at that charming dresser or attempt to fit a mattress into a white bed-frame that appears to be too big and too small at the same time. How exactly are you supposed to eat on half a table? Sometimes, it’s hard to determine what the object is. Is a lamp, or a vase? Both or neither? This is precisely the disorienting place where McMakin wants you to be. Through a clever mix of honest design and the shrewd exploitation of pre-determined assumptions about domesticity, McMakin’s work dances on the precipice between when an object loses its functionality and moves into the cerebral realm of sculpture. Add some deadpan humour and everybody knows what he means by the sculpture “The Bed I Bought When I was a Teenager That was Later Put in the Creepy (maybe haunted) Room in my Parents Basement Where I had to Sleep until Mike Refused”. At Garth Greenan Gallery through February 16.