Like the deceptive composure of the earth’s crust, the surfaces of the images of British artist Jacob Robinson bely a molten, seething instability. “History” (oft a subject of Robinson) is similarly understood, as something like a concealing veneer of the moment. The wide breath given to each of his pieces with the composition of his site (and the sensible near solemnity of the typography) gives one the proper set and setting in which to view these monumental considerations.