Substance, but no style

A couple of years ago, Munichborn, London-based artist Sophie von Hellermann was touted as one of the hottest artists around. So prominent was her star, she never seemed to be off those lists of funky young things to watch out for, and her cute blonde looks became almost as familiar as her slightly ditzy, thinly worked, Northern European-style paintings.

Was she worth the hype? Well, it's horses for courses in the artworld, and, though they seemed more Stuckist than Saatchi (by whom she was bought by the busload), I suppose if you look hard enough you might concede that there was something in those big, sloppy canvases in which cartoonish figures often played out some strange little drama: a gift for subtle colour and fluid forms, perhaps, an occasionally humorous take on a few art-historical antecedents.

But whatever it was that got the art pundits going seems harder to detect now; the hook by which we are drawn in her latest work - scenes inspired by the death of Warhol muse Nico in a 1988 bike accident - is more interesting than anything the artist actually delivers.

Perhaps knowing this, the press release darkly suggests that Nico's death was not straightforward. Various causes have been 'muted' (sic) over the years, it says. I'm afraid my initial enthusiasm will have to be muted, too.

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