David Hall: End Piece, Ambika P3, London, review First impressions are always crucial - and the initial effect of David Hall's new solo exhibition doesn't disappoint. You hear it before you see it: an infernal cacophony created by more than a thousand television sets tuned to different channels inside the University of Westminster's Ambika P3 exhibition space on the Marylebone Road. In recent years, Ambika P3, a venue for contemporary art and architecture inside a cavernous hall once used to test concrete for Spaghetti Junction, has staged a number of visual coups - last year's poetical light sculptures by Anthony McCall were a case in point. The work of the British artist David Hall, who trained as a sculptor but pioneered video art during the Sixties and Seventies, continues in this vein. The babble emanates from the show-stopping central installation: 1,001 TV Sets (End Piece), a larger version of a work originally created in 1975. On a scaffold standing around 3ft off the ground, Hall has slung a thick net, upon which his plastic television sets rest. Each is tuned to one of five analogue channels still being broadcast from London's Crystal Palace until next month's digital switchover. On the day I visited, I saw several Sunday afternoon programmes vying with one another - EastEnders, The Simpsons, Murder She Wrote - as well as the fuzzy orange features of the Scottish broadcaster Andrew Neil. The TV sets cast fluorescence into the gloom like the twinkle of a thousand skyscraper apartments softening the night. A thick electrical cable emerges from each one, snaking upwards towards a hook, where it gets bundled together with all the others, forming a kind of gigantic spinal cord pulsating with artificial intelligence. The whole piece has a distinctly sci-fi feel, like a set for Ridley Scott's movies Alien or Blade Runner. Compared with plasma-screen TVs or touch-screen tablet computers, Hall's cathode-ray-tube television sets look ugly, boxy and old-fashioned. What in 1975 must have been a dynamic portrait of the channel-hopping modern world now appears like a mausoleum for obsolete technology. A vision of the future has become an elegy for the past. It will be especially eerie to visit Ambika P3 on April 18, when analogue transmissions in London cease for good, and the pictures on all 1,001 TV sets suddenly become white noise. That may well come as a relief: as it is, Hall has created a contemporary equivalent of a circle in Dante's Hell, with torment provided by the ceaseless chatter of our media age. Until April 22.