DOWNTOWN

Perusing an exhibition of sculptural assemblage by Michael Farber is like falling into one of those arcade machines filled with tiny prizes, one of which is plucked up by a miniature crane and delivered to you on insertion of a quarter. Screeching with the shrill cheerfulness of a cheap carnival, Farber’s work basically boils down to this: The artist collects massive amounts of itsy-bitsy junk--plastic toys, snippets of text clipped from magazines, really, anything tiny will do--then glues them together with no apparent rhyme or reason.

The pieces evidence not the slightest trace of any system of visual order, and consequently, they’re capable of inducing a severe sense of anxiety in the viewer. You don’t know where to begin and where to leave off looking at these things, and should you try to impose a semblance of visual organization on Farber’s follies you’ll discover that it truly cannot be done. These things are out of control, pure and simple. The idea of the artist sitting around gluing this tiny stuff together for hours on end is a bit worrisome. (Cirrus, 542 S. Alameda St., to July 4.)