Something has been here before you - a malevolent, spooky, cheeky something with sharp claws and a sense of humour. In what was a decorous gallery space lies chaos: ripped-out shreds of plasterboard, still-steaming excremental piles of - oh, wood chip. Where once were pristine white walls, now are gaping holes revealing fuse boxes, dust.
There is method in this messy madness, or at least 'sculptural intervention' by artist Mike Nelson. Dedicated to creepy maverick HP Lovecraft, Nelson's going-over of the space does have a supernatural quality to it, not least because it looks freshly wrecked. Lacerations in the wall only go so high, and have been made with such force that this looks like beastly work, perhaps that of a deranged, trapped bear. If it's man-made, it's madman-made.
And yet it makes perfect sense, with the gallery about to close for major redevelopment. Once you know that this is a precursor to what the builders will be doing, the magic diminishes somewhat - but it's the first encounter that matters. It has the revolutionary vibe of blowing up the institution, destroying the Establishment, ruining the white cube of the gallery.
There is a powerful domestic atmosphere, too: you enter the space, two living room-sized rooms, through a small door. Windows to the street have been screened off, allowing privacy and dereliction to collide. Just as any domestic setting contains family memories, the walls of the Collective reveal, through gouging and scratches, traces of former artworks. Like Lovecraft's tales, or any good spooky film, the effect of Nelson's work relies on a hefty suspension of disbelief: an artist has simply smashed up a space, but it's fun to let your imagination run away with you. The power dwindles as you realise that to join in the wrecking would mean certain eviction, but for one mad, magic moment, this is definitely worth a look.
Elisabeth Mahoney Till 25 September. Details: 0131-220 1260.
