As its title suggests, “Plastic Mouthfeel II,” the latest exhibition from New Zealand artist Dan Arps, is a space full of viscous forms, loaded with colors and textures, that causes a constant sense of elastic deformation. Take, for example, Studio Units with Double Hamper (2015), a set of five white but unclean folding trestle tables, located at the center of the gallery, on top of and around which an uncustomary arrangement of disparate objects and detritus invites careful examination. Spread out on the tables and the surrounding floor—as the landscape of a work in progress, such as those found in art schools—are casts, brightly tinted pots, splashed paint, clay chunks, multicolored Abstract Expressionist sculptures, melted assemblages, boxes, and a pink polka-dot double hamper. Some pieces of the installation are particularly comical, such as a small, white, psychedelic sculpture of a piggy bank on a mushroom, and a readymade with a dragon figure carrying on its back a rolled-up dirty towel. But this thoughtful mess seems not meant for display or public consumption. While trying to scrutinize the content of a carton on the floor, one gets the uncanny sensation of poking around someone’s stuff. Evoking the spirit of a workshop …