A sterile kind of love

There are many great artworks in this show; by Raphael, David Hockney, Tracey Emin, Tiepelo, and Rabindra and Amrit Singh among others. But its theme of 'Love' is selected in such a strange way that, even with these star works, it somehow lacks soul. There's tragedy, death, futility, fear, jealousy and romantic gloom, but little actual joy or erotic pleasure. Even the Marc Quinn sculpture of two naked disabled people embracing - which is a genius idea - seems passive and emotionally sterile. Thank goodness then for Yoko Ono, who asks visitors themselves to write about love, and stick the results on a canvas.