Bruce Nauman's mindf**k does exactly what the title promises. This exhibition is somewhere between a particularly seedy corner of the Hoerengracht and a playground of ephemerality. The show simultaneously evokes and conflates childhood nostalgia, adult sexual deviancy, and the rotting carcasses of inevitable death.

Dominating the room is what looks like a maypole of polyurethane corpses. Screaming greyhounds are dragged across the floor by their necks in a surreal orbit. Carousel (Stainless steel version) (1988) brings up vivid memories of fairground visits and childhood innocence, before contaminating them with these images of gambling, torture and death. It is grotesque, with one greyhound dragging its rear across the floor, relieving itself from the pain of a haemorrhoid.

This work is a carousel of torture, and the fact that it resembles a maypole further references traditional celebrations of fertility and sexual fecundity. The screaming greyhounds with expressions of vivid torment and apparent asphyxiation subvert this, transforming the fertility symbol into one of bestial sexuality and extreme sadistic pleasure. In the background is a disturbing, neon text that reads RUN FROM FEAR / FUN FROM REAR, from the work of the same title (1972). When viewed alongside the pained animals of Carousel, the sexual element of both pieces are emphasised.

The fairground atmosphere is heightened by the monotonous flashing of multicoloured lights emanating from the neighbouring work Good Boy, Bad Boy (1986-87). A wall-mounted sculpture of neon text, it will have you transfixed with its steady, unceasingly rhythmic meter, and its repetitive insistence that feels like indoctrination. The text is a compilation of quatrains, an extract of which reads "I'M A BAD BOY / HE'S A BAD BOY / WE ARE BAD BOYS / THIS IS BAD". The work is frighteningly manipulative, transforming all viewers into a nondescript mass with Nauman's poetic drone marching through their minds.

Meanwhile, Sex and Death/Double "69" (1985) brings you back into the disturbing recesses of an especially sordid red light district with its neon depiction of two couples in the "69" sexual position; two of the participants hang upside down from their feet, and the other two from their necks, reasserting their cadaverous appearance. It is even more disconcerting because of its resemblance to an advertisement, suggesting that this is something you, its audience, may well desire.

After squeezing through a narrow entrance in the centre of the gallery, you enter Nauman's final piece, Untitled (Helman Gallery Parallelogram) (1971), an empty room filled only with fluorescent green light. At first it is rather unremarkable, until you look around and are faced with the grim spectre of death upon the faces of your fellow visitors. The fluorescent green shows every flaw, every freckle, every rupture or scar that hides beneath layers of makeup and ambient lighting. If you feel disgusted or disturbed by this, be aware that your own skin lies exposed to those strangers also; they can see the decay of your face. This is the stark and disturbing realisation that will wash over you as you stand in what initially seemed like a harmless, empty room.

Nauman brilliantly manipulates his audience: you're left feeling uncomfortable, with a mind full of sex, death and the destruction of all innocence you thought you had.

Bruce Nauman / mindf**k, at Hauser & Wirth, Savile RowAshitha Nagesh reviews Bruce Nauman at Hauser & Wirth.5