Amikam Toren’s one-week solo show in East London was the best exhibition of contemporary art I saw in England, the least precious, the least “professional,” and the most compelling. Toren’s installation here involved two kinds of elements, processed on the premises: boxes on the wall and chairs on the floor. The boxes were laconic musings on mediation—each was the advertising-coated cardboard carton of a different-model color TV. Toren had sealed off the “front” end of each box by stretching canvas across it, stapling the canvas to its sides. On each canvas he made an image of the interior of

As part of a challenge to the ontological status of sculpture, three British artists of the same generation were drawn to travel. Though motion, impermanence, and elementary narrative attracted them, it defied their artistic means, and in this, perhaps, lay its enduring fascination. Almost 20 years later, Hamish Fulton indulges a Victorian taste for exotic landscapes, recorded in a spirit of deep melancholy. Richard Long walks in patterns as one element of an art that doubles and redoubles its phenomenological ramifications. David Tremlett wanders at random, often at the slightest pretext,