How to begin nailing a photographic oeuvre whose cast of characters ranges from Kate Moss (radiant in Alexander McQueen) to a brown rat (rapine in a gutter), whose still-life subjects flip from pink roses to a porky penis unleashed beside an airline breakfast, whose locations encompass antiwar demonstrations and tropical ponds? Check the manual, of course. If one thing matters, everything matters, the more than 2,400-image book that functions as—and generously exceeds the role of—an exhibition catalogue for Wolfgang Tillmans’s 301-photograph, two-video, seven-room monographic monster at Tate

Tal R has a distinctive way of explaining his paintings. “I constantly have this hot- pot boiling and I throw all kinds of material into it,” he told an interviewer some time ago. More recently: “I do painting a bit like people make a lunch box.” Add the fact that his London solo debut—comprising thirteen bright and unruly mixed-media works, four embroidered cloth banners, and an installation of thirty-two drawings—was titled “Lords of Kolbojnik” (the latter word being kibbutz slang for the rubbish left over after a heavy meal), and it’s hard not to wonder, sometimes, whether the Israeli-born,

Art critics and cultural theorists looking for a potentially infinitely expandable metaphor might do worse than plump for “ventriloquism.” A quick trawl through motif is almost universally adaptable, signaling (among other things, and in no particular order): the death of the author, the artwork in process, problems of free will and determination, the workings of ideology, Cartesian dualism, the failings of Western idealism, cyborg identity, and practically every psychoanalytic model of individual or collective subject formation one might care to dredge up. But as far as art practice goes, just

Art is most likely to touch on something real just at the point where it doesn’t look like other art, and Jeffrey Dennis’s keeps looking less and less like anybody’s but his own. In the past, Dennis has attached three-dimensional objects to his paintings or simply done the paintings on three-dimensional objects; situated them on the floor as well as on the wall; and done them on canvases shaped like TV screens or on seemingly irrational sequences of abutted rectangles that meander aimlessly across a wall. Here he sticks to the conventional wall-hung rectangle as well as to a single kind of