I'VE NEVER HAD works of art take so many photographs of me. Soon after entering Lynn Hershman Leeson’s recent show at the ZKM, I was met by Past Tense, 2014, a projection displaying a frantic succession of pictures of animals on the brink of extinction; the image collection was sourced by searching “endangered” on Flickr and was updated on a regular basis throughout the course of the exhibition. But these creatures were not the only things on display. My own picture, apparently taken moments ago by a smartphone on a pedestal as I was peering at the installation, was smuggled in at regular

Marie Lund’s exhibition “Flush” brought to mind a remark by Mark Rothko: “I don’t express myself in my paintings. I express my not-self.” Whom do we actually see in an artwork, if anyone at all? In Lund’s case, there seem to be some traces of the artist in her sculptures, such as those in her “Hand Full” series, 2014–, which are bronze casts of the interiors of her jeans pockets. But even though the source of these forms implies a physical proximity to the artist, they reveal nothing about her identity, only the spaces available in her pockets. The sculptural quality of the material and the