Still, it sometimes makes you want to kick some YBA ass. But back to the Tate Modern. If it isn't altogether great, it's greatly successful. In the first six months, three million visitors have passed through its ludicrously large Turbine Hall entryway. Paradoxically, the galleries upstairs feel cramped.
Bottlenecks occur, walls are too thick and some art feels squeezed in.
The first show, drawn entirely from the museum's collection, is, well, problematic. On the other hand, many galleries work perfectly. Vilhelm Hammersh i. Elsewhere, maybe my favorite Picasso, the exquisite Weeping Woman from 1937, faces an outrageously sinuous reclining-nude sculpture by Henry Moore. Sam Taylor-Woods's mesmerizing Brontosaurus, a video of a naked man dancing.