Katherina Fritsch has opened at Tate Modern. Fables unleash all sorts of mischief. From a world of myth and imagination, figments are fixed in solid form and a ludicrous sort of sculptural reality begins to build.
Our nightmare of identity as being random as conception is confirmed when a trestle table unzips 32 identical brethren. Fritsch calls the bluff of THAT THING on the tendrils of fear itself: a ghost, a pool of blood; three figures here to save or ruin us. A huge black mouse sits over his human – drenched white in bed and pinned further by his tidy duvet. Here's the mortality of half a lifetime's withdrawal into the sleep of dreams!
• Tate Modern