I have been long convinced that the end of art is not only nigh, but also well behind us already. We are living through the post-art period that is unfolding at some clip. The circus into which it has descended is ever-more hilarious, too. And it is here that Tate Modern provides a valuable service: it offers a one-stop spectacle of post-art. This is far from a mean service, I hasten to add. Whatever monstrosity appears at the Tate, it is sure to be replicated in some form or another around the world with a time lag roughly proportional to the distance from the vaunted power plant of old. If anything else, a post-art aficionado can save quite a bit of travel money by visiting Tate Modern regularly. For this reason alone it deserves nothing but praise.