This visiting show from the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis is a bit like channel surfing or mousing around YouTube. It’s all about display, concealment, and self-representation. There’s even a two-hour movie to watch, or movies, since there are 16 of them–all running simultaneously on an array of TV screens that intimately document the life and terminal cancer of artist Hannah Wilke. Tender domestic scenes and hospital visits are all scrambled together and overlapping; it’s impossible to grasp any chronology to the project (The Intra-Venus Tapes), made between 1990-93, the last three years of her life. If you fully commit, Wilke’s video diary becomes durational–32 hours of time in which she, or her digital residue, almost becomes a living presence. More ephemeral are those faces–of the living, not the dead–displayed in slide-projector succession by the artist Phil Collins. Random strangers from all over Europe took him up on his offer of free 35mm photo processing, with the caveat he could use their images in Free Fotolab. There are a lot of pictures of dogs, babies, meals, and vacations in the nine-minute carousel. It’s impossible not to look for patterns during the cycle–similarities of poses, pets, smiles, and households not so different from our own. What pattern does Collins see? Perhaps the common willingness to share these mundane snapshots, to relinquish their private moments to the scrutiny of museum-goers on the other side of the globe. The only thing missing from the exhibit is Chatroulette. BRIAN MILLER

Wednesdays, Saturdays, Sundays, 11 a.m.-4 p.m.; Thursdays, Fridays, 11 a.m.-9 p.m. Starts: May 7. Continues through Aug. 21, 2011