A FEW years ago a German artist called nearly killed me. It was at the press view of the Hayward Annual in 1986 and I was watching one of her sculptural automata (I forget the title) go through its motions. It was a peculiar sight: a sharp metal object, like a cross between an axehead and an arrow, at-tached to the lever of a pendulum. The arm of the pendulum would seem on the point of swinging down-wards but each time it would catch and descend just a few inches to halt, juddering, in space. I remember thinking that this was probably meant to be erotic, in a vague sort of way: a phallic machine frustrated by its limited capacity for movement. Appearances can be deceptive.

I stepped closer, and was inspecting Horn's sculpture from beneath when suddenly the pendulum did swing free and the sharp object attached to it crunched into the gallery wall, embedding itself there a few inches to the side of my head. Who says modern art has lost the power to shock? I remember the startled expression on the face of the gallery attendant. We did not speak. When I saw Horn's piece again later that day, it was continuing to gouge holes out of the gallery wall. By that time it had been roped off.

Horn has a little in common with the Sharon Stone character in the film Basic Instinct. She is an erotic aesthete of sorts, a designer of bizarre and often sexually charged mises-en-scene who likes to keep you guessing. What's under the bed? Is she planning to use that ice-pick? You never can tell. She once made a sculpture called The Chinese Fiancee, a hexagonal box whose doors closed when the spectator entered (they opened again after a minute or...

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