Frieze London diary: the yolk's on Sarah Lucas, the (sort of) masked drummer, and Marc Spiegler gets on his bike

Tate show is a (brief) stinker

There was much talk on the opening morning of the way in which Mire Lee’s Open Wound permeated Tate Modern’s cavernous Turbine Hall with a spirit of dystopian decay. However, the pungent and decidedly putrid smell that was queasily interpreted by visitors as a brave move by the artist and gallery turned out to be not a bold curatorial decision but the result of Tate’s drains backing up because of heavy rainfall. By the evening private view, though, full fragrance had been restored.