But “Rubble Without a Cause,” a pile of concrete, dirt, and broken pottery, feels like wordplay forced into flesh, and “Cassandra,” featuring a neoclassical marble statue strapped with shopping bags filled with Diaz’s signs, precariously positions the artist as a cursed prophet – a bit of egotism he would have better steered clear of.

These days, art institutions welcome critique. Even as Diaz entertainingly flouts museum custom with cheesy gimmicks and a decidedly satiric aesthetic, he does it all under the patronage of the museum – which kind of takes the sting out of it. What fun is needling a subject who benignly nods, and even foots the bill?