Her incendiary collages of vintage black pinups made her one of the most influential artists of her time. Now she’s battling the ‘insanity’ of Trump’s America

Lorna Simpson is holed up in Los Angeles with her actor daughter right now. She’s been spending lockdown doing one of her favourite things: reflecting on how people present themselves when out in public. All this people-watching has put her in mind of the 1990s, when she would go wig-hunting in Fulton Mall, a blue-collar shopping centre near her home in New York.

“Shop after shop sold all sorts of wigs,” says the 59-year-old. “Human hair, yak hair, synthetic hair.” Simpson bought as many as she could, in every style she saw: from platinum-blonde “Lana Turner” wigs to fake afros and braids. She transferred photographs of each one on to panels of felt before hanging them alongside such seemingly disconnected phrases as: “First impressions are the most lasting.” The wigs were a “surrogate”, she says, a way to explore “the person we see ourselves to be”.

Just as the Caucasian figure in contemporary art is seen as universal, the black figure of African descent should be too

Any society, or self, constructed to always separate itself from the other is doomed

Lorna Simpson: Give Me Some Moments is at Hauser & Wirth’s website

Joseph Gilgun and ne’er-do-well pals are back – and planning to rob a circus. Plus: is change afoot in Devs? Here’s what to watch this evening

A teenager bonds awkwardly with her cousin as they take the bus from a rural community to New York so that she can have a termination

The four words in this title are the four possible replies to bureaucratic tick-box questions about the frequency of your various sexual experiences. A young woman here must answer them, before she is allowed to have an abortion. However rigid and blandly routine it seems, the four-part answer grid is cleverly designed to get information about vulnerability: it is so easy instinctively and evasively to deny a difficult question structured as a yes/no, but much harder to check the “never” box, when “rarely”, “sometimes” and “always” are coolly offered as equivalently non-judgmental options.

The lead character in Eliza Hittman’s tough, realist drama is confronted with this central, four-part inquisition about her life in one brilliantly controlled, enigmatic scene. Theoretically, it is just a bit of form-filling that doesn’t appear to promise any real revelation to the audience. Yet it does just that, delivering a penny-drop moment of realisation. Or perhaps it’s more of an ambiguous hint and all the more disquieting for that.

Related: Sleazy bosses, exploited barmaids: US cinema finally discovers the left behinds

For his latest drama, Corneliu Porumboiu revived a language unique to the valleys of La Gomera in the Canary Islands; a steep learning curve for his actors – and our writer

Try to imagine the least film-noir scene possible and you might come up with a group of five-year-olds learning to whistle. It is late morning, pre-lockdown, in a classroom at Nereida Díaz Abreu school on La Gomera in the Canary Islands, and the teacher – a bent knuckle crammed in his mouth – is relaying instructions in a piercing, swooping, set of whistles. The kids look quizzically skywards, then collapse in hysterics, although most eventually nail it.

“Touch your left ear with your right hand,” the teacher reiterates in Spanish.

Related: The Whistlers (La Gomera) review – thrilling Romanian corrupt-cop noir

We say to the kids: when you go to Tenerife and say you’re from La Gomera, people will ask you if you can whistle

From cycling soundtracks to anti-nuclear protest music, we celebrate the work of the late Florian Schneider and the groundbreaking group he co-founded

Kraftwerk’s first new and original music since 1986, this single started as a commissioned jingle for the Hanover Expo 2000 world’s fair, but returned Ralf Hütter and Florian Schneider to the UK Top 30. The trademark mix of subtle techno grooves and melody find them – of course – peering into the 21st century.

Her freaky, filthy tracks frequently break the internet – most recently with a guest spot from Beyoncé – but the Houston rapper won’t let the internet break her

• ‘We do what we want, for ourselves’: why it’s a golden age for women in rap

Given that her lyrical prowess has made her one of the hottest rappers in the US, it’s hardly surprising that Megan Thee Stallion is good at anecdotes. We’re talking over Zoom – Megan looking impeccably high-glam, worthy of a Real Housewives reunion – as she regales me with how she ended up recording a remix with her idol.

“I got a call: Beyoncé wants to do a remix to Savage,” she says, shaking her head with disbelief. “And I was like ... what? Shut up. Shut up. You’re lying. Beyoncé don’t want to get on nothing with me. Come on, it’s me! I know I’m Megan Thee Stallion, but dang!”

I can’t be mad at the next girl for wanting to be the best. Why can't we both agree that we bad?

Coming live from Melbourne, London and Huddersfield, the Last Leg presents its take on the week’s events. Plus: VE Day 75: An Evening Celebration

The lighthearted TV responses to lockdown have been abundant so far, from video-linked episodes of Have I Got News For You to Matt Lucas’s sketches and Grayson Perry’s Art Club. Yet, none have quite managed to capture the mix of anxiety, uncertainty and unexpected humour many of us have been experiencing – which is where the Last Leg comics come in. Live from Melbourne, London and Huddersfield, the trio will present their typically incisive take on the week’s events. Ammar Kalia