Riot Kissers

"She had actually been injured," [said the father of the male kisser]. A riot police officer had knocked her down with a shield, he said. "He lay down next to her to comfort her. She was crying, and he just kissed her to calm her down."

Details at CNN.

Hirst's Heaven

To create For Heaven's Sake, Hirst reportedly made a mold of a baby skull from a 19th century pathology collection he'd acquired, cast the form in platinum, and encrusted it with 8,000 diamonds.

Previous posts on Hirst here.





UPDATE: At right, competition (from Obvious Winner, via Geekology and Boing Boing; thanks Ben!):

"Dreadful" Hirst Paintings Draw Record Crowds

Per The Telegraph, the exhibition, No Love Lost, Blue Paintings, a collection of 25 new paintings by Hirst at The Wallace Collection, is expected to draw more than twice the museum's previous record. The show has been described by critics as "deadly dull and amateurish", "dreadful" and "not worth looking at".

Of course that makes me want badly to like them.

"Hirst . . . has said that he now wishes to be recognised as a 'painter... above either artist or sculptor' and recently admitted that 'paintings are easier to shift – even in a recession people like paintings'."

Slideshow here.

M.J.

Do not stop watching bef. ca. 3.16 min., when they drag her off.



(Thanks, Kalup!)

See also my May 11 post, inspired by friends who hosted an M.J.-themed party – funny how he's been in the air – I and entourage went as M.J.'s plastic surgeons (tho' there were only 3 of us). (To be clear, I love M.J's music.)

Update Re- Diamond-Coated Skull

Re- Damien Hirst's piece, I asked, "[w]ould we like this as much with cz's?" An artist named Laura took a step toward finding out: she created a replica covered with 6,522 Swarovski crystals and left it on top of the trash outside Hirst's gallery in the middle of the night. (From The Wooster Collective via boingboing.)

Alas, Not-So-Poor Yorick

My boyfriend used to say he wanted my skull after my death, but after seeing the Body Worlds exhibit (here's my review), he's not so sure. Too bad, 'cause tombs have never appealed to me; but Damien Hirst's For the Love of God does. (Per the NYT, the title came from Hirst's mother who exclaimed, "For the love of God, what are you going to do next?")

I want mine with little lightbulbs in the eye sockets.

Do you think art, or its patrons, are overly-obsessed with the wrong, or poorly-chosen realities lately? Would we like this piece as much with cz's? (Is what's-his-face using real powdered dinosaur bones, or just patronizing unregulated entrepreneurs? Personally, I'd like to know. Of course, if his real work consists in an experiment regarding our gullibility, GREAT; but then, I'll be annoyed if he doesn't share the experimental results.)

Actually, what I see lately is an existentialist trend -- an epidemic of ennui. Bush's handlers were prolly onto something when they let on he was reading Camus.

(Update here.)