'for the love of god', damien hirst, 2007.
it's been two years, but that image still haunts me (in the best possible way). forensic experts deduced that it used to be the skull of a European male, around 35 years of age at the time of death. Lived 1720-1810.
looking at this, i wonder, "if he had known, while plowing fields, riding horses looking all gallant (or whatever it is that he did then) that his skull was going to turn up covered in diamonds one day (ethically sourced, mind you), which expletives would he say?"
in 3010, when you uncover my skull, just cover me with kick-ass rubies and sapphires, and i promise i won't haunt you.
p.s. Richard Dorment, an art critic, comments, "If anyone but Hirst had made this curious object, we would be struck by its vulgarity. It looks like the kind of thing Asprey or Harrods might sell to credulous visitors from the oil states with unlimited amounts of money to spend, little taste, and no knowledge of art. I can imagine it gracing the drawing room of some African dictator or Colombian drug baron. But not just anyone made it - Hirst did. Knowing this, we look at it in a different way and realise that in the most brutal, direct way possible, For the Love of God questions something about the morality of art and money."
whaddya think? vulgar? disrespectful? or right-on?
p.p.s. dorment also brought up an interesting point; why does it have to be made by a world-renowned artist for us to perhaps be more accepting of it? if a couple of college drunks decided to make one, we'd probably be more inclined to see it as desecrating the dead. oh, pretentious art, you confuse me so-but that's why i love you so much.