Damien Hirst

You know, from the little bit I knew of him before reading this review, I really wanted to write Damien Hirst off as a pretentious charlatan toolbag. Or as an evil genius who uses diamonds and formaldehyde to fool a great number of people into changing their collective definition of "art." Then again, what do I know about contemporary art? Damien Hirst has obviously got something unique. I'm thinking that the photos of his installations really must not do them justice, that I must be missing something utterly essential and attention-grabbing by not being in the same room as a series of dots. That's the only thing I can believe, unless I want to keep shaking my head in bewilderment.

The only work of his that I really admired was this chess set, made of medicine bottles, entitled "Mental Escapology":

I like it because of its even ratio of form to function, and I think it also presents a pretty witty metaphor for mortality.