James Panero's post on the New Criterion's Armavirumque blog brings new meaning to the phrase "Culture of Death":

The other day I remarked on hedge-fund manager Steven A. Cohen's loan to the Metropolitan Museum of Art--"The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living," Damien Hirst's work featuring a dead shark floating in a formaldehyde vitrine. Rumor has it that MoMA and the Met both went fishing for the shark. Now the Met will have the honor of bestowing unearned respectability on Cohen's costly purchase ($8 million from Charles Saatchi in 2004).

By the way, if you want to know the disgusting details about how this work is maintained, read Carol Vogel's story here. (the answer is injections of formaldehyde.) What is not explained in this article, of course, is how Vogel maintains her job as a critic after REPEATEDLY shilling for Hirst and his rich collectors (the answer is injections of formaldehyde). [Ouch!--Ed]

Now in other news, we learn that Damien Hirst has recently wrapped up his latest exhibition at White Cube Gallery in London. This was the show featuring Hirst’s diamond-encrusted human skull, called “For the Love of God,” which sported approximately $20 million in jewels and retailed for about $100 million. Even without factoring in the sale of the skull (did it sell? Does Cohen have it on reserve?), Hirst’s exhibition took in $265 million in sales--if reports are to be believed. Such numbers puts Hirst in league with the marketplace for modern masters.

Hirst is a conceptual artist for the art of conspicuous consumption. Hirst’s work exhibits none of the traditional indicators of artistic value. It is not original (take for example his “spin” and “dot” paintings, based on children’s toys and pop art). Nor is it masterly (his work is crafted by an army of assistants whom Hirst openly describes as better painters than he is).

Hirst’s work is, quite deliberately, worthless beyond its material content. But through a conceptual sleight of hand, he has already earned himself a footnote in the history of art, not to mention a pile of cash.