LONDON — There is more than a hint of the fairground in Damien Hirst's new show at London's White Cube gallery, the centrepiece of which is a now-famous diamond-crusted skull. While you're standing in line to see the skull - because what would a fairground be without the artificial anticipation of a lineup? - it feels as if someone should be selling Mr. Hirst's Magickal Tonic and Elixir for All-Purpose Well-Being & the Renewed Lustre of Hair.
Not that I'm suggesting the artist is a glorified pitchman, or that the skull - "without precedence in the history of art," the gallery's promotional material whispers - is merely a promotional item. In fact, once you've climbed the stairs with 10 other folk to the top of the gallery, dumped your bag, and been warned by the stern Euro bouncer that you have "two minutes only!" the skull is quite breathtaking to behold. It's called For the Love of God, because that is allegedly what Hirst's mother said when he told her about it. (By the way, the jewellers who crafted the piece, Bentley & Skinner, claim to have used only conflict-free diamonds.)
There is, unavoidably, a sense that a carnival barker has arranged the scene. The skull sits in the middle of a pitch-black room, appearing almost to float, reflected in its glass case like a hologram. Once, according to forensic testing, the skull sat on the neck of a young man of the 18th century (now, there were people who knew how to enjoy a sideshow).
"That one big diamond in the forehead makes it a bit tacky," whispered another woman in the room. It was a nicely calibrated observation: Here's a human skull coated in platinum and covered in 8,601 diamonds, but it's that one last bit of polished carbon that pushes it over the precipice of good taste. We giggled and circled, and then the bouncer sternly called time and we were off to the next ride.
Damien Hirst's For the Love of God: One rumour has it that George Michael is among those interested in making a bid. (Getty Images)
The skull carries a £50-million (about $105-million) price tag. At another time, this might seem excessive, the triumph of a fat wallet over good sense, but in the London art market right now, it seems there's no limit to what people will spend. Even the sky's just a stepping stone.
At Sotheby's, around the corner from the White Cube, they're preparing for June sales that will likely eclipse February's, which set a European record - £122-million. "We talk about this being a masterpiece market," says Sotheby's head of Impressionist and Modern Art, Simon Shaw. "There's a lot of wealth out there, and people want to be sure they're getting the best of the best."
He's standing next to Matisse's Danseuse dans le fauteuil, sol en damier, a saucy portrait of a reclining showgirl. It commands its own wall, as do Francis Bacon's 1978 Self Portrait and Monet's Nymphéas, like three beautiful sisters each determined to be the belle of the ball.
The chatter at Sotheby's is all about London's new money - the Russians and Asians and hedge-fund managers - with cash burning their pockets, and bare walls, or at least investment portfolios, to fill. Across from the Matisse, three workers are carefully gluing tiny, candy-coloured pills into a giant medicine chest - this is Hirst's installation Lullaby Spring (estimate, £3-to-4-million, but sure to fetch more).
"Strong prices have encouraged people who don't normally see themselves as sellers to put works on the market," says Sotheby's Alex Branczik. "And serious collectors know this may be the one chance they have to buy truly exceptional pieces."
The fever's not only at the Monet end, either. Even young artists, like Toronto's Matthew Carver, feel the residual heat. Carver did his master's degree at the Chelsea College of Art & Design in London in 2005, and the morning after his degree show - the graduating class's exhibit, which is picked over by collectors like Honest Ed's on Boxing Day - he got a call. It was Charles Saatchi, probably England's most important collector of modern work, asking to buy Carver's painting. "Half of my class didn't want to talk to me after that," he says wryly.
Carver was the only Canadian to have a canvas in the recent Anticipation show, designed to spotlight the up-and-coming. As with most art openings in London these days, the lineup spilled out the door, a mix of bargain-seekers, celebrities and possibly the odd actual artist looking for a free drink. Actor Alan Rickman prowled the perimeter, squinting carefully at each painting.
Carver's painting (his canvases are large, electric, urban night scenes, often based on his travels in Asia) sold within an hour. For this reason, although he "misses Canada," he's not about to leave London. He doesn't see the bubble bursting any time soon. "I can see it continuing like this for a while, because there are so many really, really rich people here, and at the same time, so many artists creating a scene."
Part of that scene right now is the skull: Everyone either has seen it, wants to see it, or is quite huffy about the idea of avoiding it. For the Love of God has divided critics, some seeing it as a tired playing out of Hirst's ideas, others as an inspired memento mori (memento Tori ... Spelling, more like). Despite its price tag, it is rumoured to have many suitors, including George Michael. Let the catfight begin!
