I didn’t even have an inch of the sensation I would feel walking into Hirsts world of ‘unbelievable treasures under the sea’. He knows no bounds and has evolved a situation that is hard to escape. I arrived with Jason Descaires Taylor lodged in the front lobe of my brain wanting to slate Hirst for pinching his cosmic elevation from every day art to something with intense coral integrity but Hirst has taken this to another level. His open cheque book very evident his army of labour firmly beside him the ship the divers, it all doesn’t matter as he has managed to hijack all our symbolic subconscious and anchored them in bronze fibre glass silver gold marble crystals in androgynous beauty. The power is everywhere. Orozco said ‘you must leave a gallery with a different view of the world’ . If you dont walk out of this with one there is something wrong. There is no doubt that the watery location is intentional but so pert. The watery truth of the lie just engulfs you and you are transported to a magical place that Venice initiates. It wouldn’t be the same without the water and the beauty. The ugliness of some of the sculptures animated the beauty of Venetian eye.
Unbelievable Hirst. You rock mate I wish I was your wife.