About Elizabeth Spiers
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The spot paintings are like an avant-garde art formula applied to a limited edition Louis Vuitton handbag. (Paging Takashi Murakami.) It’s bad art with good art historical pedigree, with a host of potential predecessors whose movements start with Capital Letters and sound impressive in press releases. The worst part, however—or the best part, depending on your perspective—is that Mr. Hirst is almost certainly pleased by how much this project tees people off. “I mean, I just move color around on its own. So that’s where the spot paintings came from—to create that structure to do those colors, and do nothing,” the Gagosian press release quotes Mr. Hirst saying. Between the inclusion of the phrase “I mean” and the purported aim to “do nothing,” the gallery seems to be conspiring with Mr. Hirst to present the artist as a petulant bad boy, daring the art world to scold, “Oh, you, up to no good again,” or to defiantly counter, “Actually, there are redeeming qualities to this thoughtless work,” when neither statement applies.
New Observer columnist Emma Allen adds a witty layer to our flood-the-zone coverage of Spot Painting Mania, resolving to stare at a spot painting for half an hour to see if it got any better with time. (Spoiler: it did not.)
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