What’s interesting, though, is where this painting comes from. Word on the street is that Peter Brant, turned art collector by his soon-to-be ex-wife, is trying to move the piece. He and Stephanie Seymour are battling their way through a divorce, and “Brother Sausage,” with a presale estimate that approached $10 million, is bound to be one of the assets they fight over.
Why does this matter to the millions of Gen Xers who don’t give a fuck about art? Or, to those of us who like art but still don’t give a shit about the squabbles of the rich and famous?
When the world around you is falling apart, there’s only one thing to do: find a new world.
While Condé Nast’s Vanity Fair was in the grip of severe layoffs, the editor decided not to be the bearer of bad news, taking a vacation instead. The NY Post didn’t say if he used Gadling to choose a destination, but we’re all hoping he did. The total discharged from Condé Nast is believed to be greater than 450 this year, and there are likely to be more to come among the contributing editors. The sizeable cut at Vanity Fair is largely the result of Carter’s decision to generally ignore the order to cut 5% of the crew late last year.
Fridays always suck. It’s my big deadline day at day job, which was “enhanced” by the fact that I had to go to the annual holiday party tonight. I’m not really a party guy, so it was a bit of a drag. I got out early and headed back to my neighborhood. It’s good to be home.
So, now it’s time to fuck off for a bit. I’m sifting through two books right now — Generation Kill by Evan Wright and Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. The former is for the nightstand, the latter for the bathroom. It works.
Vanity Fair ranks artist/asshole Damien Hirst 30th in The New Establishment 2008. That part blows. But, I was happy to see that the mag called him “today’s greatest inheritor of the mantle of Andy Warhol [emphasis added].” Andy Warhol sucked. Damien Hirst’s bullshit animals are a joke, so the connection makes sense.
Don’t get me wrong, I do like some of Hirst’s work. The statue outside the Lever House on Park Ave (since replaced) was fantastic, and his installation in the Lever House gallery, recalling Francis Bacon’s 1946, was nothing short of genius. But, Hirst doesn’t do enough of this any more.
And, he promotes himself via MySpace. How low rent is that?
I’m just happy Vanity Fair compared him to Warhol and NOT Francis Bacon. Hirst no longer seems to carry Bacon’s torch. That honor belongs to Nelson Diaz.
I’m involved in a social networking/Web 2.0-type project right now (and I refuse to disclose any details). Thanks to Vanity Fair, I just got a lesson in what happens if you fuck up. Needless to say, I’ll be keeping a close eye on my progress.