There's something existentially grotesque about Hirst. His use of living matter, displaying it dead & dressed for human aesthetic consumption, a post-mortem feast you can't eat/make go away. Transformation of alive & purposeful to a dead expression.
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Suddenly, I want to play with corpses to exhibit arbitrary expressions. Make parodic Hindu gods of victims to time. Don't donate your bodies to science, donate them to me. Or Hirst.
End of conversation
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