I am reblogging this from an old journal. In 2012 I visited the Tate Modern while in London and saw the Damian Hirst exhibition. I’ve never been the biggest fan of (a lot of) modern art, so I was dubious going in, but open to try it and hopeful that I’d come away with a newfound appreciation. Well, I did. Mostly. The exhibition was interesting and beautiful and grotesque and frustrating all at the same time. Not all of the pieces worked for me, but a couple of them worked strongly enough that I came away with a general good feeling. I’m still not sure if modern art is my thing, though I’m much more amenable to giving it a whirl.

Pieces that were hits: the shark, the butterfly room and Black Sun.

Pieces that did not hit: The medicine cabinets lost their charm after the third or fourth. I get that our bodies ultimately fail us, and they may have provided a thematic thread through the whole exhibition. But! I didn’t need three roomfuls of this. And I admit, as much as I loved the concept of the butterfly room, I could only stick it for about three minutes before I had to duck out (literally). A lot of them were tropical butterflies and they were bloody humungous! One landed on my head as I went in and gave me the wiggins.

He’s very focused on birth/health and death/decay. You go from the butterfly room, with its canvas-lined walls embedded with pupae that the butterflies hatch from and carry out their life cycle, to the black sun room which is a gigantic mural made of dead flies caught in resin. Yum.

Another piece of note—one I’m still not sure whether I liked or not—is A Thousand Years. A massive glass box houses a smaller white box filled with hidden maggots. These maggots are continuously hatching into flies, which fly out of the white box and feed on a severed cow’s head. There’s also an electric insect-o-cuter in the box which draws many of the flies and obliterates them. Others just die naturally—they litter the floor like a black carpet. I must say, I felt a bit squiggly looking at that one. Plus, you could smell this faint undercurrent of flies and rotting cow’s head. Conceptually, it’s a well-executed piece.