Damian Hirst

Imagine standing in a all white room. A table in the middle, with bowls full of various fruit halves. White canvas squares on the walls. Flowers in pots and butterflies.

They were not shy, when I walked in one though I looked like an excellent perch. Some of them stayed stationary on the fruit, walls, floor and flowers. One looked like it was having a losing battle with the light switch.

It reminded me of the Monarch forest around Pacific Grove. I distinctly thought, "Wow, I need to get out into nature more often. I feel happy." sometimes my thoughts are just that simple.

These little brightly colored insects were part of a larger instilation by Damian Hirst at the Tate. Other parts, like his paintings of dots, which if you looked at them, colors in the peripteral would dance in and out as your eyes struggled to take in the enormance amount of color. There were kaliadscope butterfly pictures that combined butterfly wings and paint, a statue of an angel with pieces of her flesh missing, exposing the muscle, organs and bones underneath, behind her were three paintings and butterfly wings, arranged to conjure a feeling of church windows.

There was also a side that I had a hard time reconciling with the beauty of the above mentioned pieces. Animals in formaldehyde. Some split in half in separate cases so you can see what is inside of them. I felt sick. I couldn't help but react to their dead eyes and bloated tongues. (in hindsight I am very glad I never did go see the Bodies exhibit in Las Vegas, I don't think I would be able to stomach it.)

The reactions to these pieces spread throughout the brightly colored beauty of his other lighter pieces was an emotional one. It's confusing to have both sets of images and feelings flung at you.

But it is also something I won't forget.