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As design, anatomy lessons can get a little tedious, unless you find away to add some glamour.
For this ashtray—yes, it’s an ashtray—Black Sheep & Prodigal Sons go for quantity. Taking a page from Damien Hirst’s diamond-encrusted skull, the piece was cast from an actual jawbone, with a small black diamond and designer crest implanted into the bottom. The front teeth have gaps for cigarettes and larger cigars can rest behind the molars or in the jaw-notches above.
Jeff Koons via GothamistShirt Shift: Artist/Bulldog dissector Damien Hirst has created a line of almost Threadless-quality shirts to go along with his collection of $80,000 jeans. The man has brass balls the size of Volkswagens. Wait. No. That’s Jeff Koons, who also has a line of “meh” tees. [Gawker]
In The Trenches: The men of Duckie Brown discuss their experimental “treated silk” jackets. [Washington Post]
Keef’s Closet: Self-described “minstrel” Keith Richards wears women’s shirts and, as we always believed, doesn’t “do underwear.” [Times UK]
Club Cuts: Soho House members can now add in-house tailors to their myriad benefits. [NY Sun]
Crease is the Word: Don’t have pleats in trousers? Evidently, you are not a man. [Telegraph UK]
Posh Pack Rat: Step into the eclectic home of designer Simon Carter. [Independent UK]
The Nau Strategy: Slick, ruggedwear Nau may supplement their internet retail with physical stores. Whoh, stores that sell clothes. What won’t they think of next? [WWD, subsription required you cheapos]
Image via SelectismIt turns out even the great MOTH Malcom McLaren isn’t immune to a little swindle now and then. His historic punk clothing line—originally titled SEX, but eventually known as Seditionaries—has run into a nasty counterfeiting trade run by Simon Easton. Of course, the 30-year-old threads are collector’s items by now, so the price tags get pretty high. WWD reports that Easton has sold 80,000 UKP worth of fake merch to collectors, including artist Damien Hirst.
McLaren comments in the article, “I would never have thought 30 years ago when I was making this stuff on my kitchen table that someone would want to copy it like a Goya or a Van Gogh.” Of course, knowing McLaren, the thought has probably crossed his mind dozens of times, but it’s a little too flattering. The clothes are more like history than fashion or art. The reason collectors and museums are clamoring for them—and creating a market for counterfeits—is because of McLaren’s own swindle. His SEX shop in 1977’s London was the first time anyone had thought of charging top dollar for ripped, stained clothing.
He did it all with a knowing smirk, but it didn’t stop him from getting rich. Surely he wouldn’t begrudge a fellow con man a swindle of his own?
While some claim Sotheby’s’ upcoming Damien Hirst blowout—which is expected to bring in about $120 million—is merely an excuse to clear out a backlog of unsold work from Hirst’s London gallery, the bad boy Brit artist insists it actually marks a major turning point in his colorful career.
Titled Beautiful Inside My Head Forever and timed to coincide with the 20th anniversary of the celebrated Freeze exhibition which launched his career, Hirst says the sale represents the last of his long-running series of formaldehyde works, spin, and spot paintings, which have become a bit too predictable.
“It’s like my friend [late Clash frontman] Joe Strummer once told me about writing songs,” Hirst says. “If you can guess what the rhyme’s gonna be in the next line, then it’s shit and you’ve gotta change it.” We couldn’t agree more; Hirst’s work, turned out by his “factory,” Warhol-style, resembles nothing more then a broken, though very profitable, record at this point. Time for a new gimmick, old boy.
Bond Sells Out: Product placement? In a James Bond movie? Say it isn’t so, James! [NotCot]
Robot Love: Uniqlo’s Wakamaru comes in peace. Inarticulate, impractical peace. In other words, our precious retail jobs are safe. [PSFK]
Swimming with Sharks: Our friend Damien has his share of haters too. For some reason, they tend to be Australian. [ArtInfo]
A Checkered Past: The proper way to wear checkered pants is elusive. [A Suitable Wardrobe]
The art world’s a rough place, but apparently people are increasingly unwilling to call a fraud a fraud. Does this skull look familiar to anyone?
We weren’t thrilled about the crystal skull idea the first time around, but by the second…things are just getting out of hand. The designer, Swarovski’s Quinn Gregory, is just playing his angle, but the rest of the world should know better.
It’s time for some new jewel encrusted objects. And, as it happens, we’ve got a perfectly good coffee cup just laying around. Any takers?
Celebrity brands are usually pretty dicey, but this one is just plain off-the-wall. Beloved Canadian Dan Aykroyd has emerged as the face of Crystal Skull Vodka, a line of spirits inspired by an obscure archaeological mystery. (It may sound familiar.) The vodka itself is fairly bizarre, the occult mumbo jumbo is surprisingly tangential, and Aykroyd comes off as either completely off his nut or brilliantly deadpan. We prefer our skulls with a little more glitz…but we’ll settle for this.
You can actually buy the vodka (if you need a glass skull for your mantle), but just because it’s real doesn’t mean it’s not a joke. The Ghostbusters 3 timing may be too convenient for us to take all of this at face value, but we won’t complain too loudly.
Hoax or not, it’s the funniest thing Aykroyd has done in a very long time.
We’re on record as cautious observers of Damien Hirst, but after this he might want to stick to embalmed predators.
Labeled as the Damien Hirst x Levi’s x Warhol Factory Collection, these paint-spun jeans are part of a line that should be hitting Barneys in not too many weeks, but to get these pants in particular you’ll have to find your way to one of the silent auctions Hirst is setting up. It’s a clever bit of art/fashion mashing, but as usual, the joke is on you.
They may look good on a wall, but don’t wear them outside.
Things are getting a little grim in the art world lately, with more than a third of the lots going unsold at Sotheby’s impressionism auction this Monday. Apparently the folks that have $10 million to spend on impressionist paintings are investing it in gold bars or bulletproof jets instead. The only good news to come out of the auction was for Edvard Munch’s Vampire, which sold for three million more than expected.
We’ve always been financially savvy, so we’ve come to the following conclusion. The art market may be depressed, but the market for depressing art has never been better.
The Hirsts and Murakamis of the world had better take note: what the people want is paintings of people crying, preferably in black. By the time the year is out, the Met will be handing out Kleenex at every show.
Anyone want to go halfsies on Goya’s Saturn?
