By Abraham Ritchie

“All chess players are artists, but not all artists are chess players” -Marcel Duchamp

At the beginning of 2008 it is appropriate to reflect on the previous year, its triumphs and trials. Both were evinced in high degree during the last summer when Damien Hirst theatrically unveiled his diamond-covered skull, For the Love of God, at the London gallery, White Cube. Priced at $100 million, the skull is a pricey pawn in Hirst’s endgame with fame. Apparently not content to play second fiddle to Jeff Koons or Jasper Johns as the most expensive living artist, Hirst has ensured that his name will remain in the mix if for other reason because the price of the 8,601 diamonds that make up the skull is around $20 million. That is, incidentally, just a few measly million below Jeff Koons’ current place as the most expensive artist at auction ($23.6 million for Hanging Heart).

There is no doubt that seeing the work in person can be a spectacular experience (emphasis on spectacle, as viewings are timed, require advanced booking, require the escort of secret-service style guards and take place in a darkened room with the skull spotlighted), but like Hirst’s other works the basis is conceptual with here the emphasis more on numbers and money than anything else. The visual dazzle of the diamonds, the tradition of memento mori, or the history of decorated Aztec skulls seem trivial, even boring, when compared with the art historical coup that Hirst is attempting by creating the skull and attaching a price tag of $100 million to it.

In All the President’s Men Deepthroat famously advised “follow the money,” this also applies to the murky and often confusing information surrounding For the Love of God. If you search for information about the work right now you will most likely find various reports that heroically depict, or imply, Hirst spending $20 million of his own money for the fabrication of the object. The drama here is that this work may not sell so he may lose a fortune. The reality, as reported by Financial Times.com and others, is that Hirst split this cost with his dealer, Jay Jopling of White Cube.

The always money savvy Hirst knows how to minimize his risk. All right, so he didn’t shoulder the production costs himself, but it indicates the self-mythologizing path this work and artist are going. Most recently For the Love of God has been declared “sold.” Gallery spokesperson Sara Macdonald is tight-lipped about who the buyers are, saying only they prefer to remain anonymous and they are, “[an] investment group [that] anticipates selling it within the next few years.” Further searching the many reports about the secretive sale will yield a report by the Associated Press in which Macdonald concedes that “Hirst retained a stake in the work." She would not give details on the size of his stake but said he would sell his share "when the piece is next put up for sale.” The same report notes that the full asking price was paid.

So in the end what we find is Hirst has essentially “sold” the work to himself and other shadowy figures who are rumored to include his dealer (which would make sense since he has already invested about $10 million in it). Apparently the three months that it went without a buyer were just too long for Hirst while the rest of show sold. Plus it is not enough to create the costliest work of art: anyone with a price tag and a pen can do that; the key is selling it.

And “sell” it he did, to himself. Consider that prior to this in 2003 Hirst had bought back twelve of his early works from Charles Saatchi, again under mysterious circumstances: undisclosed amounts were paid and not even the works purchased were identified. Fast-forward to a few weeks ago when Hirst donated four major works (some possibly acquired in the 2003 Saatchi sale) to the Tate collection, including the most recognizable bisected cow and calf in formaldehyde tanks, Mother and Child, Divided (2007, the original Turner Prize winning version is in Oslo, Norway). In the Reuters report on the donations, it is duly noted that Hirst has “recently sold a diamond-encrusted skull for $100 million.” Of course it doesn’t mention the stake he has in the work.

In the end, what we see with Hirst are astonishing amounts of money associated with him and his art which are often more impressive than the art work itself. Hirst has created some powerful work, but his recent foray has shown just how focused he is on fame, his reputation, his ego and his personal fortune at the expense of creating original art that warrants his reputation. Ironically, has the art market grown weary with Hirst?

This fall, during what is perhaps the hottest market for contemporary art ever, artists continued to return record sales. Now consider what Callen Bair of Condé Nast’s Portfolio.com reported on how Hirst's art fared at the Fall 2007 contemporary art auctions in October: “[At Christie’s] Wretched War, sold more than £100,000 below its bottom estimate — Jay Jopling, Hirst's dealer, bought it . . . His Mini Cooper covered in spots failed to sell against an estimate of £400,000 - £600,000 at Phillips on Saturday, and one of his ubiquitous spot paintings passed at Sotheby's on Friday." Hirst would do well to spend less time on market manipulations and more time improving and refining his art.