My Fair Man by Jane Gordon

Author:Jane Gordon [Gordon, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007483228
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 1998-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

It was difficult to see the exhibits for the people partying at the Serpentine Gallery. Charles Saatchi was there, and his ex-wife, Doris. In fact anyone who was anyone within the tight, select world of contemporary art was paying homage to Benedict Wright’s – in Hattie’s opinion – rather dubious talent. But then he was on the short list for this year’s Turner Prize.

He was a particular favourite of Claire’s and, over the years, she had dragged Hattie along to enough of his shows for her to have become immune to his shock tactics. He had made his name with some gruesome work that had caused a furore amongst certain sections of the tabloid press. His Organic Period, as it was now known, had involved his turning parts of the human body into bizarre and bloody works of art. Broken Heart, his most famous work, which was subsequently bought by the Tate, featured a real human heart with a large kitchen knife protruding from its scarlet centre. There had, of course, been a number of outraged responses to the exhibition of this work, principally because, at least according to the Sun, the heart had been used without the express permission of the donor.

Benedict had developed this theme in his subsequent shows which, bit by bit (as it were) had become more and more grisly and grotesque. Five Finger Exercise, for example, involved a dismembered hand clasped round a dumbbell and Old Blue Eyes, a free-standing sculpture that featured a pair of brilliant blue eyes oozing formaldehyde tears. But tonight the exhibits had taken a new twist. Full Stomach, for instance, consisted of a bloody, stretchy stomach lining filled with famous brand-name foods.

‘What do you think, Hattie?’ said Benedict, who liked to think that he shared her own political views and social conscience. ‘The stomach is extended in the way that we are used to seeing in starving children in the Third World and its interior is full of processed commercial foods. It’s a metaphor for the way we are: the greed of the First World and the hunger of the Third World …’

She smiled at him, rather than say what she thought. ‘This is Jimmy, by the way, Benedict,’ she said.

‘Jimmy who?’ said Benedict, gazing with interest at the tall blond stranger beside her.

‘Jimmy Ryan,’ interjected Claire quickly. ‘He’s something of an artist himself.’

‘Oh?’ said Benedict.

‘Eeee now, hinny,’ said Jimmy nervously.

‘What do you work in?’ Benedict asked.

‘Life,’ said Claire, darting a warning look at Jimmy.

They moved on to the next work, Steak Ta Ta, an oozing T-bone steak preserved in formaldehyde into the meat of which Benedict had stamped the letters ‘BSE’.

‘What do you think, Jimmy?’ Benedict said.

‘I might pay to eat it, pet. Boot hang it on the wall – never!’ he said, rather loudly as it happened, so that several of the other guests heard.

Jimmy was astonished when Hattie showed him the catalogue with the prices typed neatly next to the names of the exhibits.

‘The price is

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