"Compare him with Caravaggio" - Jonathan Jones, The Guardian
I had the misfortune to see Hirst's exhibition at the Wallace Collection a few years ago - an unusual choice of venue for Christmas dinner for a department of people whose idea of culture is Nando's. I thought the whole gallery was pretty ropey (not being a fan of visual baroquery - musicians did so much better than painters in the 18th century), but a special place in hell should be reserved for the imagination that came up with variations on the theme of dead butterflies and badly painted skulls.
I happened to walk past Tate Modern a couple of times today, displaying Hirst's "Unimaginative reproduction of an anatomical figure blown up for no good reason to twice life size" outside. I did think the plaza would be a good place to start a bike ride - if it weren't for the fact that cycling is strictly verboten.