![]() He finished the tin of cannelloni and opened an almost empty bottle of cognac. He had then, as the Tour de France commentators say, ‘dropped to the bottom of the classement’, before disappearing from it altogether. As for Jed, he had reached 593 ten years ago - but 17 in France. On the ArtPrice ranking of the richest artists, Koons was world number 2 for a few years now, Hirst, ten years his junior, had taken his place at number 1. Koons was undoubtedly not light enough, not ethereal enough - it would perhaps have been necessary to give him wings, like the god Mercury, he thought stupidly there, with his pinstriped suit and salesman’s smile, he reminded you a bit of Silvio Berlusconi. ![]() ![]() He returned to the kitchen, opened a tin of cannelloni in sauce and ate them one by one, while looking morosely at his failed painting. He realised he was hungry, which wasn’t normal after the complete Christmas dinner he’d had with his father - starter, main course, cheese and dessert, nothing had been left out but he felt hungry and so hot he could no longer breathe. ![]() A little despite himself, he approached Damien Hirst and Jeff Koons Dividing Up the Art Market, which was standing on his easel in the middle of the studio, and dissatisfaction seized him again, still more bitterly. ![]()
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