A whipped cream carnival floats beyond the parody of a teen movie in which Jeff Koons is shot by David LaChapelle as a bubblegum manga macro cherry popped pop art of post-innocence spaffed up the wall by seaside teats suckling pornified disaster capitalism’s disney-brained thirst trap.
Modern life is a food fetish, here Heather Phillipson brings drone war to a pie fight: sploshing goop on the face of a much-loved and elegant friend for the retweets. Her Mills&Boon money shot is tawdry emoji urbanism tarting up Trafalgar with ladette girl boss nanny state flex vajazzling the fourth plinth with an anaemic turd glittered for the infantilised tourists below gawping for insta at the camp tousled kitsch turban of a grubby cholesterol cake circus.
We live in a society of spectacle, distracting ourselves to death, where everything is synthetic and so everything-is-awesome all of the time. While the icecaps thaw, even our prophets’ protests are subsumed by a darwinian memetic race to the bottom of garish glib obscenity.
2021’s commission is cautionary while being complicit - ambiguously platforming a paean to dribble-down economic bloatware, lionising the liquefaction of all that is solid, morbidly fascinated by our entropic Daliesque melting to grey goo, all the while watched over by machines of the surveillance state and memento mori.
https://web102.secure-secure.co.uk/theend.today/
https://www.london.gov.uk/sites/default/files/shorthand/fourth_plinth/
