Remora.

For those of you who wonder what art gallery curators do, anyway, here's a story.(Courtesy of Wonkoslice) In order to garner a little free publicity and to degrade the lives of thirty artists (the ones chosen for the exhibit), the Blue Gallery in London is sponsoring an exhibit on the theme of Margaret Thatcher.
Here's a quote from the obviously empty-headed Tara Howard:

"The gallery curator, Tara Howard, said: "Time is ripe for a contemporary art response to the Thatcher
phenomenon.

"Inevitably, some artists will take an oblique or politicised approach to the subject but I wanted to keep the focus on her rather than on Thatcher's Britain.

"I'm interested in her erotic-iconic quality and her ability to provoke extremes of response."

Ah, yes, nothing too political - the Saatchis, after all, have unloaded their Hans Haacke's at rockbottom prices. Politics is out, outre, and might be offensive to New Labour sensibilities.

I bet you Ms. Howard spent literally nights at her labtop coming up with that one about how "I wanted to keep the focus on her rather than on Thatcher's Britain." Dribble, you say? Rubbish, garbage, the humming of an empty mind? Your average clerk in a Kentucky Fried Chicken could do better, you say? Well, yes. All that is true. But who is going to challenge it? It is like one of the Red Queen's rules in Alice, it has that same toothy, bullying tone which says everything about the society that makes it possible. And at the opening, can't you see her, in black and red, getting to pal around with some thin, bitter artsy types who are all smiling, all kissing ass, their stories in hand about how what they did has some distant relationship to the Iron Bitch? Somewhere right now some poor bastard is working for his grant in some sloppy studio thinking, okay, non-political, focus on Thatcher, maybe use animal parts a la Damien, hmm. How about wigs? Wigs and, uh, blood. Pig blood. Human blood. And getting desperately thirsty for a cold one.