To rescue Kahlo from the clutches of the corporate art market, we need to acknowledge the overt and covert political dimensions of the work, demands GAVIN O’TOOLE
It might have escaped from a laboratory:
a biological curiosity
with the body of an octopus
but no limbs, a pudgy
limpid belly, jellified cheeks
and bulging condom eyes
with a Double Decker wrapper
for a tongue. The flushers
discovered its mother
snoozing in Whitechapel’s bowels
swaddled in a blanket of fat
a recumbent stalagmite
of discarded wet wipes
bringing London’s movements to a halt.
Now a gang of riveted children
gasp at a quivering sliver
caged behind strengthened glass
as it spawns an army of small flies
and wonder at the perversity
of a monstrous sculpture
carved out of our own bodies,
a disgusting portrayal in oils
of a terrible time of waste.
JAN WOOLF ponders the works and contested reputation of the West German sculptor and provocateur, who believed that everybody is potentially an artist
ANDY CROFT welcomes the publication of an anthology of recent poems published by the Morning Star, and hopes it becomes an annual event
by Christopher Norris
by Josie Giles


