I notice that you can now buy a plaster cast of the penis of the legendary guitarist, Jimi Hendrix for a mere US$1 500. As the maker, Cynthia P. Caster says,
“Because this was one of my first shots at plaster casting, the end result came out kind of gnarly. I prematurely cracked the mould open, only to find a still-moist, broken cast inside. So yes, Jimi did in fact, break the mould! But thanks to Elmer’s Glue, I managed to reconnect the head to the shaft to the testicles.”
Jimi’s penis is only one of several rock stars’ private bits on offer and all are briefly critiqued like footnotes to an art auction catalogue.
Whether or not this is – or is intended to be– art is a matter of opinion, I suspect.
What interested me in the sale of celebrity privates is the contrast it makes to the recent furore generated by photographs of a knickerless Britney Spears. Leaving aside the somewhat vast gap between the talents of the two performers, why are photographs of Spears’s privates viewed as bad taste and the 3D representation of Hendrix’s as worthy of framing and (I presume) displaying in one’s lounge room?
Does one image confirm Jimi’s art and the other that Britney’s a tart, perhaps?
And what is the relationship between a musician’s floppy bits and their music? I mean, seriously, his penis was probably the only part of his body that Jimi Hendrix didn’t play the guitar with.
(You can check out more of the frozen funny-bits of the fairly famous at http://www.cynthiapcaster.org/casts/_dicks/casts_hendrix_page/hendrix_page.htm)