We were allowed into the exhibit in small groups. You wound your way through a narrow pitch-black hallway into a pitch-black exhibit hall. The skull, displayed in a glass case, was illuminated by spotlights. You were naturally drawn to the skull because to do otherwise would mean crashing around in the dark next to God-knows-who. The skull was sparkly.
The next room contained Hirst's personal selection of works from the Rijksmuseum, a mix of portraits and still lifes, each with a paragraph of Hirst's loopy commentary. There was something definitely bizarre about standing in the shadow of Dutch burghers as we snaked our way in to see a diamond skull. I imagine these businessmen of some four centuries ago with their eyes upon us calculating how many slaves they'd have to move to snag a bauble like that. It sure was a better fit than Hirst's A Thousand Years, a glass cube with maggots, flies and bloody cow's head, which I think anyone from 1635 is going to see as a waste of good head cheese.