"Absurd... all price tag, no meaning", thundered Robert Hughes when Damien Hirst unveiled his diamond-encrusted skull in 2007. Art historian Rudi Fuchs praised its "celestial" aura as "glory itself", a gaudy victory over decay. Even fellow artists weighed in: Grayson Perry deemed the skull "brilliant for its brazenness and for the debate it provoked". Few works have so neatly split the room or so clearly marked the rise of what detractors call "red-chip" art, where market spectacle rivals aesthetic intent. For The Love Of God (Believe) (2007) translates that flashpoint into a 32.5 × 24cm colour screenprint, issued in a signed edition of 1,700. On a matte card a platinum skull glitters with the ghostly shimmer of 8,601 diamonds, replicating the sculpture that made Hirst both icon and lightning rod. Hirst has remarked that "every artwork that has ever interested me has been about death", and here the classic memento mori motif of the human skull is transformed into an object of glittering luxury. The very title is borrowed from his mother's exasperated question to Hirst: "For the love of God, what are you going to do next?" Hirst himself noted that "Andy Warhol made it okay for artists to deal with money... once that happened you can't make art without... taking it on board", a credo reflected in the skull's conflation of art and extravagance. For supporters, the sheet is a concise distillation of Hirst's grand themes of mortality, faith, and the commodification of desire. For critics, it is further proof of an artist who courts controversy to inflate demand. Either way, it remains a portable relic of one of the era's most hotly debated artworks, prompting viewers to ask what we truly venerate: Art? Money? Or perhaps - the glittering illusion that they might be the same thing after all.