A Downward Evolution

But MSCHF’s interpretation of the parable finds new meaning within the story. The act of cutting the sculpture into 1,000 pieces directly contradicts the original ending of the “Judgment of Solomon,” but falls directly in line with MSCHF’s ongoing mission of accessibility within the art collection world, and exploring the complexities of collective ownership of art. The blending of religion and art in this circumstance creates the unconventional vessel for this experiment. One of MSCHF’s creative directors Lukas Bentel tells me that part of the uniqueness of King Solomon’s Baby (2025) is that it provokes a discussion on what constitutes a piece of art’s worth.

“ Normally an artwork is something that we all appreciate, generally in a museum where many people could see it or in a private collection, but the image is something that we all kind of collectively own,” he says. “This is an interesting experiment to try to make as many people see if they would want to own this thing together, but together they all kind of destroy the actual piece.”

King Solomon’s Baby (2025) pokes fun at the idea that art collection is an investment—that authenticity and monetary value precede aesthetics and creative expression in importance. In 2020, MSCHF purchased an original Damien Hirst print for $30,000, only to meticulously cut out each spot on the artwork and sell them individually for $480 a piece—yet another callout of today’s art collection culture.

Like the Hirst print, cutting the baby into a thousand pieces makes it more accessible to a more diverse group of buyers, but simultaneously destroys the original artwork. “That's the tension with art ownership,” Bentel says on the matter. “And when you're making something in an art-world-specific context, often one person ends up technically owning it or stewarding that piece.”

I had no expectations for how quickly the sculpture would sell, or how many buyers there would end up being. A few minutes before it went up for sale, I pulled the website up and watched the countdown as it reached 2 p.m. Within eight seconds, the buyer counter had shot up from one to 12. It had reached 20 buyers after just a minute, and over 60 in five. At nine minutes and 16 seconds, the sculpture had broken 100 buyers, the counter gradually continuing to climb until all 1,000 pieces had been sold by 5 p.m.—three hours after the sale had officially begun. For just $100 plus shipping, one thousand people had become the proud owners of a slice of King Solomon’s Baby (2025).

“ The buying experience is more interactive than an acquisition usually is,” Creative Director Kevin Wiesner tells me. “I think there's more to explore for what MSCHF does in a gallery, which should be fun. It sort of points in an interesting direction.”

At the opening reception for King Solomon’s Baby (2025) at Pioneer Works in Red Hook, Brooklyn later that night, hundreds of people gather inside the spacious gallery to see the sculpture in person and to watch the inaugural slice live. The crowd is made up of diehard MSCHF fans clad in custom MSCHF gear, curious art lovers who heard of the event from a friend of a friend, and people who had wandered in completely clueless to what was going on alike. They circle the styrofoam sculpture in awe and total confusion, excitedly discussing among themselves what it could possibly mean. Some of them take selfies with the baby, while others squat around it, admiring the detail in the styrofoam.

The baby is a feat in itself. Etched on his face is a soft, tranquil smile, completely oblivious to what is inevitably to come, and I can’t help but to almost feel bad for the child, just for a moment. In the Bible, Solomon spares the baby’s life and allows him to live happily with his true mother—in this version, his body is divided into a thousand pieces and distributed all over the world. I ask some of the other guests what they think of the whole installation and the turnout. “MSCHF is a cult,” one person tells me with a shrug.

Veronica Bivas, a 21-year-old photographer wearing a skeleton mask and a black dress, was one of the first people to arrive at Pioneer Works for the opening reception. As she sits in a corner in the outside garden for a quick vape break, she opens up to me about her theories about the installation. “ I thought, maybe we’re the art project—maybe we’re the baby getting sliced,” she says. “This is MSCHF, to have people photograph us standing in this really long line for a closed warehouse in the middle of Red Hook. That's a cool concept, but also that's not the concept, but it's maybe part of the concept.”

As the D.J. plays an upbeat medley of Travis Scott, Snoop Dogg, and Doechii, Bentel, Wiesner, and a handful of other MSCHF-makers prepare to make the first slice into the sculpture. Donning their matching “MSCHF Refrigeration” black coveralls, Bentel inserts a hot wire (aptly shaped into a sword) through the stomach of the baby, making several passes through the styrofoam before the crew pulls the two halves of the sculpture apart, revealing a red interior with a white core, sort of resembling sliced ham. The crowd roars as they record the action on their phones, though the sight of a 15-foot baby cut in half is shocking and slightly grotesque—but perhaps MSCHF knows that. “Well, the baby’s dead,” Bivas says to me over the sound of cheers, “and we didn’t even know his name.”

After the slicing, Wiesner admits to me that large-scale performances that aren’t digital are still new to MSCHF, and that King Solomon’s Baby (2025) opened up a door to new possibilities for the art collective. “ I feel like the performance of doing that cut was a little bit of a last-minute thing,” he says. “Performance is this weird intangible thing that also kind of scales infinitely, which isn't necessarily something that I was thinking about in the pre-cut world, but I'm thinking about it in the post-cut world.”

The rest of the sculpture would continue to be sliced up while being livestreamed for the remainder of the weekend, with the final stack of slices staying on display on wooden pallets at Pioneer Works on July 13 before being shipped out to the 1,000 buyers. As the MSCHF crew passes the hot wire through each body part, the styrofoam squeaks and sizzles against the heat, and the red interior glitters under the Pioneer Works lights.

The depiction of a Biblical parable as the medium for this experiment is sure to garner mixed reactions, however MSCHF is no stranger to controversy. Who can forget the “Big Red Boot” that took social media by storm a couple of years ago, or the “Satan Shoes” made in collaboration with musical artist Lil Nas X that sparked all sorts of outrage and debates that ended in a lawsuit? Wiesner tells me that viral internet moments are never a goal at MSCHF, but rather a natural outcome that the art collective takes advantage of to allow for deeper, more widespread conversations. “It can be a tool for some of the concepts that we're working with, and also sometimes it just happens,” he says.

MSCHF continues to be an antihero within the capital-A Art World, and with 24 new projects planned before the end of the year, it’s safe to assume that they will continue along the trajectory of creating a spectacle while potentially exploring the possibilities that exist with doing more physically interactive installations.

“ I think we're interested in doing more IRL stuff, so it's sort of tangibly an exploration of that,” Wiesner says. ”I'm sure when we sit back with all of us after this, we’ll have a lot of takeaways based on how this went.” He pauses for a second before adding, “I don't think that everyone should start chopping up their sculptures now.”