Richard Hamilton, the most influential British artist of the 20th century, has died aged 89. In his long, productive life he created the most important and enduring works of any British modern painter. This may sound a surprising claim. We have our national icons and our pop celebrities. But neither Francis Bacon nor Lucian Freud nor Damien Hirst has shaped modern art as Hamilton did when he put a lolly with the word POP on it in the hand of a muscleman in his 1956 collage, Just What is it that Makes Today's Homes So Different, So Appealing? Hamilton has a serious claim to be the inventor of pop art: this collage is a visionary, yet ironic, manifesto for a new art that would be at home in the modern world. For him, in a postwar Britain of austerity measures, pop was a utopian ideal. Big, fast cars were the metal angels of a smooth, beautiful future. I have been driven by Hamilton in his huge, sleek car. The experience was like stepping into one of his paintings. He drove me to his house, a modern dream home decorated with the works of Marcel Duchamp – or rather, Hamilton's own replicas personally approved by the maverick dadaist chess player. Hamilton's second great influence on the art of today was his championing of Duchamp at a time when the Frenchman's subversive philosophical art was largely forgotten. One of Hamilton's masterpieces is his replica of Duchamp's Large Glass, in Tate Modern. was an intellectual. He did not go for the guts, but the brain. His art is thoughtful, uneasy, even as it celebrates the power of technology. It also became increasingly political. He confronted issues from the Irish Troubles to both Iraq wars in works that dropped the cool mask for outright engagement, making him even more of a meaty and serious proposition. Swingeing London, pictured above, in which Mick Jagger in lurid green jacket is enclosed in the back of a police car, shielding his face against the media glare, is a great modern history painting. So is Hamilton's portrait of IRA hunger striker Bobby Sands. These works analyse the way images are made, yet their intellect is saturated with outrage and compassion. Hamilton saw our future coming. He even designed a computer as a readymade artwork in the early days of digital. He saw and accepted the way technology changes the human condition. Yet he cared about, and fought for, the human ghost in the machine. That is what makes him a great artist.
Swingeing London by Richard Hamilton, showing Rolling Stone Mick Jagger in the back of a police car: a great modern history painting. Photograph: Serpentine
With more than 3,000 fans cheering, a hulking, black-and-white fighting bull named "Mouse" chased one daredevil runner after another, trying to flip them airborne and skewer them as he did a month ago in a fatal goring that enshrined his reputation as Spain's most feared and famous beast. Mouse was greeted in the southeastern farm town of Sueca like a rock star: Everyone stood up at 2 a.m. Sunday in the bull ring's grandstands as he charged across the sand after loudspeakers introduced him with the eerie strains of the soundtrack to "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly," the 1960s spaghetti western film starring a young Clint Eastwood. The 550-kilogram (1,213-pound) bull didn't claim any more victims this time, but tried his hardest to gore runners. And he captured intense media coverage in what could be his last appearance before retirement amid the controversy he has generated about Spain's summertime tradition of bull versus human runs, a pastime that plays out in rings, narrow streets and plazas across the nation. After running with Mouse, a breathless Julian Herroja said the bull is so dangerous that "if you make a mistake, he won't. You'll be a victim for sure." More than 30 journalists were on hand to cover the event in Sueca, population 28,000, near the beach destination of Valencia. Though Mouse will make one more appearance before the end of his season this year, he will run around the ring without runners. Mouse's owner now fends off as many as 60 cell phone calls daily from reporters. Facebook pages dedicated to him include comments from some people praising him for taking revenge against humans in a country where slews of bulls are slain every year in bullfights by matadors. But de Jesus is angry that Mouse has been nicknamed "Killer Bull," saying he gets blame for doing what comes naturally: Defending himself against perceived threats. "We go to entertain people so they'll have fun, but unfortunately they are fighting bulls, and there is always a percentage of risk," said de Jesus, 42, a former bull fighter who raises 70 specially bred bulls and 300 cows. The hype about Mouse has grown so much in Spain that de Jesus is forced to deny reports that the 11-year-old Mouse has killed as many as five runners during his career. But in addition to the 29-year-old victim Aug. 14 in the town of Xativa, he killed a 56-year-old man in 2006 and has seriously injured five more people over the years. Mouse got his name because no one ever expected him to turn into such a raging bull, de Jesus said. As a calf, he was tormented by several youths who broke into his pen and exhausted him almost to death. Then he was nearly fatally gored by another bull at de Jesus' ranch. Critics and bull run aficionados alike agree that security is lax at many small town bull runs, meaning almost anyone can participate — even if they're drunk, have taken drugs or aren't physically fit enough to sprint away from enraged bulls. Sueca's mayor beefed up security Sunday, and the extra contingent of police took away some suspected drunks during Mouse's run. After the bull's last deadly goring, Valencia's regional government announced plans to study how police can be given more authority to detain runners who shouldn't be in the ring, while stressing that the overall number of bull run injuries in the region where they run dropped to 486 in 2010 from 676 in 2008. Hector Benet, an insurance agent for the bull run industry, said the number of deaths each year in the region averages four, with dozens of serious injuries annually. While bulls in the runs aren't killed or bloodied like their counterparts in bullfights, animal rights groups say the events are a form of animal torture, with bulls terrified by the hundreds of people who taunt the animals by yelling at them, poking them with long sticks and tossing sand from the plaza at them. "Mouse is the proof that the bull runs are barbaric and medieval," said Leonardo Anselmi of PROU, the animal rights group whose signature-collecting campaign led to a bullfighting ban in Catalonia, which neighbors Valencia. "It's excessive and cruel violence. The culprits are the politicians who allow the bull runs." But after Catalonia banned bullfighting, politicians there put in protections for other bull-related traditions, including "correbous" — when metal rods with flaming balls of wax or fireworks are attached to bulls' horns before they are let loose to run around bull rings or plazas and chase people. It's all part of Spain's centuries-old fascination with bulls, with animals used in public as a test of bravery and part of the national identity. Spaniards also run with bulls in northern Pamplona every year, spear them to death from horseback in a town called Tordesillas and cordon off town squares to let children dodge feisty calves bred to become top-fighter bulls. Sueca's mayor, Salvador Campillo, was torn on whether to let Mouse perform in his small city after this year's fatal goring by the bull. In the end, he decided to go ahead because he's a bull run fan. "Raton is a bull that gives a great show, he never stops," Campillo said with a smile. The town's annual end of summer party also features an international paella cooking competition in place since 1961. The contest attracted chefs this year from top restaurants from Spain and France, plus one from Chicago. Campillo said de Jesus told him that the Sueca event would be Mouse's last real run before retirement, but de Jesus insisted he won't decide until next year whether Mouse will be put to pasture to breed "some little Mouses" with a chance of inheriting the bull's agility, aggression, intelligence and speed. Mouse's eventual retirement will probably prove lucrative for his owner, Campillo said, because cow owners who want mating privileges with the bull may have to pay as much as €3,000 ($4,145) for each use of his services.
