MSCHF Put Your Sanity on Trial

Exhibited July 10–13, 2025

Pioneer Works, Brooklyn

kingsolomonsbaby.com

Two women claim the same baby. King Solomon says, “Cut the child in half and give each woman a piece.”

It was a brutal solution—except it never happened. The biblical king’s infamous judgment was a psychological test, designed to reveal the true mother by provoking empathy.But MSCHF? They actually took the knife out.

And they did cut the baby.

King Solomon’s Baby: A Sliced Infant and a Butchered Art Market

On July 10, a large sculpture appeared at Pioneer Works, Brooklyn. Its name: King Solomon’s Baby.

Its value? Entirely dependent on how many people were willing to share it.

- One buyer: $100,000

- Two buyers: $50,000 each

- 1,000 buyers? Just $100 per slice

MSCHF dubbed this pricing model a “financial trust fall.” The first to buy had to trust others would follow. Ownership, in this case, wasn’t just transactional—it was existential.

The Cut Heard Round Brooklyn

At exactly 2PM EST on July 10, sales opened online. That night at 8:30PM, the first ceremonial cut took place. A hot wire met cold steel. The sculpture was quite literally butchered—live, in front of an audience and streamed online. The cutting continued over two days. By the end, 1,000 pieces were randomly distributed to buyers.

One person got the eye. Another got a hand. Someone else? A flat slab with no discernible meaning. The dismembered sculpture remained on view through Pioneer Works’ July Second Sunday program, now fragmented, unrecognizable—yet still very much "owned."

Did You Buy Art—or Just Participate in a System?

This wasn’t just performance art. It was a deadpan interrogation of the art market’s fundamental absurdities.

“If you own a single piece, do you own the whole?”

“What remains when value, rarity, and authorship are divided?”

“Post-NFT, can shared ownership still hold meaning?”

MSCHF didn’t provide answers. They never do. They just built the machine—and left the rest up to you.

A Logistical Nightmare, Solved with a Chainsaw

Beyond satire, King Solomon’s Baby posed a practical question:

Why does collecting art always mean owning all of it, storing it, shipping it, insuring it? MSCHF’s answer: it doesn’t have to.

In classic form, the collective poked fun at the rituals of high-end art ownership—just as they did with the ATM Leaderboard at Art Basel, or by selling Damien Hirst dots one at a time. Here, they offered the most literal solution yet: just cut the damn thing up.

✍️ Editor A’s Note

King Solomon’s Baby didn’t just ask, “What do you own?”

It asked, “What part did you play?” You didn’t just buy a sculpture. You bought a slice of a system. A slice of trust. A slice of satire. You played a game where meaning was as fragmented as the artwork itself. And maybe—just maybe—that’s what made it art in the first place.

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