The Apocalypse at the Royal Academy of Art is drawing much attention from the media. The outrage is focusing on the Chapman brothers. The images of their monumental “Hell” are everywhere. Brian Sewell’s article in yesterday’s Evening Standard is thus far from a surprise. He, too, piles invective on the show, and questions whether Jake and Dinos actually make art. Again, images of their vast installation enliven his boring review. In fact, I feel the brazen brothers are finally onto something that goes well beyond themselves. They provide a fine account of the monstrosity of the human species. That is a worthwhile endeavor, which few artists have approached with sufficient dispassion and without reference to specific historical examples of universal atrocity. But this leads me to the only criticism of “Hell” that I feel is justified: the German helmets in the piece offer an easy escape hatch for the visitor of the show. The piece harks back to the Second World War. How about Korea, Guatemala, Kampuchea, Bosnia, Rwanda, Kosovo? How about all the horrors going all the way to prehistory? How about the atrocities yet to be committed? Still, “Hell” is hellish enough. It points beyond itself and the Chapmans. It points at the very core of our psyche. That is precisely what one would expect from a piece of art worth its name.