I am sorry not to be able to see the Damien Hirst Auction collection. I should particularly like to see the Golden Calf, but even more to see the collection as a whole
The first time I saw any ‘live’ Hirst was in an exhibition at the Serpentine in the early 1990s, the very first piece a collection of pharmaceutical products in a white-shelved cabinet. Not tightly packed in alphabetical order as in a real life pharmacy, not jumbled as in a bathroom cabinet, but ‘artfully’ & individually arranged. They were not objects of beauty in themselves – some of the packets were old & battered – and not, to my eyes, overall a thing of beauty either
It crossed my mind that maybe it was supposed to be saying something about AIDS. This was, after all, not long after the grim tombstone Don’t Die of AIDS ads on the telly, & was reminiscent of the early 1980s, when AIDS was (as it says on the tin) thought to be a collection of rare diseases caused by the assaults on the immune system inflicted by an extreme ‘gay lifestyle’, the only treatment a pharmacopeia of drugs to deal with each symptom
For some reason, to do with some of the specific drugs included, I rejected that idea, & remained baffled
The other piece by Hirst in that exhibition was the sheep in formaldehyde – fortunately restored to view so soon after the ink attack. My emotional response was immediate – I loved it
It was so alive, the epitome of inquiring sheep. The colours – the formaldehyde looked blue, the creamy grey fleece thick & healthy, the black patches endearing
Some years later, when shown a very good black & white photo of a sheep on a snow-covered hillside, staring quizzically at the camera, I told the photographer that it looked just like Damien Hirst.” Oh – is that a compliment?” he asked
One very common response to the kind of bafflement that modern art can induce is “They are having us on.” I do not share that view, but after walking round Hirst’s sheep a couple of times I suddenly wondered if it could be a trick – some kind of optical illusion
The thought had something to do with the bevelled edges of the glass tank. These reminded me quite vividly of the introductory sequence to the Harry Worth comedy series on 1960s tv. Middle aged Harry, dressed in trilby & macintosh, stood at the angle of an old fashioned shop entrance, put his nose to the window edge & raised his left arm & leg in the air. The refraction made him look as if he was suspended above the ground in a star jump
So, could something like that be happening with the sheep - it wasn't real & 3-dimensional at all but just some kind of refracted picture?
I was on my own, taking advantage of a couple of hours to spare between appointments; courage failed me at the thought of asking complete strangers to help by looking at it simultaneously from several angles – necessary because the illusion, if such it was, artfully followed you as you moved around – like one of the Patrick Hughes paradoxical perspectives
Ultimately, the only interesting question about this is – does it matter? No, is the simple answer, without going through all that art (& life) is all illusion stuff, anyway
More prosaically, when I visited the gallery shop I saw a beautifully produced (in Berlin, if memory serves) small brown covered book of sketches/drawings by Hirst. The answer to those who ask Can he do proper art?
And one other abiding memory from that exhibition. Just near the sheep, leaning against the wall, was a battered bicycle festooned with plastic bags stuffed with stuff. Think eccentricity or homelessness
Not really my kind of thing. So why, as I stood there, did I feel a strong urge to take an ordinary plastic biro out of my handbag & add it to the collection? What was that all about?
Back to Hirst. I have seen 2 of his other works, both in the Tate. In their permanent collection they have another of his glass fronted cabinets, one containing exotic giant sea shells. This pleases me neither as might an exhibit in a museum, with labels giving interesting information, nor as a kind of decorative feature – too opulent & blowsy, not minimalist enough for my drawing room
The other was part of a temporary exhibition – the Mother & Child Divided. I was apprehensive going in – would I be nauseated & repulsed?
The first reaction was how peaceful it seemed
Second reaction was – look at the colours. I expected it to be just grey & tripe-y, not flashes of turquoise, pink, yellow, green, purple, black, blue on a creamy grey background
On this occasion I had the advantage of being in the company of a surgeon who pointed out that there was a fair bit of stitching involved – a flap folded back here, fastened down there, artful in its artlessness. Not just something anybody can do, saw a cow in half & plonk it in a tank
Somewhere around this time I went to an exhibition of Spanish art at the National Gallery. Some pictures were genre scenes of kitchens. It struck me how many of these included lovingly painted semi-prepared (decapitated or gutted) rabbits or fish, or anatomically detailed cuts of meat. Not so very different, after all, from the divided cow & calf
I have never seen one of Hirst’s dot/circle paintings live as it were, but in reproduction I am disappointed by the colours. There seems nothing to them, nothing like the zephyrs darting round one of Bridget Riley’s parallelogram pictures. Instead they call to mind Jonathan Meade’s brilliant observation: For Picasso, colour was just a found object. There is no Matisse-like connection to the emotion
It is extraordinary how popular & influential they are – I have even seen plates on sale in Woolworths. Somehow I doubt Hirst is at all put out by this, in the way that Bridget Riley was offended by the way she thought her black & white art was subverted by the Op Art of 1960s fashions
Hirst’s golden calf & diamond studded skull remind me a little of the fabulous golden items from Ancient Iraq, such as the Sumerian goat from Ur.
This impression might not survive live viewing, but it makes me wonder if his next ‘line’ might not be carved stone murals depicting the modern equivalent of Ashurbanipal (Russian oligarchs?) killing lions
*****
"Damien Hirst once sued British Airways, claiming a breach of copyright over the coloured spots that it used in an advert for its low-cost airline, Go. I am surprised that Nestle didn't, in turn, sue him for nicking the design from its Smarties packet. because that is what his spot paintings look like"
Rachel campbell-Johnston, Times art critic
