- Venue
- The Wallace Collection
- Location
- London
On my way over to the Wallace Collection I had a feeling of excitement and intrigue in seeing Hirst’s apparent ‘return’ to painting. Having never previously visited the venue, I had no idea what to expect from the gallery or the work I was about to see. How would Hirst’s shift in direction weigh up against his back catalogue of now iconic works? Can he be accepted as a ‘serious’ painter? On arriving at the venue I was struck by the extravagantly decorative layout, along with an over emphasis of staff circulating the rooms – it’s surprising the hustle and hype that one of Britain’s greatest living artists can create…
Split over two rooms, twenty five paintings are on display. On entering the rooms, my first feeling was that of disappointment and confusion. I’m aware that Hirst has a lot of respect for the work of Francis Bacon, which much of the art world does, but the paintings before me were reminiscent of Bacon in almost every respect. Where was the originality? Of course, some would argue that no art is ‘original’ anymore, but that’s another debate for another time. The only signs of Hirst in these paintings are the objects – the skull, animal bones, a shark’s jawbone, it goes on. I did quite like the quirky yellow lemon thrown in for good measure in Skull with ashtray and lemon which brought an extra perspective to the composition. Other than that, Bacon’s use of geometric lines were introduced to create the appearance of a room, blurry figures were used as a focal point in composition and the familiar triptych he is so known for are all on show. So if you’re a big fan of Bacon, you’re in for a treat here.
To throw an extra spanner in the works, the cramped layout did not cater for the scale of the paintings at all. Numerous times I found that to really appreciate one piece I had to stand back, which meant I was blocking someone else’s view of the piece behind me. The lighting didn’t really help either: as it was very neutral, it was hard to focus on one at a time as my eye was constantly wandering. The irony is that Hirst funded the gallery to install specific lighting for his work. This only comes into effect in Floating Skull, for which the lighting accentuates the piece so much that from a distance the skull in question appears to rise up out of the murky blackness with haunting visual effect. It’s just a shame that the highlight of the exhibition was crammed between two doorways…
The skills Hirst has shown over the years in curating, most notably for Freeze, seem completely lost here. Everything seems to be slightly off centre; an effect which was compounded by the constant pace of the public passing throughout the rooms, no one seemingly able to stand around long enough to even attempt to absorb the work.
I can understand that the Wallace Collection has a certain taste, but Hirst had the run of the place: fitting his own lighting, having fabric fitted into the walls (which completely bemused me and appeared to have no relevance other than to the decorative nature of exterior rooms) and the framing. Oh the framing! Its inconsistency throughout seemed amateur – some gold, others silver-plated, some even engraved from oak. It seemed like an attempt to brand his paintings with the iconic imagery of the likes of Rembrandt in the main collection, rather than to accentuate the imagery that sits within his frames. I would have expected a more focused and professional approach. These are only minor details surrounding the paintings themselves, but these little things add up. The environment and location of an exhibition are the platform on which an artist’s practice is revealed to the public, it is crucial that they are addressed to accentuate the work and allow it to be seen in its most positive light.
Hirst knows the stakes are high, and for him these things are worth the risk. The hot topic here is his yearning to be associated with some of the greatest artists that ever lived: Poussin, Titian, Rubens and Rembrandt to name but a few. This is evident throughout, as their influences dominate the aura and presentation of the work, overshadowing it from any hint of being ‘original.’ Maybe, given his successes, he deserves the right to be associated with the Wallace Collection (the only other contemporary artist to exhibit there was Lucian Freud in 2004): his name and body of controversial works will be forever bound within the decades in which they sit.
But it is the paintings that suffer here. Readers may agree with me when I say that Hirst is no painter. I may also be correct in stating that his splatter and dot paintings were produced by assistants (apart from the first couple or so) whilst Hirst provided them with instructions on how to execute them. So this could be seen, to the public’s knowledge, as the first time he’s picked up a paintbrush and attempted some serious painting of his own.
The show becomes less about the paintings and once more about an artist making a statement. The media frenzy surrounding Hirst over the last decade is brought to its height here, as ‘Brand Hirst’ sets in full swing. The artist is more interested in the association with the great masters in the Wallace Collection, than producing a series of paintings worthy of the reputation that precedes him. I have to say I laughed to myself when I saw the brochure, which detailed the artist’s favourite pieces in the Wallace Collection. Is this not just a convenience and an opportunity for association? It has marketing strategies written all over it. As if to emphasise this point, Hirst’s intentions were recently summarised in an interview with Time Out: ‘At least paintings are easier to shift – even in a recession people like paintings.’ It seems difficult to allow these paintings to be really appreciated, when the artist seems to be more driven by financial gain. We’re back to the production line again…
If this body of new work was taken out of its current location, put in a spacious stripped bare gallery with blank walls, dimmed overhead lighting and subtle spotlights on the work and the paintings injected with some personality of their own, it would have given the exhibition a kick in the right direction.
