the physical impossibility of death in the mind of someone living
damien hirst
1991
tiger shark, glass, steel, 5% formaldehyde solution, 213 × 518 × 213 cm
damien hirst has a lot of things.
pickled animals, diamante skulls, sunglasses, money. he also has a big gallery with a big reception desk in a beautiful brick-fronted former warehouse next to a viaduct in vauxhall.
then again, it seems sometimes that damien doesn’t get a lot of love from the critics. now i don’t have the artistic authority to say definitively that his art is more artful than [some other generic critically acclaimed art-world darling] but i do find it fascinating. and disgusting. and depressing. and occasionally wildly inspiring. he’s a genius, no doubt. some of his art is properly profound.
his style just floats my boat in a big way. though i find it hard to say exactly why.
wait. no i don’t.
it’s above all the concept
and the concept above all.
it’s the repetition.
it’s the clean minimalism.
it’s the dead things
and the dark humour.
There has only ever been one idea, and it’s the fear of death; art is about the fear of death.
Damien Hirst
it's death as a metaphor
it's a metaphor for death