Within comfortable tourist distance of the Champs-Elysees rests the Gagosian Gallery of Paris, currently hosting Damien Hirst’s ground- breaking The Complete Spot Paintings. What does an art neophyte expect from such an event? Spots like you’ve never seen before.
Set in an expanse of luminous white walls, which can look ethereal or vaguely like a hospital corridor, there hangs an endless series of Hirst’s spot paintings from a period of 1986 to 2011. The exhibit is being held simultaneously in 11 other cities, including Athens, Hong Kong and New York City.
At first impression, the dots look like pretty optical illusions. Stare too hard and you begin to get a multi-colored headache. But the range of spot sizes and canvas expanse do make it feel like you’ve stepped in a type of Wonderland. Maybe it’s the color or the brightness. Or that there is simply nothing else to focus on.
But these spots are inviting, even if they do resemble some Ikea prints you may have lurking at home.
Damien Hirst as an artist has made his name based on shock value, as well as artistic talent. His notoriety comes from art works that include sharks in formaldehyde and skulls with real human teeth encrusted with diamonds. So spots are a bit of a far cry from his forte but maybe that’s where the beauty lies.
Something so simple, so absurdly out of place, is where you can appreciate an artist for being somewhat versatile, or at least attempting to be.
Or you may assume that would be his intention, supposing he painted any of these. Hirst himself told a reporter that he had his assistants make most of these because “I couldn’t be fucking arsed doing it”. Having assistants do brunt work is not new in art, but I couldn’t help but have a sense of indignation. Well if you don’t care about your spot paintings, why should anyone be “arsed” to drag himself to their local Gagosian gallery and appreciate your minions’ work?
But then I realized that Hirst was simply being what we all encouraged and craved in a rebellious modern artist; he was candid and ruthlessly honest. This was the guy that once had an exhibit refused a showing in New York City for fear it, I am not joking, might cause people to vomit. My indignation was no more.
As I walked through the gallery, I realized the trip was not in vain. There were several people wandering about, pondering, no doubt heavily, in front of Spot Painting #3 (I assume) and it made me look for meaning in it as well.
Do you need overblown talent and vivid landscapes to find beauty? Do paintings need years of careful shadowing on a single expression to be called art? Maybe in this society of over-stimulation we crave something simple and not so engaging to make us slow down and discover that art does not mean talent or skill or anything discernible. It can mean well… just spots.
Brilliant article review.