The richest living contemporary artist Damien Hirst pumps out paintings, sculptures, installations, and commodities through a factory-style, manufacturing mode of production, which raises some critical questions and contentious answers to those questions.
How much of a work of art should be done by the artist’s own hands to be called his? Is a work that was not at all touched by the artist himself really his? Hirst’s production of art is no doubt modeled after the Warhol Factory, but this mode of production goes way back in art history. Rembrandt of the 17th century Netherlands is an example. He had a group of workshop assistants as well as students who produced works in his style or based on his earlier work, which he then signed and sold in the market under his name. While this old master’s reason for his manufacturing system seems to have been financial (he was constantly in debt), Hirst’s is, it is claimed, rooted in his artistic principle that the idea is what matters. However, such extensive effort to distinguish “authentic” works done by the artist’s hands as evident in the Rembrandt Project shows that, even in modern times, the definition of authenticity in art is revolved around whose hands made the artwork in question.
Hirst’s all about the idea. The problem is that his works are criticized for the shallowness and worthlessness of the very ideas that Hirst claims to be his own and presents as the core of his art (see cartoons). Even before the legitimacy of the concepts behind Hirst’s works can be put into question, a more fundamental problem is put forward: is the idea enough to make good art? Is an artist with innovative ideas necessarily a great artist? Those who oppose the type of art Hirst presents would argue that ideas need to be translated into a form of art in artistically respectable ways, which Hirst fails to accomplish with his manufactured, oft-called “kitschy” art.
What Hirst is unquestionably skilled at is branding of his own name. When a name is elevated to such a degree as Hirst’s, everyone wants a piece of it. Also, a cheaper option like the Hirst T-hisrt, broadens the artist’s target audience. This way, those who do not have millions of dollars to spend on his paintings, installations, and other forms of work, all of which are sold at shockingly high prices at galleries and auction houses, can still have a Hirst. His marketing strategies are not unlike the high-end designer brands’ release of signature key chains, charms, and cardholders that are more affordable than their other goods. When things like ashtrays and salt and pepper shakers are sold for thousands of dollars, it becomes clear that what is being bought is really the name rather than the objects themselves (Even I have salt and pepper shakers that are aesthetically more pleasing and more functional). When The Fragile Truth sold for 1.2 million GBP, the news probably made the British pharmacists take another good look at their medicine cabinets.
Links to the Hirst salt and pepper shakers and ashtrays:
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Damien Hirst. The Fragile Truth. 1997-98. https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ_-H6EMY7WIcpHVlTTVntGqxRLeV4EjpXIPl0IGJZXV2x1QH29
An ordinary medicine cabinet in a pharmacy. https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT-i43O1a_h2bX2e4xkK-mQ50WPGLRrUOFNykkmktC36i_RmvgMrg
However, the most striking example of this name selling business would be the Stalin painting by an anonymous painter, which was first rejected by the auction houses, that was turned into a ￡140,000 work when Hirst added a red dot on Stalin’s nose and signed his name.
Damien Hirst, Red Nose Stalin. 2007.
Another question that arises at this point is whether this branding of artist’s name and commodification of his art to be frowned upon. Is this new concept and practice corrupting art and steering the art world in a wrong direction or is it to be accepted as a new, modern take on art? What seems to be at play here is what Jerry Saltz’ calls “gamesmanship” in art. One cannot help but wonder, since when did art become a game?