Feeling under the weather? Need a quick fix to get you through the day? The pills and potions in Damien Hirst’s latest show can’t be taken orally, but that doesn’t mean they won’t banish the winter blues.
Big and bold is what Hirst has always been good at. We expect it from him. And the sculptures of giant tablets and medicine packaging turn the contents of a bathroom cabinet into kaleidoscopic works of art. Sudafed capsules, lined up on a shelf, are precise replicas. Diamond-shaped Pfizer lozenges come in either baby pink or baby blue. The minimalist designs of antibiotic packs are accentuated while, at the back of the gallery, bottles and boxes spill their contents under the glow of a neon sign that spells out the title of the show, ‘Schizophrenogenesis’.
Enhancing the pop aspect of modern medicine are Warhol-esque silkscreen prints titled ‘The Cure’. In the same way that Hirst’s spot paintings can induce a headache, these prints, hung closely next to one another, create a dizzying illusion.
This isn’t the first time Hirst has dabbled in pharmaceutical accoutrements. His defunct Notting Hill restaurant, Pharmacy, was designed like a dispensary, and previous works have dealt with our reliance on medical treatments to prolong life. It’s a typically grand gesture by the former YBA, even if it feels well past its use-by date.
Freire Barnes