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D stands not only for the grim reaper’s middle name but is also the initial of Mr. Hirst’s first name. He has indeed made a fortune out of death by dissecting cows, plucking wings of butterflies and studding skulls with diamonds. He managed to reincarnate several times over, each time into a different style, and the death theme seems to have had an invigorating effect on him.

Hirst’s motto seems to be ‘try again – succeed better’ – the genius of a persistent salesman and all round controversial figure. He is the only artist, as far as I know, who was nominated for the Turner Prize twice and got his award the second year round. It is claimed that the artist Eddie Saunders exhibited a dead shark two years before Hirst, without ever being credited for it. Further it is said that as a student he went round knocking at Saatchi’s door more than once and finally twisted Saatchi’s arm and dragged him to his student show. And it is also said that Hirst’s best paintings were painted by hired helping-hands like ‘LSD’ by Rachel Howard, which looks like a copy of a painting by Ellsworth Kelly. In any case the second bite into the arts apple seems to have paid off.

Why mention all this? When I walked into Damien Hirst’s current show at the White Cube I was sure to see some Francis Bacon paintings on the wall. The same twisted suspense, dense colours, sketched geometrical cages and silent screams. The paintings are ordered, much like Bacon paintings, into triptychs of iconic scale. There are some skulls scattered here and there to give the show continuity and gravity. The paintings are telling a story of pain and depict ghost-like figures, skeletal forms, empty chairs, knifes, lemons, wine glasses and other fatal imagery. The paintings are well made and well framed. The colours have a real knife’s edge to them while the blue paintings are deeply inky. Hirst himself said: ‘I feel I’ve arrived somewhere [...] In a completely different way, I feel I’ve got the tools to navigate somewhere.’ It seems Hirst has a restless mind with a need for expression but only dares to express something someone else has already mentioned. So, is this authentic pain I kept wondering? Is this Hirst without a price tag - pure and from the heart? It is difficult to believe. The whole thing feels like the smooth handshake from an undertaker (No offense to the undertakers among you – I understand it is a serious and important vocation.) What I am getting at is that even the pain in these paintings seems second hand, contrived and aesthetically pleasing. Maybe Hirst is being serious in his irony, but will we ever really know?

Oh, I forgot to say, the show is called: Nothing Matters.

White Cube, Hoxton and Mason’s Yard, until 30 January 2010, free. Also ‘No Love Lost’ by D. Hirst at The Wallace Collection until 24 January 2010

Valeria Melchioretto