Later that decade, biblical references would come to punctuate Damien Hirst’s work too. Hirst took as his central theme the idea that art, science and money had come to supplant religion in the West, becoming the dominant new faiths of our age. Like the faiths of old, his work suggested, it is these that now claim to provide access to the realm of the sacred and the immortal. Hirst’s art often openly emulates the visual kitsch of the Roman Catholic art he grew up with: its altarpieces, stained-glass windows and martyrs. His mix of cold scientific classification, pharmaceutical packaging, candy colours and clichéd romanticism is at once a half-sincere parody of his childhood faith and a veiled assault on medicine’s false claims of omnipotence.
Damien Hirst (b. 1965), God, 1989. Glass, faced particleboard, ramin, plastic, aluminium and pharmaceutical packaging. 54 x 40 x 9 in (137.2 x 101.6 x 22.9cm). Private Collection, Europe © Damien Hirst and Science Ltd. All rights reserved, DACS/Artimage 2018. Photo: Prudence Cuming Associates Ltd.
The sense that nothing is considered sacred — or scandalous — anymore was behind some of Maurizio Cattelan’s most contentious images. Not least, of course, is his infamous La Nona Ora (shown above), an installation depicting a life-size replica of Pope John Paul II struck down by a meteorite. A truly iconoclastic image, the piece caused a holy row when it was put on show in the Pope’s homeland of Poland in 2000. ‘What scares me,’ Cattelan has said in reference to La Nona Ora, ‘is the way in which scandals and consensus seem to walk hand in hand these days. You can’t step outside of the system, you can’t be radical: everything is sanctioned, appreciated and digested. We are perennially at ease, numbed. In the end, every man kills the things he loves.’
Maurizio Cattelan (b. 1960), La Nona Ora (The Ninth Hour), 1999. Polyester resin, painted wax, human hair, fabric, clothing, accessories, stone and carpet dimensions variable. Pinault Collection © Maurizio Cattelan. Photo: Zeno Zotti