Damien Hirst’s The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living: The Ethics of Preserving Life in Art
(Lecture Theatre – Imaginary University of Shock Value & Existential Dread)
(Professor sits at a desk littered with empty energy drink cans and a half-eaten packet of crisps. A slide projecting a large, slightly unsettling image of a shark in formaldehyde fills the screen.)
Professor: Right then, settle down, settle down! Welcome, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (hopefully not literally bushy-tailed, we’ll get to that later), to Art Ethics 301: When Animals Get Formaldehyde-d. Today, we’re plunging headfirst into the icy depths of Damien Hirst’s The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living, or, as I like to call it, "Shark Tank: Existential Edition." 🦈
(Professor gestures dramatically with a crisp packet.)
This artwork, folks, is more than just a dead shark in a box. It’s a cultural lightning rod, a philosophical head-scratcher, and a guaranteed conversation starter at even the most awkward dinner parties. "So, Aunt Mildred, what do you think about the ethical implications of preserving a great white shark in formaldehyde to represent the futility of existence?" Trust me, you’ll never be bored again.
(Professor takes a large gulp of energy drink.)
But before we unleash our inner art critics and moral philosophers, let’s get some basics down.
I. Introduction: The Shark, the Myth, the Legend (and the Formaldehyde)
- The Piece: The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living (1991).
- The Material: A tiger shark preserved in formaldehyde within a glass vitrine.
- The Cost: Commissioned by Charles Saatchi for £50,000 in 1991. Sold to Steven A. Cohen for an estimated $12 million in 2004. (That’s a lot of fish and chips!). 💰
- The Point? Well, that’s what we’re here to discuss! But generally, it’s about confronting our own mortality, the illusion of control, and the fragility of life. Deep stuff, right?
(Professor clicks to the next slide: a close-up of the shark’s teeth.)
II. The Art Historical Context: From Victorian Taxidermy to Conceptual Shark Tanks
To understand the uproar surrounding Hirst’s shark, we need a little art history background. Artists have been using animal remains for ages, from cave paintings featuring mammoths to Victorian taxidermy displays. But Hirst’s work is different. It’s not about scientific documentation or decorative prowess. It’s about concept. It’s about making you think.
| Historical Precedent | Purpose |
|---|---|
| Cave Paintings (e.g., Lascaux) | Depiction of animals for ritualistic, hunting, or storytelling purposes. |
| Egyptian Mummification | Preserving the deceased for the afterlife. |
| Victorian Taxidermy | Scientific study, demonstration of skill, and decorative display of exotic animals. |
| Damien Hirst’s Shark | Conceptual exploration of death, fear, and the limitations of human understanding. A direct confrontation. |
Hirst sits within a lineage of conceptual artists who prioritized ideas over traditional artistic skill. He’s more interested in provoking a reaction than creating a beautiful painting. Think of Marcel Duchamp’s urinal ("Fountain") or Andy Warhol’s soup cans. It’s about challenging our preconceived notions of what art is.
(Professor pulls out a rubber duck and holds it up.)
Is this art? Maybe. Maybe not. But it’s definitely rubbery. And it’s definitely here to make you question everything.
III. The Ethical Feeding Frenzy: Where Do We Draw the Line?
Now, let’s get to the juicy bits: the ethics. The shark sparked a firestorm of debate. Animal rights activists were (and still are) outraged. Critics questioned the artistic merit. Is it art, or is it just a dead shark? 🧐
Here’s a breakdown of the key ethical concerns:
- The Taking of Life: The most obvious objection. Is it ethical to kill an animal solely for artistic purposes? Even if it’s a shark? (Some argue that sharks are apex predators and pose a threat to humans. Others argue that they are vital to the marine ecosystem.)
- The Commodification of Death: Is it morally acceptable to profit from the death of an animal? To turn a living creature into a luxury item? (Especially when that luxury item costs more than most people’s houses!)
- The Potential for Desensitization: Does artwork like this normalize the use of animals as mere objects? Does it contribute to a culture of disregard for non-human life? (Are we one step closer to turning our pets into living room furniture? Just kidding… mostly.) 🛋️
- The Issue of Authenticity: The original shark deteriorated and had to be replaced. Does this impact the artwork’s integrity? Is it still the same piece if it’s a different shark? (Think of it like the Ship of Theseus, but with more formaldehyde.)
(Professor paces the stage, looking thoughtful.)
These are tough questions, and there are no easy answers. Some argue that the ends justify the means. That the thought-provoking nature of the artwork outweighs the ethical concerns. Others argue that no amount of artistic merit can excuse the unnecessary taking of life.
IV. Counterarguments and Justifications: In Defense of the Shark
Before you grab your pitchforks and storm the gallery, let’s consider some arguments in defense of Hirst’s shark.
- The Artistic Statement: Hirst argues that the shark is a symbol of death, fear, and the human desire to control the uncontrollable. By preserving the shark, he’s confronting us with our own mortality and the limitations of our understanding. (He’s basically saying, "Look at this dead shark and realize you’re going to die too!" Cheerful, isn’t he?)
- The Shock Value as Catalyst: The very controversy surrounding the shark is part of its power. It forces us to confront uncomfortable questions about life, death, and our relationship with the natural world. (Sometimes, it takes a dead shark to make us think about living.)
- The Comparison to Other Industries: We kill animals for food, clothing, and scientific research. Is using an animal for art inherently more unethical than these other practices? (This doesn’t excuse the shark, but it provides a broader context.)
- The Preservation as Remembrance: Some argue that by preserving the shark, Hirst is, in a way, honoring its existence. He’s preventing it from simply rotting away and disappearing. (It’s like a really, really morbid taxidermy project.)
(Professor points to a slide showing a quote from Hirst: "I wanted to create something that would be as frightening as life.")
V. The Replacement Shark: A Case Study in Artistic Integrity
Ah, the Replacement Shark Saga. The original shark, sourced from Australia, began to decompose in the formaldehyde. The tank clouded, and the shark started to look less like a terrifying predator and more like a sad, pickled herring. 🐟
So, what did Hirst do? He commissioned a new shark. A bigger, better, more formaldehyde-resistant shark.
This raises some interesting questions about artistic integrity:
- Is it still the same artwork? If you replace a key component, does the piece retain its original meaning and value? (Think of it like a band replacing its lead singer. Can they still call themselves the same band?)
- Does the replacement diminish the original intent? Was the shark supposed to be a symbol of decay and impermanence? If so, does replacing it undermine that message? (Is Hirst trying to cheat death, even when it comes to his own artwork?)
- The Ethical Implications of Sourcing a Second Shark: Was the second shark obtained more ethically than the first? (Hopefully, they at least sent it a thank-you note.)
(Professor shrugs dramatically.)
The Replacement Shark Saga is a messy situation, but it highlights the inherent challenges of working with organic materials. Art, like life, is subject to decay. And sometimes, you have to replace the shark.
VI. The Role of the Artist: Provocateur or Exploiter?
Ultimately, the debate over Hirst’s shark boils down to the role of the artist in society. Are artists meant to be provocateurs, pushing boundaries and challenging our beliefs? Or are they responsible for upholding ethical standards and avoiding harm?
Some argue that Hirst is a brilliant conceptual artist who forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about ourselves. He’s holding up a mirror to our own fears and anxieties. (Even if that mirror is filled with formaldehyde.) 🪞
Others argue that he’s an exploiter, profiting from the suffering of animals and using shock value to mask a lack of genuine artistic talent. (They might call him a "shark-tist" – get it?)
(Professor pauses for dramatic effect.)
The truth, as always, is probably somewhere in between. Hirst is undoubtedly a controversial figure, but his work has undeniably sparked important conversations about art, ethics, and our place in the world.
VII. Conclusion: Swimming with the Sharks of Ethical Debate
Damien Hirst’s The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living is more than just a dead shark in a tank. It’s a complex and challenging artwork that raises profound ethical questions about the use of animals in art, the commodification of death, and the role of the artist in society.
There are no easy answers to these questions. But by engaging with the debate, we can deepen our understanding of art, ethics, and ourselves.
(Professor leans into the microphone.)
So, the next time you see a shark in a tank (or a pickled herring at the deli), remember Damien Hirst and the ethical feeding frenzy he unleashed. And ask yourself: Where do I draw the line?
(Professor clicks to the final slide: a cartoon shark wearing a tiny top hat and monocle, holding a paintbrush.)
Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find a formaldehyde-resistant rubber duck. Class dismissed!
(Professor exits the stage, leaving the audience to ponder the existential horror of it all.)
