Be informed

I have to admit, in my 61 years, I have never been to the Hayward Gallery on the Southbank in London. I also have to admit to not taking that much interest in the work of Gilbert and George. It is also true that I do not go often enough to the Hastings Contemporary. Last weekend, myself and my beloved shared the Hayward and Gilbert and George and topped it off with a visit to the Hastings Contemporary. This is what we found.

Gilbert and George, on the face of it, were two graduates of a London art school who found each other because they could not actually find themselves – more specifically, if they were going to be artists, what kind of artists were they going to be? Seemingly starting off quite bohemian (poor) they built a reputation out of performance and then provocative painting – for want of a better term. And everything they needed subject matter-wise was in their neighbourhood; namely, the somewhat salaceous East End of London. There was violence, drunkenness, vagrancy and camaraderie. Oh, and themselves.

The retrospective, then, at the Hayward (until 11 January 2026) charts their digital period. All galleries are filled with huge “canvasses” themed around the above subjects plus slugs (something shared with Isobel Rock). Not forgetting red pillar boxes, phone boxes and rather quaint post marks. Ever present are the artists themselves, always clothed. I used to think they were immaculately dressed, but looking closely they they seem not to own a trouser press.

For those of us of a certain age and nationality, there is much here to celebrate. All of the events, most of them involving violent death (captured in newspaper headlines reproduced like Wahol did with Marilyn Monroe). Their politics were always on the right side of history – indeed, their parents shot fascists (right), but one walks away feeling that the exhibition could have done to have had an editor (Gilbert and George famously curate their own exhibitions).

Because of the size of the Hastings Contemporary, exhibitions are tightly curated. Isabel Rock’s extraordinary work was limited to one room, a couple of walls and a remarkable cupboard (more on this below). Unlike with Gilbert and George, I could have sat with her artworks all day and not get bored or witness every nuance. Her work is fantastical and, crucially, addresses very contemporary issues, primarily climate and consumption.

Climate is so important a theme for her that she went to prison for it. She was one of the protestors in 2023 who climbed on a gantry over the M25 motorway in London to Just Stop Oil. Like so many of her peers, she spent some time in prison for that act. When she emerged, she had significant material for her illustrations. All of her inmates are naked. Incidentally, the aforementioned cupboard a replica of her prison cell which she seemingly shared with a giant slug. She was found not guilty, too.

It is not just slugs, there are rats (enjoying a birthday party), crocodiles – well crocodile-like with extra legs just to wear shoes. Shoes are a feature here. Then there is Pippa Pig – suitably renamed as I am sure the lawyers would have been round otherwise. Pippa Pig is a victim of intensive farming: huge, bloated, tattooed and free. The tables have turned. These pigs eat humans.

There is one masterpiece. It is the one that should detain visitors – there is a bench immediately in front of it for that reason. The picture in question is called Mere Anarchy is loosed upon the World (2024). It is a modern take on Hieronymus Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights, but without the heaven. Hell is an Earth of felled or dying trees. What is left is inhabited by grotesque animals doing strange things like playing violins and keyboards, cooking and eating bits of themselves and playing board games. The humans are zombie-fied. The whole scene is looked over by this black female sphynx-like figure taken directly from Niki de Saint Phalle (unknown to me but obvious to my cultured beloved).

To sum up, the Hayward show is Gilbert and George at scale. It is volume, “look at us”. It is also, to be fair, a retrospective. These do have value, but do beg the question, as I did with the Hockney retrospective at the Fondation Louis Vuitton in Paris, is that it? What about the now? Interestingly none of these artists have children of their own (though Rock says she climbed the M25 gantry for the sake of her nephew and niece). My equivalent is doing what I do for the grandchildren of my wife. It could be that for Rock the art is not enough. For me, teaching without purpose is pointless. Meaning is everything. And because of that, this Hayward retrospective was an exhibition too far. Whilst Rock’s wonderful exhibition was a simple short walk from the front door.