Damien Hirst is one of the most recognisable names in contemporary art. But the question of authorship has long followed him: when was the last time Damien Hirst actually made his own work?
To answer that, we have to consider how Hirst defines authorship in the first place. He’s never hidden the fact that he relies heavily on studio assistants, even stating outright: “I've never had a problem with using assistants.” For Hirst, that delegation isn’t a shortcut. It’s a statement. It’s the concept - the idea behind the work - that has always taken precedence over the physical act of making. That’s why, of the 1,500 Spot Paintings attributed to Hirst, he’s only painted five himself because - in the words of the artist himself - he “couldn’t be fucking arsed doing it” himself.
This approach draws a direct line back to Andy Warhol’s Factory, where assistants executed much of the artist’s silkscreen production. Warhol reframed the role of the artist as a director rather than a craftsman. Hirst continues that tradition, operating a studio with dozens of employees who carry out his meticulous instructions, like an orchestra playing to the symphony of his design.
But this idea isn’t new. Renaissance masters like Rubens and Raphael rarely painted every inch of their commissions. Workshops were the standard model, and assistants were trained to replicate the master’s style precisely. Even Leonardo da Vinci was once an apprentice under Verrocchio; it’s simply how most artists learnt their trade. The shift toward solitary artistic production only gained traction in the 19th century, when the Impressionists championed personal expression through strokes that spoke to their character and painted en plein air. What Hirst is doing is less a break from tradition than a return to it - with a conceptual twist.
Still, it’s this very reliance on assistants that fuels criticism. During the pandemic, Hirst came under fire for laying off 63 studio staff, despite having received millions in government support. His critics have also argued that outsourcing undermines the value and authenticity of his work. David Hockney was long thought to be one such critic - especially after his Royal Academy show carried the inscription: “All the works here were made by the artist himself, personally.” But Hockney has denied the dig was aimed specifically at Hirst.
Even Hirst’s most commercially successful bodies of work - like the Spot Paintings or the Butterfly Mandalas - are typically executed by others. And of course, even his most conceptually lauded works, like The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living, required a team of people to prepare and assemble the artwork. Yet Hirst remains adamant that each piece still contains his vision: “Every single spot painting contains my eye, my hand, and my heart.” For him, the artist’s role is conceptual, not mechanical. He sees himself more like an architect: while he may not lay every brick, the building doesn’t exist without his design.
This position is echoed by other major names in contemporary art. Jeff Koons, whose market has overtaken even Hirst’s, has famously said: “I'm the idea person. I’m not physically involved in the production.” For both artists, the finished object is the result of many hands - but one mind.
It’s also worth noting that Hirst doesn’t hide his collaborators. He has publicly praised his long-time assistant Rachel Howard, calling her the best spot painter he’s ever worked with. Howard has spoken about their symbiotic working relationship and remains a respected artist outside of her attachment to Hirst’s studio.
So when was the last time Damien Hirst physically painted something himself? Well, he’s currently making a series of repetitive floral works with Gagosian/HENI. But does that even matter? For Hirst, and for many collectors and institutions, the answer is no. What matters is the idea - the provocation. His work isn't about brushstrokes; it's about belief systems, commodification, and mortality.
The debate around authorship isn’t new, but it is evolving. In a world where algorithms can generate art and NFTs can be created without a hand ever touching the canvas, Hirst’s model - outsourcing to human assistants - almost feels traditional.
So whether you consider him a master artist, a conceptual provocateur, or a savvy businessman, Damien Hirst has redefined what it means to ‘make’ art. And that redefinition might just be the most original thing about him.