Gilbert and George: More Outrageous Stained Glass
- The Courtauldian
- 1 day ago
- 4 min read
Lexie Patterson
P.S. Be nice, and pretend to be shocked
Gilbert and George are back at the Hayward Gallery, bringing their lurid, stained-glass visions of sex, money, fear, crime and death to the Southbank. But it all feels a little déjà vu. They’ve been staging the same spectacle for decades. The ever-provocative duo, who met at Central Saint Martins in 1967 and long ago cemented their cult status, are still performing as ‘two people but one artist’, still trying to scandalise. Yet in 2025, their shock tactics feel more nostalgic than subversive. A phallic form here, a drug baggie there, Gilbert flashing a V-sign, it’s all a bit old hat. The colours scream and the chaos sprawls, but their rebellion feels all rather rehearsed.
The exhibition spans 25 years of Gilbert and George, chronicling their lives in East London through bold text, graphic imagery and the restless energy of a city in flux. Their vast panels dominate the walls, diary-like in their intimacy, offering glimpses into the artists’ world. One wall lists brief portraits of men on the London dating scene: ‘23, very good- looking bodybuilder’, ‘26 handsome, masculine sexy and educated’. It’s a portrait of a city where identities blur and desire becomes transactional. Gilbert and George peer through the same peephole, capturing the claustrophobia, absurdity and loneliness of urban life. Without titles or dates next to the works, the exhibition assumes timeless relevance. However, what once spoke to an era of phone boxes and personal ads, now feels unfamiliar and even quaint, to a generation swiping on Hinge or Grindr.
In the 1970s, Gilbert and George were once the radical outliers, rejecting conceptual minimalism in favour of a pop-meets performance style that was defiantly unfashionable. They developed their now-signature photo-based works which feature themselves in stained- glass-like compositions, with high contrast colours and lines. The pieces almost insist on devotion, asking viewers to stand at the artists’ queer altar.
By the 1980s, their focus had shifted to darker, grittier subjects: AIDS, racial tension and sexuality, filtered through the chaos of East London life. Over time, they broke out of the art world and into mainstream British culture, embodying a peculiar kind of ‘Englishness’, part camp, part caricature, entirely deadpan. They became fixtures on British television, appearing in BBC and Channel 4 arts programmes such as Arena and The South Bank Show, and even The Johnathon Ross Show, where they played up to their eccentric and inseparable personas.
But where do art royalty Gilbert and George fit into the 21st century world? The exhibition, sparse in wall texts, just a small, single label per room, seemed to assume the images spoke for themselves. In doing so, it framed the duo as contemporary provocateurs rather than historical figures. Yet what’s really missing is precisely that context, an understanding of their significance as artists of their era, whose once-radical vision now reads as part of art history rather than a challenge to it. I came out of the exhibition knowing nothing more of Gilbert and George than when I went in. Embracing echoes of a London that once was, the now-millionaire duo speak of the city from a distance. What was once lived experience now feels observed from behind tinted glass. There’s an irony in two wealthy men narrating the realities of city life.
In one room, a short wall caption reads: ‘With provocative bluntness, [These works] ask us to reflect on what we too often ignore, leaving the viewer to reconsider their own responses to life’s big questions’. In other words, their work isn’t about anything in particular, it simply leaves you, the viewer, to figure it out. It feels a bit of a cop out.
You’re encouraged to find your own meaning simply through the words: ‘Sex, Money, Race and Religion’ that blazes across their epic quadripartite in large black letters. Really must it be spelled out like A, B, C? In the background, a satanic-looking cartoonish Gilbert and George in red, with white moustaches seems to almost speak the words. In another work, they photograph themselves with ‘white bastards’ scrawled across their own image. It’s mildly amusing.
In a 2019 interview with Michael Prodger, they described those calling Boris Johnson a liar as ‘quite appalling’. Well, that didn’t age well. Firmly conservative, fans of royalty, Thatcherites, and passionately pro-Brexit, they embrace a worldview that, as George puts it, ‘Art only survives by capitalism’. With this perspective largely hidden at the liberal Hayward, it’s hard for 21st century young Londoners to connect with their work.
I’m not questioning Gilbert and George’s aesthetics, nor the significance of much of what they say. Creating work about the nuanced experiences of two gay men in the city is a voice that deserves to be heard, and they have spoken bravely through the decades on subjects that others sought to avoid. Many elements of their work mesmerise, capturing London’s neon energy and shadowed anxieties. And there are certainly contemporary elements of city life that peep through. Brick walls, metal railings and barbed wire.
However, what the exhibition totally lacks is context, a sense of the social and cultural moment in which the works are created. Without it, their role as social commentators feels muted.
Though the show claims to reflect 21st century life, I’m not sure if I buy their current version of events. It’s hard to move past their previous slurs made during interviews. Most famously, back in 1981, in an interview with Gordon Burn, the pair declared that fascism is a ‘life force’, and in 2017, they told Johnathon Jones, ‘We’re very against the term gentrification’ claiming that ‘[society has] only got it in for white people’. Having gotten away with this for so long, maybe time’s up for Gilbert and George. The Hayward’s retrospective feels at times like a desperate bid to keep them relevant while they try and run with a youth culture that has long since moved on.
Gilbert & George: 21ST CENTURY PICTURES is on at The Hayward Gallery until January 11th 2026.
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