You've got to feel a bit sorry for Hauser & Wirth's Piccadilly branch. Its prowess has been slightly eclipsed in the past few weeks, what with the opening of its sister branch Coppermill in Bethnal Green. It must be suffering from a bout of middle-child syndrome. Look how spoilt the other two have been: Coppermill gets Kippenberger and Dieter Roth; its older sibling in Zürich (which will always be cherished by Daddy Ivan as his firstborn) gets Louise Bourgeois. And what about Piccadilly? It gets Ellen Gallagher, who already exhibited in Zürich in March. Talk about hand-me-downs. The question is, can Gallagher be a strong enough contender to fend off the sibling rivalry, or is this the beginning of a life in the shadows, with only Zahara Jolie-Pitt for company?
Judging by the opening this week, I'm still undecided. Gallagher's contributions weren't particularly eventful, not in terms of either quantity or clout. There were two large and potentially lovely works in the main room, whose power was squashed by being hung with three uncompelling aluminium panels each inscribed with an assortment of forgettable phrases in plasticine. Downstairs in the vault, things started looking up. Dirty O's was an elaborate collage of female faces - creepy vestiges not unlike those made by Madge Gill seventy years ago. Their faces were like shells that, upon closer inspection, were either screaming or gurning, their eyes eerily made of jewels. At the other end of the vault was a tiny, actionless film showing the mount of Cape Verde. Both of these works created a wonderfully histrionic atmosphere out of what is arguably the most intriguing gallery room in London.
It was actually when I was down in the vault, on my own and having a wonderful time, that I pinpointed the beef that I have with this branch of H&W. This gallery's saving grace is also its worst enemy: the space itself.
You could hang just about anything on these wood-panelled walls - beneath the ceiling moulding and lit by the enormous windows - and it would move you. I fall more and more in love with the space with every show I see here: it's evocative and theatrical, like being in an old ballroom, or theatre or salon. By extension, I don't see how any artist could fail to impress when hung on these walls. Even some of the most hollow and half-hearted of Gallagher's works managed to win me over. With big-name, superstar galleries infiltrating London one by one (the arrival of Gagosian's second space in London is imminent, 20 June), this is surely one of the most imaginative conversions left in their wake. Essentially, Piccadilly's got nothing to worry about, nothing its brothers have can compare. Let's just hope it isn't neglected as the Hauser & Wirth empire grows onwards and upwards.
Tom Morris
Ellen Gallagher, 'Salt Eaters'
Hauser & Wirth Piccadilly
196A Piccadilly, London W1J 9DY
Tel: +44 207 287 23 00
Ellen Gallagher, ´Salt Eaters´, 2006, installation views.
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