Author
Damien Hirst
Movement / period
Contemporary art
Technique
tiger shark, formaldehyde, steel, glass
Where it is
Private collection
The idea was funded by collector Charles Saatchi — legend puts the cheque at £50,000.

Highlights
Facts & legends
- Inside is a real tiger shark about four metres long, caught off the coast of Australia.
- The idea was funded by collector Charles Saatchi — legend puts the cheque at £50,000.
- The first shark began to rot and was replaced, raising a philosophical debate about whether it remained the same work.
- Hirst invented the long title himself — it is longer than many texts about the work.
- The piece became a symbol of the Young British Artists and the 1990s art scene.
Estimated value
What it is worth today
Saatchi commissioned Hirst's shark in 1991 (reportedly a £50,000 cheque); around 2005 it was resold for about $8 million. It is now in a private collection.
More details How a shark ordered from an Australian fisherman became an emblem of 1990s British art, why the animal had to be replaced, and what remains original when an artwork's central material decays.
The title is an argument
Hirst shows our failure to imagine our own death
A fourteen-foot tiger shark appears to swim inside glass. It is dead, yet its mouth and posture preserve the threat of motion. Knowledge says corpse while the body responds to predator.
The work stages the gap between understanding death as a word and imagining one's own non-existence. Fear arrives before interpretation.
The vitrine is 5.42 metres long and the complete structure weighs about twenty-two tons. The shark occupies human space and reorganises the gallery around itself. Hirst said he wanted one large enough to eat you and enough liquid to imagine yourself inside. Glass removes actual danger without cancelling the bodily response to scale.
Charles Saatchi commissioned it
A collector made the improbable material possible
Saatchi financed the 1991 project. A shark was caught in Australia, transported to Britain, and suspended in a steel-and-glass tank of formaldehyde.
Displayed in the 1992 Young British Artists exhibition, it became an emblem of Hirst and the YBA generation: costly, confrontational, technical, and built for public argument.
Before the shark, Hirst had organised Freeze and worked with flies, butterflies, and medicine cabinets, but this commission made a generation's language instantly recognisable. Saatchi funded not a finished commodity but a risky proposal still requiring an animal and a display method. At the 1992 exhibition it became a public test: could sculpture consist of a real body, preservation technology, and title rather than a modelled form?
The vitrine resembles a laboratory
Science promises control without immortality
White framing, glass, and clear solution recall a natural-history specimen or medical preparation. Scale destroys safety: this is a body large enough to measure the viewer against it.
Formaldehyde can delay decay but not abolish time. The clinical apparatus displays technical power and its eventual defeat.
The tank contains roughly a five-percent formaldehyde solution, and white steel divisions split it into three visual bays. As one walks around, the shark appears whole and then sliced by the frame into successive images. Unlike a scientific specimen, it carries no label explaining species, location, or cause of death; a philosophical title replaces that reassurance. Laboratory clarity therefore makes uncertainty personal.
The first shark deteriorated
The entire animal was replaced in 2006
Clouding liquid and a collapsing body made the original preservation fail. After Steven Cohen acquired the work, Hirst replaced the specimen with a newly prepared tiger shark while retaining the original vitrine.
The result is a Ship-of-Theseus problem. If the body changes, is it still the 1991 work? Hirst privileges the concept while acknowledging that the question remains open.
The Metropolitan Museum explicitly described the post-replacement work as refurbished by the artist: a new specimen received a modified preservation process and appeared publicly in 2007. This distinguishes conservation from concealed substitution. The change was authorised and documented. The work exists not as an immutable biological remnant but as an arrangement of concept, prescribed form, vitrine, and replaceable organic matter.
Market scandal joined the experience
Price became a rival spectacle
The installation has been attacked both as meditation on mortality and as trophy of collector power. Reports of a multimillion-dollar sale made market value compete with the shark itself.
Yet teeth, skin, stillness, and impossible swimming preserve the central encounter: viewers objectify death and still resist believing that it includes them.
From 2007 to 2010 the shark was on a three-year loan to the Metropolitan Museum from Steven and Alexandra Cohen. There it could be confronted with the museum's whole history of representing death, not only contemporary installation. The 2004 sale price was never officially disclosed; figures of eight to twelve million dollars were estimates. That caveat matters because market mythology shaped its fame, but documented significance cannot be reduced to one repeated number.


