Damien still moves in a mysterious way

This show of new prints, paintings and sculptures adds little, in creative terms, to the Hirst oeuvre; the driving conceit that medicine is the new religion is a well-mined thematic vein of his prodigious output.

However, the fact that the works are on display in a practising church in the middle of the City of London adds a twist to familiar sights, a challenge even: do Hirst's attempts at contemporary religious iconography stand up to the presence of the real thing?

The answer is a kind-of yes by default. Hirst's depictions of the apostles as various brands of pharmaceutical pills, his crucifix inlaid with capsules, and his sculpture of a metal heart pierced by syringes and scalpel blades survive the faint memory of the greatest Western religious art principally because they have nothing to do with each other.

If you were to take Hirst's works seriously as religious art, you'd either have to laugh or cry, or possibly try both at once. Far better to see them for what they are - evocations of the slightness of contemporary culture.

The Holy Trinity, for example, is a print, garishly depicting the Holy Trinity as a pie chart, made of equal 33.3 per cent parts of God the Father, God the Holy Spirit and God the Son. The Fate of Man, meanwhile, is a life-sized human skull, cast in silver. Both are excellent examples of what one might charitably describe as Hirst's knack for producing simple visual statements on complex subjects.

At his best, Hirst exhibits a keen eye for

design and slick visual impact, as he did in the great works of his early career, the shark and the cows. Here the crucifix with the pills shares some of that early smoothness, the varying colours of the capsules conjuring a kind of anodyne modern joyfulness. In the main, however, the works seem to be the products of a state of creative catatonia. Quite possibly beyond salvation.

Until 4 April. www.wallspace.org.uk

Damien Hirst: Beyond Belief
Wallspace
London Wall, EC2M 5ND