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Martin Creed: Toast review – plenty to chew on in show of surprises

Hauser & Wirth, London
From singers accompanied by dancing socks to filmed vignettes of people opening their mouths to reveal masticated food, Creed’s exhibition is absorbing, moving and funny

Lily Cole looks straight at the camera as it homes in. Parting her lips as if to speak, she opens her mouth, in close-up. I hope that isn’t her tongue in there. The colour is worrying. I think it is masticated fruit, orange perhaps. When the forensic psychiatrist Estela Welldon opens her mouth, there’s some other kind of goo in there – gum or marshmallow or maybe toffee. Everyone in these filmed vignettes, including the artist’s mother and his partner and various friends,­ has been chewing on something. But not on the slice of peanut butter on toast that revolves seductively on a turntable elsewhere on the room, and which gives Martin Creed’s latest exhibition its title, Toast. The toast is patinated bronze, the topping a generous slather of gold.

Related: Martin Creed: 'I keep hair. And I'm afraid of cheese'

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