Art says things that history cannot, St John the Baptist on a tray, and a Colombian artist

WORKS BY COLOMBIAN artist Beatriz Gonzalez (1932-2026) are being exhibited at London’s Barbican art gallery until 10 May 2026. She began studying architecture in the 1950s, but dropped out. Later, she studied fine arts at the University of Los Andes in Bogota, graduating in 1962.

Over the years, Gonzalez produced a wide variety of works, and throughout her life she believed that (to quote her): “Art says things that history cannot”, and what one can see in the exhibition confirms this. She lived through troubled times in Colombia, and this is reflected in many of her artworks. She has been described as a ‘pop artist’ possibly because many of her works were inspired by things she saw in magazines, newspapers, posters, and other media aimed at the public. However, she discounted this description, as can be seen by this answer to the question “Did you ever consider yourself (now or in the past) a pop artist?” during an interview she gave at the Tate Gallery in 2015:

No, I considered my work a provincial type of painting. I’ve always considered myself more of a painter and within this remit I painted the joy of the underdeveloped. For me the type of art that I was doing could only circulate internationally as a curiosity. Mine was a provincial type of art without horizons, confronting the everyday: art is international.”

I will not attempt to discuss all the works on display at the Barbican, but will confine myself to her paintings on items of furniture, which she commenced in the 1970s. These beautifully executed creations are often quite witty. “The Last Supper” was one of the first of these pieces of furniture repurposed as a work of art. It consists of a fine table on the top of which the artist has painted a simplified version of a renaissance depiction of the Last Supper. And on a wooden coat stand, the mirror has been painted over with Gonzalez’s simplified version of the famous Mona Lisa painting. Another example is a straw basket with a ribbon on its handle. On the inside of the base of this everyday object she has painted a picture of three puppies resting on a floor. There is also a metal cot whose base is painted with a picture of a sleeping child. In the show, there are some televisions with paintings of people covering their screens. By now, you must be getting the idea of this aspect of Gonzalez’s art. My favourite example of this re-use of household items as places to paint pictures is a circular tray on which the artist has depicted Salome carrying the severed head of St John the Baptist on a circular tray.

Apart from the painted furniture and domestic items, the exhibition has a series of sections that show examples of Gonzalez’s art at the various stages in her artistic career. As is often the case at the Barbican art gallery, the artworks are beautifully displayed and well labelled.

Portraits of Pakistan near London’s Piccadilly

IT IS WORTH climbing the steep staircase that leads to the Larkin Durey gallery in Mason’s Yard, near London’s Piccadilly, to view the paintings of Naira Mushtaq, which are on display until 20 March 2026. Ms Mushtaq was born in Lahore, Pakistan. She studied art at Kinnaird College For Women, Pakistan, and then at National College of Arts, also in Pakistan. Then, between 2017 and 2019, she studied at University of the Arts London: Central Saint Martins. Currently, she lives and works in London.

The paintings being shown at Larkin Durey were painted in 2025 and 2026. The artist wrote (https://nairamushtaq.squarespace.com/artist-statement) that her artistic practice:

“ … is focused on history, memory and social commentary stemming from a desire to understand grief and memory and how memories are formed as affect … My practice examines these questions by looking at the socio political and cultural context, while in most instances the backdrop of this comparison is my home country of Pakistan – the concerns under question are broader. Which memory is being remembered, who is it being remembered by, and the context of remembrance. How one memory merges with another, multiplicity and singularity of memory, what narratives we tell, what we choose to remember and what is the value of the narratives that we choose to remember if at all, drawing from these areas of interest and I examine memory as a form of impalpable archive while the tangible photograph or sourced materials aid to its inaccuracy, a palimpsest of truths and half-truths.

Each of the 20 paintings on display depict faces or parts of faces. In each painting, the artist has used subdued colouring, which maybe suggests a sadness about her subjects, and concern about her often troubled native land. Some pictures depict faces and people in such a way that they look as if they are adapted from stills taken from a film (movie), being watched through darkly tinted spectacles. One portrait shows a distorted face, which reminded me of the way that Francis Bacon used to paint. And another evoked memories of Edvard Munch’s “The Scream”. Otherwise, her style is her own. Despite their melancholic, sometimes menacing subject matter, and dark colours, the paintings are both highly original and pleasing visually.

I am very glad I climbed the steep staircase to view this talented artist’s paintings.

The Long way in London’s Tate Modern art gallery

THE ARTIST RICHARD LONG (born in England in 1945) studied art first at Bristol’s West of England College of art, and then between 1966 and 1968, at London’s St Martins School of Art, where his teachers included Anthony Caro and Phillip King (my mother worked alongside these two sculptors in the early 1960s). He is described as a ‘land artist’, and his works include sculpture, photography and text, as well as performance. Since the 1960s, Long has been creating artworks based on his experience of long walks he has made in places including the UK, the Sahara Desert, Iceland, the Himalayas, and Australia. He plots his walks on maps, and these become works of art. He also takes photographs of the terrain through which he has walked. In addition, he creates sculptures where he has walked using local materials, and then takes photographs of them in situ.

The Tate Modern is currently (March 2026, but I do not know when it ends) showing a collection of Long’s creations. This includes examples of his maps and photographs, text works (printed words), as well as three floor sculptures, each of which consist of pieces of stone arranged within the confines of a circle. One of them contains variously shaped chunks of Norfolk flint, another consists of pieces of red slate, and a third with Delabole slate, black in colour. Although they look almost randomly arranged, I imagine that the artist has placed them according to some design he had in mind. Seemingly simple, these sculptures are surprisingly striking.

I believe that what we saw at the Tate Modern’s exhibition is in complete harmony with what Richrd Long has said (quoted on the Tate’s website) about his art:

My work really is just about being a human living on this planet and using nature as its source … I enjoy the simple pleasures of wellbeing, independence, opportunism, freedom, dreaming, happenstance; of passing through the land and sometimes stopping to leave (memorable) traces along the way.

The exhibition is well worth seeing.

An extraordinary exhibition of art by an artist born in Czechoslovakia

BORN IN WHAT was Czechoslovakia in 1990 just after the end of Communist rule in that country, Klara Hosnedlova graduated at the Academy of Fine Arts in Prague. She creates in many different ways, including photography, sculpture, furniture, embroidery, and site-specific installation. A collection of her work is on display at the Bermondsey branch of White Cube Gallery in south London until 29 March 2026.

One room of the gallery is occupied by tall sculpture made with knotted natural fibres. Its base is a collection of thick serpent-like fibre ropes that spread across the floor like the roots of a tree. Attached to this structure, there is something that resembles an enlarged seashell which contains an image that includes depictions of fingertips. This inclusion reminded me of the appearance of mitochondria when viewed with an electron microscope. Although I find it difficult to describe this artwork in words, what can be seen in the far larger gallery next door is almost indescribable.

 The larger of the two galleries containing Hosnedlova’s work is ‘mind-blowing’. Many of the artist’s sculptures and embroideries (which look like paintings) have been assembled to create an extraordinary immersive art installation. Both fantastic and exciting, it is at the same time the stuff of nightmares. The website of the White Cube described it as follows:

“The principal room of the gallery opens onto a central, metal platform flanked by looming metal walls, each mounted with prodigious sandstone sculptures upon which further embroidered images are embedded. Constructed from industrial and composite materials, the architectural implements of Hosnedlová’s installations often contain impressions of built environments. Intended to be walked and sat upon, the stepped, quadrangle platform is composed of metal grilles … While the platform recalls the openness of urban, public space – exposing, if not intimidating, sites cleared of natural shade or protection – the grille meanwhile refers to its function in the city as an interface between terrestrial and subterranean worlds. Strewn carelessly over the platform, like shed skins, are some abandoned articles of clothing …”

But even these words are inadequate to describe the scene that confronts the viewer. It must be seen to be believed. I asked gallery employee whether the huge installation was to be sold as a single whole item.  I was told that although the installation was created to provide a fascinating visual experience, the individual items that it contained were to be sold separately.

When we visited the large room of the exhibition, a South Asian security guard saw the expressions of amazement on our faces, smiled, and pointed out where to stand to get a good photograph of the whole installation. And after we had seen it, and were leaving the room, he smiled at us, and gave us the thumbs up. I returned this gesture of satisfaction.

The artist John Constable, clouds, and Hampstead

THE TATE BRITAIN art gallery in London is holding a special exhibition of the works of John Constable (1776-1837) and John Mallord William Turner (1775-1851) until 12 April 2026. Amongst the many magnificent paintings on display, there are several small paintings of clouds by Constable. I was particularly interested to see the cloud studies because I had written about them in my book “Beneath a Wide Sky: Hampstead and its Environs”. Here is an extract from my book. It deals with Constable and his interest in clouds:

“One of Hampstead’s attractions for Constable was its wide expanse of sky, which, as Barratt wrote, the artist:

‘… regarded as the keynote of landscape art, and so assiduously did he study cloud, sky, and atmosphere in the Hampstead days that Leslie, his biographer, was able to become possessed of twenty of these special studies, each dated and described. Constable was a man of Wordsworthian simplicity of character, fond of all things rural, and devotedly attached to birds and animals.’

The website of Cambridge’s Fitzwilliam Museum reinforces what Barratt wrote:

While living at Hampstead, Constable made a series of oil sketches of the sky alone, each one marked with the date, time and a short description of the conditions. His interest in clouds was influenced partly by the work of the scientist Luke Howard, who had in 1803 written a pioneering study, classifying different types of cloud ...’

In ‘The Invention of Clouds’ by Richard Hamblyn, a biography of the chemist and amateur meteorologist, who devised the modern classification of clouds (cumulus, nimbus, etc.), Luke Howard (1772-1864), it is noted that Constable, who was familiar with Howard’s work, focussed his concentration:

‘… on the extension of his observational range and clouds were the means that he had chosen for the task. After years of searching for an isolated image, seeking a motif upon which to weigh his technical advancement as a painter, he had found it at last in the unending sequences of clouds that emerged and dissolved before his eyes like images on a photographic plate.’

During the summers of 1821 and 1822, Constable made over one hundred cloud studies on the higher ground of Hampstead and its heath.  Writing in 1964 in his ‘The Philosophy of Modern Art’, the art critic Herbert Read (1893-1968), who lived in Hampstead, commented that Constable was:

‘… rather a modest craftsman, interested in the efficiency of his tools, the chemistry of his materials, the technique of his craft. His preparatory ‘sketches’ are no more romantic than a weather report. But they are accurate, they are vividly expressed, they are truthful.’

And here the extract from my book ends. It is because of Constable’s ‘connections’ with Hampstead and the clouds above it that I chose the title “Beneath a Wide Sky …” I had seen a few of Constable’s cloud studies before, but never so many together as I viewed at the Tate Britain exhibition. My book is available both as a paperback and a Kindle from Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09R2WRK92

An artist struck by illness but not defeated

AT TWO TEMPLE PLACE, which is close to Temple Underground station, there is an exhibition, “The Weight of Being”, showing until 19 April 2026. The theme of the exhibition is “vulnerability, resilience, and mental health in art”. The show contains a good number of paintings and other creations by the artist John Wilson McCracken (1936-1982), an artist who is new to me. The reason for his inclusion in the show will become obvious soon.

From an early age, McCracken, who was born in Belfast and educated in Birmingham, displayed artistic talent. In 1956, he applied to enter London’s prestigious Slade School of Fine Art, and was accepted as a student. One of his teachers there was the artist Lucien Freud, who was a visiting tutor at the school. Soon, McCracken became a regular at the Colony Room, a drinking hole in Soho. It was here that leading artists including Freud, Francis Bacon, Frank Auerbach, and others met to drink, discuss, and argue. McCracken found himself in one of the epicentres of the world of then modern British art, and valued his encounters in this inspiring artistic milieu.

Near the end of his second year at the Slade, disaster struck. McCracken had a severe nervous breakdown. He was hospitalised, and diagnosed with schizophrenia. In the late 1950s and early 1960s, being diagnosed with ‘mental disease’ was a great social stigma, and an impediment for a young artist hoping for success in the London art world. His mother decided that the family should move away from London to the northeast, far away from London’s temptations and the intense atmosphere of the city’s art scene. They moved to Hartlepool, where the family had relatives.

McCracken continued his art education at West Hartlepool College of Art, where later he became a teacher. In addition, he worked in the town’s public Gray Art Gallery. While there, he not only arranged for a Lucien Freud exhibition to be brought from London to the gallery, but also got the gallery to acquire a wide range of then modern artworks by artists including LS Lowry, Frank Auerbach, John Bratby, and others. At that time, the works of these now very famous artists were affordable, and by purchasing them, McCracken ensured that the gallery acquired an important collection of modern British art. In addition, he formed a collective of artists called Front Group, whose members believed that contemporary art should not be confined to galleries in London.

While all this was going on in Hartlepool, McCracken never stopped painting. Most of his work depicts people. But like Francis Bacon, whom he knew, his subjects often are in awkward poses. Whereas Bacon distorted his subjects in a modern expressionist way, McCracken depicts them more realistically. As Angela Thomas, the curator of the exhibition, wrote in the catalogue:

Like Freud he captured the humanity of his subjects: their gestures, postures, and unspoken stories, rendered with empathy and attentiveness.

I am not greatly enthusiastic about Lucien Freud’s art, but what I have seen of McCracken I much prefer. Freud does not seem to like the people he portrays; he highlights their less attractive features. In contrast, McCracken appears to see what is likeable about his subjects, and gives them an empathetic rendering.

Gulam Mohammed Sheikh in Ernakulam (Kerala) and the Kochi Muziris Biennale  2025/26

SOME PEOPLE SAY “save the best till last”. This is what we did accidentally while spending several days exploring the 2025/26 Kochi Muziris art biennale. Much of what we saw at this biennale was far inferior to what we had seen when visiting the four previous biennales. Most of this biennale’s offerings were rich in messaging but insubstantial artistically. The exception to this sad situation is an exhibition held at the Durbar Hall, which is across the sea from Fort Kochi in the city of Ernakulam.

 

The exhibition at Ernakulam is a large collection of (mostly) paintings by Gulam Mohammed Sheikh,  who was born in 1937 in what is now Gujarat.  His artistic training took place first at the MS University in Vadodara,  then at London’s Royal College of Art.

 

A Mappa Mundi by Sheikh

The exhibition includes works from the various stages of his career from the 1960s until today. Sheikh’s work provides  imaginative,  creative, original, beautifully executed, refreshing views and interpretations of the world and its inhabitants.

 

Amongst the many superb creations on display, there is a series of Mappa Mundi paintings, in which, to quote Wikipedia, Sheikh:

“… defines new horizons and ponders over to locate himself in. Sheikh construes these personal universes enthused from the miniature shrines where he urges the audience to exercise the freedom to build up their Mappa Mundi.

These wonderful artworks that were inspired by mediaeval maps of the world provide the viewer with exciting expressions of Sheikh’s interpretations of the world, past and present,  real and imagined. In one room at Durbar Hall, there is a wonderful film that, in a way, brings Sheikh’s Mappa Mundi to life.

 

Each of Sheikh’s artworks tells a story. However that story is open to each viewer’s own interpretation. The artist’s works are not only vehicles for a story or stories, but they are also aesthetically sophisticated: art at its best.

 

It was a great pleasure to see Sheikh’s art. Unlike much of the other exhibits in the Biennale,  his work does not rely on gimmickry, sound effects, lighting effects, film clips, ‘objets  trouvés’, and explanatory notes. Sheikh’s works are the products of a technically competent painter who is able to express his imaginative ideas in ways that are both aesthetically pleasing and highly original.

 

Seeing the exhibition of Sheikh’s works has revived my enthusiasm for art, which had begun to flag while visiting a seemingly never ending series of mediocre artefacts being displayed at the various sites of the 2025/26 Kochi Muziris Biennale.

Before becoming one of India’s most famous artists he worked in a bank

KRISHEN KHANNA CELEBRATED his one hundredth birthday in July 2025. The NGMA (National Gallery of Modern Art) in Bombay is currently holding a superb exhibition showcasing his paintings. The show is beautifully displayed and the artworks are skilfully illuminated.

Khanna was born in Lyallpur, now in Pakistan. After the Partition of India in 1947, he worked as an official in Grindlays Bank in Bombay. However, before Partition, he had already begun painting. The bank job was just to help keep him and his family going after they had left/fled what became the Pakistani part of Punjab.

Soon after arriving in India, Khanna began associating with members of Bombay’s Progressive Art Group that included notable creators such as FN Souza and MF Hussain. Thereafter, his painting career took off, and his reputation soared.

The exhibition at the NGMA surveys Khanna’s extraordinary range of paintings. Their subject matter ranges from political to historical to religious … and much more. The show, which demonstrates the artist’s amazing versatility and great artistic skill, continues until 12 December 2025, and should not be missed if you are in Bombay.

A Nigerian who created artworks for a British daily newspaper

SEVEN CARVED WOODEN figures stand in a line at an exhibition in London’s Tate Modern gallery. Each of them is depicted holding something that looks like an book or a pair of wings. Their faces are all different, as are their expressions and heights. They were carved by the Nigerian artist Ben Enwonwu (1917-1994), and form part of a superb exhibition, “Nigerian Modernism”, which is showing until 10 May 2026.

Ben Enwonwu was born in Nigeria. His father was a traditional sculptor. Ben studied art first at Government College in Ibadan (Nigeria), and then at Government College Umuahia. At both places, he studied art under Kenneth Murray (1902-1972). In 1944, Ben was awarded a scholarship that allowed him to study both at The Slade School of Art in London and at The Ruskin School in Oxford. Also he undertook postgraduate studies in West African anthropology at the University of London. Thereafter, he taught art in Nigeria, where he created many of his sculptures and paintings. Since completing his education, Enwonwu has received international acclaim for his work.

In 1960, Ben proposed making a sculpture to commemorate Queen Elizabeth II’s visit to Nigeria in 1956. It was to be placed in the Nigerian House of Representatives in preparation for Nigeria’s independence in 1960. At the Tate’s exhibition, there is a photograph of Enwonwu working on this sculpture in the studio of his friend, the sculptor William Reid Dick (1878-1961), who was Sculptor in Ordinary for Scotland to Queen Elizabeth. At around this time, Ben received another commission in England.

The British newspaper, the Daily Mirror, commissioned Ben to create 7 sculptures for their headquarters. Carved in ebony, these are the works mentioned above. The diversity of their forms and expressions is supposed to represent the variety of people reading thepaper. According to a label in the exhibition, Enwonwu said:

“I tried … to represent the wings of the Daily Mirror, flying news all over the world.”

The statues were placed in the headquarters public courtyard in Holborn. Currently, they are in the Tate Modern, but after having been lost for several years, they were sold at public auction. They are now owned by Access Holdings PLC, a Nigerian company.

In addition to what I have already described, there are many more works by Enwonwu in the exhibition, both paintings and sculptures. Each one of them is wonderful. His works show the influence of European Modernism, but at the same time they reflect the artist’s African background and his involvement in the traditional art of his homeland. He was sympathetic to the Négritude movement, an anti-colonial cultural and political movement founded by African and Caribbean students in Paris in the 1930s, but was also affected by twentieth century artistic movements in Europe and the USA. It was fascinating to see how the modern art trends of the mid-twentieth century were successfully integrated with the artist’s desire to portray the life and traditions of Africa.

An Epstein from New York (NYC): Jacob not Jeffrey

THE DUVEEN GALLERIES in London’s Tate Britain provide a wonderful space to display sculptures. The rooms are wide, long, and have high ceilings. Their walls are plain and do not distract the viewer. Until 30 March 2026, these magnificent spaces contain a selection of sculptures by Jacob Epstein (1880-1959), who was born in New York City. He joined the Art Students League in New York, before moving to Paris in 1902, where he studied sculpture at the École des Beaux Arts and Académie Julian. He settled in London in 1905. Both in Paris and London, he studied non-European sculpture, and what he learned from it often influenced his work. Some of the stone carvings in the Duveen Galleries are evidence of this. Soon after arriving in London, he began receiving important commissions to produce sculptures for significant institutions in London such as the British Medical Association (now Zimbabwe House). He became naturalised as a British citizen in 1910.

The collection of sculptures in the Duveen Galleries includes several stone carvings in different styles. The Tate’s website noted:

In the 1910s, Epstein became a key figure in the ‘direct carving’ movement in Britain. This approach emphasised a ‘truth to materials’, in which sculptors worked directly with the stone, using its natural qualities rather than making wax or clay models first. He was influenced by the techniques and imagery used in ancient Egyptian, West African and Oceanic carvings, which he collected. At the time, his portrayal of sexuality as well as the simplified forms of his monumental figure carvings drew both admiration and intense criticism, limiting his opportunities for public commissions.

Some of the sculptures on the former British Medical Association (now Zimbabwe House) building were criticised as being too explicit for Edwardian tastes, when they were completed in 1908. Sadly, these sculptures that can still be viewed from the Strand are badly damaged by being exposed to the weather and pollution.

The stone carvings in the Duveen, which vary from figurative to almost abstract, were all new to me. The bronze busts of famous and not-so-famous people include portraits of family members, artists, writers, entertainers and other public figures. These are the works that I tend to associate with Epstein. So, seeing his stone sculptures was a new and pleasant revelation for me. Each of the sculptures on display is accompanied by an informative panel. The works are well spaced so that each one can be admired in splendid isolation. This is an exhibition worth seeing.