The Bishop's Art Prize

As yet another testament to the creative culture currently thriving in Norwich, the Bishop’s Art Prize has occurred once more, housing an eclectic mix of both product and discipline.

Hosted by Norwich Cathedral and facilitated by the staff at Norwich University of the Arts, this yearly competition invites current students to put work forth for judgement by the Bishop himself, all in accordance with a specific title. In keeping with the evident religious influence upon the prize itself – and reflecting the exhibition location, in the Hostry, at the very heart of the church – these vague titles often hold a very spiritual underpinning. Last year, we saw the phrase Unexpected Blessings provide a similar amount of widely varied content, with cast-bronze letters appearing as the winner. However, this event looked to be even more difficult to judge, as the pieces themselves spread from stained glass, to video, to charcoal, to an iPad.

I attended the award ceremony, in which the winner was to be announced, and, I have to say, it was a delightful experience.

One thing that becomes immediately apparent at these types of events (even when there isn’t wine) is the unquestionable community between the institutions in our city. The respect both NUA and the Cathedral evidently have for each other is clear, reflected in their casual banter during the speeches. It is through this connection that such an exhibition can occur; blurring the lines between artistic and religious practise, while also acting indiscriminately toward any of the artist’s spiritual leanings.

What I could see before me, whether or not I liked the work, was a product of something that is very rare. An unbiased snapshot such as this, with a limitation that catalyses engagement with such a pertinent subject as religion, can only help both cultural and artistic progression.

Well, that and the £1,000 prize money.

The title for this year was Glimpses of Glory – so, let’s see for whom it was much more than just a glimpse.

Meandering aimlessly around the space, making small-talk with people who I vaguely recognised but couldn’t specify, each individual piece seemed sporadic. The only clear continuity at first glance was found within the rather large amount of textile design work, which highlighted that course’s increasing inclusion in the competition. I am somewhat sceptical of how close to this type of work – which is traditionally very aesthetic-focused – could get to such a metaphorical concept. While everything was very pretty, with the notable presence of a semi-metallic dress at centre-stage when one arrives, it was impossible to understand the reasoning behind the work without trudging through the word-heavy list of shortlisted artists.

I could appreciate how technically adept it all was – and I could even empathise with the piece once I had unearthed their reasoning for their fabric to be ‘glorious’ – but the context of the exhibition needed something more robust than a tenuous link.

But I’m probably just being picky.

On a much more positive note, some of the pieces really shone through in their connection to both title and space; particularly so in the case of Steph Kedik’s stainedglass sheet at the rear of the room. Glowing with light gifted from the window that it was almost haphazardly lent against, and holding all of the religious connotations needed purely by existing as an object, the piece sat continually dominantly in my peripheral. Emanating a blue hue across half of the room whenever the light caught it, echoes of the marvellous stained glass encasing the entirety of the medieval building could be easily acknowledged as reflective in the work.

Initially, I thought that this was a favourite for victory, as it was so brazened in its relevancy to the form – yet, it simply received a commendation, which is effectively fourth place.

Meanwhile, I had nothing but adoration for the gentleman who named his video piece Glimpses of Glory – I mean, you can’t even argue that he didn’t hit the brief, if the work is literally the title itself. There is something beautiful in that statement - as with the piece itself, which was a meditation on the topic. What is created is quite a soothing experience, which is naturally difficult to describe. I suppose you will have to pop down and see for yourself, wont you?

Unfortunately, the lovely Ian Brownlie did not win either – instead finding himself in third place.

What did win (somewhat unsurprisingly) was a charcoal drawing of a congregation listening to the organ play in the cathedral itself. It is technically very strong, especially considering that the medium is notoriously difficult to manipulate. However, the length of the image, showing only the head of the subjects, all but one facing to the right of the piece, seemed somewhat darker than the intent. I bumped in to one of my friends while I was wandering around, and we had quite a long chat about this piece. We eventually agreed that, if one was to put a George Orwell quote underneath the work, it would not look out of place. The one figure looking toward the audience only furthers this morbid feeling, as he sits hunched, staring at the spectator in almost teary-eyed happiness.

Don’t get me wrong, it is still a good piece, but it seemed too simple to provide any actual insight.

Instead, I would like to put forward a case for who I think should’ve won.

Dominating the view of the space as you enter – even more than the shiny textile work – is a large image of a rather forlorn woman. This is a piece by Devin Smith; a traditional, figurative oil-painting, entitled Interval. At first, one would be forgiven for seeing the ‘glimpse of glory’ in the composition, as a harsh bright light sits upon the subject’s face, creating an aesthetic not devolved from old religious iconography. However, it goes much deeper than this.

At one point, I was informed that the lady was the painter’s mother, who has struggled with a few rather profound issues within her life. Once I knew this, it became painfully clear to me, as her expression and body posture hinted at her troubles. My argument is that what one can see is not the only aspect connected to the title of the exhibition – instead, the action of creating the piece does this also. The woman, who would be considered as quite low in regard to social standing, is immortalised within an incredibly skilled product, which – as it is a traditionalist oil painting – is undoubtedly high art. What the artist had done was to raise her subject from low standing to high and, in doing so, she has literally gifted someone with a glimpse of glory. Not only is it direct, but there is a dichotomy to this, as the permanence of the item offsets the transience inherent to a ‘glimpse’- while, if the piece is the only glory the subject will achieve, that could be the glimpse as manifest.

What it is, truly, is an example of contemporary art in its most interesting form; both the action and the product bely a different question, which ultimately exists to engage those who witness it.

Honestly, this whole exhibition is incredibly interesting – and has a little bit for everyone due to the variance of courses, mediums and mind-sets. Not only this, but the fact that I found some contention with the decision-making of others effectively means that this show is now vaguely interactive.

Why not pop along and meander around, arguing with a friend about why you think your favourite piece should’ve won?

“You call that glorious? This one is glorious!” will resound loudly, unsettling the invigilator and disturbing prayers throughout the rest of the week.

The Bishop’s Art Prize exhibition is on at the Hostry, Norwich Cathedral until the 15th June.

Visit cathedral.org.uk for more information