TRACES OF DISPLACEMENT
Whitworth Art Gallery, Manchester, 7th April 2023 to 7th January
2024
Reviewed by Jim Burns
We live in a world in which displacement, the situation whereby
thousands of people have to leave their home countries and
unwillingly move elsewhere, is increasingly a fact of life. Wars,
droughts, dramatically increasingly sea levels have, and will,
continue to affect what happens as debates develop about how we in
places less challenged by climate change or civil unrest should
react to the presence of strangers in our midst. What adds to the
problem is that, perhaps compared to the past, the numbers involved
are much higher. There are worries about how societies with internal
difficulties, in terms of housing, jobs, medical and other
facilities, can possibly take in large groups whose demands on
resources it may not be possible to fulfil without affecting the
lives of established citizens of a country.
The current exhibition at the Whitworth is not designed to explore
the overall social impact of mass displacement and how it changes a
country like the United Kingdom. Rather, it is an attempt to tell a
“partial, fragmentary and yet compelling set of stories” through
paintings, posters, sculptures, tapestries, and other items.
It’s mostly devoted to examples from the twentieth and
twenty-first centuries, but, in a small section dealing with the
effects of slavery, there is
an intriguing eighteenth century etching of the artist Richard
Cosway and his wife being served by their black servant, Ottobah
Cugoano, a one-time slave from Ghana. His story is a classic account
of how displacement can influence a person’s life and activities.
From the twentieth century the earliest example of mass displacement
is Frank Brangwyn’s 1914 poster illustrating Belgian refugees
fleeing from Antwerp as German troops advanced on the city. Many
Belgians came to Britain around that time, as readers of Agatha
Christie’s Poirot books will know. It’s clearly a form of
propaganda, though executed with skill, and meant to arouse sympathy
for the refugees. Brangwyn also put his talents to use to raise
funds for Spanish refugees at the time of the Spanish Civil War in
the 1930s. Other posters in the display by William King and Ethel
Franklin Betts Bains refer to the work of the American Committee for
Relief in the Near East, and relate to the Armenian tragedy during
the First World War and the plight of Greeks when there were
hostilities between Turkey and Greece.
The 1930s saw many Jews displaced from Germany among them the
artists Lucien Freud and Frank Auerbach, both represented in the
exhibition. They arrived in this country and made major
contributions to the British art scene. They weren’t the only ones.
There is a good case to be constructed for the impressively
beneficial presence of Jewish immigrants in the film, literature and
art worlds of the United Kingdom over the years. Their displacement
worked to our advantage.
With current crises in Ukraine, Sudan, Syria, Afghanistan, and many
more locations the fact of displacement becoming a permanent
situation, with its emphasis shifting from area to area, is a
reality we have to accept and deal with. How artists will come to
terms with their individual circumstances is something that remains
to be seen, though suggestions of it can be found in the exhibition.
As mentioned earlier, the available evidence so far tends to be
“partial” and “fragmentary”. What comes next may surprise us. In the
meantime it’s worth making a visit to the Whitworth to see work by,
among others, the Palestinian Bashir Makhoul, Lada Nakonechna (her
“Historical Picture of the Contemporary Ruins” is a bleak comment on
what’s happening in Ukraine) and Francesco Simeti. His wallpaper
print, “Arabian Nights”, is colourful and lively.
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