It is 17:50 and Worcester College glows. The evening sun sparkles on rows of wine flutes as all around, figures move in concert to prepare for the other guests. We are early, and so we begin the night with a walk around Worcester’s grounds. With its classic Oxford charm, the college resembles a traditional artistic haven, and I imagine a set of Bloomsbury Group-esque figures gallivanting through the halls. As it hits the hour, we make our way back to the cloisters, now alive and bustling with chatter and introductions. Exhibition 004 has begun.
The elaborate stonework of the Worcester foyer creates an atmosphere not too dissimilar from that of a Greek symposium (if Plato had a penchant for glitter eyeshadow). I am reminded of this later, when I learn of the classical inspiration behind Se Lyn Lim’s painting on resurrection and duality. But right now, I watch the sea of well-dressed guests as they slink past dusty columns, wrists a blur of pink and blue.
Exhibition 004 advertises an extensive mélange of media, and an experience that is above all collaborative. In the cloisters, a cellist plays, prompting an artist to swipe sweeping strokes across paper pinned up against a wall. The artist takes a few steps back to scrutinise her work, and continues once again with the painting. The two seem to move in tandem, the movement of the bow matching that of the artist’s hand until it is unclear where the artists themselves end and their shared piece begins. The result emerging on the page is stark and jagged. There is a playfulness to the lines that is slightly reminiscent of Quentin Blake, but the piece is undeniably unique. It has a still sense of quiet – a quiet that is ironic, given its musical origins. When the artist steps back for the final time, we are left looking at a vaguely anthropomorphic cello, which seems to morph irrevocably into the cellist behind it and the naturalistic background.
Perhaps this coalescence reflects the ongoing partnership between the artist, Rowan Briggs Smith, and the cellist, Matthew Wakefield. For Briggs Smith, this collaboration is an act of communication that captures a particular moment in time. She comments on how the pattern of the wall protrudes into the picture itself, providing a slightly different canvas for each location she performs at. This description strikes me, as it reveals a parallel collaboration; a collaboration through time, between the stately history of Worcester College and the youthful vibrancy of the crowd, who appear to make the college bulge at its seams. It is a piece that looked just as beautiful in the evening sun as it did when we left Exhibition 004, hours later, heels in hand.
The decision to house pieces from Oxford students and other artists side-by-side reflects the exhibition’s inclusive philosophy: Exhibition 004 is home to a celebration of diversity, featuring meditations on mixed-race identity, colonialism and even the Byzantine period. In particular, Aman de Silva’s poignant reflection on his experience of British-Indian identity gave me much to ruminate on, with the combination of photography, textiles, etc. evoking the fusion (or, depending on your perspective, incongruity) of two distinct identities.
In a room adjacent to the Sultan Nazrin Shah Centre, many hands stretch out, recoil, and gesticulate in Vincent Straub’s Angles of Love. This tenderness proves a faithful partner to Adiya Kakim’s Intimate Reverie, from which I had to look away, for fear of intruding upon the soft companionship of its subjects. Kakim’s work also tackles social issues such as bullying, child trafficking and climate change. Indeed, many pieces reflect the artists’ social interests, from art therapy to the institutional suffocation of GCSE art.
Lewis McCulloch, the head of the Exhibition 004 committee, remarks that they only rejected one or two submissions, and did so reluctantly, in the name of practicality. Despite this, the exhibition has a harmony running through it, the numerous poetry readings pairing well with the incorporation of verse in the works of Mia Stamatova and Alice Wallace. Among the modes of expression are paintings, textiles, pottery, sculptures and films, one of which – Natalie Tiede’s film Windows – depicts a lecturer whose personal life begins to seep ominously into her subject matter. If Tiede’s film hopes to provide a window to the soul, Nicholas Blaidd is certainly not concerned about doing so through the eyes. The latter’s piece, a crowd favourite of the exhibition, features a plaster visage that, despite its lack of defined facial features, seems to follow you around the room.
Although it may have been easier to arrange the exhibition by medium, given the short window available for physical curation, the committee team consciously avoided doing so. Jacob Byfield, a member of the committee, points out that the dresses on display are purposefully placed apart from each other to provide the audience with the opportunity to recollect viewing the first upon viewing the second. In an environment as bustling and stimulating as this one, this chance for reflection proves conducive to artistic appreciation.
Both McCulloch and Tiger Huffinley, Head of Curation, commented on the complexities created by housing the exhibition annually in the SNSC, and the methodical yet brisk manner in which the exhibition was constructed. The current rendition of the exhibition marks the fourth year it has run (hence Exhibition 004), and although this means the committee are aware of the spatial limitations of the SNSC, each year brings its own individual quirks. When asked about the process of curating, Huffinley commented on the different challenges posed by each work, in particular the attention to detail required when draping the navy gauze in Amber Ellis-Keeler’s piece on voyeurism. McCulloch’s own contribution to the evening is his ladder safety certificate, obtained especially for the assembly of the exhibition, a poignant exploration of climbing utensils with a depth rivalling its height.
The SNSC foyer curves invitingly, and, towards the latter half of the night, swells with music (courtesy of ‘Penny and the Jets’ and ‘Midnight Laundry’). The lively assortment of covers induced much uninhibited dancing in stark contrast to the practised poise of the ballerinas next door.
It was comforting to see this grand display of artistic talent so deftly dispel the notion that Oxford is no more than essays, labs and libraries. If it were not already obvious, I would highly recommend taking a couple of hours out of your day to visit Exhibition 004. I have no doubt that the vibrancy of opening night will linger through the exhibition in the days to come.
[Exhibition 004 is open to the public at Worcester College on Wednesday 7th (17:00-19:00) and Thursday 8th and Friday 9th of May (13:00-15:00)]