Like the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern albeit on a smaller scale, the long central hall at Tate Britain – technically known as the Duveen Galleries – is a large space which Tate uses to host a succession of sizeable installations. Earlier this year it was host to Hew Locke’s Procession. Until January 2025 it is the site of ‘GRACE’ by Alvaro Barrington.
Here’s some biography from Barrington’s Wikipedia article:
Alvaro Barrington (born 1983) is a London-based artist. Primarily a painter, Barrington often incorporates yarn, wood and other media into his work. Barrington was born on in February 1983 in Caracas, Venezuela, the son of a Grenadian mother and Haitian father. He grew up in Grenada and then from aged 8 lived in Brooklyn, New York. In 2015, he moved to London and studied at the Slade School of Fine Art completing his MFA in 2017.
So Venezuela, Grenada, New York, London, a very cosmopolitan background.
‘GRACE’ is promoted as a homage to the women who shaped him. It is a ‘personal exploration of identity and belonging’ divided into three parts or ‘acts’, designed to honour: 1) his grandmother Frederica, 2) a close friend and sister-figure Samantha and 3) his mother Emelda. Or, as the artist puts it:
‘GRACE is the constant reimagining of Black culture and aspirational attitude under foreign conditions. GRACE here explores how my grandmother, my mother, and my sister in the British Caribbean community showed up gracefully.’
The wall label introducing the show goes into more detail. It tells us the name GRACE references the song Amazing Grace and also his art professor, Nari Ward’s exhibition of the same name. He explains that ‘in my community’ renditions of Amazing Grace interpret or make it their own and gives an extended description of a frail and elderly Aretha Franklin giving a stirring rendition of President Obama, and how the she was supported by the whoops and cheers of the crowd. To sum up:
Grace is the constant reimagining of Black culture and aspirational attitude under foreign conditions.
The three sections or chapters also map onto three ways of making art – depicting, evoking and embodying – as defined by the US artist Terry Atkins. A second wall label then carefully explains the three chapters of the installation.
Chapter 1. Frederica
The first section is for his grandmother Frederica. It tells us that his mother, Emelda, got pregnant when she was 17. There is no mention of a father. Instead he tells us his grandmother looked after both of them. He was raised in a shack on Grenada whose roof was made of corrugated tin. Rain fell on it with a drumming sound. His grandmother covered the furniture with plastic covers to keep them clean.
So this explains why you enter the installation under a suspended corrugated steel roof with the noise of a tropical rainstorm coming from loudspeakers. The sound of rain hitting the roof is combined with a soundtrack featuring NTS radio programmes selected with Femi Adeyemi, newly commissioned compositions by Kelman Duran, Andrew Hale, Devonté Hynes and Olukemi Lijadu, and songs by Mangrove Steelband.
Installation view of chapter 1 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain, showing the long low corrugated metal roof and series of wooden benches covered in plastic (photo by the author)
Under this roof are placed rattan and plastic seats embellished with braided fabric and draped with plastic quilts containing embroidered postcards and works on paper by Barrington’s long-time collaborator Teresa Farrell. Wooden walls contain windows and textile works.
Installation view of chapter 1 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain, showing one of the half dozen wooden benches containing various drawings, covered in plastic, and decorated with fabric work (photo by the author)
Chapter 2. Samantha
Emerging from the Caribbean rainstorm section, visitors arrive at a four-metre-high aluminium sculpture of a dancing figure. The figure is modelled on – and made in collaboration with – Barrington‘s close friend, Samantha. She is one of what the wall label tells us is famalay (a Trinidadian term for one’s chosen family). Barrington tells us this is his tribute to the Notting Hill Carnival which he contributes to every year. The large imposing futuristic figure stands on a large communal steel drum and is adorned with ‘Pretty Mas (masquerade)‘ jewellery by designers L’ENCHANTEUR, a costume by Jawara Alleyne, and nails by Mica Hendricks.
Installation view of chapter 2 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain, showing the metal sculpture of Samantha rising from a base made of corrugated metal and steel drums, and in the background the large energetic paintings strung from scaffold stands (photo by the author)
But this figure is just the centrepiece. Placed around it are big paintings attached to scaffolding. These depict ‘traditional Mas’ characters and carnival revellers.
Installation view of a stand of paintings in chapter 2 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain (photo by the author)
Another one:
Installation view of a stand of paintings in chapter 2 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain (photo by the author)
These paintings refer to the Caribbean tradition of ‘J‘ouvert’, in which participants cover each other with paint, mud and oil and dance till dawn on carnival Monday.
Installation view of a stand of paintings in chapter 2 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain (photo by the author)
Another one:
Installation view of a stand of paintings in chapter 2 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain (photo by the author)
But there’s more again. Overhead are suspended vast archway canvases designed to convey the passage of time from sunrise to sunset and create the sense of a day spent in the ‘vibrant carnival streetscape’. The overall idea is that this is a ‘protective space’ that the carnival community has created in the streets for people like Samantha to freely celebrate herself.
Chapter 3. Emelda
Barrington’s mother moved from Grenada to New York seeking work when he was 8. he tells us that at that time (it must have been 1991) the Black community in the US was under relentless attack. Lack of hope and economic opportunity and the widespread availability of drugs like cocaine meant many people in the community self-medicated with drugs. Politicians responded with mass incarceration and the ‘war on drugs’. The reality of New York was unlike anything his mother could have imagined in peaceful Grenada. Even a visit to the corner store risked an incredible variety of violence. Barrington remembers the grace his mother showed in these situations.
So the aim of the third chapter is to convey all these mixed and complex experiences. Overhead the skylights in the gallery cupola have been coloured like a stained-glass window to create a contemplative, cathedral-like atmosphere.
Installation view of the skylight covered with colours to look like a church window in chapter 3 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain (photo by the author)
Down on the ground a boarded-up corner kiosk has been made to American prison-cell dimensions. The kiosk sculpture is fitted with moving shutters and surrounded by crowd control barriers with barbed wire, invoking the mass imprisonment of Blacks in America.
Installation view of the fenced-in kiosk in chapter 3 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain (photo by the author)
Beyond these, incongruously, are old-fashioned wooden church pews covered with plastic quilts. These contain pillowcases which feature drawings by Barrington. These pictures reference the unwavering love and fear felt by Black mothers for their children who are frequently at risk of harm from state violence.
Installation view of the wooden pews bearing crude paintings covered in protective plastic in chapter 3 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain (photo by the author)
Thoughts
So, three chapters: a tropical storm falling on a metal-roofed shack in the Caribbean; the liveliness and music of the Notting Hill Carnival; resilience in the face of violence and despair in New York.
I liked some of the primitivist paintings in the carnival section for their energy and rawness. And, of course, the metal sculpture of Samantha literally rises above everything else. It is the most ‘attractive’ part of the show for several reasons: 1) she’s an attractive young woman, and we are biologically hard-wired to be drawn to beautiful young people; 2) it’s the only really figurative piece in the entire installation and so is instantly relatable, like a shop-window mannequin; 3) although it’s meant to be about the here and now, for me the shiny metal finish and colourful outfit have an appealing science fiction vibe. For some or all these reasons it’s no accident that this is the image which Tate uses on all its promotional material.
The statue of Samantha in chapter 2 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain (photo by the author)
The low corrugated metal roof which greets us at the start has an impact but the opposite of that intended. The wall label says it’s meant to convey the warmth and security of his boyhood home in Grenada but, instead, it feels like the makeshift roof of a shelter after a nuclear apocalypse, from some dystopian future.
And try as I might, I couldn’t find anything appealing about the wooden benches covered in plastic in chapter 1 or the wooden pews covered in plastic in chapter 3. The paintings, if that’s what they are, on the benches and pews in both sections, look like they were made by infant school children.
Close-up of some drawings covered in protective plastic draped over a pew in chapter 3 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain (photo by the author)
And the single, solitary, lonely little kiosk in the last section, whose metal grille, for some reason, slowly opened then slowly closed then slowly opened again, all behind a ring of metal fencing…If this had been by Martin Creed I’d have found it funny. But here, according to the wall label, it is bearing the freight of two vast social and historical issues: urban violence in Black communities and the mass incarceration of Black men in the USA. That’s a lot of weight for one poor little kiosk to bear and rather than reflecting on those Weighty Issues I was mainly struck by a) the oddity of the object itself and b) feeling sorry for it.
I’m predisposed to like industrial materials and settings and ruins, which is why I like the photos of Jane and Louise Wilson, the whole idea of Arte Povera in Italy and minimalism in the States, and Mike Nelson’s industrial installation in this very space five years ago. And my favourite art movement is probably the Vorticist-Futurist art of hard edges, geometric shapes derived from modern urban life with its blizzard of cars and planes and building works and machinery. All of which goes to explain why I’m only half joking when I say I thought the best thing in the whole installation was the shadow cast by the wire fencing round the kiosk onto the gallery wall.
Shadow cast by wire fencing on the wall of the Duveen Galleries in chapter 3 of ‘Grace’ by Alvaro Barrington at Tate Britain (photo by the author)
I jokingly pointed this out to the friend I was visiting the gallery with and, to my surprise, she agreed.
Related links
- Grace by Alvaro Barrington continues at Tate Britain until 26 January 2025
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