Imperfect Gifts: Reflections on the RA Summer Exhibition

The Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, July 29, 2024.

The recent critiques of the 2024 Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy by both the Guardian and the Telegraph warrant a closer look. As an American, I couldn't help but feel that these reviews read like excerpts from a tiny book of Shakespearean insults my mother-in-law gifted me for Christmas a decade ago. Shakespeare's brilliance lies in his irony, revealing tragic points where characters veered off course, offering glimpses of what could have been.

Yet, these reviews lead nowhere. They are devoid of constructive critique and offer no insight into what they would have preferred to see instead. So, I ask, what lies at the heart of this negativity? It seems to me these reviews confess an era of misanthropy—a weariness or disdain for people and their modest offerings.

Maximus demands “Are you not entertained?!” What more do we need for a spectacle in the coliseum or the Summer Exhibition?

Returning to our favorite "garbage holiday," the RA Summer Exhibition mirrors the festive joy of Christmas. In this year's showcase, 1,700 thoughtful, handmade gifts adorned the halls, contributed by a diverse array of artists—from renowned figures and aspiring newcomers to ordinary individuals and, inevitably, the hobby "artists." Full disclosure: my own work was among them. I spent two months lovingly crafting my painting, making my own paint, preparing it for submission, carrying it to London, and finally seeing it hung on Varnishing Day. Why? Because I hold onto the small hope that someone will connect with my vision.

What these critiques underscore is a lack of genuine desire for connection. Instead, we seem to prefer sweeping judgments and the spectacle of thumbs up, thumbs down! Bombast and self-assurance overshadow nuanced appreciation.

I argue that the future lies in listening attentively, withholding judgment, seeing deeply, and embracing negative capability. The RA Summer Exhibition is our contemporary junk shop, yard sale, and crafts fair—a place where treasures can be unearthed and stories discovered amidst humble, human-scale offerings. Not everything needs to be larger than life.

Full disclosure again: much of what was on display was not to my taste, and, like everyone, I couldn't take it all in. We arrive at the exhibition already full, satiated on junk food and Instagram. Yet, amidst this, I saw a tradition that celebrates a tender and uniquely human characteristic—the fusion of craft and imagination into art. There were remarkable efforts on display, prompting me to wonder: what if we viewed this magic through a lens of positivity? What could we achieve if we harnessed all this talent constructively? What if, instead of demanding bloodsport critiques, we asked for pet portraits, evocative still lifes, and better art education? What if, instead of thumbs up or down, we simply said, "I see you. Thank you."

Ironically I think what a lot of the critics are calling for when they say “good” and “bad” without looking is less diversity. They want something richer - more saturated and sensational - which is what you get when you start herding the cats to make them a force. They are calling for curation to a stronger point of view — But that is another level of gate keeping and fundamentally anti-democratic.

The summer exhibition is an experiment in holding diversity under one roof.  It invites a shift—from criticism to celebration, from judgment to appreciation. It's a call to recognize the beauty in effort, the power in connection, and the essential role of art in our lives.