Review
Art
Climate
Culture
Migration
9 min read

Finding the human amid the wreckage of migration

Personal objects recovered from ocean depths tell a story of modern and ancient migrations. Jonathan Evens reviews Shezad Dawood’s multimedia Leviathan exhibition at Salisbury Cathedral

Jonathan is Team Rector for Wickford and Runwell. He is co-author of The Secret Chord, and writes on the arts.

A bronze sculpture of a small boat and sea monster tossed in the waves.
Where do we go now?, Shezad Dawood.
Photo: Finnbarr Webster.

Hung in the central aisle of Salisbury Cathedral and reflected in the still water of William Pye’s cruciform font are a series of textile paintings by Shezad Dawood depicting objects recovered from the seabed of the Mediterranean.  

Led by Professor Cristina Cattaneo, a team of forensic anthropologists from the Laboratory of Anthropological Forensics (LABANOF at the University of Milan go out with UN rescue teams when ships have sunk or capsized on the journey to Lampedusa and recover the objects and artifacts (as well as human remains). They do so, to create an archive whereby relatives can track missing family members. Unlike wars and natural disasters, there is no established protocol to deal with immigration deaths but, by its interventions, LABANOF is helping to potentially bring a protocol into being. 

As seen at Salisbury, Dawood’s Labanof Cycle ranges from a pinch of earth wrapped in a twist of cling film to a passport and a faded photograph. Each of these textile paintings document a life and a journey in tribute both to lives lost and those that were saved. 

Dawood became aware of the work of LABANOF through an article in the New York Times and reached out to them while preparing for an exhibition to coincide with the 57th Venice Biennale. As a result, he met with Cattaneo in Milan and she generously gave access to the archive. Dawood recalls:  

“It was a shock to actually be confronted with those objects and be in the room with them. I really wrestled with whether it was appropriate to make work in response to those materials. One of the things that decided it for me, when I went away and sat with it, those objects made all of those lives so apparent to me and that was the shock. It transformed refugees and migrants from a statistical basis to something very human. The fact that I was crying looking at the material was what was important in bringing the humanity back to our fellow humans. There’s something very sad, and almost industrial, about viewing our fellows through the prism of statistics and othering them or demonising them as somehow threatening.” 

Kenneth Padley, Canon Treasurer and Chair of the Cathedral’s Arts Advisory makes connections between these works and the themes and stories of Advent and Christmas, saying:  

“This exhibition is a timely reminder, amid the anticipation and excitement of Advent and Christmas, that Jesus and his family were refugees and were being persecuted.” In these seasons, we recall the vulnerability of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, forced by political order to travel from Nazareth to Bethlehem and then by fear of King Herod from Bethlehem to Egypt."

“None of us straightforwardly belong anywhere, however long our forebears have sojourned there, and none of us abide long on this earth”.

Sam Wells

Sam Wells, Vicar of St Martin-in-the-Fields, has noted that we are all “strangers and pilgrims on earth”, and that “God is the one who comes to us like one unknown” being “in the world, but the world received him not”. He suggests that it is by the way we receive this challenge, that “the Christian community demonstrates who we realise we are and who we believe God is”. 

More than this, he argues that the Bible itself is founded on six journeys, all of which have a bearing on themes of migration: “Jacob and his entourage migrate to Egypt in the midst of famine. This is an economic migration, but really it’s a journey of survival. Moses and the children of Israel migrate from Egypt to the Promised Land. They leave as refugees to flee slavery. They take 40 years to reach their destination, and, when they get there, they face a very hostile environment indeed. Judah loses a battle and is displaced 500 miles to Babylon. There, as Daniel shows, exiles play a vibrant role in public life, and bring unique qualities, represented by the ability to interpret dreams. Jesus travels from Galilee to Jerusalem. He’s living during the occupation by an invading power, Rome. Finally, Paul migrates from Jerusalem to Rome. He’s searching for legal protection in an empire where citizenship transcends geography.” 

His conclusion is that “most of what we’d today call migration is in the Bible, and it’s through migration, not in spite of it, that revelation occurs”. As a result, we don’t get Judaism or Christianity without migration. He adds that “the greatest migration of all is of Christ from heaven to earth and back” and the statement that “Here we have no abiding city” “is an announcement that we should consider our whole lives as a season of migration, because we are transiting through earth to find our true home elsewhere”. As a result, “None of us straightforwardly belong anywhere, however long our forebears have sojourned there, and none of us abide long on this earth”. 

The exhibition at Salisbury Cathedral is a small part of a large body of work begun when Dawood was working on two separate projects; one which involved research about democracy, the other about the oceans. The title of the exhibition refers to Leviathan, a 1651 text by the philosopher Thomas Hobbes which takes the sea monster described in the Book of Job as a metaphor for the state.  

“What’s been quite shocking has been that things people told me we might witness in 10-15 years, I’ve seen happen in five”. 

Dawood’s Where do we go now? is a polychromatic painted sculpture, depicting sailors in a small boat encountering a whale, that is inspired by engravings and illustrations from Jonathan Swift’s A Tale of a Tub, a 1704 pamphlet on the nature of legitimate government that was written in response to Hobbes. The whale represents the State, which threatens to destroy the vessel, prompting the sailors to throw a barrel (or ‘tub’) representing their labour (or ‘capital’) overboard to distract it. With figures representing refugees and a UN rescue worker in Dawood’s sculpture being placed within the Cathedral’s 1215 Magna Carta exhibition space, this work prompts visitors to consider the legacy of Magna Carta and the rights and freedoms of refugees.    

Dawood has said that the exhibition is “an exciting opportunity to bring some of the key questions I’ve been asking of climate, migration and our shared humanity … at a time when a renewed sense of sharing and purpose is urgently needed.” In the light of such thinking, Beth Hughes, Salisbury Cathedral’s Visual Arts Curator, suggests that,  

“Shezad’s exhibition is a powerful reminder of how we are all connected to each other, and to the natural world … [focusing] the mind to help us think about how we might be part of the solution, to make a better world for ourselves, our loved ones and all of humanity.”  

Much of Dawood’s work is concerned with “world-building” and “imagineering”, something that developed from a “youthful love of science fiction, speculative fiction” which he found to be “a really useful space for philosophical dialogue and imagination”. Then, as “confidence and practice grew, I found through conversations with other artists, writers, academics, that we could have these conversations and start to imagine possible or plausible futures as a way to reflect on some of the issues of our time”. 

One result has been the Leviathan Cycle, a ten-part film series exploring unexpected narratives that connect the most urgent issues of our times: climate change, migration, and mental health. When he began, he experienced surprise or disbelief at what he was trying to do “which was to imagine the world in 20-50 years’ time” in order to highlight the urgency, “because it felt like we didn’t have much time in which to change course”. He was primarily “thinking about what the immediate fault lines were and how they could deepen and darken in our lifetimes or just beyond”. As he started going out talking to scientists, particularly those working around climate, “there was something quite interesting about this 20-50 year’ timeframe, because their predictions were in that range”. However, “what’s been quite shocking has been that things people told me we might witness in 10-15 years, I’ve seen happen in five”.  

How can we find new reserves of empathy and understanding for the difficult circumstances we are going through in our world?” 

The Cycle follows the journeys of a cast of characters who are the survivors of a cataclysmic solar event in order to reflect on the systemic crises within our biosphere and imagine where we might end up if we fail to gain a deeper understanding of the intersections between fields of knowledge and ways of living, across and between human and more-than-human ecologies. The first five films imagine a dystopian future while the latter five - of which the latest, Seven and Eight, are on show here – explore “ways to navigate and negotiate this future with each other, with our government; ideally, a new social compact that’s not just human but extends beyond the human”.       

Episode 7: Africana, Ken Bugul & Nemo, in the North Transept, takes the viewer on a journey through the Mangroves of Senegal which speaks of our interconnectedness where both science and the imaginary dovetail into a possible, collective future. Episode 8: Cris, Sandra, Papa & Yasmine, in Trinity Chapel, charts an embodied, spiritual, and ecological journey along an age-old Guarani path linking the Brazilian Atlantic Forest to the sea. 

The wider Leviathan project from which the work on show in the Cathedral is taken, is the culmination of conversations Dawood has had with a wide range of marine biologists, oceanographers, political scientists, neurologists, and trauma specialists. This approach is typical of his practice, which often involves collaborations with groups and individuals from different disciplines that are transformed into expressive artworks. 

The Leviathan Cycle itself has become a large community of scientists and collaborators around the world. The collaborative experience has broadened Dawood’s horizons in terms of how he thinks of the subjects of his work: “It’s not just a protagonist in a film or an artefact, it’s each of these scientists’ individual area of study that they’ve devoted a huge part of life and time to, and so it creates this huge web of obligation. It’s part of empathy and reciprocity, it’s how we work with others and try to do our best.”  

As a result, he says: “There’s a debt to generations beyond us. They only stretch us just a little but we become better human beings by doing so. I think it’s also important to go beyond the human as well and stretch our empathy to include the non-human – animals, plants, algae – they’re all systems of which we are part and which we interconnect with in surprising ways. It’s something that I’ve become more actively aware of through this body of work. It just feels pivotal.”   

His hope “is that the exhibition encourages visitors to think about ourselves as one humanity”: “My engagement with the topics of climate change and migration are driven by wanting to see a new set of ethical standards established for the world. How can we find new reserves of empathy and understanding for the difficult circumstances we are going through in our world?”  

As we come to the end of 2023 and think about the coming new year and further into the future, the beauty of this exhibition and of Dawood’s work is that, as Beth Hughes notes, it “draws you in to explore some of the big questions facing humanity today”. World events in 2023 “have shown us how important it is to care for displaced people and the importance of looking after our natural world”. Kenneth Padley says, “The overriding message is a call to action before it is too late”, which is why the exhibition is prefaced with a verse from St Paul’s letter to the Romans that simply states, “Live in harmony with one another”. 

 

Leviathan, An exhibition by Shezad Dawood at Salisbury Cathedral, 28 November 2023 – 3 February 2024.

Interview
Community
Culture
Loneliness
S&U interviews
5 min read

Why we need friendship more than romance

Friendship Lab's founder opens up on opening up.

Jack is a graduate of Peterhouse, University of Cambridge and Blackfriars, University of Oxford. He writes, and also works in local government.

A speaker, standing in front of a screen, beckons with one hand, holding a mic with the other.
Voysey at the Lab launch.

Henri Nouwen, the Dutch Catholic priest, professor, writer, and theologian, wrote in Reaching Out of an encounter with one of his students who entered his room with the disarming remark:  

“I simply want to celebrate some time with you.” 

Recently, I had the great pleasure of celebrating some time with Sheridan Voysey, the founder of Friendship Lab, which is the first non-profit organisation dedicated to enabling adults to reach out and making friendship thrive.  

Sheridan, an Australian by birth, describes himself as a ‘writer, speaker, and broadcaster with ‘a keen interest in what makes life deeply worthwhile’. Beyond that, he goes on, “I am a husband to Merryn” and “big dog” to a cockapoo called Rupert, and he makes Oxford his home.  

He and I met in the Liddon Room of Pusey House, one of the chaplaincies to the University of Oxford, which is where I have made many of my adult friendships over the years. We had tea.  

We began our conversation by talking about solitude and silence. Sheridan told me that the Friendship Lab, which launched in London last month, had its genesis in a solo spiritual retreat he went on in 2019. He left thinking about friendlessness and wanting to write a book about adult friendship. The pandemic played into this, creating an opportunity for Sheridan to broadcast about this issue when he was made Creative Lead of BBC Radio 2’s four-day Friendship Season in 2020. People pondered, when they were apart from one another, why it is that friendship is so difficult in the modern world. Sheridan led the way.  

“You’re thinking too small” were the words he heard on his second retreat at St Katherine’s House, Parmoor in 2021. He told me he was scared. Rather than writing a book, Sheridan resolved to rectify our world’s obsession with romance at the expenses of what he calls “its less glamorous sibling”. Friendship Lab, which provides courses and resources to build friendships that make life deeply worthwhile, was the result.  

Sheridan told me that he did not have many friends growing up in Brisbane, Australia. In the 1970s, he remembers, Brisbane was “a bit coarse, a bit rough”, and “to be an Australian male in Brisbane then was to be into beer, barbecues, football”, he said with a laugh. As a child, Sheridan stuck out. He was tall. “I was the kid who would be walking around the playground at lunchtime, constantly moving around to cover up the fact that I had no friends to sit with.” I asked him how this might have contributed to his thinking about friends as a fifty-year-old man.  

The answer was rooted in his childhood experiences—and his faith. His parents were Jehovah Witnesses when Sheridan was growing up, which he told me meant that his family were “absolute outsiders”. Then, his mum had “a wonderful encounter with God” in the late 1990s, where she came to believe that Jesus is the Son of God. It was, he said, “profoundly transformative” for the whole family. He had been “trying to find [his] life” “among the flashing lights and throbbing beats of Brisbane’s nightclubs” but felt “completely empty inside” until he made a commitment to Christ himself, aged 19. He told me that fostering friendship in others, matters to him because of his faith. “I have always had a heart for those on the periphery, and I want to bring them in.” 

Reaching out is connected to comfy silence in the company of others. 

Another factor which has shaped Sheridan’s sure-fire purpose to recover the lost art of friendship has been his marriage to Merryn. His book Resurrection Year recounts the decision he and his wife made in 2011 to move from Australia to Oxford, to recover from the death of a dream to have a child together. Merryn started out as a medical researcher within the University, soon earning a PhD through the college in the building where we met for our time together. Sheridan tells me, he had a “real identity crisis”. His own came through leaving a successful career broadcasting and speaking in Australia, which on top of the childlessness, gave rise to questions about his legacy. He also told me, it was “a great stimulus to think very deeply” about his friends. “How intentional am I being?” 

I can tell you, having spent one hour and a half with Sheridan, that he oozes intentionality in how he engages with others. This is why I was reminded of Henri Nouwen. The ‘twentieth-century Kierkegaard’, Nouwen was able to announce the arrival of another way to relate to others in the world. Reaching out is connected to comfy silence in the company of others, which Sheridan knows well. After some time in silence with Nouwen, his student said, ‘“From now on, wherever you go, or wherever I go, all the ground between us will be holy ground.”’ I might have said likewise to Sheridan as our time together drew to a close.    

Sheridan said,  

“I hope that Friendship Lab in its tiny little embryonic state will one day grow to the point where we can actually have some kind of cultural influence, and we can turn the tide.”  

I hope so too.  

Friendship Lab aspires to a world in which every adult has at least three ‘2am friends’, people who will help ‘at 2am when everything has gone wrong’. Sheridan Voysey is no longer thinking small.  

Like the Lord Jesus Christ, whom he believes to be the Son of God, Sheridan is looking unrelentingly at what makes life deeply worthwhile: love, and not just the romantic kind. Reaching out, this man is making friends.  

 

Find out more about Friendship Lab

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