Article
Art
Belief
Culture
4 min read

How the curious react to creativity in a cathedral

The moved, confused and impressed.

Stuart is communications director for the Diocese of Liverpool.

An art structure of a circular peak sits on the chequered floor of a cathedral.
Monadic Singularity, Anish Kapoor, Liverpool Cathedral.
Rob Battersby.

In the summer of 2024 thousands of visitors came to Liverpool Cathedral and encountered the challenging artwork of celebrated international artist Anish Kapoor. In his first exhibition in Liverpool for over 44 years these works were displayed as part of our centenary celebrations.  

They caused a stir. Some were moved, some were confused, many were impressed but there were not many who entered our building that did not have an opinion.  As a surprise to us we did not get many questioning why we allowed these pieces into the sacred presence of a cathedral church disrupting the places where worship occurs. Most recognised that this carefully curated exhibition used its artwork to speak to both the building and the pieces themselves. 

But we must ask ourselves the question what is the point? What does a vibrant worshipping community such as Liverpool Cathedral stand to gain? Our architecture is impressive, you can’t miss us in the city so why rock the boat by bringing in work from an artist of great renown and great controversy? 

 

The creativity comes through the careful curation of work that speaks to the human condition and ultimately our relationship with God.

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The answer surely lies in two places.  

Firstly, there’s the long tradition the church has in using art to tell Jesus’s story to the world. Visit any church and you will likely see a stained-glass window impressively depicting a biblical story like a medieval Banksy. Our worship services can be seen as theatre and performance with choreographed liturgical movements, stunning choral pieces or magnificent contemporary music. The communion prayer acts like a Shakespearian soliloquy retelling the dramatic story of Jesus’s death and resurrection. Art and theatre are intermeshed with the church. Liverpool Cathedral has a number of permanent and temporary art works including work from Elizabeth Frink and our iconic Tracey Emin neon light.  

Secondly, like most cathedrals in the modern age Liverpool Cathedral walks the precarious path between commerciality and spirituality. To be sustainable without regular governmental support we must raise substantial money far beyond the reach of the traditional giving of a congregation. We need to be creative, we need to do things, put on events, host exhibitions to reach beyond the bounds of a traditional church audience and connect with a wider public. 

Liverpool Cathedral has done this for a number of years, welcoming Luke Jerram’s Museum of the Moon before hosting his Gaia exhibition and then starting a long association with Peter Walker through Peace Doves, Identity and the very popular Light Before Christmas shows. These are not chosen simply to draw in the masses. That would be short-sighted, counterproductive and create the false narrative that cathedrals are more interested in money rather than the worship of God. 

In Liverpool our attempts to attract people to these exhibitions are predicated on the notion that whatever a visitor's motivation when they arrive they will encounter us and through us encounter God. Last year 31,000 people saw our Christmas Sound and Light show and as a result that led to greater numbers coming to our Christmas Eve services. People want to make the connection, we need to help them in that. 

If a cathedral is to use this work successfully it must help us and our visitors ask searching questions. Sure it is great fun to have a picture with one of these exhibits and most of what we do is deliberately Instagramable. However, the creativity comes through the careful curation of work that speaks to the human condition and ultimately our relationship with God. The museum of the moon and Gaia provoked many interesting conversations and debates about the relationship between science and faith alongside the age-old question of how creation came about.  

Peace Doves brought together a post covid community trying to come to terms, both individually and collectively, with the impact of the Lockdown years. In bringing together a piece of community art we were able to focus minds on loss, healing and hope. 

It isn’t direct, it isn’t overt but we are also not shy of the fact that we are a cathedral and we do God.

So, to Anish Kapoor. When he was Dean of our cathedral, Justin Welby, challenged us to think of the cathedral as a safe place to do risky things in the service of God. Many could say that hosting an exhibition by Anish Kapoor encapsulates that risk. Challenging, controversial and provocative his work attracts thought and creates a stir. The exhibition stands firmly in our tradition of using art to ask questions. The introduction to the exhibition booklet states that the exhibition encapsulates “the artist’s exploration of the physicality of the human body, the title – Monadic Singularity – reflects the interrelation of human existence and the universe” yet again showing a connection to God and our faith. 

It isn’t direct, it isn’t overt but we are also not shy of the fact that we are a cathedral and we do God. People came to the Kapoor exhibition for a multitude of reasons. We had fine art students able to contextualise, theorise and talk sagely about Anish Kapoor and the meaning behind his work, we had families with young children enjoying being able to run around and interact with the works, we had people completely bemused or making wild guesses as to what it all meant. That gives an opening to help us have the conversation about the God that means so much to us and how we interpret this art in the light of our faith. 

Cathedrals are places of creativity and need to remain that way. Cathedrals have the opportunity to bring many people through their doors every day. Art can do that and as we have seen since mediaeval times can help us and others understand God and their place in life. 

Review
America
Culture
Film & TV
Politics
5 min read

Trump: from apprentice to master of contempt

The Trump biopic is a morality tale for our times
An 1980s business man looks contemptuously at the camera.
Sebastian Stan as a young Donald Trump.
Scythia Films.

He won. Donald Trump is, once again, the President of the United States. The controversial property tycoon, controversial ‘billionaire’, controversial reality TV star, and highly controversial one-term (or so it seemed) President, has done it again! Sweeping not only the Electoral College but also the popular vote, Trump will have another four years to ‘Make America Great Again’…whatever that means. The question on most pundits’ lips today is: how? The man who was written off from the first moments he descended into his campaign on that golden escalator; the man who was guaranteed to lose his first (let alone his third!) Presidential bid; the man who has been mired in sexual, financial, constitutional, and legal scandal…how could he win again!? 

Rather than seek answers in the election coverage of last night I went to an alternative source of information. I popped down to my local cinema to watch The Apprentice, Ali Abbasi’s biopic of Trump’s rise to power and prominence, focusing on his ‘apprenticeship’ under pugnacious, pugilistic, flamboyant, and flamingly foul-mouthed lawyer and mentor Roy Cohn. Whether consciously or not – and believe me, it’s so consciously on the nose as to feel like a punch to the nose – the film draws a ruler-straight line from Trump’s early days as Cohn’s disciple to his electoral success in 2016…and now in 2024. 

How did Trump win, not once but twice…? 

…by selling his soul to the Devil. 

We meet Trump and Cohn in an exclusive New York Members Club. Trump is shy and awkward – none of the bombast we know him for – clumsily trying to impress his date by mentioning how he is the youngest member to ever be admitted. Cohn is holding court with some mob-coded friends. Cohn stares at the handsome, golden-haired ingénue (Trump, not his date) across the room through sunken domes. He invites Trump to join him for dinner. The date has gone to ‘powder my nose’ and seemingly has made a lucky escape through the lavatory window. Trump joins Cohn. Cohn bloviates, always with his hand firmly gripping Trump’s thigh. Trump is enamoured…smitten…in love. Cohn becomes his lawyer and Trump his protégé. 

The film goes on to chronicle how, under Cohn’s tutelage, Trump becomes the man we now know. Cohn is committed to winning – under the guise of being committed to America. He teaches Trump his three rules for success:  

  1. Attack, attack, attack. 
  2. Admit nothing. Deny everything. 
  3. Even in defeat, claim victory.  

There is a nice bit of mirroring in the final scene as we see Trump regurgitate these rules, introduced pithily and wittily in the first 30 minutes of the film, in his final exaggerated and bloviated style to a ghost-writer employed to write The Art of the Deal. This is how Trump wins. Throughout the film we watch Trump evolve from the nervous young man, protective of his alcoholic brother and under-the-thumb of his overbearing father, into a monstrous, ad absurdum form of Cohn…a man who will demand absolute submission to his will. 

The film, I wager, is partly a morality tale. It gives us a (slightly) sympathetic young Faustus, and chronicles his descent into Hell, but without a hint of real redemption or pity.

The film is sickeningly enjoyable. Sebastian Stan gently invites us to root for Trump in his timidity, and transforms with a subtlety which leaves the audience questioning their own culpability. Maria Bakalova brings a good-natured innocence to Ivana Trump (née Zelníčková) which steals the few scenes she’s afforded. Jeremy Strong – always watchable – brings his magnetic charisma to the screen. His Cohn is akin to Pacino’s John Milton in The Devil’s Advocate: delightfully chewing the scenery and ingratiating himself to the viewer while being hateful. The film is just over two hours long but doesn’t feel it. Never dragging, never boring. The soundtrack revels in the period, and the needle-drops are near perfect. It’s a really rather fun watch. 

However. 

The film is not nourishing. It is the cinematic equivalent of the junk food that leads to Trump’s expanding waistline (and the liposuction scene that is so difficult to watch). The film painstakingly draws parallels between Trump’s early success and his later political career. Cohn’s rules, Reagan’s campaigning slogans, the arrogance, the (sexual!) violence…everything we associate with Trump today is found in its nascent form in his 1980s career. Yet, none of it really matters because we have no character we want to attach ourselves to. No one, except perhaps Trump’s mother and his first wife, neither of whom have the chance to make enough of an impact, is likable or redeemable. Cohn is slime personified, until a sudden AIDS related conversion to conscience, and we don’t see nearly enough of the pathetic and put-upon Trump to care about his descent into the demonic realm of absolute self-absorption. The script is razor-sharp, but not incisive. The characters are riotously funny, but nowhere near emotionally engaging enough. 

The film, I wager, is partly a morality tale. It gives us a (slightly) sympathetic young Faustus, and chronicles his descent into Hell, but without a hint of real redemption or pity. Mortality makes Cohn recognise the monster he has been the Dr Frankenstein to, but in about ten minutes. We see a relative innocent made villain, but barely having had the chance to care for him in his infancy. No amount of slick script or genuinely bravura performance (Jeremy Strong deserves an Oscar) can make up for the cold and emotionless lens that the film has. In a sense, this gives us a more realistic explanation of Trump’s victory than the film seeks to muster…disdain. 

Like Trump, I deployed ‘alternative facts’. 

I lied. 

I did watch some of the election coverage in the early hours of the morning. As the Trump victory became inexorable, I watched pundit after pundit – who had been excoriating Trump supporters as either stupid or malign only 24 hours before – earnestly explain that it was a lack of engagement with middle-America which had lost it for the Democrats. Tony Hinchcliffe may have made a predictably unpleasant joke about Puerto Rico being a ‘garbage island’, but it was Biden calling even reluctant Trump voters ‘garbage’ which swung the election. We live in a new polarised age where the genuine concerns of the ordinary man or woman, if they can be associated with someone as aesthetically and morally compromised as Trump, make them functionally fascist.  

The Apprentice, simply by being unable to empathise with anyone not in favour, gives us the secret to Trump’s victory. It wasn’t Cohn’s rules. It was his overactive ability to demonstrate his contempt for everyone, and therefore seem to have contempt for no one. His detractors demonstrated the reverse. In the end Trump hasn’t needed to attack, or deny, or claim illegitimate victory. He simply has had to be himself. 

Saaaad. 

 

**** Stars