RA Summer Exhibition and Hampton Court: Shared theme, very different moods

 Gardeners are instinctive optimists. The act of planting a tiny seed in March in hope of abundance six months later is annual proof. Artists are inspired by nature, too, but this year’s Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts, themed on climate, shows the artists on the pessimistic end of the spectrum.

About 40 percent of the work on display seethed with anger, while an equal number projected a deep melancholy. This being Great Britain, much of the negativity was infused with black humour, but it was still all a bit grim. A small, remaining percentage of the work celebrated the joy of what the climate brings us, and inspired change to protect it. 

Meanwhile, 14 miles west, another staple of the London season was far more cheerful. The Hampton Court Garden Festival celebrated urban micro-gardens, water saving, compost and bug houses, thronged with crowds who clearly believe their personal actions can make a difference … even if the blazing heat causing the gardens to droop was punishing proof of climate change.

I was fortunate to attend both in the same week, and enjoyed the contrast. In addition to sharing a theme this year, both are essentially big market places: new art in Piccadilly, plants and garden kit at the palace. But you have to be a lot richer to do any buying at the Royal Academy.

Had money been no object, my choice at the Exhibition would have been Jess de Wahls’ Nevertheless, she persisted, a work of embroidery roughly a metre square. At the top, an idyllic world lives under a golden dome of honeycomb, patrolled by protective bees. But at the mid point, one of their number struggles, and below him is a world of death. (Or is it her? The she of the title being the queen bee struggling to survive?) The contrast and vivid detail reminded me of those scenes that contrast heaven and hell with such drama in medieval Italian churches, and the sheer skill of the embroidery was masterful. In concept and execution, I can see (just about) spending £85,000 to take this one home, should I be the type of person to have that kind of cash.

One of the great delights of the Exhibition, of course, is wandering the galleries pretending you have untold millions to invest in art. What would you buy? There’s a lot of conceptual stuff here that falls into my  “you’re pulling my leg” category. Such as a page from a digital notepad, with some signatures on it, blown up to enormous size and called They came out of nowhere pointing to nowhere he said / Visitor book painting. Creator Ryan Gander (I can’t bring myself to award him the adjective artist) has the chutzpah to put a £90,000 price tag on this one.

Equally perplexing, though at least more attractive to have on a wall, was an oversized canvas of vegetables rendered in blocks of solid, bold colours. A quick hour on the computer for the corporate designers I work with, but Sir Michael Craig-Martin, a fully-accredited Royal Academician, is charging £69,500 for Untitled (with 2 carrots). To each his own.

While there’s plenty of this kind of thing to puzzle over (a bear sculpted of black fibre mauling Pinocchio, a child’s drawing of a football ground, four heads hanging from a triangular flood sign graffitied to say blood), there are bits and pieces of beauty throughout to captivate even the most passionate critic of modern art. A pair of masterful, large watercolours of the Grand Canyon with soil samples set in glass tubes within the mount to demonstrate the exact colours of reality, and how perfectly artist Tony Foster got to them, seemed excellent value for millionaire’s money at £72,500. (Should you be in the market, it’s called Hot and Dry / Hot and Wet - Grand Canyon rim to river/ 18 days)

I was intrigued by the old-meets-new conjunction of Rob and Nick Carter’s Transforming flowers in a vase. At first glance, in frame, subject matter and style it’s an old Dutch master still life of a vase of spring flowers. Only on close inspection do you realise it’s a photographic image. Even closer inspection tells you it’s not a  photo, but a film. The flowers slowly wither and die over the course of the 70-minute film, only to be regenerated to fresh perfection on a loop. This seemed a bargain at £30,000, and one I suspect many of those attending the Hampton Court Garden Festival would happily snap up if they had the cash.

But while Hampton Court is indeed a festival of shopping, an attendee would be hard pressed to spend £30,000 on anything. Maybe a posh conservatory or an enormous metal sculpted tree that’s also a fountain. But pleasures are more humble here. My most extravagant purchase was £30 on a single plant. Hosta Liberty is a new introduction with long stems, large leaves and a colour palette that turns from golden yellow to ivory cream as it matures. Not quite as much of a transformation as the Carters’ video, but at one thousandth of the price, how could I resist? It’s already planted out into my hosta bed (the tallest one in the centre) and will no doubt be its crowning glory.

Regular readers may remember that the Festival (re-branded from the Hampton Court Flower Show in 2019) has been an annual outing for me and the same two friends since 2010, and over that time our priorities have shifted more to the annual catch up than to display gardens. Which is a good thing, since there are a lot less of them here than there used to be.

I don’t know whether it’s a planned shift, or the lack of corporate sponsorship post pandemic, but the show gardens were so small and sparse to be mostly forgettable. The notable exception was a Ukrainian garden, where grasses and plants were starting to come back around the burned shell of a Ukrainian house. Another parallel to the Summer Exhibition here: powerful messaging but nothing I was planning to take home.

Corporate sponsors seem to have disappeared almost completely to be replaced by charities, whose gardens tend to concentrate more on getting a message across (like this year’s Alzheimer’s garden with a fibrous, menacing web of black stuff hanging over its paths) than innovative planting schemes, new plants or the latest trends in colour. We simply weren’t interested enough to give much of our attention to any. Admittedly, the fact that there wasn’t a cloud in the sky nor a hint of breeze and the temperature was pushing 30C discouraged us, as well.

We found the greatest interest, and creativity, in a series of allotment gardens. One devoted to menopause education, planted with herbs that support women’s health, was popular with we three women of a certain age. But our favourite was a veg plot that integrated hand-knitted elements for a bit of fun.

The greatest salvo of optimism … a huge counter to the gloom of the Summer Exhibition … was the schools section. Each year children are set a theme and various schools enter displays. This year was bug hotels, and the creativity was both smile-inducing and impressive. You could hear their “architectural” offerings provoking comments across visitors, who inevitably were sharing stories with each other about how much these simple little items improve the whole ecosystem of their gardens. Spending the day with thousands of people who are each making little improvements to help fight climate change left me feeling a good deal more cheerful than I had been a few nights before on Piccadilly.

As usual, we spent most of our time, and money, in the great plant marquee where all the specialist nurseries gather to show off new introductions along with the best of their existing plants. Despite three of us with mature gardens, we each managed some treasures. (In my case, along with the Liberty, two other hostas, three dahlias and a scented geranium, most of which are destined for pots.)

The music programme continues to expand since the Festival re-naming, and in different weather we might have lingered much more at the various stages. Instead we spent a hefty chunk of time in shady areas relaxing with cool drinks. If climate change makes this an average July, they’re going to have to consider shading more of the entertainment spots.

They’ll also need more food options. While much else has changed, the food trucks are still a long way from the dazzling profusion you might find at London hot spots like Borough Market. 

Both are something I suspect will be on planning lists, as the transformation continues. The direction is most obvious in this year’s introduction of a Flowers After Hours party on Friday night, with admission from 4-10, all the floral activities continuing and an uptick in the music. There’s even a silent disco. The fact that the RHS is charging almost £20 more for this event than the just under £39 members pay to go for the whole day says a lot.

The jury is out on whether or not our trio will ever convert to night time attendees and invite the boys along. I rather doubt it. We have our priorities. Whatever the changes, Hampton Court will remain an anchor in our social diaries.