They come surging towards you, wave upon wave, banners flying, drums rolling, a teeming pageant of men, women and children crowding through the grand marble canyons at the heart of Tate Britain. Soldiers, refugees and fishers, mechanics in overalls and dandies in dinner jackets, a green man crowned with chilli peppers, another dressed as a skeleton in a cardinal’s mitre. Pregnant girls, stooped sages, carnival queens in outsize dresses: none alike, and yet all alike, in this endless tide of humanity.
Hew Locke’s The Procession is a tremendous spectacle, stretching away into the distance, and it is his most profound endeavour. The 62-year old Guyanese-British artist has never worked on quite such a scale before, but it feels as if he was always ready. The museum expected 60 figures for its Tate Britain commission, but they just kept on coming, forming in Locke’s mind and studio during lockdown and beyond. Now there are almost 100 and each the size of life and fully as unique in its force of personality.
