Dear Mr Zuckerberg, This evening, parliament is voting on whether to declare a National Climate Emergency. There will be a demonstration at Parliament Square between 5 and 7.30pm. If you could bring some sandwiches, I will take care of drinks and other snacks. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg #extinctionrebellion
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, Skyscrapers. Bench. Table. Bench bench. Table. Bench bench. Table. Bench. I am sitting on the last bench. I pick up reading where I left off: The loss of coral and the acidification of the seas is predicted to. I am finding it hard to concentrate. Two men in suits are sitting on the bench behind me. The man in the orange tie leans back: These are guys are on half a million a year / The only person I know is James Burke / It’s ok for those of us who / Then it becomes a problem / The companies are making so much money they’re literally dropping it all over the place / It’s quite funny, I think anything. They both laugh. I return to the article: We do not know what the future will be. We do not know if the power of human ingenuity will help sufficiently to change the environmental trajectory we are on. A duck flies overhead, narrowly missing the man in the orange tie. This is the danger of being outside, he says. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg #extinctionrebellion
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, There are several people lying in the road. Their arms are locked inside an assortment of tubes. A policeman is addressing the group. They are peering up at him, squinting into the sun. His feet are planted on the tarmac, thumbs hooked into the arms of his high vis. It is impossible to hear what he is saying over the noise of the drums, but his gestures are clear. I scroll to page four. The document presents a continual stream of statistics. Seventeen of the eighteen warmest years on record have occurred since 2001. In 2016, the temperature of the Arctic was twenty degrees above the average. As he speaks, the policeman’s hands cross his body. Each movement describes the space between his chest and arms, as if he were continually sculpting new forms out of thin air. On the following page there is a series of graphs. Each shows a bell curve. Things will not be steady, the report says. The upward trend will accelerate in a continual feedback loop. I look up - now the policeman is gone. Another officer walks past. We smile at each other. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg #extinctionrebellion
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, There was a lock-on this morning at the London Stock Exchange. A few of our colleagues glued their hands together in order to block the entrance to the building. You would have enjoyed the good humour and care that the Police officers took to remove the glue. It was a very British scene. In case you felt inspired by this kind of exercise, I wanted you to know that Poole & Waite has a two-for-one on Gorilla Glue. Please check their website for details. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg #extinctionrebellion
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, For the past week, I have been helping out on the media team. Given that you have some experience in this area, perhaps you would like to do the same? You don’t have to send in a resumé, and I think you would find it fulfilling. By the end of this century, it is almost certain that Bangladesh will disappear under water. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg #extinctionrebellion
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, It is another beautiful day in London. I wondered if you had plans this evening? Beth Orton is playing at Marble Arch. There will be vegan food in the gazebo. Donations are welcome, but you don’t have to pay. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg #extinctionrebellion
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, My friend tells me that you and I resemble one another. Would you agree? I am unsure. In any case, we are both white men. With that in mind, I am writing for your advice. I find it disappointing that Extinction Rebellion is presented as a movement of white, middle class people. Not because it is untrue. The blockades are mostly occupied by white people. It is disappointing because this fixation on colour and class is appropriate - just a little short-sighted. The devastation of climate change will be experienced by people of colour, in the world’s poorest regions. We should indeed be fixated on race and class. Given your expertise in mobilising public attention, I was hoping you might have some suggestions? All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg #extinctionrebellion
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, Last night in Oxford Circus, I met a policeman. A large welshman. He was off-duty. In his civvies. A little inebriated - but not drunk. For a moment, he held me squarely by the shoulders. Don’t fucking move, he said. Don’t move a muscle. I asked him what he meant, wondering if it was my turn to get in the van. Stay put, he said. Stay in Oxford Circus. Stay on the bridges. Stay on the streets. He adjusted his grip on my shoulders. He told me he wished he could do the same, but he had a mortgage. A baby. He told me he would join us, if it weren’t for his situation. I have been thinking about this all morning. We are in different situations, all of us. Yet we are in the same situation. We are experiencing the greatest mass extinction for sixty-two million years. Perhaps you know what I mean. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg #extinctionrebellion
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, I have spent this week with Extinction Rebellion, helping to blockade the roads and bridges of London. While I find it extremely troubling to inconvenience other people, I know that this is necessary work. According to the UN, we are losing two hundred species to extinction every single day. I think you will agree which of these is more inconvenient. It was cold in Parliament Square last night. A man offered me a custard cream, apologising that it wasn’t vegan. I don’t eat meat, but custard creams are ok. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg #extinctionrebellion
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, You go in for hummus You come out with a power sander You go in for butter You come out with stair nosing You go in for grapes You come out with massage oil I would be very interested to hear your thoughts. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, We were discussing civilisation. He said it means having no economic relationship between people. I wanted to know what you think about this? All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, We are looking at a monster. It is motionless. Each time a bus passes, it sways in the wind. Arms twisted around legs, crotches wrapped around butts. He tells me it is dead. A mangled corpse, laid out across tarpaulin. I ask him where it comes from. From your country, he says. From the North. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, I am sitting on his roof, overlooking the Medina. He offers me a cigarette. You sell us your dirty laundry, he says. You know why? Because it costs you money to burn it. Instead of burning your trash, you can sell it to the Africans. That way, you can call it charity. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, I apologise for not posting yesterday. I ate something bad, and by lunchtime I was puking like a fire hydrant. I hope you will understand that this made it quite difficult to attend to my social media duties. Anyway, I wanted to return to telling you about the global trade of recycled clothes. To be clear, these are the clothes that people like you and me give to charity. At least, we think we do. In this picture, you can see a goat. It lives with its family on bales of second-hand clothes. I didn’t manage to get a clear picture, but today the goats were eating underwear. This must be a strange kind of subsistence, don’t you think? It is a difficult thing to photograph. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, I am returning to your platforms having spent a little time away. I tend to find that social media alters my experience of things. Perhaps you would agree? Still, I do realise is important to share. So I would like to share some of the research I have been conducting in Dakar. It is a complex project, concerning the global trade in second-hand clothes. Here in Dakar, there are clothes all over the city. Mountains of them. You see people cleaning their cars with T-shirts. You see people mopping up the rain with old pants. It is a curious arrangement. Perhaps I will tell you more tomorrow. All the best, Jeremy @zuck #markzuckerberg
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, They will sell you oxygen under water, he said. Twenty-six people own half the money in all the world. We counted the number of people in the bar; there were twenty-eight. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, We are in a shopping mall overlooking the sea. I am rooting around in my frappuccino, picking out pieces of chocolate with my straw. He is telling me that compact discs never took off in Senegal. He says recorded music went directly from cassette to MP3. I suggest that perhaps it is the sand. Perhaps sand irritates the readers of CD players. Perhaps it scratches the reflective surface. This is a small detail, but something to consider. Not only do our economic conditions affect our access to technology. Geology and weather play a much greater role. There is a solid piece of chocolate at the bottom of my glass. Even this has become quite difficult to access. He says that people no longer play music on the streets of Dakar: now they listen to it on their phones. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, Once again, I write to you from the toilet. These days I find it impossible to use the bathroom unless I am either communicating with others, or being informed of global events. I realise this is a peculiar state of affairs. But I take comfort in the thought that I am probably not alone. I feel like our bodies are becoming more like channels than entities. Tubes for information. YouTubes. I recently met an art student who was making sculptures from transparent tubes. All life-forms are tubes, she said. Something goes in one end, and something comes out of the other. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, It is harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven than for a camel to enter a bottle of beer. He told me this last night. He said it was a line from the Koran. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, There is wind off the ocean. I can taste it: the sink is full of blood. I came into the kitchen to make coffee, and Evelyn had bought a fish from the market. Here of all places, it seems wrong to see blood spat on the street. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, I am terribly constipated. I have been taking laxatives for the past few days, but without much effect. While I understand that intimacy is encouraged on your platforms, I am unsure whether my personal hygiene is of interest to you. Perhaps you could let me know? In the meantime, I wanted to share something with you. At lunchtime today, I asked the waitress where I could wash my hands. She accompanied me to an alleyway, and poured a little detergent into my palms. After a moment, she took a kettle and emptied a steady flow over my fingers. Every few seconds she would pause, allowing me to rub them together. The pouring would resume, followed by more rubbing, more pouring, more rubbing. This continued until the detergent had disappeared down the drain. Then she handed me the kettle - it was my turn to return the service. If this seems like a curious story to share with you, I would like to explain why it is worthy of note. In the absence of running water, people in Dakar are sometimes obliged to assist one another. The absence of a tap produces a certain level of intimacy. Had there been a tap, I would have washed my hands alone. Given your interest in social bonds, I thought this might be relevant. I don’t mean to glorify lack - not at all. But in some circumstances, a lack can force people to bond. To improvise a solution. Sometimes I wonder if lack is the driver behind all social bonds? I would be interested to hear what you think. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg I visited Silicon Valley a year ago. It was very windy. Cars drove slowly in the streets, and a tree fell across the train track. While we waited for the chainsaws to arrive, a man in my carriage yelled at the goddamn motherfucking wind. It was a curiously idiotic scene. Dakar is different to the Bay Area, yet the wind is similar. Between November and March, the Harmattan blows westwards across the Sahara. For a time, this ferried slave ships across the Atlantic. Today, it carries thousands of tonnes of sand. This can be an unpleasant experience: life is momentarily brought to a standstill, as pedestrians shield their faces from spirals of dust. Wind visits a kind of absence on a place. This is an obvious reflection, but perhaps you know what I mean. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg Sometimes the street is covered in sand. It is difficult to cycle on sand. Aside from the strain on your legs, there is the risk of the wheels tipping beneath you. To avoid this, you are advised to move to the centre of the road, where the sand is likely to be thinnest . But there are other complexities. You see, the logic behind this activity is not apparent to all drivers. I should also underline that I am a white European man in West Africa. A Toubab: that is what they call white people here. Not everyone understands why a Toubab is hogging the road. Yesterday, I had a brief encounter with a taxi driver. Irritated by my apparent lack of spatial awareness, he blasted his horn and roared past - only to land in traffic fifty metres ahead. This was a little awkward. Peering through his open window, I told him about the complex mechanics of cycling in sand - about the risk of collapse. I invited him to ride my bicycle, and try it for himself. At first he looked angry. Then he laughed, as did his passenger. I enjoy this kind of experience. If you would be available for an hour or two, we could explore this technique. Whether in Senegal or Silicon Valley, cycle safety is always of extreme importance. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, I am sitting in a traffic jam. A man is walking down the row of motionless cars, holding a prayer blanket. He is presenting it to each car - turning to his left, then his right, then his left - and so on. It might seem a strange occasion to sell this product, but he certainly has a captive audience. The traffic in Dakar is very bad. It affects the poorest, who cannot afford to live in the centre of the city. Evelyne spends two and a half hours in the bus every morning, and two and a half hours back. Mostly, she comes to sweep the courtyard. Each morning I make her a cup of tea, and I ask her about the traffic. Now we have inched forward a few metres. There is a man selling kettles, slung over his shoulder. Portable stoves. Evelyne says the same thing every day: ‘Ca va, ca va.’ Now there is a man selling SIM cards. In Senegal, they call them ‘puces’. Which means bugs, I think. I never asked why they call them bugs - it seems a strange analogy. Anyway. Did you know that the gasoline sold to the African subcontinent is not the same as the gasoline sold to the Global North? I didn’t. At least, not until yesterday. This gasoline is called ‘Africa Grade’. I won’t go into the details with you at present - but I did want to tell you one fact. ‘Africa Grade’ fuel is three times more toxic than the limit set by the European Union. It is not fit for Europeans. But for my companions in the bus, and for Evelyne, it will be perfectly fine . All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, I do apologise for my lack of communication over the past few days. I used your platforms at a CyberCafe, and it appears that my accounts were subsequently hacked. Do you remember CyberCafes? They are curious places - almost a misreading of the term social media. Still, it is interesting to see what other people do on the internet. YouTube looks strange when it is filled with unfamiliar content, watched in the booth next door. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, Today at the traffic lights, I pulled up alongside a mountain of harddrives. It was a familiar scene: cables issuing out of injection-moulded bodies, motherboards caked in dust. There can be something quite illuminating about an image of this kind. It reminds you that matter - not magic - transports messages like this, from one person to another. If you are free this weekend, I invite you to come on a bike ride. We could discuss these things in greater detail. It was windy today, so you would do well to wear glasses. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, Mealtimes in Senegal are interesting. The ritual is specific and I believe you would find it relevant to your work. The national dish is called Tiep bou diéne, which is a large metallic bowl filled with rice. Added to this, you will find carrot, cabbage, yucca, fish, and then some dangerous spices hiding under innocuous colours. You sit around the bowl, sometimes accompanied by up to seven people. You eat with a spoon, all-the-while offering the best pieces of food back to the centre of the bowl. This detail is important. For example, I might eat a piece of the carrot. Then, I will dissect the remaining carrot, and place a piece in front of you. It is a generous way of eating. Yesterday, I told my hosts that in the UK, you will often find that large families eat very quickly. The larger the family, the more you have to fight for the carrot. I will be having guests over tomorrow evening, from 8pm. Since you are interested in sharing, I think it would be a valuable experience for you to attend. Do let me know if you can make it. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, I’m sorry not to have written to you last night. The traffic was blocked all over town. There was a protest in the street, which made it hard for me to cycle home. I was unclear about the reason for the protest, but he told me this. ‘The president is our employee, and yet he walks on us.’ All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, The fish has been swimming in circles all morning: it will be lunch today. You would be most welcome to join. All the best, Jeremy
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, I'm back in Dakar until early February. I am developing a project that I've been working on for some time now: it's about the global trade in recycled clothing from North > South. A problematic industry, in my personal opinion. Nevertheless, it is great to be here: you would find it very invigorating. Dakar is more polluted than Silicon Valley, but you cannot hate pollution so much when it comes out of such elegant buses. All the best, Jeremy
Documentation of my project ERRATUM®, currently showing at HeRo Gallery in Amsterdam. The group exhibition 'Market Forces’ includes work by Atelier van Lieshout / Aukje Dekker / Ceel Mogami de Haas / Claire Fontaine / David Birkin & Mariam Ghani / Desiree Dolron / DIS / Ed Fornieles / Gabriele Beveridge / Guillaume Paris / Jake & Dinos Chapman / Jeremy Hutchison / Keith Coventry / Leo Fitzmaurice / Martha Rosler / Michael Pybus / Tony Heywood & Alison Condie / Wayne Horse / Yoan Mudry "Market Forces is a group show of work that variously critiques and co-opts the techniques of mass-markets, often succeeding in both at once. The exhibition comprises both historical and recent work, mapping out creative responses to the steady intensification of consumer culture engendered by the dominance of neoliberalism from the 1980’s onwards. Opening the exhibition are artists who have faced and responded to this trend from early in their trajectories, with works like: Martha Rosler Reads Vogue (1981), the artist’s seminal deconstruction of the magazine’s iconography, Untitled (1988), Atelier van Lieshout’s sculptural appropriation of beer cases and various examples from Guillaume Paris’ critical examination of commodity culture from the 1980’s onwards. The exhibition’s narrative arc brings us to a present where younger artists derive their vocabulary from within a landscape of consumption. Whether as adaptive mechanisms or underhand critiques, their works are articulated in the spectacle’s very language: DIS’s Thinkspiration (2016), an ironic conflation of philosophy and brand culture, Gabriele Beveridge’s elegant manipulations of retail aesthetics and Ed Fornieles’ insidious Finiliar series, which makes use of the latest devices in empathically focused, corporate marketing strategies. A central question haunts the exhibition and the works within it: In which forms and in what kinds of spaces can art exist, when the realm of self-fulfillment has been so ruthlessly colonized by consumer culture?" Market Forces was curated by Nick Hackworth, Creative Director of Modern Forms, a London based art collection and platform. www.erratum.co
Tonight, 6.30pm @ BFI, London. I'm showing ‘Patent Application, 2018’: a new video as part of Tenderpixel’s screening programme. Visit their website if you’re interested - you need to book tickets...
Happy to be included in this programme, 6.30pm tomorrow at the BFI.... Come along!
#Repost @furtherfield with @get_repost ・・・ Mass movement of peoples and the rise of planetary-scale computation is changing the way we think and understand questions of geography, politics, and national identity. Transnationalisms address the effect of these pressures on our bodies, our environment, and our political practices. They register shifts in geography as disturbances in the blood and the electromagnetic spectrum. They draw new maps and propose new hybrid forms of expression and identity. ⚪ 📸: @jeremyhutchison, Movables, 2017. Photo courtesy of the artist. ⚪ 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘴 15 September - 21 October 2018 Open Sat – Sun, 11:00 – 17:00 or by appointment ⚪ #furtherfield #transnationalisms #statemachines #jamesbridle #arttech #contemporaryart
More police, 2018. Watercolour, oil stick, coloured pencil.
Police, 2018. Watercolour, oil stick, coloured pencil.
The officer was looking puzzled. I could tell this wasn’t going to be easy. I explained that my exhibition was opening in two days. It was scheduled to begin with a performance. But there was nothing to perform, nothing for people to watch. For a long time, we sat in silence. Then something occurred to him. Did I know Jackie Chan? I nodded enthusiastically. Did I know Stephen Seagall? Mister Miyagi? People like fighting, he said. He began sketching a fight sequence. He told me to fight an adversary and destroy him, using the sound effects of kung-fu movies. Once he was defeated, my exhibition would begin. . . Performance with Yasushi Shoji; digital audio, trigger interface, 7 minutes. . . "For his exhibition at Naebono Art Centre, Jeremy Hutchison presents a new body of work, entitled Legal Requirements. The work responds to his experience of uncertainty. Having promised his residency hosts that his residency would culminate in an exhibition, he was unable to decide what to make. So he went to the police. Each work in the exhibition follows instructions given to him by different members of the Sapporo Police Department.” . . #artscatalyst
I reached into my bag and placed a photo on the desk. It showed a vast, empty gallery. The officer’s eyes widened. Here’s the problem, I said. My exhibition will look absurd. The work will be dwarfed by the enormous white walls. The officer nodded, and slowly sat back in his chair. Then he turned to his colleague. They talked for a while. I watched in silence, hoping they were discussing my problem, and how they could help. In a moment, he passed me his phone. Mural paintings are necessary, the translation read. His colleague began gesturing with his arms. He was making the shape of a mountain. . . Mural of Yotei volcano; household paint, 24x3.5m . . "For his exhibition at Naebono Art Centre, Jeremy Hutchison presents a new body of work, entitled Legal Requirements. The work responds to his experience of uncertainty. Having promised his residency hosts that his residency would culminate in an exhibition, he was unable to decide what to make. So he went to the police. Each work in the exhibition follows instructions given to him by different members of the Sapporo Police Department.” . . #artscatalyst #NPOSAir #artistresidency#Sapporo #Japan
The officer unclipped the radio from his belt. He was calling for a translator, he said. We sat in silence, listening to the ticking sound of the gas heater. Occasionally, a fuzz of static came down the CB. After an hour, the door was opened by a large officer. He removed his hat, and stamped the snow off his boots. We discussed my exhibition. I have kids at home, I told him. It has to be a success. Plus, I’ve been getting chest pains. A long sound came from the back of his throat. He stood up and pointed out of the window. In the distance, a cablecar was moving imperceptibly up the mountain. He told me to ride it. Ok, I said. But I have a bad head for heights. And what do I put in the show? . . Adapted postcard, purchased at Moiwa Ropeway gift shop, Sapporo. 2018. . . "For his exhibition at Naebono Art Centre, Jeremy Hutchison presents a new body of work, entitled Legal Requirements. The work responds to his experience of uncertainty. Having promised his residency hosts that his residency would culminate in an exhibition, he was unable to decide what to make. So he went to the police. Each work in the exhibition follows instructions given to him by different members of the Sapporo Police Department.” . . #artscatalyst #artistresidency #japan
A few days later, I returned to Makomanai police box. I laid out my drawings on the desk. The two officers examined the bunny girls in silence. After a while, one of them left the room. He returned with a map. Do you like Japanese whisky? he asked. He pointed to the map. Bunny girl here. Nikka whisky here. Across the street from the bunnies was a neon advertisement for Nikka whisky. He told me that he wanted me to paint it. . . "For his exhibition at Naebono Art Centre, Jeremy Hutchison presents a new body of work, entitled Legal Requirements. The work responds to his experience of uncertainty. Having promised his residency hosts that his residency would culminate in an exhibition, he was unable to decide what to make. So he went to the police. Each work in the exhibition follows instructions given to him by the Sapporo Police Department.” . . #artscatalyst #NPOSAir #artistresidency#Sapporo #Japan
At Nishi police station, the officer took out his phone. He showed me a picture of a fish. ’This’, he said. His colleagues nodded reverently. We peered at the screen. It showed a monochrome pattern, common to the design of the indigenous Ainu people. . . "For his exhibition at Naebono Art Centre, Jeremy Hutchison presents a new body of work, entitled Legal Requirements. The work responds to his experience of uncertainty. Having promised his residency hosts that his residency would culminate in an exhibition, he was unable to decide what to make. So he went to the police. Each work in the exhibition follows instructions given to him by different members of the Sapporo Police Department.” . . #artscatalyst #NPOSAir #artistresidency #Sapporo #Japan
Some drawings from my recent solo exhibition in Japan. . "For his exhibition at Naebono Art Centre, Jeremy Hutchison presents a new body of work, entitled Legal Requirements. The work responds to his experience of uncertainty. Having promised his residency hosts that his residency would culminate in an exhibition, he was unable to decide what to make. So he went to the police. Each work in the exhibition follows instructions given to him by different members of the Sapporo Police Department.” . At Makomanai Daichi police station, they instructed me to make drawings in Susukino. Which turned out to be the red light district: a place of bunny girls and misogyny... . #artscatalyst #NPOSAir #artistresidency #Sapporo #Japan
#Artscatalyst #NPOSAir #JeremyHutchison #artisttakeover #artistresidency #Sapporo
Opening tomorrow night in Bermondsey... Come!
Tomorrow! Friday 19th Oct, 6-9pm. Then Saturday & Sunday 1-5pm... It's Open Weekend at Chisenhale. Open studios, open gallery, open everything. I'm presenting a new situational performance, 'Cleaning', 2017. It's messy. Complicated. On Saturday @ 4pm, I'll be in conversation with the lovely Sarah Kate Wilson- we'll be discussing overlapping themes in our work - specifically labour and collaboration. Details at chisenhale.co.uk.... Address: 64-84 Chisenhale Rd, E3 5QZ I'm on the top floor: Studio 27. Come!
#Repost @jerwoodjva (@get_repost) ・・・ Jeremy Hutchison, Harmattan. Image: Colin Mills The Jerwood Drawing Prize 2017 exhibition runs 13 Sept - 22 Oct 2017 @jerwoodspace171. The First Prize of £8,000, Second Prize of £5,000 and two Student Awards of £2,000 each, will be announced and awarded at the preview on 12 September 2017. A new prize – The Evelyn Williams Drawing Award, worth £10,000 – will also be awarded to an artist selected for the 2017 exhibition. The Award will support an individual artist with a significant track record to develop and realise a body of drawings for a new solo exhibition. #JDP17