HEW LOCKE is among the rare artists like Goya and Picasso who succeed in confronting harsh political and social injustices by visually seducing the viewer. He explains: “What I try to do in my work is mix ideas of attraction and ideas of discomfort — colourful and attractive, but strangely, scarily at the same time.”

The Procession is Tate Britain’s annual commission, and Locke seized this well funded opportunity to produce his large installation which fills the grandiose Duveen Gallery on the ground floor with almost 150 variously dressed life-size figures, some of whom ride life-size horses. 

A small group of men are dressed in sober black suits and white shirts with one adorned with a dignitary’s gold chains and medals. Most figures wear flamboyantly coloured textiles some printed with images of Guyanan tropical mansions in various states of repair and roofed with rusting corrugated iron, which invite thoughts of the rhythmic beat of tropical rainfall. 

All of human life is here. A grim faced, heavily pregnant woman, a disabled man in a wheelchair, a tiny child proudly showing off its recent miraculous discovery of the ability to walk. A slightly older girl child soberly dressed in grey clutches a red stuffed doll adorned with a skeleton picked out in tiny white beads. 

Historical figures and references join the procession. A diminutive Queen Victoria in widow’s weeds asserts her presence with a white bust of Napoleon nearby: rivals for imperial conquest. 

Flag-like fabrics are printed with obsolete American, British, Russian and Chinese share certificates from the global stock markets with some, such as a Delaware company, dealing in slaves. Joy and horror are juxtaposed. 

A photograph of Churchill’s statue in London’s Parliament Square is over printed with African textiles, a sly insult with which to expose and so challenge his racism and imperialism. This alone carries the fierce indictment of colonialism which lies at the heart of this awe-inspiring tour de force.

A group of joyful dancing figures dressed in red follow the procession which is led by a marching band of child musicians clad in white. The expectation of sound from such a colourful carnival-like procession is contradicted by the hushed silence as the awed or intrigued visitors attempt to soak in and respond to so many disparate cultural and historical references.

The Jesuits’ dictum “give me the child and I’ll show you the man” seems apt for Hew Locke since his mixed British-Guyanese roots characterise his life’s work. 

He was born in 1959 to a British mother and Guyanese father in Edinburgh where bitter winds from the North Sea batter the city’s grey stone walls, but which is enlivened by the Scots’ wit and humour. 

Aged seven Locke left for his paternal home for the warm breezes of Georgetown, Guyana, where he lived for the following equally formative seven years. 

The contrast of climate and culture was profound, and these impressions and visceral understanding of cultural and national difference but also of shared humanity were destined to underly his work. Such deep childhood disjunctions may disturb but also enrich lifelong outlooks. 

His father, Donald Locke, was a well established sculptor working in a traditional manner, and Locke followed in his father’s footsteps by studying Fine Art at Falmouth  School of Art followed by sculpture at London’s prestigious Royal College of Art. 

The Procession is Locke’s most ambitious project to date. His breadth of vision is informed by his deep research and knowledge of cultural,  social and political history, but he escapes the dry didacticism which often spoils well intentioned political art with humour and wit. That the Procession is in the gallery founded by the sugar refining magnate Henry Tate whose fortune stemmed from slave plantations adds further ironic significance.

It was heartening to see an unusually large number of people from Afro-Caribbean backgrounds in Tate Britain, and also many children engaging with the work. 

A hushed ambiance prevailed as the public concentrated on the myriad of figures and images, some making connections between these, others seeming overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information to take in. Children tended to simply respond to the varied visual stimulation and especially to the colourful, life-size horses — such a contrast to the sober police horses which are often the only ones seen by city kids. 

The Procession is simply stunning. Like all great art it stays with you long after you have left the gallery. Fine Art has to compete with the deluge of still and moving images which daily assault our senses. Locke has understood that a three-dimensional spectacle can outshine this competition.  

Ongoing for many more months, it is the best exhibition I’ve seen in a long time, and it is free! Children love it. Do go if you can, you won’t regret it.