Australia Winning entry - Still from film ‘Sediment’ by Jen Valender, Dookie Quarry, 2023, Australian pythons activating aeolian harp-sculptures created from local antique surveyors' tripods, played by the wind, DP Gene Alberts
Global creative solutions company M&C Saatchi Group, in partnership with London’s iconic Saatchi Gallery, present the six winners of their annual international art initiative for emerging artists, the Art for Change Prize.
With the concept of Art for Change in mind, this year’s climate focused prize invited emerging artists from around the world to explore one of the most urgent issues of our time and creatively respond to the theme ‘Regeneration’. The six winning artworks open a conversation to examine the theme from different global perspectives, look to create new stories of a liveable future, and empower individuals and entities to act. It’s a call to action for meaningful change, recognising that there’s no art on a dead planet.
Selected from over 3,000 entries from 130 countries worldwide, our six winners were decided by some of the best business and creative minds from the M&C Saatchi Group globally and eminent guest judges. In this Art for Change series, we hear from the winners for 2023.
See the Art for Change Prize Winners exhibition at Saatchi Gallery, London from 30th November 2023 – 7th January 2024. The Art for Change Prize will return in Spring 2024.
Jen> 🐈⬛🐍🎶
Jen> Thematically, I was intrigued as it is in line with my ecology driven practice. The one thing that should unify humans as a species is the climate changing. Also, I believe that art is a perfect outlet for the optimism and whimsey that the world needs right now.
Jen> My formative years were in New Zealand, which shapes my engagement with the environment. The schools I attended were integrated with indigenous learning streams—there was a Marae (Māori meeting house) on the grounds of my high school - and I grew up with a respect for the cultural recognition of the land and seabed as ancestors. When you introduce yourself in a formal setting in New Zealand, for example, it is customary to acknowledge your river and your mountain (the land that you were born on and the closest water source) because they are your ancestors. These are ecological beliefs about lifecycles. My body is of this land and will return to the earth one day… I’m a dual NZ/AU citizen and have lived in Australia for over 10 years, however my relationship to ancestorial landscapes remains grounded in New Zealand. I engage with the Australian landscape as a visitor and with reverence and I feel like I am still learning as the two environments are starkly different. Yet, because of this, my senses are heightened. I pay attention to minutia, and nothing gets past me. These details are often what inform my practice.
Film still from ‘Artist as animal’ by Jen Valender, Broadacre Farm, 2022. An endurance allergen performance across the pollenated, waterlogged canola fields while wearing high heels and carrying an 8kg cattle gut strung harp. DP Gene Alberts. Courtesy of the artist.
Jen> I perceive regeneration as a form of translation, seeing histories and topographies interpreted into a visual language. When approaching a site, my process begins with a series of inquiries: What exists in this landscape? What occupies this space? What is the historical background of this location? How do the responses to these questions manifest or disappear in the visual capture achievable through a camera? Consequently, translating the site through the artwork generates novel connections. I am also interested in enabling the elements to engage in the artwork autonomously. This is what happened in the project Sediment where aeolian harp-sculptures created from local antique surveyors’ tripods were played by the wind within a retired quarry in regional Victoria. The performance is then temporally suspended on film, like a digital reverberation or spectre, embalming the visual and sonic residue of the art encounter.
Jen> Materiality plays a large part in how my artworks develop – a cattle gut harp string, for example, carries the history of an animal, an instrument and the cultures that have adopted it. It symbolises both the meeting and imposition of culture onto nature… such tendrils that grow from my research guide and inspire the direction that the artwork will take.
Jen> It can change one’s perception and it certainly has changed my world. There are terrible things happening right now…. Art can offer moments of respite and in that sense is deeply important. It's a form of expression that can be used to channel the full spectrum of human experience: hope; hopelessness; vitriol; empathy; the soulful; the serious; the absurd; the humane. Every artwork is a window into connecting with the life of another person. That’s powerful.
Jen> I’m not one for comparisons. I prefer allies, of which I would associate with Joseph Beuys, Joan Jonas and Yoko Ono in equal measures. Beuys for explaining pictures to a dead hare; Jonas for multimedia collaborations with the elements; and Ono for a soprano screaming against the wind, wall and sky.
Jen> With poetry; without war.