Climbing the stairs, walls became primary blue, red and yellow, and the sound of children playing grew louder. This was not an exhibition about children by adults, but an intergenerational project with the Children’s Parliament. Curated by James Clegg, the exhibition wants children’s perspectives to transform the world. Children aren’t only the future—they don’t need to become adults before they are taken seriously—the children are now.
The first room echoed with the beautiful dialogue of a child in Tuan Andrew Nguyen’s film The Boat People. She demanded respect from a goddess, rewriting the ‘respect your elders’ narrative, and setting the tone.
Monster Chetwynd’s Hell Mouth—a sculptural gateway that explored the power of portals in children’s stories—led me to the next room and a documentary about an eight-year-old struggling with school rules. This loveable rascal child was beautifully understood by the filmmaker, Ane Hjort Guttu, frustrated by teachers who could not understand his imaginary world. When did we lose this creativity?
Kemang Wa Lehulere’s Wall of Suitcases that had been adapted into crutches was powerful. It was a comment on the effects of the apartheid in South Africa, where black children were often only schooled in manual labour—effectively training them to be slaves and showing that, while education can be enabling for some, it disables others.
The whole exhibition was incredibly deliberate—featuring protest placards made by the Child Human Rights Defenders, Bob and Roberta Smith’s slogan art about the importance of art education, Wa Lehulere’s sculptural expose of banned books, and more.
My journey ended with hopscotch painted onto the floor by Adéla Součková. I had been led back to my childhood, and I left the Talbot Rice longing for unashamed creativity that I didn’t notice I had lost.
Photo by Kate Fowle for The Student