On a team visit to London, Artelier's curators examine the public art landscape from the top-down to the bottom-up: institutional to grassroots.
Public art is a deeply important part of our environment — a fact most may not consciously realise. Maker of memories, site of experiences, conjurer of thought and debate — the art that lines our streets is deeply symbiotic with our human experience. From light artworks that deter crime to monumental statues that transform otherwise overlooked places into cultural landmarks, public art plays a vital role in shaping the spaces we inhabit.
In this essay, our curators guide you through London, exploring the successes of public artworks that emerge from:
Top-down: which refers to public art projects commissioned by governments, developers or large cultural bodies. These are typically designed to make a broad impact, transforming entire areas with high-profile works like Alexander Calder’s La Grande Vitesse.
Bottom-up: which refers to grassroots public art that emerges directly from communities, reflecting local identities and concerns through smaller, often more personal projects like murals or local installations that address specific contextual issues.
Contents of the Tour
Street Art: how graffiti and street art energises unfiltered voices.
Grassroots Initiatives: exploring local, community-driven public art efforts.
Commercial Developments: art installations that intersect with planning regulations.
Art Institutional Offshoots: delving into the successes of art curated by institutions into public spaces.
The Fourth Plinth: a stage for ever-changing contemporary art.
Public Art: Its Ancient Origins
Public art originated as communication with the divine. When the Greeks painstakingly sculpted sculptures to align the Acropolis in 447BC-432BC, they did so to honour the act of creation. They were saying: “You created us; now let us create something for you."
This communication was also secular. Dominating the city's skyline, the Greeks (and visitors) knew the Acropolis to be the cultural symbol of the empire's prowess. The Parthenon, with its uniform, ordered composition of figures one after the other reinforced civic values: order over chaos, unity, devotion, harmony.
Today, public art may look different, but its core purposes remain rooted in these ancient traditions. Public art is still a marker of cultural pride, social commentary, human talent, and shared experiences. What has changed is the medium and the message — what was once carved in stone is now spray-painted on a wall or installed next to a iconic landmark. But the core purpose remains: to nourish, shape, and engage with the collective consciousness.
Street Art: Voices from the Margins
You can't begin a journey through public art without stepping onto the streets. Our research began at Aldgate East, where the pulse of London’s street art scene thrives. Exiting the tube, the towering glass buildings of Whitechapel High Street loom large, a stark reminder of London’s corporate façade. Yet, just a turn away onto Brick Lane reveals a different world entirely.
Brick Lane was originally established in the 19th century to host a bustling market for fruits and vegetables, but has since since transformed into an open-air museum. Today, creativity crackles through the air as artists from around the globe come to express themselves: from the iconic pieces of Banksy and Ben Eine to the distinctive work of Stik, each piece captures the ever-evolving dialogue between a city and its voices.
Street art is essentially public art born on the streets, especially for those without access to formal art education. Its roots are tangled in the urban sprawl of New York, where the likes of Basquiat and Kieth Haring made their name. Soon this subversive art form made its way across the Atlantic, arriving in London in the 1970s and 80s, a time when the city was grappling with profound social and economic upheaval. High unemployment, industrial decline, and rising crime rates painted a grim picture of life for many. Amidst this turmoil, traditional institutional avenues for training as an artist felt a world away for most.
Left: Martha Cooper, 'HE3 with His Notebook of Graffiti Writing', 1978 – 1980.
Right: Roger Perry, 'The Writing on the Wall', 1974
Rather than retreating, artists seized everyday spaces and everyday tools into means for expression; spray cans were repurposed as art tools, walls became canvases (art materials were otherwise unaffordable to most). Above all, the public arena signified a playful, critical space to express a voice for those who felt marginalised from their city.
Today, this once-clandestine art form is recognised as an important part of civic life:
"It it is recognised that Street Art can positively contribute to the appearance of an area, attract visitors and is good for business. Locations such as Brick Lane have become Street Art tourist attractions, with visitors from around the world going on locally organised graffiti and street art tours."
In East London, areas like Brick Lane — known as Banglatown to locals — are vibrant hubs for the Bangladeshi diaspora, thriving here for over 70 years. The lane, lined with bhojanaloy (restaurants), mas bazaars (fish shops), and mishit dukans (sweet shops), has long been infused with the heady aromas of coriander, turmeric, and fenugreek. Yet, these local businesses now jostle against the tide of gentrification, slowly being eroded. In response, Tower Hamlets council commissioned local artist Mohammed Ali to create an intricate mural — a tribute to the Bangladeshi community in the face of changing urban landscapes.
Mohammed Ali, ‘Mateer Tan’ / 'The Land is Calling' (2022)
© Mohammed Ali
Ali's split-focus mural captures the duality of life for the British Bangladeshi community in Tower Hamlets. The artwork is split into two poignant scenes: on one side, a boatman paddles through the serene waterways of Bangladesh; on the other, a woman tends to the fields, set against Bengali text “মাটির টান,” translating as “Connection to the Soil”. These highly stylised reworkings are drawn from film footage Ali shot during a recent visit to Sylhet, his ancestral home and the birthplace of many within the local area. To the far left, the shadowy silhouette of London emerges from a misty fog — it's deliberately unclear whether the figure steers away or towards the city.
This theme of displacement resonates across the Atlantic, in Rio de Janeiro’s oldest favela, Providência. Portuguese artist VHILS spent a month there, turning the brutal act of eviction into a statement of resistance. As the city cleared homes for the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics, the artist carved the faces of displaced residents into the very walls that once sheltered them. Using chisels and drills, he painstakingly chipped away at the plaster, revealing hauntingly naturalistic portraits. It’s a labour-intensive process, mirroring the struggles of the working-class residents whose lives were uprooted.
Immortalised on the crumbling walls, one resident said it best: “Didn’t you say I had moved? I’m still here!” Vhils’ work is street art at its most potent — taking those on the margins and bringing them front and centre.
Having explored Brick Lane, we headed to the Barbican Centre — home to many grassroots programmes for artists making their debut in the art world. In the underpass leading to the gallery, we spotted a Banksy mural.
Here, the notorious artist-provocateur plays on a famous Basquiat painting, Boy and Dog in a Johnnypump (1982), reimagining it as a scene where Basquiat is subjected to a police stop-and-search. Potent, politically trenchant, and deeply iconic, Basquiat's work is emotionally and materially tied to racial injustice, with many street artists – particularly black artists – being arrested, from Basquiat's era until now.
This piece emerged just days before the opening of the Barbican's large-scale exhibition, Basquiat: Boom for Real (2017-2018) at the Barbican Centre. To the left, someone has re-incarnated an energetic Keith Haring-esque figure, jumping off a skateboard to deliver Banksy his crown. Basquiat and Haring were good friends during their cut-short lifetimes, who met each other on the streets of New York. The Haring addition is a touching reunion of the pair, emphasising the kinship between artists who came from struggle championing one another. This Basquiat-Banksy-Haring fusion has since been protected by the local council with perspex.
"Street art is the most honest art form available. There is no elitism or hype; it exhibits on some of the best walls a town has to offer, and nobody is put off by the price of admission."
— Banksy
Banksy, in his typical fashion, delivers a powerful punch. His mural offers a Basquiat for free; no £17 ticket required. Banksy's mural brings Basquiat back to his roots; both artists started their journeys graffitiing on the streets — Basquiat as SAMO© ('Same Old Shit') in late '70s New York, and Banksy in '90s Bristol.
Yet, it’s Basquiat who truly transitioned from street art to sold-out exhibitions nationwide, marking a significant shift in the art world. This shift was not only about the recognition of street art but also black artistry. Voices long pushed to the side were now being heard. As Basquiat's subject matter reflected his personal experience as a black man, it resonated and inspired so many. Stylistically, his paintings blended the immediacy of street art with the depth of fine art, intertwining cultural concerns with an encyclopaedic knowledge of art history.
Banksy offers a different kind of potency. He's Britain's favourite artist. He's populist, sharp and slick. He speaks to the contemporary zeitgeist. Each Banksy work is immediately accessible, and the anonymity of his persona amplifies his connection with the public, making his art a democratic force that speaks directly to contemporary concerns. In many ways, this makes him one of the truest public artists around: representative of an idea more than a celebrity persona. The idea of art for the people and loved by the people.
Banksy and Basquiat, in their unique ways, validate the essential nature of public art. Banksy represents the public, addressing contemporary concerns swiftly, ironically and accessibly. While Basquiat, rooted in street art, introduced new art styles and modes of thought, bringing the spirit of street art to the world’s most prestigious institutions from both outside and inside, upending its paradigms. Both artists demonstrate that the power of public art lies in its capacity to resonate with and reflect the diverse experiences of society.
Grassroots Community Initiatives
Our next stop: grassroots initiatives.
There's a difference when art isn't just in the community but of the community. One of the most resonant kinds of public art is deeply benevolent; it's driven by cultural democracy. Cultural democracy isn't so concerned with what is 'Great Art'; rather, it's about opening doors, breaking down walls, and letting the public co-create. In other words, this art style is an inclusive approach where the boundaries of what is considered 'art' are contributed to by the community itself.
"Cultural Democracy isn’t about low quality art or dumbed down culture. It’s rooted in the principle of excellence—that everyone should feel able to express themselves creatively and that by doing so, excellent outcomes can be achieved."
Yinka Illori, 'Happy Street', 2019 -
Before & after installation
To best explore this, we headed to Thessaly Road, where Yinka Illori's Happy Street (2019) sees a mundane railway bridge reimagined into a vibrant passageway underpinned by colour theory. In a city steeped in uniformity, Illori's condensed colourscape project is both truly in service of the local community, and a clarion call to joy for everybody.
Illori was tasked by Wandsworth Council to rejuvenate a decrepit, gloomy underpass in Nine Elms, Battersea. So, he created the passage as the antithesis of what it once was — an explosion of kaleidoscopic tones of colours in 56 glossy vitreous enamel panels, inspired by by Nigerian Ankara fabrics found in his parents' wardrobe. The bridge, once a crime-ridden, greyed thoroughfare is now cloaked in joy, glowing with vitality.
And it is the process behind Happy Street that makes its pretty façade all the more meaningful. Ilori engaged residents and schoolchildren from St. George’s C of E Primary School, ensuring that the result would be a shared, collaborative vision, relevant for those who experienced it. Meanwhile, the hues of the panels were derived from the various suffused hues of the Thames sunsets (local to the bridge), making the colours pop against the greyed, blocky London sky. The bridge now does more than provide a safe, well-lit path — it fosters a sense of community ownership.
The colour palette may not be for everyone, but it's function is for everyone. It inspires, it startles, it makes a tangible difference deterring crime (and perhaps all round general misery). It's a cultural landmark in an otherwise largely newly developed area. For this reasons it is a true place-maker — this is what public art is all about.
“The most important part of the project was talking to the community, especially the young children... seeing the smiles on their faces when they walk under the bridge has been magical.”
— Yinka Illori
Pepón Osorio, 'I have a story to tell you...', 2003-
© Association for Public Art
A humanistic approach works in all corners of the world, too. Set in the exterior courtyard of the Congreso de Latinos in North Philadelphia, Puerto-Rican artist Pepón Osorio debuted a permanent installation I have a story to tell you.... (2003), a love letter to the community and spirit of Latino people, from beginning to end.
To realise the project, Osorio gathered family photographs from the clients and staff of the Latino community centre, which were then blown up into screen prints on glass, set into metal framework to form a casita (little house). This is a public artwork that is meant to be engaged with. Visitors are invited to sit, pray, reminisce and honour those who have passed. Permeating across generations, children in the neighbourhood take photos of themselves with their ancestors.
“My principal commitment as an artist is to return art to the community.”
— Pepon Osorio
A clear instance of cultural democracy, in the process of making the art Osorio asked the city's Latino community about the issues the artwork should address. A common refrain was dissatisfaction with the media’s portrayal of the community, and feeling unwelcomed by big museums. As Alba Martínez, former executive director of Congreso, explains, community participants “envisioned a landmark that would pay homage to our community’s sacrifices and struggles and that would combat feelings of invisibility and ‘outsiderness.’ People wanted to see their history, values, strengths, and hopes for the future conveyed.”
Yet also, Latino or not, this is a work that allows anyone in. Not only as a warm, sheltered place to rest, but through universal experiences: awkward family photos, couples dancing, father and son hugging, hazy memories of a parent crouched over a table working while the other prepares dinner. To craft a public artwork that feels at once deeply personal and universally accessible is truly a fine art.
"My art is for people who go to museums and for people who don’t go to museums… It’s an old notion that people go to the museum. It should really be the museum going to the people.”
— Pepon Osorio
Commercial Developments & Public Art
We’ve unpacked how artists and council bodies act as community custodians, connecting with the public throughout London. But how can public art support commercial infrastructure?
As the world's fifth-largest economy and a hub for a highly skilled, diverse workforce, London’s demand for office and residential spaces is constantly intensifying. Walking through the city, it’s clear that London is in a state of perpetual change and improvement. With its eclectic mix of architectural styles — from Georgian avenues to huge, stark Brutalist estates — businesses and developers are increasingly seeking to find their voice, to stand out, and to contribute meaningfully to the city’s socio-cultural fabric.
In response, developers are moving away from the uniform, grey-scale Brutalist designs that dominated London’s post-war period in the 50's to 70's, where simplicity and function were pivotal for a society just getting back on its feet. Today, we're in a new era: which in turn gives way to unique, memorable, buildings complimented by ultra-considered, thoughtful design. In an increasingly globalised world, it's become more important than ever that businesses and new-builds emphasise a human-centred, environmentally conscious approach. Part of making a flagship store or an office HQ significant, inspiring to employees and memorable to clients, is through playful, thoughtful art and design.
Governments, too, are reflecting this emphasis on art and design in the urban place. Planning regulations, often a labyrinth for developers, have become more navigable when projects include meaningful public art. This alignment between public policy and corporate ambition is most evident in Section 106, a key piece of legislation introduced in 1990 under the Town and Country Planning Act.
Section 106 increases the likelihood of planning consent when new developments benefit the community and local environment, and it has become a catalyst for art in the urban environment. The options are varied: sculptures and murals to installations, water features, and even digital art, Section 106 is a savvy choice for architects, corporations and developers to satisfy planning needs and engage meaningfully with the community.
For instance, developer Argent LLP enlisted curators Tamsin Dillon and Rebecca Heald to enhance the renovation of King’s Cross station with a range of public artworks. These installations not only beautified the area but also made each development more enticing to planning legislators. One such example is French artist and architect Jacques Rival's IFO (2011-present), a huge 9m tall birdcage — white by day and a neon spectacularity at night, re-emitting the energy accumulated from the day's activity.
"Public art is a principle whereby the involvement and activities of artists contribute to the identity, understanding, appreciation, and enhancement of public places. This is best achieved through collaboration with artists in the conception, design development and implementation of changes to the built and managed environment."
— Maggie Bolt, PASW
Exterior window & interior detail
© Andy Stagg
An excellent example of this is Zachary Eastwood-Bloom's public artwork on the façade of 11-12 Hanover Square, which we visited towards the end of our trip. Once a prominent historical site, built in 1714 in honour of George I and home to politicians, Whigs, and aristocracy, the area has lost some of its original charm, becoming more of a thoroughfare crowded with traffic and pedestrians heading to the major retail stores on Oxford Street. Consequently, local authorities have been working to restore the square as a central, cherished public area. The recently opened Elizabeth Line, which we used to travel here, is part of this transformation, easing congestion and reconnecting the area with Londoners and visitors alike. Public art plays a crucial role in this renewal, adding cultural value and aesthetic appeal to the urban landscape.
Eastwood-Bloom's artwork contributes to this revitalisation. His 3D wireframe model, based on digital mapping of the local area, is rendered in angular bronze lines that glint in the sunlight. This use of bronze, a classic material, honours the Georgian metalwork across the square, a respected feature of the square's architecture back in the 17th century. Meanwhile, the design’s playful, jagged elements elevate the building with a contemporary feel.
This thoughtful blend of old and new is particularly fitting for a London borough, and all the while done subtly, so as not to overbear but add to. Given that the building is mixed-use, Bloom has suitably avoided specific references to interior businesses and instead, offering broader appeal with the artwork being a 3D mapping of the local area.
Art Institutions: Offshoots
As we journey through London, we've encountered public art born from the streets — works by Banksy, Basquiat, and otherwise. We've explored how such art, originating from the general public, finds its way into esteemed institutions. Now, let's shift our focus to the art that emerges directly from these institutions. What happens when public art is curated and commissioned by galleries or museums themselves?
To investigate this, we turned our attention to some of London’s prestigious galleries and museums that actively designate areas for public art. The Serpentine Gallery’s North site in Kensington Gardens is one such location: a serene green oasis where contemporary art comes into the public space. Every two years the gallery chooses an artist to display public art for two years.
The current artist on display is Atta Kwami (1956–2021), a Ghanaian-British artist who was posthumously honoured with the Maria Lassnig Prize in which part of the prize is the Serpentine display. This work DzidzƆ kple amenuveve (Joy and Grace), designed by Kwami and completed by his wife Pamela Clarkson after his death, is a welcome splash of colour to the London landscape.
The mural, a joyous dance of coloured rectangles, overflows with colour. Its bold, blocky hues and geometric forms echo Kente cloth, a symbol of Ghanaian heritage, while also nodding to the abstraction of Piet Mondrian’s Broadway Boogie Woogie (1942-43). By bringing Ghanaian artistic traditions into a prominent English park, and using such iconic visual language, Kwami's mural offers a cultural exchange to London and a fresh interpretation of the art historical canon.
“The words that describe his work is joy and another is hope. [...] That is a terribly courageous thing to present to the world, isn’t it?”
— Pamela Clarkson
Born in Accra, Ghana in 1956, Kwami was a true scholar of art and a pioneer in bringing Ghanian visual and material culture into the Eurocentric art canon, including Modernism and Abstraction. By presenting his hybrid approach at the Serpentine, Kwami contributes to a broader understanding of how traditional and modern elements can coexist and inform one another, all the while packing a punch of joy that brightens up London's drab grey skies.
Fundamentally, placing an artwork such as this from an art institution in the public realm enhances its accessibility, particularly for those who might find stepping into a gallery space intimidating or unfamiliar. This is a deliberate effort by the Serpentine Gallery to extend beyond its walls, engaging a wider audience and democratising the experience of art. By exhibiting Kwami’s work as public, the gallery not only celebrates diverse artistic expressions but by virtue of its accessibility outside, symbolises the art world's initiative to reach out beyond its conventional audience and include people from all walks of life.
Kwami’s mural is a powerful example of how public art from respected institutions can transform everyday environments. Similarly, Alexander Calder's La Grande Vitesse, commissioned by the Grand Rapids Art Museum in Michigan in 1969, shows how a single piece of art can leave a lasting imprint on an urban landscape, reshaping it for decades to come.
La Grande Vitesse was the first public artwork funded by the National Endowment for the Arts' Art in Public Places program. Standing 54 feet long, 43 feet high, and 30 feet wide, it was designed to offer dramatically different views from each corner of the square. The sculpture marked a bold experiment in integrating public art within an everyday urban environment. With its striking red steel forms, it was deliberately placed in a public plaza, now Calder Plaza, to embed art within the city’s social fabric.
The museum paired the installation with extensive public programming, including workshops and discussions, encouraging residents to engage with the sculpture and consider its role in their city. This approach transformed the work from a controversial object into a beloved civic symbol. Over time, La Grande Vitesse became an iconic landmark, featured on everything from the city’s letterhead to its garbage trucks.
"Alexander Calder's sculpture, will long symbolise the kind of cooperation between the public and private sector which is so vital to our national growth and progress."
— Richard Nixon
This brings us to an essential point about public art: its purpose is not merely to please or beautify, but to provoke — to stimulate thought, discussion, and even disagreement. The power of Calder’s work lay not in its immediate appeal, but in its ability to elicit strong, sometimes uncomfortable reactions. In this way, it transcended the role of a mere object and became a catalyst for civic engagement. Since then, the city has initiated ArtPrize, one of the most attended public art events on the planet.
The Fourth Plinth
Leaving Hanover Square, we walked to Trafalgar Square, the final stop on this artistic journey. Built to commemorate the Battle of Trafalgar. Here, the Fourth Plinth stands as a testament to the city's evolving relationship with public art. Originally intended to support an equestrian statue of William IV, the plinth remained empty for over 150 years, an unfinished chapter in the Square’s otherwise storied history.
This vacant platform has become one of the most dynamic and controversial sites for public art in London; it's one of the most famous public commissions in the world. There’s a joke in London that whenever a new artwork is erected on the plinth, everyone, from cabbies to politicians, becomes an art critic. This is a fantastic thing. Unlike any other public art discussed in this essay, the Fourth Plinth is entirely publicly funded — collectively owned. With installations changing every 18 months, it’s uniquely intended to represent the cultural zeitgeist of the UK.
A lightning rod of debate, each commission extends its discussions in schools, on the news, and across social media. It draws international attention, reinforcing London’s status as a global cultural capital, amplified by its location in Westminster, Trafalgar Square.
But does the public actually get any input in the commission process? Nominally, yes. The selection process involves public consultation, with shortlists displayed and opinions solicited. Yet, the final decision rests with the Greater London Authority under the stewardship of the Fourth Plinth Commissioning Group, a somewhat diverse panel of art experts, from the director of Frieze and Whitechapel Gallery to artist Jeremy Deller. On some level, it's a democratic gesture that is perhaps more symbolic than substantial. Should the public have more say? Most likely.
Greater involvement from the public could democratise the arts further, bringing a wider range of perspectives into play. Yet, the expert curation ensures that the art maintains a certain calibre, balancing accessibility with artistic integrity. This tension between democratic engagement and expert oversight is a delicate one.
Antony Gormley, 'One & Other' (2009)
© Artichoke
Antony Gormley’s 2009 commission, One & Other, exemplified this balance in a profoundly inclusive manner. For 100 days, Gormley invited 2,400 individuals to occupy the plinth for an hour each, turning it into a living monument of human expression. This project transcended traditional notions of public art, allowing ordinary people to become part of the artwork and thereby engaging the public in an unprecedented way.
However, this impermanence can also be a source of frustration. As Rachel Whiteread (Fourth Plinth Commission, 2001) and Michael Rakowitz (Fourth Plinth Commission, 2018) have noted, the rotating platform isn't sustainable for artists: “I have no idea when it will be seen again. Having pieces sit in storage is always a bummer.” The labour and materials that go into a Fourth Plinth work are immense; each piece is uniquely crafted for its context and can’t just be placed elsewhere. Perhaps it’s not the most sustainable approach.
In the end, though, this transience gives the Fourth Plinth its power. In a city as layered and complex as London, a fixed monument risks becoming irrelevant or even invisible. Instead, the changing artworks keep the space alive, ensuring it remains a site of active engagement, not passive observation.
As we stood in Trafalgar Square, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of tourists, commuters, and locals, the Fourth Plinth stood out as a beacon of contemporary creativity. It’s a reminder that public art, at its best, is not just a backdrop to the city but a vital part of its ongoing narrative — a conversation that evolves with each new installation, reflecting the ever-changing face of London itself.
Conclusion
London, like many urban hotspots, is a city steeped in culture — its streets and cultural institutions are continuously brimming with energy, where new modes of thought, aesthetics and expression flourish with vitality. So, the public artworks on display, whether sprayed on from the hands of artists themselves or installed by a governmental body, should be cherished and valued by a society that values expression.
As a public art consultancy that embodies this ethos, we’re continuously refreshing our research on the diverse successes of quality public artwork. In doing so, we can ensure each public art project we create makes an impact, navigating all contextual subtleties.
Street art captures local voices, reflecting raw, unfiltered experiences. Artists like VHILS use this medium to confront society with powerful works, while figures like Basquiat demonstrate that when invested in by the art world, these voices can leave a lasting cultural impact. Community involvement, as seen in Illori’s vibrant bridge at Nine Elms and Osorio’s ancestry-driven art, is essential in any commission. Engaging the community ensures the artwork resonates deeply with those it represents, particularly in cities that weren’t historically built to welcome all communities. Public art can bridge this gap, allowing diasporic communities to connect meaningfully with their environment.
For developers, principles like Section 106 legislation elevate a project by integrating meaningful design into cityscapes. In this context, public art should be well-crafted and beautiful, harmonising with its environment while remaining thoughtful in both design and function. When commissioned by art institutions, public art brings culture into the mainstream, reaching audiences who might never step into a gallery.
Ultimately, on a broader level — public art that truly impacts and sparks conversation for years to come are the ones that make memories and spark debates. The Fourth Plinth is a prime example — a public art site where a diverse, specialised committee commissions pioneering, thought-provoking work. These pieces signal London as a confident, culturally diverse city, bringing out the art critic in everyone. However, the Fourth Plinth's temporality as a biannual artwork is a unique luxury — freeing it from long-term critique, enabling it to both provoke conversation but also embrace the possibility of failure.
Most public art does not have this advantage. Permanent works are expected to endure, which often leads to a more cautious approach. Committees and commissioners, aware of the lasting impact, may lean towards “safe” designs — artworks that, while acknowledging local contexts, appeal broadly and avoid potential offence. While this cautiousness is natural, there is the risk of producing “design by committee” art. These are pieces that, in striving to please everyone, end up overly safe, watered down, and ultimately forgettable.
The Fourth Plinth, however, demonstrates how public art can avoid this pitfall by successfully balancing creative freedom with public engagement. From top-down to bottom-up, it is rooted in a thoughtful process that honours both the expertise of artists and art commissioners, guided by a diverse advisory board that includes art critics, gallery directors, and radio hosts, all under the leadership of the Deputy Mayor for Culture, Justine Simons. Public consultation is valued — but does not dictate the final outcome, ensuring the artist's vision remains central and that there is a singular voice coming through. This is the essence of what brings new conversations to a society.
Ultimately, great art requires daring. The most celebrated artists throughout history were pioneers who, by virtue of their profession, acknowledged local contexts and issues. They sparked debate and challenged the status quo because their voices were heard, trusted and listened to without being diluted. This approach is what public art commissioners, stakeholders, and committees must strive to champion. Because what makes better art? Something safe and unnoticeable, or something that stands out, packs a punch, and ignites conversation?
Artelier Public Art Consultancy
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Discover how we achieve this balance in our diverse range of projects. Check them out here, or get in touch by clicking the button below, to see how we can bring your vision to life.
Chief Contributor:
David Knowles
Founder & Creative Director
David has dedicated his career to supporting contemporary artists. With a Masters in Fine Art, he has experience commissioning, managing, and curating public art of all scopes. He has worked with cultural institutions like Riyadh Art on Noor Riyadh 2023, alongside pioneering grassroots projects and mentoring young curators.
Editor:
Calypso Lyhne-Gold
Curator, Art Research & Editorial
Calypso is a curator and editor at Artelier, and a published academic writer with a BA (Hons) in History of Art from the University of Bristol. She is especially passionate about how public art can democratise access to the arts and has experience in artist liaison, public art strategy and project management.