Why You Don’t Care Who Won the Turner Prize


The UK’s leading art prize is now a shadow of its former self. Art critic Alexander Adams explains how this happened and why it won’t improve soon.


Veronica Ryan was announced as the winner of this year’s Turner Prize on December 7th, though few of you will have noticed. Competing with football coverage in a country wracked by industrial action and anxious about inflation and the cost of living, one might say this landmark of the British artistic calendar was up against bigger news. Yet as of 14th December, Wikipedia, the hub of contemporary cultural promotion, hadn’t even been updated to reflect Ryan’s win; it seems as though nobody cares. 

The press coverage and visitor numbers for the Turner Prize seem to be decreasing year on year. The exhibition of nominated artists, which was traditionally held at Tate Britain in London, has not even been displayed in the capital in some years, instead being sent to the provinces. Unless you read a joyless art publication, you won’t know Ryan’s name, nor that of Martin Boyce, Charlotte Prodger, and Duncan Campbell—all recent winners of the prize. 

This sad state of affairs contrasts with the heyday of the prize. 

From Genuine Stars to Political Appointees

In the 1990s, before Tate Modern and the internet made new art widely available, the Turner Prize (established in 1984) was a means of promoting contemporary art. It was front-page news, even for tabloids. There was controversy over Rachel Whiteread’s House (1993), the cast of a terraced working-class house in East London. The piece raised questions about the wholesale demolition of old housing stock, the failings of high-rise blocks, and the uprooting of communities. Someone graffitied it with the question “Wot for,” to which someone replied, “Why not!” Despite a petition to preserve it as a document of social change, the sculpture was demolished after the artist had won the prize.

Early nominees and winners such as Lucian Freud, Richard Hamilton, Paula Rego, Derek Jarman, Damien Hirst, Anthony Gormley and Richard Long went on to become (or already were) household names. After 2000, a shift occurred from judging art to judging artists. Nominee lists began to be dominated by female, non-British born and/or non-white artists. Political subjects become favoured. Artist collectives, which use arts budgets for social work, also began to appear as nominees. This is an example of “artivism” (activism via art), as discussed in a video interview I had with Carl Benjamin.

Recent Turner Prize nominees have been noticeably lacklustre in terms of notoriety and memorability. year, only artist collectives were nominated; in 2020 (the year of lockdown) the prize exhibition was cancelled and grants were paid to 10 lesser-known artists; in 2019, the four nominated artists chose to share the prize. Unless an artist happens to fit the demographic characteristics favoured by the judges and eschews identity politics, it's unlikely that a truly individual artist with great skill and personality will be successful.

Now that the Turner Prize is political, art quality becomes irrelevant. In fact, discussion of aesthetic qualities distracts from political messaging. Social values determine one’s response to the award. If you think that black immigration into the UK is a good thing and that there should be more recognition of the topic in art, then you will likely approve of Ryan’s win. What you think of Ryan's art is secondary, as forming a proper assessment is difficult, as is often the case with award-worthy art—it is amnesiac in nature.

Amnesiac Art

Even if you had encountered the amnesiac art promoted by the Turner Prize, you probably wouldn’t remember it. A necessary quality for art by an artist treated by the establishment as a colourful token is that it has as few aesthetic qualities as possible. Artists today often recoil from the idea of developing a personal style. They are taught at art school to be suspicious of the cult of personality, sceptical of the idea of genius, and to display disdain for bravura displays of ability. As a result, many artists today make art that is anonymous—quite literally, in the case of artist collectives.

Amnesiac art has no distinct style, minimal content, and no clear connection when viewed as a whole. It is often made by assistants or manufactured by specialists. Historically, creators have always delegated work, but the difference is that Phidias knew how to carve and Raphael could have painted his madonnas himself. In contrast, modern artists often lack the necessary time and skills to master the production process. 

Scan contemporary art magazines, biennales, and prize exhibitions and you will encounter a startling absence of personality and personal touch in this age of supposed hyper-individualism. When curators and juries prioritise the demographic characteristics and political affiliations of an artist, memorable art is overlooked.

Studying Ryan's art reveals nothing original, powerful, or aesthetically distinct. It is the perfect example of amnesiac art.

Box Ticking

Born in Montserrat, Ryan ticks all of the establishment's boxes for being female, black, and an immigrant. But having studied at the Slade—one of London’s premier art schools—and having exhibited at prestigious venues since the 1980s, it's clear she is anything but marginalised. 

An article by Hyperallergic notes Ryan was disappointed to have lost art in the 2004 Momart warehouse fire. That art was stored on behalf of collectors (such as Charles Saatchi), dealers, and artists who were financially successful. Any artist who lost art in that fire was already established. Contrary to what Hyperallergic states, that this was another body blow to Ryan “with the odds already stacked against Black and women artists,” the article actually shows how successful Ryan has been. 

Ryan has been supported by the Freelands Foundation, run by millionaire Elisabeth Murdoch. Freelands provides grants to stage exhibitions by female artists, even though there is no evidence of systemic discrimination against them. 

When it comes to narratives of marginalisation, facts should always be included in the discourse. When it comes to art prizes, amnesiac art is often ideal. Don’t expect either of these things to change in the near future in the art world. 


Alexander Adams is a British artist, critic and art historian. His book Iconoclasm, Identity Politics and the Erasure of History is published by Imprint Academic.

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