This was, and will probably remain, the biggest Independents Biennial since it began. In artist numbers, venue numbers, funding and audience numbers. That meant there were more commissions, more bursaries, more material support than ever before.
That meant that defining a core programme should have been simple, but one of the core beauties of Independents Biennial prevented that: self-led work.
If you take out every part of commissioned Independents Biennial, and all there was, was the self-led work, you’ve got a major art festival:
- Broken Grey Wires at the Williamson
- Near-weekly exhibitions at Birch Studios
- A full exhibition programme at Bridewell
- Ghost Art School managing events, exhibitions and a new garden over seven spaces
- Hilbre Island being transformed into the Centre for Art Science and Sustainability
- Michelle Wren & Kazem Ashourzadeh’s Put Your Feet in My Shoes
- Emma Rodgers, Johnny Vegas, Jacob Chan, James Lawler, Peter Hayes & Max Eugeni opening up their new studio for fourteen weeks of exhibitions and tours.
And none of them were paid a penny by us. We helped some of them get money elsewhere, unlocked a few doors for them (literally and figuratively), and put whatever weight we had behind the projects, but that was it.
Those things were done because of Independents Biennial, but weren’t done by us. And if that was all this was, it would be exceptional.
But there were also 32 commissioned artists who created a mix of work that was worthy of international exhibition, absolutely unique to the place it was sited, experimental to a point slightly beyond risk, and ambitious in itself as well as ambitious for the impact the region could have as a platform for specific artforms.
The most common criticism of the programme was that there was too much to see, and it was impossible to see it. It’s a fair criticism, and its one we’ll abide by, but its also worth reiterating a mantra that the art world often fails to recall: Its better to try and fail, than fail to try.
Because we tried things we wouldn’t usually, we got to talk to some of the most inspiring people from all walks of life, in settings that rarely, if ever, allow art through their doors.
Les Weston’s Memories of Lee Park and Belle Vale became a hub for visitors – particularly on Fridays when the artist was in residence. Amy Flynn’s work shifted her practice from artisan to artist, and inspired a huge new wave of work. Claire Beerjeraz and Dan O’Dempsey had their first work in major public galleries, but you wouldn’t have known it apart from the longer-established artists showing alongside them.
For the first time since 2004, Independents Biennial took major gallery space at Bluecoat. It bookended major projects by associate artists like Material Matters.
And writing this as we come to a close, I’m intensely aware that there are things that happened in June that are barely recognisable from the practice some of the artists have now. As always, that’s not the work of Independents Biennial, it’s the influence of it.
There’s always been a temptation to talk about Independents Biennial as a ladder; steps as part of building a practice. It still can be, but when the projects are so powerful as stand alone work, it’s irrelevant.
Artists don’t need us to improve the quality of their ideas, they need us to pay for them, to facilitate their creation, and to build a structure that means something to be part of. 2025 felt like that internally, but we’re working through evaluations, and I doubt that’s a universally shared feeling.
Take Ellie Hoskins as an example. That work is inspiring on so many levels. The conversations about the working minds of artists, alongside reflective moments where audiences felt heard by the words and illustrations filling Bridge Cottage, were just special. Independents Biennial gave her space, time and not enough money. The exhibition was completely different to the original proposal, and happened entirely within the confines of Independents Biennial, but it was the work of the artist, curated by the artist, and every word of every review reflected that.
I’m immensely proud of the team that helped to foster that, and acutely aware that I’m perhaps not the best communicator, especially when the majority of the team was brought in quite late. But 2027 is a different game. We’ve proved what scale we can work to. We’ve proved the quality of the work being created here. Now, we do that together, and hopefully it makes more sense.
There were 201 events in this years’ programme. I’m not even going to attempt to reflect on them all, but here are a few things you might have missed, that I hope you’ll see more of in years to come, from artists who probably don’t yet realise the impact they’ve had on the people who saw their work.
And as it all slowly closes up, and we trudge around Merseyside closing doors for the last times, writing evaluations, this should probably be the last bit of prosaic reflection on what happened [it won’t be, but it should]. Instead, we need to look forward to the artists we’re excited to work with.; projects in Bootle we’re desperate to talk about but can’t yet; the quiet behind the scenes impact of Sanna King this year, and what that will mean for 2027 and beyond; the exchanges that have been instigated but still need work; and the sheer ambition of artists that hasn’t waned at all.
I will, inevitably reflect more on what happened, because I have to, but these pages are now back to Art in Liverpool. Until next time.
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Words, Patrick Kirk-Smith
Independents Biennial 2025 7th June – 14th September 2025