Jeremy Deller: Master of Ceremonies

“Not to be a prima donna or anything, but could we get some tea and biscuits?” Jeremy Deller calls to the PR person. “A selection of biscuits,” he adds. A modest request for a Turner Prize winner who’s representing Britain this year at the Venice Biennale – no one could easily accuse him of being a prima donna. But all the same, he is playing a part. A down-to-earth Brit wearing his trademark flash of pink – he urges men to reclaim the colour – Deller consciously styles himself as a bit of a maverick.

Many established artists are known only by their work and we couldn’t pick them out in a crowd. Deller, however, is a public figure. Staging parades and concerts and collaborating with various social groups, his work is inherently theatrical and he is often visible within it. Joy In People, his 2012 retrospective, included a recreation of his childhood bedroom, where he held his first ever exhibition while his parents were away. But his work isn’t really about him, or only to the extent that he positions himself as a kind of everyman. Drawing on news stories and collective memories of popular culture, he aspires to be a man of the people.

Meeting Deller at the British Pavilion on the second day of the Biennale, he’s not the expansive character I was expecting. Having given interviews all day long, he’s understandably tired and apt to be rather brief. Though he visibly brightens when the tea arrives.

It’s the second cup I’ve had here today, as tea features in the show itself, proffered by stewards using Deller’s now familiar tea urn. This is just one element of the show that weaves the myth of English culture, along with references to William Morris, David Bowie, birds of prey, Aneurin Bevan, Prince Harry and steel bands. These days the work that national pavilions show at the Biennale rarely has anything to do with national identity, but Deller has really embraced the tradition. His strong promotion of ‘Englishness’ can only be genuine.

“I hope so,” he says. “It’s a personal view. Obviously it’s a big art exhibition, but it’s still very much for myself. I’m not just choosing things because I think they’re cool or controversial, but because I think they actually have a resonance. I hope the humour comes over. There are serious issues, obviously. There’s one that has no humour whatsoever. The one about the war in Iraq and the build-up to it is very dark, quite depressing. But I’d like to think it was all heartfelt.”

The show evokes historical figures – such as Morris and Bowie – who, while having made a considerable mark on English culture, don’t feel especially relevant for art today. I suggest to Deller that he seems to be playing to an idea of Englishness, reinforcing cultural stereotypes rather than how people now might actually regard their identity.

“Like what?” he asks.

“Well, how English it is to have a cup of tea, for instance.”

“Well, it’s very Chinese to have a cup of tea. It’s very Indian to have a cup of tea. But you’re right, actually. But that’s not an artwork. There’s no art there. That’s just somewhere to sit, you know?”

“It’s just part of the experience?”

“Yeah.”

Although there are interactive elements to this show, it’s not participatory or collaborative in the way some of Deller’s works are. His back catalogue includes street processions, a bouncy castle of Stonehenge, and touring the US with the wreckage from a Baghdad car bomb and a US Army officer to provoke conversations. The Battle of Orgreave, his most famous work, re-enacted the violent clash between miners and the police during the miners’ strike of 1984, and involved over 800 participants. 

His Venice show conveys a sense of his collaborative work in a video which includes footage of a London steel band with whom he has worked previously, the Melodians Steel Orchestra. The band provide the soundtrack to the video and also perform on the pavilion steps at the exhibition opening, which everybody seems to really enjoy. Hearing people exchange bits of trivia about the songs – one is the 80s acid house track Voodoo Ray by A Guy Called Gerald, transformed by the steel band into a carnival anthem – it’s clear that this, at least, taps into a typically English appreciation.

It’s in watching the steel band and the video that Deller’s role as project manager is really evident. He’s been called a ‘director of complex dramas’ and a ‘catalyzer of collective histories.’ He’s clearly infinitely more aware of his position than many artists who attempt audience participation. From the vantage point of the Biennale press week, though, where many visitors are very rich, it’s easy to have reservations about what it’s actually like to take part in these events. I ask Deller if he’s ever concerned that he might inadvertently end up exploiting the groups he works with, making a spectacle of them.

“Not with the steel band.” He is adamant. “I know that’s a common criticism of certain kinds of art. You raise expectations… But I don’t do that.”

“How do you avoid it, then?”

“You just don’t do it,” he says bluntly. “You tell people what you’re doing and what the result may be, and you don’t promise things that aren’t going to happen.”

“Do you try and get to know them?”

“Yeah, of course. You try to. Essentially, you’ve gotta have a relationship with people if they’re gonna be working for you. With the steel band, they contacted me and said, if you want to work with a steel band, let us know. And then I was making this film and needed a soundtrack. So I was very happy about that.”

Last year the BBC commissioned a documentary about Deller for The Culture Show and titled it Jeremy Deller: Middle Class Hero. Deller didn’t dub himself thus, but it seemed as though he might have done – a gesture which, obviously ironic, would nevertheless have been pretty cringe-worthy. His Venice show provokes the same discomfort. This presumably being conscious and deliberate makes it no easier to swallow. Perhaps the most classic instance of Englishness in the show is the awkward conspicuousness of social class.

We’ll soon have another chance to observe Deller on home turf, though. He and long-time collaborator Alan Kane will exhibit at Jupiter Artland in August for Edinburgh Art Festival. Another steel band, this time from Manchester, will head off proceedings with covers of Joy Divison and Buzzcocks. The installation will make connections between the digital revolution and the Industrial Revolution – a particularly resonant subject for Manchester, which rose as one of the world’s foremost industrial cities with its cotton manufacture.

Deller will then take this theme to the city itself, exhibiting at Manchester Art Gallery in October. Titled All That Is Solid Melts Into Air, the show will explore how the trauma of industrialisation and chaotic urbanisation impacted on British society, once again evoking historical figures to tell the story. The show will also feature industrial folk music, heavy metal and glam rock, and will subsequently tour to other cities formed by their industrial past – Nottingham, Coventry and Newcastle. With his insatiable curiosity for all aspects of our society and our past, Deller could replace up to half of UK public culture and history services by 2017.