3 minutes ago4 min read

‘Each Of Us Wayfarers’: Congregation, Es Devlin’s Tribute To The Refugees Of London

As I walked past St Mary Le Strand church on my way to class yesterday, something unusual caught my eye—a set of signs adorned with the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) logo standing against the familiar backdrop of the historic church. Intrigued, I paused. St Mary Le Strand has always fascinated me, though I’ve never set foot inside. Since starting at King’s, the church has been wrapped in construction fences, blending into the background of my daily routine. It’s a place I’ve passed countless times without a second thought. But today was different. This time, I stopped. The names and dates on the signs read ‘Congregation, Es Devlin, 4th to 9th October.’ Who was Es Devlin? The more I stared, the more I felt myself being pulled in, torn between the impulse to skip my lecture and satisfy my growing curiosity.

Interested, and never one to turn down an art show, I decided to investigate further. As I approached, I pulled out my phone to do some very last-minute Google scramble to find some information, at least, on what this was about. That didn't go very far, and at last, I asked the woman standing by the entrance if the exhibit was free. She had a constant smile and assured me it was, urging me to just head inside, to not worry about a booking—angel, I thought. The church was abuzz with people that day, standing around the small entrance and urging people in.

I moved into the church and headed to a bench at the back, noticing square blocks set up as seats where the pews would be. The altar, along with much of the church’s interior, was obscured by Es Devlin’s striking installation—a towering pyramid of charcoal portraits. Each face, representing a refugee, was meticulously arranged in rows, drawing my gaze upward. As my eyes followed the pyramid’s ascent, they were met with the breathtaking detail of the church’s ceiling, a blend of old-world craftsmanship and modern artistry that left me in awe. The contrast between the historic space and the powerful, contemporary artwork was both captivating and humbling. I was drawn back to Devlin’s paintings once again. They held blank, square boxes in their hands, which lit up in a kaleidoscope of colours and images during the performance. Devlin’s background as a stage designer is evident in this thoughtful setup, and Vivaldi’s Four Seasons plays intermittently, heightening the atmosphere.

Devlin’s voice cuts through the intimate space. She begins explaining how the fifty people had visited her studio, shared their stories, and had their likenesses drawn. Each face gazes straight at us, and we look back at them. Gradually, the boxes in their hands illuminate in soft bubbles of colour, and their voices echo throughout the church. They each recount small fragments of their lives—stories of belonging, identity, and life in London as expected, but also the harrowing journeys that brought them here. One arrived by a small boat just a few months ago; another was smuggled in cargo trucks years ago.

I was particularly struck by these admissions—the raw, unvarnished truth of a refugee’s journey, which can’t be neatly packaged into a sanitised, heroic narrative. Yet, here, in this small space in the heart of London, that truth was brought into the light. The realities of war, displacement, and survival were no longer distant, abstract concepts to theorise—they were the lived experiences of our neighbours, shop workers, cleaners, doctors, security guards, pastoral staff, friends, and family. With my hands clasped in my lap and the symphonic music swirling through the church, I listened to the harrowing moments war and conflict had forced upon them.

The refugees' testimonies spanned many countries—Syria, Afghanistan, India, and Somalia are just some that were mentioned. Today, I thought about Lebanon, Palestine, and South Sudan. As their stories unfolded, moreover, I couldn’t help but think of the hurricanes that recently razed the southern United States, a firm reminder of how dramatically our lives could be upended. How quickly we may need to start over elsewhere. This exhibition was not just a reflection on the past but a solemn reminder of the ongoing importance of organisations like the UNHCR. As people left, many paused by the signs outside which had information regarding how to support UNHCR. Their significance was now more profound.

On the final day, Es Devlin stood by the gates of the church, greeting each visitor with a warm smile, and welcoming them into the space. It felt fitting, as though this was the culmination of her most important work yet. Later, at 7 p.m., the Strand once again came alive—voices from The Genesis Sixteen, The London Bulgarian Choir, and the South African Cultural Gospel Choir filled the air, transforming the evening into something transcendent. I stood there with a couple of friends, soaking in the final performance, grateful to have witnessed this fleeting installation before it packed up and left.

The exhibition is now in Somerset House, from the 23rd of November to 12 January 2025. So if you've missed the church installation, you can visit the portraits and hear the stories just next door!

You can also visit their website to see UNHCR’s description of the artwork as well as support UNHCR here.