In a world grappling with identity and belonging, one artist's quest to reconnect with nature may hold the key. Ben Edge, a British folk renaissance leader, has been on a journey of self-discovery that spans art, activism, and spirituality.
For Edge, the answer lies in embracing the past – not as nostalgia but as a bridge to the future. His latest exhibition at London's Fitzrovia Chapel, "Children of Albion," is a sprawling masterpiece that weaves together fragments of British history, folklore, and mythology into a vibrant tapestry of the human experience.
The title itself, inspired by William Blake's Romantic era vision of Albion as a benevolent force, reflects Edge's commitment to redefining this term in modern times. In an age where nationalism has become increasingly divisive, he sees Albion as a symbol of unity and inclusivity – not just for Britain but for the world.
Edge's own personal journey began with a profound encounter at a druid ceremony in London ten years ago. As he watched the participants reseed the city streets, he felt an awakening sense of connection to nature that had been missing from his life. This epiphany marked the beginning of a decade-long exploration into the world of folk traditions and British folklore.
From wassailing and morris dancing to Stonehenge and Viking raids, Edge's art has sought to recapture the essence of this rich cultural heritage. And yet, in an era marked by climate emergency and social division, he argues that reconnecting with nature is not just a luxury but a necessity.
"Depression was my constant companion until I stumbled upon this world," Edge admits. "When you're lost from nature, everything feels off-kilter." But by embracing the cyclical rhythms of nature – birth, growth, decay, and rebirth – he found solace in the ancient customs that once brought communities together.
The lockdowns, which brought a jarring clarity to our relationship with the environment, have galvanized Edge's message. As people rediscovered their immediate landscapes and feelings of pride, they began to question everything about Britain and its role on the world stage.
Edge's art reflects this seismic shift in mindset. His vibrant canvases, teeming with refugees, Stonehenge, and Viking raids, offer a radical alternative to the fractured narratives that dominate our discourse today. By reclaiming and reinterpreting the past, he seeks to forge a new future – one that is inclusive, compassionate, and deeply connected to the natural world.
As his art takes shape in the Fitzrovia Chapel, Edge's words echo through the galleries like a call to arms: "There isn't a gallery that's going to come along and save you – you need to build your own art world." In an era where identity politics often seems to divide us more than unite us, his message is a potent reminder of the transformative power of creativity, community, and connection.
				
			For Edge, the answer lies in embracing the past – not as nostalgia but as a bridge to the future. His latest exhibition at London's Fitzrovia Chapel, "Children of Albion," is a sprawling masterpiece that weaves together fragments of British history, folklore, and mythology into a vibrant tapestry of the human experience.
The title itself, inspired by William Blake's Romantic era vision of Albion as a benevolent force, reflects Edge's commitment to redefining this term in modern times. In an age where nationalism has become increasingly divisive, he sees Albion as a symbol of unity and inclusivity – not just for Britain but for the world.
Edge's own personal journey began with a profound encounter at a druid ceremony in London ten years ago. As he watched the participants reseed the city streets, he felt an awakening sense of connection to nature that had been missing from his life. This epiphany marked the beginning of a decade-long exploration into the world of folk traditions and British folklore.
From wassailing and morris dancing to Stonehenge and Viking raids, Edge's art has sought to recapture the essence of this rich cultural heritage. And yet, in an era marked by climate emergency and social division, he argues that reconnecting with nature is not just a luxury but a necessity.
"Depression was my constant companion until I stumbled upon this world," Edge admits. "When you're lost from nature, everything feels off-kilter." But by embracing the cyclical rhythms of nature – birth, growth, decay, and rebirth – he found solace in the ancient customs that once brought communities together.
The lockdowns, which brought a jarring clarity to our relationship with the environment, have galvanized Edge's message. As people rediscovered their immediate landscapes and feelings of pride, they began to question everything about Britain and its role on the world stage.
Edge's art reflects this seismic shift in mindset. His vibrant canvases, teeming with refugees, Stonehenge, and Viking raids, offer a radical alternative to the fractured narratives that dominate our discourse today. By reclaiming and reinterpreting the past, he seeks to forge a new future – one that is inclusive, compassionate, and deeply connected to the natural world.
As his art takes shape in the Fitzrovia Chapel, Edge's words echo through the galleries like a call to arms: "There isn't a gallery that's going to come along and save you – you need to build your own art world." In an era where identity politics often seems to divide us more than unite us, his message is a potent reminder of the transformative power of creativity, community, and connection.