A crib for a bed

Published 13 December 2004

Visual art - Trafalgar Square will be the scene of a heretical new nativity. Richard Cork explains

Old masters devoted major parts of their careers to painting the nativity or the adoration of the Magi, but most contemporary artists shy away from Christmas themes. True, they are encouraged to tackle the festive season by Tate Britain. Each December, the gallery's entrance hall is invaded by a Christmas tree subjected to shameless manipulation by artists as uninhibited as Bill Wood-row, Tracey Emin, Yinka Shonibare and Michael Landy. This year's tree is being subverted by Richard Wentworth, guaranteed to provoke Yuletide controversy.

But it is, in the end, only a tree. The Tate avoids the central meaning of the Christmas story, which cannot be addressed without looking at the mystery of the virgin birth. The vicar of St Martin-in- the-Fields, Reverend Nick Holtam, has decided to commission a sculpture re-defining the wonder of the nativity. It will be installed in Trafalgar Square in December next year, replacing the Holy Night Christmas crib wrecked by vandals during the victory parade for England's Rugby World Cup triumph.

It is an exciting prospect, although the heretical new sculpture will undoubtedly offend some of those who relished its hallowed predecessor. Made by Josefina de Vasconcellos, the Holy Night crib was a redemptive presence in Trafalgar Square for almost four decades. For many, it summed up the spirit of Christmas.

Holtam is already immersed in an ambitious, £32m expansion scheme for the crypt and public spaces around the outstanding 18th-century church designed by James Gibbs. Eric Parry, the project's architect, suggested that the art consultancy Modus Operandi should advise St Martin's on commissioning contemporary art, and Holtam made sure the first priority was the new crib. Vivien Lovell, head of Modus Operandi, was right in thinking that the narrative and symbolism of the Christmas story would be of huge appeal to artists, whether or not they were from Christian backgrounds. The high level of response also reflects the open-mindedness of the brief, which has not limited the competition to sculptors working in a traditional figurative idiom.

Because of this admirable sense of adventure, I did not hesitate to accept an invitation to join the selection panel for the new crib. Chaired by Nicholas Goodison, we wanted to select a challenging response to the Christmas theme. Given the prominence of the site, an enormous, multiracial and cross-cultural public will encounter the final work, so it must be capable of appealing to a diverse range of people whose origins may lie way beyond Britain's insular limits. After all, the holy family became refugees when they fled to Egypt. And it is surely significant that the first people to receive news of the nativity were working shepherds, far removed from the religious purity of Judaism.

The shepherds were awed by Christ's birth, and the new crib must be capable of arousing a similar sense of wonder, though it also has to be robust. The fate of the former crib warns us that vandalism is a danger, despite the presence of round-the-clock security. So the winning sculpture must be tough and capable of repair, and the cost of the entire crib must not exceed the £100,000 budget.

I was ready to be astonished by the proposals, but nothing could have prepared me for the intensity and provocative flair of the five shortlisted artists. They made their presentations to the selection panel suitably close to Trafalgar Square in late September. The discussions were hugely stimulating, and the most electrifying moment came when Mark Wallinger arrived with a crib he had bought for £70 at Mothercare. "But where's the baby?" Holtam asked, as will many who visit the exhibition of proposals at St Martin's.

The other contenders proved fascinating, too. Stephen Cox wants his rock shelter to be carried in procession like the Arc of the Covenant, accompanied by cows, sheep and maybe even camels. Carved from imperial porphyry, the shelter prophesies Christ's martyrdom by resembling a rock-cut tomb, and would be placed on an altar. Above, five vast screens would relay real-time images of Darfuri refugees and London's homeless, giving the nativity idea a contemporary sting.

Sokari Douglas Camp's sculpture also contains reminders of privation. She wants to make her holy family from recycled materials as well as stainless steel, and the canopy over their heads would look as rudimentary as a third-world shelter. The emphasis on suffering is carried into the child's outstretched arms, prefiguring his death on the cross. To compound the drama, a light-beam would be trained on to his body from the spire of St Martin's.

In extreme contrast, Hew Locke's proposed sculpture is unexpectedly small. Located inside a tent emitting shafts of light through stars cut in the roof, the crib is placed in a glass vitrine. Protected by an angel floating above, Locke's scene occurs on a mountainside reminiscent of his native Guyana. He intends to use a riot of unpredictable materials including beds, fabrics and dolls, all conjuring a fairy-tale world in dazzling colours.

Tomoaki Suzuki's proposal, on the other hand, could not be more tranquil. His carved wooden figures seem spellbound underneath their transparent case. The shepherds stare outwards, the Magi appear stunned, and Joseph lies on the ground. The baby rises up from a bed of straw as if mesmerised by Mary, and the entire sculpture has a sense of freshness.

Nothing could be further removed from hand-made carvings than Wallinger's Mothercare crib. He wants to place it in Trafalgar Square with a trio of uniformed security guards standing near- by. The crib would remain empty, and the baby's absence would undoubtedly arouse a storm of protest. Wallinger sees it as a symbol of children's vulnerability today, but he will counter this feeling of danger by lighting the crib with spectacular brightness at night.

The judges have been vigorously expressing their differing views, and the outcome will be announced on 16 December. I hope we emerge with an artwork capable of making everyone think in new and invigorating ways about this most cherished of all Christian stories.

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