Identity, sharks and climate art: how UK culture confronts the present

The fabric of identity: when textiles tell stories

Souleymane Bachir Diaw’s photographic series, currently exhibited in London, transforms scarves, hijabs and boubous into visual narratives about patriarchy, domestic violence and the rituals of masculinity. The Senegalese photographer’s work—part of a broader movement in UK galleries this autumn—uses textiles not as mere backdrops but as active participants in storytelling. Each piece, Diaw explains, carries the weight of cultural memory, where cloth becomes both shield and witness to personal and collective histories.

This approach resonates in a country where debates over identity, migration and belonging have rarely been more charged. The exhibition arrives as the UK government’s latest immigration policies face legal challenges, and as public discourse increasingly frames cultural heritage as either threat or salvation. Diaw’s images, however, resist easy categorisation. They neither exoticise nor simplify; instead, they ask viewers to sit with the complexity of lived experience. In one photograph, a grand boubou drapes a figure whose posture suggests both defiance and exhaustion—a duality that feels distinctly of this moment.

Britain’s sharks: the quiet research reshaping conservation

For decades, British sharks have been either feared or ignored. A new three-year project led by the University of Exeter aims to change that. Researchers, working with anglers, are studying three vulnerable species—the porbeagle, tope and blue shark—to better understand their behaviour and habitats. The goal, says Dr Lucy Hawkes, is not just scientific but cultural: to shift perceptions of these animals from monsters to vital components of marine ecosystems.

The timing is critical. The UK’s post-Brexit fisheries policy has sparked tensions over quotas and conservation, while climate change threatens to disrupt marine food chains. Public interest in sharks has surged, partly thanks to documentaries like Blue Planet III, but also because of growing awareness of how little is known about these species. The project’s collaborative approach—partnering with anglers rather than treating them as adversaries—offers a model for how science and local knowledge might coexist. It also raises uncomfortable questions: if these sharks are indeed "cool," as Hawkes puts it, why has their conservation been so long neglected?

Art in the age of climate anxiety

Two recent works illustrate how UK artists are responding to environmental urgency. Liz Larner’s Every Artist Gave a Breath (1988), recently re-exhibited, uses petri dishes breathed on by artists from around the world to create a living, evolving artwork. Over time, the bacteria have morphed into unpredictable forms—some beautiful, others unsettling. Larner describes the piece as a metaphor for collective responsibility, where individual actions (a breath) accumulate into something larger than themselves.

Meanwhile, a new UN report warns that heatwaves and wildfires are reversing decades of air quality improvements. The findings underscore a growing tension in environmental art: how to balance hope with realism. Larner’s work, with its organic unpredictability, captures this tension perfectly. It doesn’t offer solutions but instead forces viewers to confront the messiness of change—much like the climate crisis itself.

Coercive control: when television confronts uncomfortable truths

Paul C Brunson’s new series, Red Flags, premieres this week on U&W, offering a case-by-case examination of emotional and psychological abuse in relationships. The first episode follows Charlotte, a survivor of coercive control whose story spans love-bombing, suicide threats and eventual violence. Brunson, a relationship expert, frames the series as both educational and commemorative—a way to honour survivors while helping others recognise warning signs.

The timing is notable. Coercive control became a criminal offence in England and Wales in 2015, but prosecutions remain rare, and public understanding of the issue is still evolving. Red Flags arrives as domestic abuse charities report a rise in cases linked to economic stress and housing instability. The series’ format—blending documentary with testimony—reflects a broader shift in UK television toward stories that are both personal and political. It also raises ethical questions: how to depict trauma without sensationalism, and whether entertainment can ever truly serve justice.

What these stories tell us

These cultural moments, though disparate, share a common thread: they grapple with the present by interrogating the past and imagining the future. Diaw’s textiles, Hawkes’ sharks, Larner’s bacteria and Brunson’s survivors all force us to confront uncomfortable truths—about identity, ecology, art and power. They remind us that culture is not just a mirror but a tool, one that can challenge, comfort or complicate our understanding of the world.

In 2026, as the UK navigates political upheaval, climate disruption and social fractures, these works offer something rare: a space to pause, reflect and, perhaps, reimagine what comes next.