In times of political flux, art schools often reflect the wider tensions playing out in society. Such was the case in 1929, when students at the Slade School of Fine Art competed for the prestigious annual Summer Composition Prize. As they balanced the demands of technical excellence and academic expectations with a growing urge to respond to the world around them, the prize became more than just a showcase of skill – the competition became, in some instances, a platform for coded expression and subtle critique.
As Tate presents its long-overdue retrospective of British surrealist and Slade alumna Ithell Colquhoun (1906–1988) at Tate St Ives and Tate Britain, one early work stands out.
Her 1929 prize-winning student painting (shown above before recent conservation work) offers a chance to pause and reflect – and to revisit that pivotal moment through the contrasting lens of her contemporary, fellow student John Luke (1906–1975). What emerges is a telling example of how different forms of socio-political engagement are valued, providing insight into the broader cultural and institutional agendas that shape shifting currencies of esteem in art.
In an art education climate that often encouraged separation between socio-political activism and the mastery of artistic technique, while prioritising the figure and learning from old masters, Slade students in the early twentieth century found creative, sometimes subversive, ways to embed personal and collective concerns into their work.
Despite the turbulent social climate in Britain and beyond, activism ranked low in the 'currencies of esteem' in the arts. This was especially true for women and foreign students, for whom social activism was just one among many factors that influenced an artist's visibility – or rather, lack thereof.
Among the upheavals in the third decade of the twentieth century, during what would later be called the interwar period, were landmark moments in British society. These included the Equal Franchise Act of 1928 granting universal suffrage to men and women over 21, the 1929 Marriage Act raising the legal age for marriage to 16, the Great Depression's ripple effects on employment in Britain, the Government of Ireland Act of 1920 that partitioned Ireland leaving Northern Ireland as part of the UK, the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1922 that established the Irish Free State in the south of Ireland, and the impact of the treaty on Irish nationalism and British-Irish relations that played out in the years that ensued.
It was within this context that Colquhoun and Luke competed for the Slade's 1929 Summer Composition Prize. The students' task was to take all they had learnt at the Slade about figure drawing, figure painting, portraiture and drapery drawing, Renaissance, Baroque and other past traditions and create a composition that set figures against a backdrop in a dramatic composition while responding to a singular theme, in this instance, the biblical story of Judith beheading Holofernes.
Colquhoun received First Prize, tied with fellow student Elizabeth Leslie Arnold (1909–2005).
Prize-winning works were retained by the Slade according to the terms of the competition and are now held by UCL Art Museum. This practice often extended to second and third prize winners, but not systematically. Notable entries not retained were, however, frequently snapped up by contemporary collectors, and some eventually found their way into public collections.
While some sources have noted John Luke as second-prize winner in the 1929 competition, this information is not available in the college records, and his competition entry is housed in the collection of Armagh County Museum in Northern Ireland.
The story of Judith and Holofernes is familiar throughout western art history – examples include works by Caravaggio (1599), Gustav Klimt (1901) and Kudzanai Chiurai (We Live in Silence XIIII, 2017).
In UK public collections alone, there are close to 140 different artistic interpretations of this theme. In both Colquhoun and Luke's student works, there are also notable echoes of Renaissance interpretations of the theme of Perseus with the Head of Medusa.
Colquhoun's interpretation is a fleshy, bloody and unsettling affair, even though she has chosen to depict the aftermath of the violent act of beheading.
Judith, surrounded by her troupe, holds up her trophy of the severed head of Holofernes in one hand, the bag in which she carried it in the other. The mood is celebratory as stylised streams of blood drip from the head held above flames. This scene unfolds outside the walls of an imaginary city away from the scene of the crime. The figures glow in the light of the fire. Judith's flesh is red, as if burned, her red dress revealing: not warrior attire, but a 1920s sheer evening gown suited for a club.
Colquhoun's painting is rich with symbolism. It celebrates female power and sexual liberation, the raising of the severed head reads like a symbol of the success of the long struggle for women's suffrage and independence. While such themes a decade earlier may have swayed judges towards a different outcome, less receptive perhaps, in 1929 they echoed a growing general consensus. Coupled with Colquhoun's masterful expressiveness, they were palatable to the male prize judges, resulting in an award of first prize.
Like many of his contemporaries at the Slade, John Luke approached the year's Summer Competition theme in a personal and exploratory way. Like with Colquhoun, while his painting may hint at modernist influences, academic tradition was paramount, especially if, as students, the artists were seeking to give expression to their individual emerging socio-political awareness.
In Luke's case, his painting can be filtered through his Irish background. Unlike traditional portrayals of Judith's act, Luke reimagines her in a domestic setting, where the boundaries between realism and performance blur. The painting, surprisingly contemporary in its approach, even today, places the drama in a sparse bedroom that resembles a theatrical stage.
Judith confronts the viewer directly, while another woman is helping to dispose of Holofernes's severed head. Luke captures Judith just after the act, knife in hand. Yet, unlike Colquhoun's interpretation, the scene is restrained and sparse. The stark geometry of the windows 'backstage' and the landscape depicted beyond heighten a dreamlike tension, that distances the narrative from the domesticity of 1920s British or Irish interiors as well as from the realism that guided the artist's brush.
Luke's version plays out like a psychological thriller. It's as if the staged event is part of a sequence in a play or a film. Tension is arrested through the interplay of power, performance, and complicity, filtered through a surreal theatrical lens. There are no overt signs of violence – only a bloodied knife and the white shirt of the decapitated figure, conspicuously clean, partially hidden behind Judith.
Rather than depicting the act itself, Luke also focuses on the aftermath. The student artist chooses to heighten the unease with Judith confronting the viewer in a charged pose of defiance, a little like Perseus with Medusa's head in historical versions by Benvenuto Cellini (1500–1571) and Antonio Canova (1757–1822) – or later copies and interpretations of these masters that he might have encountered in British art collections.
Perseus and Medusa
c.1830–1840
Clemente Papi (1803–1875) and Benvenuto Cellini (1500–1571) (copy of) 
Luke arrived to the Slade from Belfast. Like with Colquhoun's painting, Luke's too is full of coded references. It is possible to consider in his competition entry for the theme of Judith and Holofernes an attempt to negotiate his emerging style, the need to demonstrate mastery of the artistic techniques he had been studying, with Ireland's turbulent history and evolving cultural identity.
The biblical tale of resistance and triumph over tyranny would have carried special weight for an artist living through the political complexities of 1920s Ireland. Though not fully independent until the late 1940s, Ireland had recently emerged from the War of Independence and the Irish Civil War. The bureaucratic attire of the decapitated figure in Luke's painting hints at a possible yearning to reignite revolutionary action, raising questions about national identity and self-determination.
Many artists have sought to recast the theme of Judith and Holofernes in contemporary personal and collective concerns. One such contemporary example is a work by Zimbabwean artist Kudzanai Chiurai We Live in Silence XIIII (2017).
'We Live in Silence XIIII' on Instagram
In writing about this work, writer and curator Khanya Mashabela notes how Chiurai recasts Holofernes from an Old Testament military general into a symbol of colonial government, touching on anti-colonial liberation movements, and, in the case of Chiurai's work, 'the role of women in anti-Colonial liberation movements, the rise of the black middle class in the region', and shifting power dynamics. Mashabela's interpretation can be applied to Luke's work as well, reflecting the socio-political concerns of a Slade student almost a century earlier.
While the Slade was not uniformly modernist in its teaching approach it was open to experimentation. However, political statements could be fraught, especially if they challenged British–Irish politics. Colquhoun's prize-winning piece – though bold in its celebration of female agency – may have been less politically sensitive to the judges in 1929, after the passing of the Equal Franchise Act and the Marriage Act.
In Luke's painting, on the other hand, the judges may have recognised pointed implications for Britain's relationship with Ireland, at a time of sectarian violence, disputes about borders and a widening trend to reverse the Anglo-Irish Treaty, that later manifested in the 1932 elections.
The Slade's openness to awarding not one but two women the top prize, especially for a work centred on female power, speaks to the School's progressive founding principles. Women's ambition and talent found a supportive environment at the Slade from its foundational years, even if socio-political activism remained a more sensitive topic for many.
The case of Colquhoun and Luke's Judith and Holofernes serve to remind us that art and politics have long been intertwined in art education, even within environments that seemed to discourage overt activism. Like their counterparts today, early twentieth-century student artists navigated institutional pressures and social conventions to articulate their wrestling with justice, identity and power. In these settings, socio-political agendas carried varying currencies of esteem that shifted with the tides of time.
The ongoing reassessment of artists from this period – particularly those connected to the Slade and the Slade Summer Competition Prize – reveals not only the innovation and intent behind individual works, but also the complex web of forces that shape artistic visibility and recognition over time.
Dr Nina Pearlman, researcher, curator and cultural strategist, Honorary Associate Professor UCL History of Art and former Head of UCL Art Collections
