Weekend essay

Art

Culture

20 January 2024

9 min read

Wonder walls: will Manchester’s creativity save the city?

Manchester newcomer, and new bishop, Matthew Porter is bowled over by the city’s enrichening creativity.

Matthew Porter

Matthew Porter is Bishop of Bolton, in the diocese of Manchester.

Looking down on a man walking across a grid of large black and white portrait photographs of people's faces

The 'Inside Out: This is Manchester’ installation.

Manchester is the place to be. So thinks fashion house Chanel. It recently hosted its renowned annual Métiers d’Art show in the British city, billing it as ‘one of the most effervescent cities of pop culture and an avant-garde one, whose bands, spanning all genres, have changed the history of music.’ So thinks the English National Opera, who have just announced that Manchester is to be its new home. And so, think the investors who have pumped £242mn into Aviva Studios, a stunning new arts centre, billed as the most important arts venue in the UK since London’s Tate Modern gallery.

Cultural mix

Having recently started as new bishop in the Diocese of Manchester, I feel like I’ve arrived at a time of exploding artistic vibrancy, with the city and region rising to new cultural heights. The mix is rich and potent, edgy and interesting, young and confident, strong and loud. And yet not far from the coolness and affluence it brings there are still many areas of urban dreariness and scruffy social housing, often linked with deprivation and deep poverty, telling a different story of those who feel they’re being left behind, deficient in ambition and lacking in hope. Manchester is a real cultural mix.

Despite these contrasts, you can’t ignore the fact that much of Manchester is humming. The symbol of the city, the ‘Manchester Bee,’ feels apt and has rightly been revived, for it represents hard-work and industry, something the area is becoming known for again. But it’s a new kind of industry. It’s not the hard factories of the cotton mills but the softer artistic endeavours that are reclaiming the spaces and setting the tone. Astute and celebrated, the Mayor of Manchester Andy Burnham recognises and champions this, declaring recently that it’s the creative industries that are now the fastest growing sector in the city.

As a newcomer to the region, I’ve been wondering what I should make of all this artistic entrepreneurship. Is it good? Is it important? Is it helpful? To help answer these questions I decided I needed to see what all the fuss was about and so I visited the newly opened Aviva Studios.

Nestling in the heart of the city, on a riverbank, the venue is located in the renovated Granada TV studios building and provides a vast space for creativity. It’s already the home of the Factory International music label and the Manchester International Festival. I was keen to understand the vision and understand why so much time and energy and money has been invested in such a space. I wanted to know if it really is a landmark space for contemporary arts in the UK, especially in the North of England, and whether I’d be back.

So, I visited on the first day of the venue’s official ‘Welcome’ to the general public. There’d been a series of soft launch events which included Free Your Mind, a large-scale, interactive hip-hop dance reimagining of The Matrix, directed by Oscar-winning film-maker Danny Boyle. But this was now ‘open to the world’ time. I turned up with grown-up members of my family who work in various creative sectors and who were keen to explore, aware that the warm-up events had already garnered great acclaim from The Times to Aesthetica magazine. We entered and took in the aroma of fresh coffee and the bustle of noise, as a small crowd of diverse ages gathered round a pop-up stage enjoying the creative reading of a children’s story. The foyer stage was transformed every hour into something new: first a space for musicians, then actors, then artists and dancers, all entertaining and encouraging participation. It was fun and vibrant, with an intriguing and inviting family-feel, drawing people in.

Connective art

Good art does that. It attracts. It reels you in, not just to observe, but to get involved. I experienced something of that as we stepped outside and enjoyed an installation called ‘Inside Out: This is Manchester’. It was a simple black and white portrait-display of two hundred Mancunians. The large photos were set out in a group on a concrete floor, creating what looked rather like a giant board game. The idea was you walked over them, standing on them, in and among them. So, into the photos I walked, and to my surprise I soon discovered the experience to be visually arresting and intriguingly immersive. After a few minutes of wandering among the faces I stood to one side for a breather. I asked my family which face they found most interesting, and I pointed out the one that had stood out for me. At that very moment, I noticed that a woman walking among the pictures had stopped at the one I’d chosen and was crouching down. As I looked again, she appeared rather like the woman in the photo. ‘Hi. Is this your photo?’ I asked. ‘Yes, it is’ she replied. ‘I’m Carmen. I’m just here for a short time today and wanted to see it.’ ‘It’s my favourite’ I said, ‘It’s a really great photo. I love the way it’s captured you pulling such a strong face!’ ‘Thanks’ she smiled, going on to explain how the shoot had been taken, but that this was the first time she’d actually seen it. I was thrilled: the person behind one face out of two hundred that had caught my attention, happened to turn up at the exact moment I was there! It made me feel strangely connected to the installation and with the people of Manchester they represented. Such is the connective power of art!

Such art does what cathedrals of old have done, enabling us to look out and look up and see beyond ourselves into a greater vista. They are deeply valuable and enchanting spaces.

Quality design

From there we went on an architectural tour. The stairwells, the corridors, the foyers, and the meeting spaces were cleanly and elegantly designed, using strong but simple materials, emphasising curves and city views, encouraging you to walk on and see more. We were told how many spaces, especially the foyers, worked really hard, being multi-functional and could be transformed for different uses. The two main venues were impressive and huge: the Hall is a 1600-seat concert venue, and the Warehouse space could host 5,000, thanks to vast walls that can be opened to create one massive space. The quality, the design, the versatility and the technology was hugely impressive, all set up and ready to be a northern centre of artistic excellence.

Enchanting spaces

So what did I make of it? And should such creativity be funded in Manchester? In short, I liked it. In fact, I absolutely loved it. It made me realise how much we need good art, good artists and good artistic spaces. They enrich us and our environment. They touch us deeply not just in our minds but in our souls and cause us to ponder and wonder. Such art does what cathedrals of old have done, enabling us to look out and look up and see beyond ourselves into a greater vista. They are deeply valuable and enchanting spaces.

The experience was significant for me, and extremely positive. Not only do I want to go back but since visiting I’ve mentioned it to quite a lot of people and am finding myself to be a bit of an evangelist for the place! I didn’t expect that. It reminds me that good spaces produce good conversations. The fact that it cost so much might be controversial to some, but it’s hard to put a price on stunning. If it inspires people to great visionary endeavours and lifts people, especially those lacking in hope, to see beyond their horizons, then it’s money well spent. If it causes children and women and men to dream dreams and imagine new futures, then I’m behind it. If it helps people see beyond their present dilemmas and laugh heartily and cry deeply and love compassionately, then I’m a supporter.

I believe passionately in encouraging artistry and innovation whenever and wherever I can. For the God I serve is the great Creator and the inspiration behind all true creativity.

Deeper understanding

My visit to Aviva Studios must have been good, as it’s made me want to support and encourage the team working there. I found myself thanking everyone, and even took a leaflet about becoming a member. As a bishop, I feel on behalf of the church and city that I want to cheer on Aviva Studios, commending it and its boldness to the Greater Manchester area, for I believe passionately in encouraging artistry and innovation whenever and wherever I can. For the God I serve is the great Creator and the inspiration behind all true creativity. Not only has he made the universe and planet Earth on which we reside, but throughout history he has given artistic gifts for human beings to foster and share.

I agree with Japanese artist Makoto Fujimura, that ‘Art is fundamental to the human search for deeper understanding. Art, by extension of this reasoning, is fundamental to understanding the Bible,’ which itself is a beautifully and uniquely-crafted literary work combining human artistry and divine inspiration. Creativity then, is at the heart of God, and of his human creation. We need to express this creativity in all sorts of places, including our workplaces. Artist and crafts pioneer William Morris rightly says that ‘without dignified, creative human occupation people become disconnected from life.' But surely this is true not just of our jobs but of our homes, and especially of designated creative spaces. Without such creative places, like gothic cathedrals, beautiful parks, art galleries and now Aviva Studios, we can easily become disassociated from the wonder and joy of life. We need good spaces to stir us and send us.

Innovative leadership

As a bishop who wants to see our churches growing and communities thriving, I welcome the new Aviva Studios as part of the cultural landscape of Greater Manchester. I want to enjoy it, visit it and share it. I also want the church to learn from it, for churches are meant to be places of Christ-centred worship and mission that are indigenous, reflecting the good things of their cultural environment. Manchester’s burgeoning creative culture is a good challenge to the church to be similarly creative, and not just in a reactive, but proactive way.

Churches have often been centres of creative excellence in the past, which is often when they have been most vibrant. They tried new things and become breeding grounds for creative people and innovative leaders. Interestingly, despite many churches struggling in the UK today, I see more signs of vitality and pioneering cultural leadership now than I did ten years ago. Most days I come across entrepreneurial church leaders who are brimming with fresh thoughts and renewed vision for their communities. Some even have bold and brash ideas that are being turned into reality, like purchasing, at considerable cost, an old army barracks in the centre of Manchester. Once renovated it will be a stunningly creative space for young adults, to serve the city and from which many new churches will be planted in the future. I’m all for it. Let creativity arise!

Creative people

Aviva Studios is an impressive building, designed to be a modern cathedral of contemporary cultural creativity in Manchester. It confidently declares a positive future for the arts, shouting loudly and proudly that Manchester is the cutting-edge city for creativity in the region and, should anyone be unsure, it really is the premier metropolis of the North. But perhaps more importantly I hope its impact will not just be the vast and impressive multi-million pound building, but the greater creative legacy it leaves in people, in those who are shaped by its art.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, who was Chief Rabbi from 1991 to 2013 expressed something of this when he said:

'We are shaped by our environment, but we can also shape our environment as well. We are created, but also creative.’

My prayer is that Aviva Studios and the other new artistic ventures will release more creativity across the city and region, across all ages, social sectors, and ethnic groups. Not only will this lift our sights, but it will stir our souls, and cause us to wonder at the Most Creative One, the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Article

Culture

Digital

Film & TV

Work

24 June 2025

7 min read

What my film about the prodigal son really means

Our relentless focus on productivity devalues the things that make us human

Emily Downe

Emily is designer and animator at the Theos think tank.

In Sync with the Sun.

Theos.

Watch now

In his 2021 book 4,000 weeks: Time Management for Mortals, Oliver Burkeman observes that an obsession with productivity doesn’t give us more control over our lives, ‘instead, life accelerates, and everyone grows more impatient. It’s somehow vastly more aggravating to wait two minutes for the microwave than two hours for the oven - or ten seconds for a slow-loading web page versus three days to receive the same information by post.’

With technologies like artificial intelligence rapidly accelerating our lives, this constant demand to squeeze more into our time is not only limited to the mundane tasks that we have to do and wish we didn’t. It seeps into what we want to do and indeed must do in order to flourish: creating art, spending time in community, and caring for others. The problem is that these things cannot be measured in productivity metrics because they inherently do not function in that way. How do you measure how ‘productive’ a conversation is? Or a work of art? Artists such as Vincent Van Gogh or Emily Dickinson didn’t see their influence in their own lifetime.

The more we measure our lives in productivity metrics, the more we devalue the things that make us human, ultimately making our lives and the world around us increasingly artificial. This is the basis of my recent film, In Sync with the Sun, which is a short animation about the rhythms of activity and rest that are written into our world, and what happens when an obsession with productivity takes over.

I wrote the initial script for the film after a period of burnout. I was fully in the “make the most of every second” mindset, which left me feeling exhausted and confused about where my value resides. In response, I began researching the sleep-cycles of various animals and I was liberated by surprising details such as the fact that lions, which we see as mighty and majestic animals, sleep for around 21 hours a day. Even creatures like jellyfish, which don’t even have brains as far as we know, still have cycles of rest. Every living thing thrives in these rhythms of activity and rest, even down to plants and minuscule organisms. Our whole world is built on this pattern, in sync with the sun. Yet for us humans, our rhythms have been broken by technology, leaving us confused about our limitations and what we should do with our short lives.

The film begins in nature, deep in the jungle where some leopards are sleeping. But the tranquility is abruptly interrupted by the voice-over declaring, “the war against sleep began when artificial broke into the night.” Brilliant white light breaks up the deep blues and purples on screen, until the screen is filled with blinding white. I wanted it to feel like that moment you peer at your phone in the middle of the night - the pain of your pupils trying to adjust. If you think about it, for 99.9 per cent of human history, our eyes would have never had to do that - until now.

Artificial light wasn’t powerful enough to change that. Instead, it’s given us an unquenchable guilt about how we use our time.

With his invention of the light bulb, Thomas Edison was determined to banish the night, and the limitations it enforced on us. Edison was known for being fiercely obsessed with productivity and, as a result, was an anti-sleep warrior who believed,

“There is really no reason why men should go to bed at all.”

As someone living a century on, I find it baffling to imagine that humans should eradicate sleep entirely. Perhaps because just 100 years later we are seeing the results that sleep-loss and over-working can have on our physical health and wellbeing. Maybe we cannot supersede nature after all, since we are an embedded part of it. It seems that “Sabbath" rest is written into our world and into our humanity. Artificial light wasn’t powerful enough to change that. Instead, it’s given us an unquenchable guilt about how we use our time. Now we decide when the day ends, so whoever can rest the least wins.

The battle is still raging; incandescent bulbs only set aflame that root desire to be increasingly productive. The hamster wheel is spinning uncontrollably, and we must keep up. So, what do we do? The attempt to remove the limitations outside of us has revealed that they are in fact inside of us too. Therefore, the only way to keep up is to remove the human from the hamster wheel altogether. The failure of artificial light leads to the birth of artificial minds.

As a creative, this is what frustrates me most about artificial intelligence; that it is mostly being driven by this quest to bring everything under the reign of productivity. It goes without saying that this is greatly needed in some areas of society. Just like artificial light, it can and will do a lot of good in the world. However, when the obsession with productivity is prioritised over human flourishing, that’s when we know there is a big problem with how we view our lives.

Thinking back to the examples of Van Gogh and Emily Dickinson; what is lost when we don’t allow space for artists, carers, mothers, or any skilled role that requires an element of patience? For me personally, I can’t force creative inspiration, instead it comes at me, often at times when I’m not looking for it. Similarly, sometimes that inspiration leads directly to an instant idea, but most often it’s a vague idea I jot down to which later life experiences and opportunities then build onto, forming it into something bigger and more in-depth. This could be compared to a role or situation that requires relationship building. Sometimes there are moments of instant bonding and “productive” progress in relationships, but it’s often more complex where external experiences or changes, which are outside of our control, may unexpectedly deepen understanding between people after long periods of frustration.

In my animation, I used the metaphor of a butterfly to illustrate this sentiment. After the character realises he is not made for a life of relentless productivity, he steps out of the black and white skyscraper into the lush wilderness. A butterfly lands on his productivity badge and the voice over says, “You’re not a machine.” I imagine the Creator saying this to the loved creation. Creatures like butterflies seem completely unproductive to our human standards. They take weeks to form in the chrysalis and exist in the world for less time than that. Yet they are a source of wonder and beauty for anyone who has the privilege of seeing one up close. A reminder that nature is not in a rush. Where AI is concerned, however, speed and profit are the focus of desire. But looking at the world around us - that we are a part of - it’s clear that not everything can or should be valued by these limiting metrics alone.

The overarching narrative of In Sync with the Sun is loosely inspired by the biblical story of the prodigal son. The main character has travelled far away from his home in pursuit of success, and he eventually realises that this master does not love him. At the end he comes home again, finding connection in community and in the good rhythm of productivity and rest that he came from. I wanted the film to address the issues that an unhealthy obsession with productivity can cause, and instead evoke a desire to accept and live more in sync with the boundaries and rhythms that are embedded in the natural world we are a part of.

The film ends with the line, “The only thing that can stay awake is not awake at all.” In the midst of the changing world of AI, humans might be tempted to measure our productivity levels in comparison to these machines. However, technologies always raise the productivity bar higher and higher, and one day we need to accept that we simply aren’t going to be able to reach it. We don’t sit apart from nature like technology does, so let’s stop resenting that, and instead celebrate it. To quote Oliver Burkeman again,

“the more you confront the facts of finitude instead - and work with them, rather than against them - the more productive, meaningful and joyful life becomes.”

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