British artist Ben Edge stands in his London studio alongside an extraordinary sculpture that challenges conventional notions of self-portraiture and national identity. A toy poodle named Lunar bounces excitedly around a life-sized fiberglass horse being ridden by a mannequin adorned with artificial flowers and a shirt featuring green men, Uffington White Horse references, and oak leaves - identical to the one worn by Edge himself.
The sculpture, titled "Where Must We Go in Search of Our Better Selves," serves as a highlight of Edge's upcoming exhibition at London's Fitzrovia Chapel. Drawing inspiration from magnificent Renaissance equestrian monuments, the piece honors the Garland King, a figure from British folklore who rides through the Derbyshire village of Castleton each May. "The Garland King has become a symbol for me," Edge explains. "I see it as representing a process of finding your own nature, of going inward."
Edge's journey into mystical folk art began with an unexpected encounter a decade ago. Emerging from London's Tower Hill station during the spring equinox, he witnessed a group of druids in white cloaks walking past familiar urban landmarks - a red phone box, a KFC, and a Wetherspoons pub. "They assembled in a circle, and started talking about this idea of reconnecting to nature, and that London will one day be reclaimed by nature. They were putting seeds on the ground. It was a real awakening for me," he recalls.
Since that transformative moment, Edge has emerged as a leading figure in Britain's folk renaissance, an artistic movement steeped in storytelling, crafts, and beliefs that bind communities to nature. From wassailing ceremonies in January to morris dancing at the spring equinox, his discovery and documentation of these time-honored practices rescued him from chronic depression while providing inspiration for works that blend poetic mysticism with social realism.
In an era marked by far-right politics and what appears to be a national identity crisis, Edge's folkloric exploration inevitably intersects with broader cultural debates about Britain's past and future. However, he challenges the notion that folk culture is disappearing. "There's a myth that our folk culture is in trouble," he states. "In fact, it's thriving. What has changed is that now people are talking about it."
The centerpiece of Edge's exhibition, "Children of Albion," represents an epic quasi-altarpiece that explores Britain's rich historical tapestry in extraordinary detail. Fusing the grotesque topsy-turviness of Hieronymus Bosch's "The Garden of Earthly Delights" with Terry Gilliam's surreal humor, this monumental work culminates a body of art that began after the twin crises of Brexit and the pandemic.
"In this post-Brexit era, we're all grappling with who we are as a country," Edge observes. "I had to paint Children of Albion because I needed to puzzle it all out." The resulting visual survey encompasses the people and events that have shaped the British Isles, incorporating refugees in boats, Stonehenge, Viking raids, and the miners' strike alongside morris dancers and references to the slave trade.
Central to this complex composition is Albion, the ancient word for pre-Roman Britain that has been more recently associated with white supremacy than with the universal vision of humanity proposed by Romantic poet and artist William Blake. Edge, drawing inspiration from Blake's mythology, represents Albion as a benevolent figure presiding over the vast oil painting like a rising sun. "In Blake's personal mythology, Albion was a sleeping giant," Edge explains. "The painting shows the moment of his awakening: The idea is that this happens by truly accepting who we are as a nation and finding a way to move forward."
Edge argues that folk traditions worldwide are rooted in universal human concerns - birth and death, changing seasons - making them uniquely positioned to address contemporary challenges. He believes reconnecting with ancient customs offers a radical strategy for confronting modern crises, including climate change and social fragmentation. "When I was really clinically depressed, I had no connection to nature," he reflects. "I'd been living in the city for 10 years and my only connection to the environment was putting my recycling in the right bin."
The COVID-19 lockdowns proved transformative for both Edge and broader British society. "Covid brought a fundamental shift in people's mindsets about Britain and the climate crisis - even Black Lives Matter came out of it," he notes. "It was obviously a huge tragedy, but people had time to think. They started falling in love with their immediate landscapes and feeling a sense of pride. It was probably a bit confusing at first, because post-Brexit a lot of left-leaning people felt almost done with the country."
Edge's artistic practice reflects both critique and celebration of humanity's relationship with nature. The plastic flowers in "Where Must We Go in Search of Our Better Selves" allude to our distorted connection to the natural world while simultaneously honoring the people who annually bring folk traditions to life, improvising costumes and props with whatever materials are available.
Operating with fierce independence, Edge has built his own artistic ecosystem rather than relying on traditional gallery support. "There isn't a gallery that's going to come along and save you - you need to build your own art world," he declares. "The minute I had that realization, everything started going pretty well for me." Ben Edge: Children of Albion runs at the Fitzrovia Chapel in London from November 6-26.
