In July 2025, a group of 8 international curators visited Liverpool for the Liverpool Biennial x British Council Curators’ Week. Here, 3 of them share how the Biennials Connect programme has helped to shape their own practice and the learnings they will take forward from it.
An in-conversation with Liverpool Biennial Head of Programme and Partnerships Miranda Stearn, and Lilian Munuo
Here, in conversation with Liverpool Biennial Head of Programme and Partnerships Miranda Stearn, Lilian Munuo shares her thoughts on the experience, and what it means for her current work in Tanzania.
What made you want to participate in the Biennials Connect programme? What were your hopes and expectations?
My interest in the Biennials Connect programme came from my ongoing commitment to working at the intersection of artistic practice, curatorial thinking, and disability justice. As an artist, curator, and disability inclusion practitioner, my work is rooted in lived experience and long-term engagement with questions of access, authorship, and whose knowledge is valued within cultural spaces. Growing up with a mobility disability shaped how I understand institutions, not only in terms of physical design, but also in how narratives, power, and legitimacy are constructed.
The 2025 Liverpool Biennial theme, BEDROCK, resonated deeply with my practice. The concept of BEDROCK focused on foundational layers of migration, labour, faith, resistance, colonial histories, and social infrastructures, and how these underlying forces continue to shape the present. Instead of treating history as something fixed or distant, BEDROCK invited reflection on what lies beneath contemporary cultural life and whose labour, bodies, and belief systems have historically been rendered invisible. This approach aligned strongly with my own work, which I have returned to origins, by looking at how colonial and religious frameworks have shaped understandings of disability, healing, and worth.
I also applied to the Biennials Connect programme hoping to learn how large-scale international exhibitions can meaningfully engage with local contexts while remaining accountable to global inequalities. I was particularly interested in how biennials can embed accessibility not as an afterthought, but as a foundational curatorial principle. I also hoped to strengthen my curatorial language, expand my international network, and encounter models that could inform my work in Tanzania, where conversations around disability are often dominated by charity or medical narratives rather than cultural participation and agency.
What stood out for you in terms of the experience? What were the highlights? Any challenges?
One of the most significant aspects of the experience was how the Biennials Connect programme approached access as part of its foundation rather than as a reactive concern. This was evident well before my travel, through early and thoughtful engagement with an accessibility consultant. These conversations were not assessments of limitation, but collaborative planning, allowing me to communicate my access needs clearly. The access rider functioned as both a practical and ethical tool, shaping decisions in advance and reinforcing access as a shared responsibility. As a result, my experience of the programme was uninterrupted, grounded, and fully participatory, an experience that felt quietly transformative precisely because it removed the need for constant negotiation.
This approach to access mirrored the wider ethos of the 2025 Liverpool Biennial and its theme, BEDROCK. Just like the Biennial invited audiences to consider the foundational structures that shape social life, the programme demonstrated what it means to build access into the foundations of cultural practice. I didn’t experience accessibility as a visible “intervention,” but as an underlying condition that allowed relationships, conversations, and ideas to unfold naturally. This enabled me to engage with the programme on equal footing, my focus being on artistic exchange instead of logistics.
Within this context, the work of Amy Claire Mills resonated strongly with me, particularly her engagement with the concept of “third spaces.” Her work explored informal, in-between spaces that exist outside of home and institutional frameworks, spaces where disabled people can gather, rest, and create without the pressures of productivity or normative performance. Encountering this work while participating in the programme, which already created such a space in practice, gave the concept tangible meaning. The Biennials Connect experience itself began to feel like a third space: structured yet flexible, intentional yet responsive, offering room for presence rather than performance.
What became clear through this alignment was that accessibility is not only about physical entry or accommodation, but about creating environments where people can show up fully. Third spaces, as Mills articulates them, are not supplementary to cultural life; they are essential to it. Seeing this idea reflected both conceptually in the exhibition and operationally in the programme reinforced my understanding of access as a curatorial strategy, one that shapes how knowledge is shared, how relationships form, and whose ways of being are considered valid.
Instead of presenting challenges, this experience offered a model. It demonstrated how accessibility, when rooted in the outset, can transform not only individual participation but the overall quality of exchange. This integration of care, planning, and conceptual clarity remains one of the most impactful elements of the programme for me.
What did you take away from the experience? How do these insights relate to your practice as a curator and/or artist, and to the context you are working in?
One of the key insights I took away from the Biennials Connect programme is that accessibility functions most powerfully when treated as a curatorial methodology rather than a technical requirement. This experience showed me that access is not only about removing barriers, but about shaping conditions for participation, trust, and sustained engagement.
This insight aligns closely with my own practice as both an artist and curator. Through my initiative ‘Beyond the Label’, I work to create platforms where disabled people are not positioned as subjects of representation, but as authors, collaborators, and knowledge-holders. The programme affirmed my belief that disabled bodies carry critical insights into how societies are structured, and that these insights are essential to reimagining cultural institutions.
The concept of BEDROCK also shaped my commitment to working with foundational questions. In my practice, I currently engage with faith, healing, colonial memory, and disability as interconnected systems. These are not abstract themes, but lived realities that continue to shape how disabled people are perceived and treated, particularly in my country context. The Biennial reinforced the importance of addressing these underlying structures rather than focusing solely on surface-level inclusion.
In Tanzania, disability is still frequently framed through charity, medical intervention, or spiritual healing. Cultural spaces that allow disabled people to exist as artists and thinkers remain limited. The insights gained from the programme, particularly around third spaces and relational practices, encourage me to continue building alternative cultural environments that prioritise agency, rest, and self-definition.
What is next for you? What are you working on, and how has this experience influenced your plans?
I am currently developing several interconnected projects that continue to engage with foundational, or bedrock, questions around access, belief, and belonging. One of my main focuses is growing ‘Beyond the Label’ into a sustainable initiative and a creative hub in Tanzania. The aim is to create an accessible space for art-making, film, research, and community engagement, with disabled people at the centre of decision-making and authorship.
Alongside this, I am undertaking a residency in Leipzig focused on artistic research within the Moravian archives. My research examines historical disability models, the role of the church in Tanzania, and its influence on charity-based approaches to disability, while asking how communities might transition toward the social model of disability. I am also in residence with DaDa in Liverpool through the Rushton Residency, where I am working with contemporary voices of disabled people, focusing on lived experience in the present and the social model of disability.
The opportunity to engage closely with fellow curators in the Biennials Connect delegation has been impactful. Exchanging perspectives with practitioners working across different geographies, disciplines, and institutional contexts sharpened my understanding of socially engaged practice as both a local and transnational field. These conversations, often informal, reflective, and grounded in lived experience, reinforced the value of critical frameworks, shared language, and sustained peer learning in shaping ethical and effective curatorial work.
As a result of this exchange, and of the programme as a whole, I feel motivated to pursue a Master’s degree focused on socially engaged practices. The Biennials Connect experience clarified my desire to deepen the theoretical grounding of my work while remaining firmly rooted in practice. It affirmed that my lived experience, community-based projects, and ongoing research are not separate from academic inquiry but form a strong foundation for it. Pursuing further study feels like a natural next step in strengthening my ability to contribute to socially engaged, access-led curatorial practice across different contexts.
The Biennials Connect experience also reinforced the importance of planning, collaboration, and care across all my projects. Experiencing accessibility has strengthened my resolve to advocate for similar standards in the initiatives I lead, particularly in contexts where access is still perceived as optional or unattainable.
Being part of the delegation affirmed my desire to continue building bridges between Global South practices and international cultural platforms, while remaining grounded in local realities. Ultimately, the experience encouraged my belief that meaningful cultural work begins at the foundations, by designing spaces, processes, and futures that anticipate difference rather than reacting to it.
Image Gallery from Lilian Munuo
Looking Back To Look Forward, by Joel Lukhovi
My interest in the Liverpool Biennial and British Council Biennials Connect programme stemmed from considering how the visual arts are perceived from a curatorial perspective. I did not have a preconceived notion of what I wanted to achieve. Instead, I was curious about the experience. The title ‘’BEDROCK’ stood out in many ways.
The experience was about walking through the exhibitions and understanding how the audience circles through the body of work. How conversations form and where meaning actually begins across all the venues we visited.
From afar, the Biennial felt grand and kind of intimidating. But the Biennials Connect program softened the language. It offered ways in that felt relaxed, simply by listening to the curator, Marie-Anne McQuay. Marie-Anne used the term “Bedrock” to make meaning of Liverpool’s foundation narratives and its resonance today. A city that has produced more history through its fortunes with capitalism, grounded on the sandstone rock formed over thousands of years.
The Biennial became a series of encounters through the “unknown” exhibition routes. I became aware of the grand yellow and red sandstone buildings and paths that have defined the city, as it appeared almost everywhere. Important moments happened around the hanging artworks and outdoor installations, viewing and experiencing the use of material and process. Walks in between galleries and some venues happened in hashed tones or just total silence. The messsage was heavy and almost unbearable as it highlighted civic values masked by the empire in its quest to expand territory through a global economic system shadowed by enslavement and colonisation. Bedrock as a theme kept appearing.
I realise now that what I was hoping for, was a way to place my own practice into a wider conversation without feeling the need to translate or defend it. Curators Connect offered this gently. It was about proximity and being close enough to witness how ideas are shaped and how care and responsibility show up at this stage. During the visit, I understood how complexity is held rather than simplified.
What continues to stay with me most is the story of care, of what we value, and how we question the practice of care while grounded to the basic foundation of family. It did feel as if I was living through it with others in the quest of discovery and curiosity. That has lingered. It has shaped my thinking about collaboration, how we hold space for people and about the kind of exchanges that determine the trust we have in others despite enduring fractured times. This framed my desire through so many of the works showcased at the Biennial.
A highlight that truly sparked my imagination was the visit to Liverpool Cathedral. It was overwhelming. Maria Loizidon’s hanging tapestry of hand-embroided migratory birds found in Merseyside is a work informed by nature and free migration. It took me back to the early 2000’s where we watched large flocks of birds swirling together in waves and patterns. Maria’s work got me thinking of how the body encounters space. How material, light and silence work in harmony. It made me reflect on what it means to make public art for a place of sanctuary. A place that already carries so much history, a sandstone monument that reveals the bedrock of the city. A place in which women’s contributions have played a major part. I was struck by how the artwork hung quietly yet powerfully despite migration and trauma of the mid 20th century.
On the other hand, there is an oddity in the middle of Cairns Street called the Granby Winter Garden that felt different, but just as impactful. It is a community hidden gem that provides not only a picturesque garden, but an area for workshops, film showings, meetings, drop-in sessions and accommodation for artists in residence. It’s essentially a living room for neighbours to collaborate and care for each other. It encompasses ways artistic practice can grow alongside people’s everyday lives. It reminded me that creative practices do not always need an institution to be meaningful. Sometimes it’s just about trust, time and showing up consistently.
A visit to the Salts Mill, and especially Ann Hamilton’s We Will Sing, stays with me on a sensory level. The body of work felt immersive, with a ghost-like echoing presence. I must say, I was struck by how it demanded attention yet required so much patience. Sound and repetition created a collective rhythm that reflected the past labour and community spirit of the textile factory workers. It made me think about how audiences navigate through work, how long they stay and how participation can be subtle rather than directive.
The connection between these moments is how different imagination is activated through scale, resilience, repetition and innovation. Together, they expanded my understanding of what community is and where it can thrive.
Moving between sites, ideas and conversations became intense. At times, I had to sit with a sense of disorientation while questioning how these models translate into my own context. There is the quiet challenge of navigating visual language, its pace and power within international spaces, especially when your reference points come from elsewhere. Much of the challenges encountered were productive as we got to assemble later. It allowed us to slow down, be selective on what to absorb and think thoroughly on how to adapt.
At Bluecoat, I was struck by emphasis placed on process. How exhibitions felt less like finished statements and more like conversations that kept unfolding. Artist Odur Ronald presented a collection of hand-stitched aluminium passports to highlight aspects of migration of Africans to Europe while addressing complexities of power, movement and access. That resonated well, as my practice in Kenya often brings me in contact with conditions that are fluid, improvised and responsive. Nearby, work by Amber Akaumu located us once more to the city, reffering to themes of race and identity through her ancestral history and perspective.
At 20 Jordan Street, I was drawn to the scale of work with a series of stadium sculptures inspired by the city’s two main football clubs. It referenced wider aspects of division and belonging at a local and global stage as millions of people connect with the teams through screens. It’s how audiences encounter stadiums without spectacle yet full of awareness.
These insights connect directly to our programming with Nairobi Beyond. This photography project intends to be unconventional, existing across various spaces, formats and rhythms. At times, I find myself negotiating between structure and openness.
At The Black-E artist Elizabeth Price drew aspects of Catholic architecture. The work reflected on how architectural history traces trauma and meaning during the migr tion period into the city. It gives language to structural material. At Open Eye Gallery, Widline Cadet’s work amongst others spoke of identity. It highlighted a sense of myths, lost tradition and memories housed in photographs. There was a quiet intensity in the formation of the work. Working with photography in a context where the medium often is expected to be descriptive or documentary, this encounter brought out photography’s emotional and poetic capacities.
I believe energy drawn through the visits was about cultural alignment. They shaped aspects of my practice that already existed and encouraged me to expand my view. As the appointed curator of Nairobi Beyond, it has sharpened my sense of responsibility. That of creating spaces that are attentive to artists, to audiences and to context, without forcing everything into a single narrative.
In a very humbled way, this experience has definitely improved my work by offering a deep perspective. It has made me more patient, precise and trusting of the kind of spaces and conversations I am building in Kenya and beyond. I am now committed to building a robust community.
This rare opportunity now enhances my practice towards a powerful journey fused with wisdom. One of deep reflections and a refined future, where photography and a broader curatorial thinking is awakened in East Africa. That sensibility will continue to inform how I frame exhibitions and how I work with fellow artists going forward.
Navigating outdoor exhibitions exposed pasts of Liverpool that were unknown and its role as a city of empire built by the violence of slavery which underpins its foundation. As a cultural worker, I am aware of the role of history in representation. It is why outdoor and site responsive exhibitions are interactive and powerful practical tools for imaginative rediscovery.
In expanding my practice, I have come to appreciate depth and scale as rituals of rediscovery. Exploration means developing long-term connections with artists, experimenting with mediums while building platforms that support research, process and dialogue. Nairobi Beyond is becoming a platform for this kind of thinking. A space where photography can be tested and explored in various formats.
Looking ahead, the Liverpool Biennial 2025 experience allowed us to see what lies beneath the surface of the city in a variety of ways through select mediums. It affirmed my interest in connecting fragments of our past, the present and future. I am envisioning creative art as a commitment to the community, where abundant expression is embraced.
Image Gallery from Joel Lukhovi
What Becomes Possible When Doors Are Open -Reflections on Access, Inclusion, Community at Liverpool Biennial 2025 by Kakizi Jemima
Access begins with openness–open doors, open calls, openness to learning, and openness to new perspectives. For me, these ideas are not abstract. They are connected to my practice and to my presence within art spaces. They shape how I work, who I work with, and why I continue to show up.
I will explain why.
My name is Kakizi Jemima, and I am an artist and curator from Rwanda. When I began my journey, I was focused solely on creating, working with paint on canvas, later moving into visual facilitation, and then incorporating recyclable materials into my practice. Over time, I found myself drawn to learning through art projects, working with communities of different ages. Despite experimenting with various mediums and approaches, sustaining a career through my practice remained difficult.
At the same time, the creative industry was growing in Rwanda, yet very few women were visible within it. This absence led me to begin asking questions: Where are the women artists? Why are their works not more present? These questions marked the beginning of my journey as an advocate for contemporary women artists, which later naturally expanded into curatorial work.
‘Walk with me’ group exhibition curated by Kakizi Jemima, Rustiro-Rwanda, 2023. Photo by Dushric.
My trip to Liverpool Biennial, 2025:
I arrived in England through Manchester Airport, where I met Dian Arumningtyas from Indonesia, who was also on her way to the festival and participating at the Curators’ Week. We immediately began chatting, sharing our excitement as we took a one-hour train ride to Liverpool. One of the first things I noticed was the cold, I had expected sunshine. ‘It’s summer here, right?’ I remember thinking.
What stayed with me most, however, was the warmth of the welcome. Adam from the Biennial team greeted us with openness and care and that initial gesture shaped how I experienced the festival from the very beginning.
I visited Liverpool Biennial as part of the Curators’ Week organised by British Council & Liverpool Biennial, which ran from 22 – 29 July 2025. My role was not only to observe but to engage, reflect, and learn alongside other curators and practitioners. I was also given a platform to engage and I chose to present a Rwandan art form called ‘Imigongo’, that is historically known to have been created by Women, characterized by the use of cow dung and geometric patterns.
Accessibility at the festival was not something I encountered as a concept, but as a lived reality. The exhibitions were free and open to everyone, and many spaces were physically accessible, including for people with disabilities. This openness raised important questions for me: Who feels welcome in these spaces? Who can enter easily? What considerations guide my thinking when I design an exhibition? I became more aware of the tension between intention and reality, how inclusion can be thoughtfully planned, yet still overlook certain lived experiences.
As a curator and advocate for women artists, accessibility is central to my work. It shapes how I design community-based projects, how I think about mental health, and how I strive to create safe and inclusive spaces. The festival affirmed my thinking by bringing together artists from different geographical, cultural, and material backgrounds. The diversity of mediums and perspectives demonstrated how access can expand narratives and ways of seeing.
The festival’s community revealed itself through experience, I connected with curators from different countries and I felt that I had found “my people.” These exchanges expanded my curatorial imagination, even opening up the possibility of exploring curatorial practice in Asia, something I had never previously considered simply because I had not known practitioners from that region.
I also had spontaneous conversations with strangers in exhibition spaces, conversations that sometimes flowed easily, sometimes settled into shared silences, moments of care, or even discomfort. What emerged was a community of people with different perspectives, temporarily gathered yet deeply connected.
This sense of community felt different..lasting. In an age of technology where we often assume we are connected while remaining disconnected, the festival reminded me of the importance of being present, of slowing down and of witnessing together.
Some of the artworks stayed with me, for example the installation by Odur Ronald , who explored ideas of free movement, migration, access, belonging, and identity through aluminium. The work highlighted how global mobility and personal autonomy are shaped and restricted by systems such as visa regimes. Many artists are denied opportunities simply because their visas are denied.
Muly’Ato Limu (All in one Boat) Installation by Odur Ronald.
Seeing this work in Liverpool felt powerful. It opened an important and educational conversation, especially for audiences who do not experience visa restrictions and may not understand how movement is unequally distributed. For many Europeans or Americans, entering African countries often requires little more than a visa on arrival, while the opposite is rarely true. The work stayed with me because it reflected what I believe art can do best: educate, challenge perspectives and make visible what is often ignored.
Another artwork that caught my attention was by Sheila Hicks, whose practice explores collective experiences of space and memory. Using garments that belonged to her family and friends, she transformed everyday materials into compelling works of art. The intimacy of the materials and the care embedded in the process spoke strongly to ideas of belonging and shared histories.
Grand boules, Installation by Sheila Hicks.
Inclusion is not perfection. The festival succeeded in grounding itself in community, you could feel this in the themes artists explored and in the care taken to bring the works together. At the same time, inclusion requires constant reflection.
True inclusion is not only about being visible, but about having agency, authorship, and access to resources. Many artists face constraints when engaging with large platforms such as this, financial limitations, visa restrictions, and structural barriers that shape who is able to participate. Odur’s installation addressing these challenges prompted me to ask whether such realities will be considered more intentionally in future editions.
What did it mean for me to be part of the Liverpool Biennial x British Council Biennials Connect Curator’s Week?
This experience will shape my future work. I was particularly inspired by the way artworks were placed across different locations throughout the city, reconnecting art with urban space and inviting audiences to explore the city differently. It reinforced my belief in art’s ability to activate spaces and communities beyond traditional venues. Before the festival, I considered myself attentive to inclusivity and accessibility. However, I became aware of details I had previously overlooked, for example, whether someone using a wheelchair can truly access an exhibition space independently. This awareness is now something I consciously carry forward, adding it to my curatorial checklist not as an obligation, but as a commitment.
Rather than offering final answers, this experience strengthened my commitment to the work I do. I arrived at the festival because one door was open. After many refusals, an open call for curators brought me into a space where connections were formed and possibilities felt endless. It reminded me that when doors are opened to artists, to practitioners, and to cities – access becomes an act of care and transformation.