Walking into an exhibition that is fit to burst with artworks by as many artists usually fills me with dread. The Royal Academy Summer Exhibition effect: so many different ideas and visual languages that they all dissolve, disappear, and get buried amongst each other. Initially, when I walked into Drawing Room, I habitually felt the same way. There's too much going on; how can I possibly have an enjoyable and meaningful experience here? My brain went hastily to feeling overwhelmed, before I'd had the chance to see a single work. But I needed to take a breath and take a pause, as ultimately, it is hard to overstate the quality and range of fascinating drawing work that enlivens the walls for the 2026 edition of the Drawing Biennial.
Not only was I seriously impressed by the exhibition, I was re-energised about my love for contemporary art and revised my own presuppositions of what can make an exhibition great. The sheer range of talent made me query the role of the curator; all pieces were showcased in alphabetical order by the artists' surnames, and while there was a huge amount of storytelling at play in individual works, there was no feeling of an overarching agenda (aside from the fundraising, which I will address later). Messaging is really important in exhibitions, but what happens when a curator, or selection panel, allows the work to speak for itself? Exhibiting hundreds of artists in alphabetical order removes the responsibility from the curator and onto both artist and viewer. In a world where we are cognisant that ideology and politics are embedded into everything, this may feel somewhat naive, but I found myself falling in love with the Drawing Biennial, and this was down to the stories that were to be found in the drawings, as well as the versatility that the medium can offer.
Kristian Evju, Mirrors, 2025. Pencil on paper, 29.7cm x 21cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
One such work was from Norwegian artist Kristian Evju. Boasting the aesthetics of an old, beloved family photo album, the artist's realism in pencil transcends beyond being simply compelling, and feels poignant and precious. The delicate nature of both the artistic technique and the subject matter is palpable, and there is a quietness to the piece that allows a moment of respite in a very busy exhibition. Despite its volume, the exhibition itself does not feel overwhelming while holding the three hundred entries. How this is possible is something of a mystery, but as already established, the diversity within the medium of drawing is pushed to its limits, allowing a vast range of techniques, ideas, motivations, and voices to be given space. Of course, the viewer isn't going to fully engage with every single piece on display, but there is genuinely something to satisfy every taste and inclination.
Laura Footes, Too Lucid to be Real, 2025. Ink on paper, 29.6cm x 21cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
A work that satisfied by personal tastes was
Too Lucid to be Real, a dramatic, detailed, moderately terrifying piece by Laura Footes. I had just been to see the blockbuster Tracey Emin show at Tate Modern prior to arriving at Drawing Room, so perhaps that connection was easier than usual, but flavours of both Emin and Francis Bacon in the work are powerful, as well as the devastatingly personal violence that comes through the page; whether that is mental anguish or mental ill health, something in between, or both is up for interpretation. This is exactly the kind of art I wanted to see in the Drawing Biennial.
Joy Gerrard, 'ICE OUT' Minnesota day of Strike and Shutdown. January 23rd, 2026, 2026. Japanese ink on paper, 21.1cm x 29.9cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
While the exhibition is not overtly political, as already discussed, it would be disingenuous, and quite frankly suspicious, for no political artworks to be included in a show of over three hundred artists. Irish artist Joy Gerrard's contribution to this is a work that is startling in its detail and its ability to document recent social history. Titled directly with the name of the protest in Minnesota against ICE raids and detentions, the fact that Gerrard is not from, or based in, the USA emphasises the global impact of not only the violence of state actors, but the necessity of mobilising with comrades and communities to support people who find themselves voiceless and powerless in particular scenarios. Presenting this through drawing is a stunning and essential addition to the show.
David Haines, Blisters (Mum's Poem), 2025. Graphite and Nero pencil on paper, 27.9cm x 21cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
David Haines' work depicting blister packs of pills made me gasp aloud. Similarly to Kristian Evju's piece, the artist's photorealism is viscerally shocking. In a world that is pivoting rapidly towards artificial intelligence, the social (and possibly financial) value of works like that produced by Haines will surely increase. Blisters (Mum's Poem) is a dedication to the material things we leave behind, in both a quotidian sense and as we depart the Earth. As the artist describes the "dialogue of marks between what once was and what remains", there is a sense of grief permeating not only the finished artwork itself, but the mental process that allowed it to become the beautiful and deeply personal work that it is.
Christina Kimeze, Reflection, 2023. Gouache on paper, 19.6cm x 28.3cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
Christina Kimeze's unique palette enticed me first and foremost. It is difficult to stand out in such a vast show, but for me, Reflection did exactly that. Depicting a mirror image of seemingly a party scene, there is a warm familiarity to the subject matter that unfolds within the paper's limited dimensions. Kimeze's style of painting has a fluid and non-static sensation, as if we're all together at a house party, a few drinks deep, and the music is bringing people together. The power of an artwork to transport us all to a particular place, either to one that exists in our memories or one that we are dreaming up and envisioning on the spot, is a powerful marriage of talent and escapism.
In the interest of brevity, below are some of the other works that caught my eye, although it must be said that the selection panel have done a fantastic job with this project. Everything has its place, from artworks that grab the viewer by the scruff of the neck and demand their attention to political, social, or ecological issues, to simpler works in an artist's distinctive visual language (such as Rana Begum, Florence Peake, and Jai Chuhan). Not everyone in the show is a well-known artist, and the range is incredibly satisfying. Drawing Biennial will conclude with an auction, with bids opening on 9 June and closing 23 June 2026. It will be interesting to follow that too. Drawing Room is a majority self-funded organisation, with additional funding from Arts Council England, and community is an integral part of its offering. It is a space full of resources for researchers and the public alike, and has a strong reputation for producing high-quality exhibitions. This prevailing sense of community has continued in the Drawing Biennial, which despite being full of professional artists, conveys a diversity of ideas that sets it apart from more contrived efforts of curating exhibitions attempting to address topical themes.
Jai Chuhan, Intoxicated Woman, 2026. Gouache on paper, 29.6cm x 21cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
Bobby Baker, Me with a Stiff Neck, 2025. Watercolour, ink, and watercolour pencils on paper, 29.6cm x 21cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
Jagdeep Raina, The rooftops of Southall Broadway don't look like this anymore, 2016. Mixed media on paper, 48cm x 63.3cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
Precious Opara, Becoming, 2025. Watercolour on paper, 29.7cm x 21cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
Matt Saunders, German Muses (for Drawing Room), 2026. Unique photogram with ink, 22cm x 27.1cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
Nicolas Feldmeyer, Zurich, 2025. Graphite on paper, 29.7cm x 21cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
Anne Carney Raines, Kayfabe, 2026. Coloured pencil on paper, 21cm x 29.7cm. Image courtesy of Drawing Room. Copyright the artist.
All images can be viewed online
here, with bids placed from 9 June, but I would encourage you to view them in person at Drawing Room if possible.
Drawing Biennial, a group exhibition. 16 April - 23 June 2026. Drawing Room, London. drawingroom.org.uk
