Nnena Kalu's 2025 Turner Prize win is a groundbreaking moment, not only for her as an artist but also for the art world at large. This achievement marks a pivotal moment in the history of the prestigious prize, as Kalu is the first learning-disabled artist, the first artist with limited verbal communication, and the first artist whose practice is facilitated through a specialized studio to win. Her win is both extraordinary and overdue, highlighting the need for inclusivity in British art and the visibility of learning-disabled artists.
Kalu's artistic practice is defined by repetition, rhythm, and layering. She creates sculptural forms by tightly wrapping materials into pulsing, tactile structures, and her drawings accumulate depth through swirling, vortex-like motions. Her work has gained recognition over the years, with acquisitions by Tate and the Arts Council Collection, and representation from gallerist Arcadia Missa. She has also presented her work to wide acclaim at Manifesta 15 in Barcelona and the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool.
I first met Kalu in 2018 when I curated her work in a group exhibition in North London. I was immediately inspired by her work and her long-time ActionSpace facilitator, Charlotte Hollinshead, who helped Kalu develop her individual arts practice and deliver an extensive range of commissions, projects, events, and exhibitions. I was particularly struck by Kalu's interest in responding to existing architecture, and we set aside a structural pillar in the gallery for her to wrap with tape, film, and string.
As I spent more time with Kalu, I began to question how curators should address her position as a learning-disabled artist. This question became the center of my PhD research at Kingston University, where I now work closely with Kalu and ActionSpace to explore new, more expansive forms of curatorial and interpretive practice. Kalu's nomination for the Turner Prize unexpectedly became a critical case study for my research, offering a rare and highly visible window into how institutions handle practices that do not fit standard models of authorship or communication.
The Tate's Body in Rhythm, Line in Motion film, which accompanies each Turner nominee, provided some of the most promising work. It clearly and transparently acknowledged the supportive ecosystem around Kalu, with named contributors speaking from their specific positions and describing what they observe in her process rather than speculating about intention. However, some media responses revealed how much work remains, with some commentators misunderstanding the context and others framing Kalu's disability as a reason to lower artistic expectations.
Kalu's win is an extraordinary milestone, but it is not an endpoint. The structures surrounding learning-disabled artists remain precarious, and supported studios like ActionSpace are essential cultural infrastructures that operate with limited resources. Curators and institutions are still learning how to communicate about practices that do not fit familiar narratives of artistic intention or authorship. The Turner Prize has cracked something open, making visible what many of us working in this field have long argued: that excellence emerges in many forms, that facilitation can be a creative engine rather than an obstacle, and that disabled artists are central, not peripheral, to contemporary art.
The future of this moment will depend on how we talk about Kalu's win, how institutions respond, and which structures are resourced. It is a pivotal moment that could become symbolic or genuinely transformative, and it is up to us to ensure that it is the latter.
