Disappointment, shock and annoyance are often associated with the conduct of parliamentarians, particularly given the gravity and consequences of current proceedings. In my case, however, these emotions are channelled to towards the internal laws of parliament which prevent the act of drawings to be taken during proceedings. As a third year Fine Art student, my art practice is currently critically examining the role of politicians. I first obtained a ticket from my local MP and subsequently travelled from Lancaster to London in January with the intent of making drawings and sketches of parliament and its politicians in the House of Commons, intending to research politics at the heart of our democracy. Upon my arrival to the viewing gallery to the Commons, I was unexpectedly told that making drawings or sketches was not allowed; this was even a surprise to many of the staff I encountered, whom I must say were incredibly supportive and kind. After being escorted out and returned to the office, to attempt to gain permission and answers, I was only permitted to take notes as I watched the proceedings. Resigned and intending to write my notes as figurative drawings, I returned to the House of Commons

I was told that the reason for the ban on drawing and sketching in the Commons was based on a lack of permission to make visual representation of the politicians as they were professionals in their place of work. Looking over the small group of politicians gathered on the Thursday morning I was deeply disappointed, most were bent over their phones ignoring any discussion in front of them, one nodding off at the back and one ‘honourable gentleman’ had both feet up on the green bench, papers folded in one had whilst the other was used to pick his nose. Indeed, I could understand exactly why permission was withheld.

Although frustrating, I was intrigued by the prohibition of drawing; why did it matter when the proceedings were often recorded and made public? It felt as though we were encouraged all aboard the sinking ship but revoked the right to draw the resulting waves and it suggests that the artistic method of documenting through drawing is a threat to the carefully managed corporate image parliament attempts to present of itself. Despite the lack of cooperation, I managed to make many drawings from areas which were deemed public, though it seemed ironic that the Commons were not considered ‘public’, despite their name alluding to a common space for common people.

After a day of jumping through administrative hoops in a failed attempt to gain permissions, the response I received from the Speaker’s Office was, at its core, telling me they had not given permission before, so would not give permission now, a perfect example of saying ‘no’ being the easy ‘blameless’ response however, it is also the no responsibility, stagnant route; not what we hope, but perhaps what we have come to expect from our parliament. A fitting summary of this experience was delivered by a police officer guarding the entrance to the Common’s, who sighed at me in sympathy, “Welcome to Parliament”.

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