Tub-Thumping Preacher 

Curator: Good heavens, look at him! He seems about to take flight right off that little stool. Editor: Yes, this is Charles Bunbury's "Tub-Thumping Preacher," held here at the Tate. Curator: Well, "tub-thumping" is right! I mean, just look at that finger pointed skyward, and the way he's kicking out. It's pure performative zeal. Editor: The image harnesses the cultural symbolism of the elevated preacher; a figure both revered and satirized, standing upon a makeshift pulpit. It signifies authority, but also precariousness, hinting at the fine line between spiritual leadership and self-aggrandizement. Curator: Precarious is definitely the word. All that passion on a three-legged stool? I think he's about to fall flat on his face. There's a great human comedy in this, a self-important folly. Editor: Perhaps Bunbury is inviting us to question the visual cues of authority and how easily they can tip into the ridiculous. Curator: Absolutely. I find I'm both amused and slightly unsettled by the intensity of the figure; it is like glimpsing a raw nerve exposed, a glimpse into the ecstatic. Editor: And it reminds us of how potent images can be.