Why Planning is Overrated

I ain’t gonna front. I had a wicked time just recently, shooting an aftermovie for Polar Music; a Manchester-based music production and events label who specialise in putting together house music/EDM nights around the north west of England. I was asked to do some filming at the launch party for one of their events at… Continue reading Why Planning is Overrated

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The Habit of Art

There's this strange nebulous space you tend to occupy as a writer, or even, perhaps, a creator or storyteller of any kind; a sort of hovering furtive interstice between here and elsewhere, wakefulness and daydream, vivid yet vague; like a mental version of twilight. Which is why I loved stumbling across this excerpt from Jane Vandenburgh's Architecture… Continue reading The Habit of Art

King Lear: A World Where Race Doesn’t Matter?

Thrilling, moving, visceral - at some point you run out of words to explain the feelings that run through you after watching Michael Buffong's stunning adaptation of King Lear. I went to the showing at Manchester's Royal Exchange Theatre last night and loved pretty much every minute of it. The dark, modern soundscape, the ridiculously… Continue reading King Lear: A World Where Race Doesn’t Matter?

On the Beauty of the Tree

Every so often you come across words – a passage of literature, a quote, a pithy aphorism – that perfectly capture some truth inside of you; a long-held belief, an inward conviction, a sentiment so true it resonates, it seems, in every cell of your being like a well struck chord. For me, I’ve perhaps… Continue reading On the Beauty of the Tree

What’s the Problem With Weird?

A blue mini pedals along atop the water, a man’s head catches fire, a woman rows her bed along with twin oars whilst lampposts erect from submergence like surfacing U-boats, and that’s before we even get to the flame wielding pixies and naked gods. Yup. You go to watch something like Illotopie’s Water Fools, a… Continue reading What’s the Problem With Weird?

Anatomy of a Self Portrait

So, in the lead up to Christmas I stumbled upon a drawing set someone had given me the previous year; a neat shallow tin of sketching pencils which, I thought, was a pretty cool gift, the kind of nostalgia-laden offering that had conjured up notions of taking stock and adjusting my lifestyle, i.e., I used… Continue reading Anatomy of a Self Portrait