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(Summer 2020)


(Autumn 2019)


(Spring 2020)



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(Summer 2019)

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(Spring 2019)


(Winter 2018)

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(Autumn 2018)


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Issue 14

(December 2016)

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Issue 15

(February 2017)


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Issue 1

(December 2012)


Lost Futures: The Disappearing Architecture of Post-War Britain - Review

For Christmas last year I was given a book called Brutal London. It is a ubiquitous publication, seemingly present in all gift shops and museum bookstores. Its presence is illustrative of a vogue for the brutal, a fascination with the grey “carbuncles” located in towns and cities across Britain. At the back of the book are paper nets which the reader can use to reconstruct, in miniature form, recognisable concrete landmarks such as Southbank’s National Theatre and the Barbican Estate. But while the book embodies the current fetish for concrete, and while my construction of these paper buildings generates new (tiny) brutal structures, we now live in a time when many of these post-war building

Exhibition Review: Vanessa Bell

Vanessa Bell 1879–1961, Design for Omega Workshops Fabric, 1913, Watercolor, gouache, and graphite on paper, Image: 53.3 × 40.7 cm, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Fund. 3353 - B1992.14.2© The Estate of Vanessa Bell, courtesy of Henrietta Garnett. Some artists risk being decontextualized and viewed as singular geniuses that created art in a social and cultural vacuum. Vanessa Bell is not one of those artists. In fact, Bell’s context is so continuously discussed that it often drowns out her own artistic voice. She was surrounded by critics – Bell’s sister, Virginia Woolf, her once lover Roger Fry and husband Clive Bell, all writers, tend to dominate. Perhaps in light of this, Bell of

Watching the Father: the Hidden Secrets of an International Family

Illustration by Ellen Charlesworth To pip One of the reasons of my moving to the UK five years ago was to explore the British side of my identity. Having inherited a British passport from my dad, born in London fifty years ago, I did not feel that my upbringing in Paris was particularly British. Nor that my dad was British, to be honest. As part of a family made of first generation and second generation immigrants, we both lived most of our lives in a Parisian social sphere were having foreign origins and speaking foreign languages, whilst identifying as primarily French, was definitely the norm. In that respect, we were well-suited and integrated in our environment, albeit in different ways

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