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Launch Night 1964: BBC Television Centre
Television Centre is aglow with anticipation. The date is April 20th, 1964, and the BBC is about to launch a second channel, BBC2, dedicated solely to the arts, drama and comedy. Its mascot, oddly enough, is a kangaroo named Hullabaloo. Meanwhile, Battersea Power Station too is aglow, in flames. As firefighters struggle to defeat the…
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‘There Has Never Been Anything Original’: An Interview with Tom McCarthy
Much like the fictions of J.G Ballard or the reworked fairy tales of Robert Coover, the novels of Tom McCarthy are punctured with moments of carefully orchestrated traumas. One man obsessively re-enacts memories from his past, voluntarily trapped in a stuttering present. Another delights in the geometric precision of aerial combat and the strategies of…
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Re-collecting Omer Fast
-Omer Fast is dead. This is a fact I discovered hidden within the first few pages of In Memory, a catalogue published by ‘The Green Box’ on the works of the artist in 2009, when I was conducting my own research. It was a statement made by the editors of the collection in response to…
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Hold On, It’s Just Autocorrect
Technology is terrifically endearing. The most evident of such would be the famous autocorrect, with its penchant to litter our on-screen conversations with Freudian slips and sexual terminology, bringing out the snickering fourteen-year old in us all. Just a slip of the thumb and suddenly you’re punching cats, buying mum anal beads for her birthday…
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Review, ‘The Crossing’ by Victor Cord’homme
Caravansérail, Brick Lane 7th September – 3rd October 2017 When I arrive at Caravansérail, I find that my favourite bookstore in all of London has undergone something of a transformation. Novels and magazines have made way for acrylic drawings depicting manmade structures of the seaside; lighthouse, water-tower, boat. A skeletal machine is suspended in mid-air,…
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Review, Alice Theobold and Atomik Architecture
The Baltic Centre, Newcastle, 11 December 2015 – 10 April 2016 On the second level of The Baltic in Newcastle, Alice Theobold’s exhibition is at first a sliver of black tucked inside a vast white wall, as though somebody has cut away at the external blankness to reveal a space which has been there all along.…

