Performing and Visual Arts

Spring 2021

Fizzy Sherbet: Plays By and About Women

Daniel John Bracken: Liminal Photography

image0 (32).jpeg
Lily McLeish (photo by Carol Laidler).jp
image0 (32).jpeg

Fizzy Sherbet was born at the end of 2016, just after the US presidential election. Theatre director
Lily McLeish and playwright Tamara von Werthern met for a coffee. They were enraged that a man,
on record saying horrible things about women and accused of unforgivable acts, had just moved into a position of massive power. Women’s voices were being silenced and female narratives were dismissed.

Born in outrage, Fizzy Sherbet aims to amplify women’s voices and provide a safe space in which they can be heard loud and clear. Lily and Tamara already had a strong interest in addressing gender inequality in the theatre industry. The logical next step was to put these ideas into practice. A call-out sought short plays written by women. The language was to be English, but worldwide submissions were invited. There were no restrictions nor given themes, simply compelling stories.

They were overwhelmed by the response. Many hundreds of plays from all over landed in the Fizzy Sherbet inbox, from places including Hawaii, Italy, Germany, the US, Canada, and the UK. Tamara organized a series of readings at an East London venue, the Hackney Attic. Not only did they sell well (the most-attended gig at the venue that year), but a lot of attention from the theatre industry ensued. Most importantly, they connected writers, actors, and directors, all of whom mingled in the bar in that pre-Covid era of freedom to mix.

image0 (32).jpeg

Seven writers began the pilot season: Marie Bjørn (Denmark), Babirye Bukilwa (UK), Eve Leigh
(UK/US/Ukraine), Amy Ng (UK/Hong Kong), Buhle Ngaba (South Africa), Josephine Starte
(UK/Australia) and Tamara von Werthern (Germany/UK). After their play reading, each writer was
interviewed, alongside a guest who added another dimension to issues raised by the play.
















Fizzy Sherbet has gained listeners in over 25 countries around the world, and has had over 1600
downloads of its initial eight episodes. In November 2020, Fizzy Sherbet won a Special Mention at
The Sarah Awards, an international fiction in podcasting award based in New York. It honoured
episode six of their pilot season, WHITE TUESDAY, written by Eve Leigh and directed by Lily McLeish.

Lemons by Tamara von Werthern
Special Occasions by Amy Ng
White Tuesday by Eve Leigh

Lemons was written and performed by Tamara von Werthern, directed by Sandra Theresa Buch, Sound Design by Esben Tjalve (Extract from Episode 1)

Special Occasions was written by Amy Ng, directed by Lily McLeish, performed by Jenna Augen and Ruth Marie Kröger, Sound Design by Julian Starr (Extract from Episode 4)

White Tuesday was written by Eve Leigh, directed by Lily McLeish, performed by Jennifer Jackson and Evelyn Miller, Sound Design by Julian Starr (Extract from Episode 6) 


For the entire podcast of White Tuesday please visit

Go to 

Find Fizzy Sherbet on Apple, Spotify or

All women and non-binary people from anywhere in the world, and of any age, can submit short
plays (10-20 minutes) written (or translated into) English on any topic (but with a cast of no more
than four actors). Send your plays to to be considered for the
next series.

Get Involved !


When the first lockdown started, Lily and Tamara recreated Fizzy Sherbet so it could function independently of venues being open or shut. They launched as a podcast. An added benefit was the ability to reach audiences across the globe as well as to encourage worldwide submissions.

The impact of continuous lockdowns on the theatre industry is dire. Early indications are that women will be more affected than men, and women are already underrepresented and in increased danger of being pushed out of the industry. Gains made in the last three and a half years in redressing gender inequality are in danger of being erased. Fizzy Sherbet seeks to prevent further erosion and to build a robust female theatrical presence.

Lily and Tamara assembled a team of seven female theatremakers. It includes producer Steph Weller, director Anna Girvan, dramaturge/director (and leader of the Playwriting School Denmark) Sandra Theresa Buch, producer Ameena Hamid and actor/writer Josephine Starte. The team started zooming across three different countries, thinking and planning together. Working as a collective brought strong connections and counteracted the depressing reality of lockdown. See the collective in action above. 

Screen Shot 2021-03-18 at 10.21.19

Cover Art by Alice Mueller 

image1 (12).jpeg
image2 (5).jpeg
image3 (3).jpeg
image4 (2).jpeg
image5 (2).jpeg
image6 (2).jpeg

Visual Arts Features, Winter 2020 


Veronica Viacava  

Visual Arts Feature, Winter 2020

varonica 4 .jpg
veronica 5 .jpg
image0 (6).jpeg

Emil Lombardo

Visual Arts Feature, Winter 2020 

emil 2.jpg
image1 (7).jpeg
emil4 .jpg

Biddy Peppin

Visual Arts Feature, Winter 2020

image1 (5).jpeg

Summer Features, 2020: 

Click on Image to Read Individual Feature


Amanda Holiday

Visual Arts Feature, Summer 2020

Amanda Holiday pic.jpg

Artist, poet & filmmaker Amanda Holiday completed a degree in Fine Art before moving into film & scriptwriting. She directed several short experimental films for the Arts Council, BFI and Channel 4. Between 2001-10, she lived in Cape Town where she wrote and directed educational television series'.

Her chapbook 'The Art Poems' was published in April 2018, as part of New Generation African Poets, a chapbook series by Akashic books (US). Her text ‘A Posthumous Conversation about Black Art’ was published in the first edition of Critical Fish Journal. She completed her Poetry MA at UEA in 2019 and has published poetry in journals internationally. This year she founded the UK’s first crowdfunded poetry press, Black Sunflowers, to promote the work of older women and black poets.

Woman with scissors


This drawing is from 2009 and is chalk and pastel on paper. It is around 1m x 1m and was drawn at a time when my marriage was coming to an end and I was planning to leave South Africa and return to London with my daughter. I had been drawing a series of giant women. My nickname for this piece is ‘Rapunzel’ because of all the hair. Years before in 1989, I made a strange experimental film ‘Umbrage’ with a Rapunzel who leaned out of a window of a white tower. The art director wove together masses of artificial afro-hair to create an enormous plait which then had to be weighted with a bolt so it could be thrown cleanly out of the window for the rescue. 

This towering woman however has freed herself. She wields scissors as proof.

Amanda's fab painting.jpg

Jean Sugarbroad Keele

Visual Arts Feature, Summer 2020

Jean Sugarbroad Keele, born in London, England, moved to Toronto, Canada, in 1977.  Now a retired teacher, she has volunteered for over four years in the Palliative Care Unit of a large Toronto regional hospital. In this time of Covid-19, she is also using her hospice training to contact seriously ill people isolated from others. 


She shares a small downtown apartment with her husband. Private space is at a premium for both of them. They have two bathrooms, and hers was large enough to use for other purposes. During "lockdown" anything goes! Oh Canada!

O CANADA! (National Anthem of Canada)





"Lockdown - new office space - the only private space in my apartment to work in during Covid"



Jean photo; city on 'fire-.jpg

"Not just Toronto, but the world seems on fire at dawn in early April 2020"



Jean photo in mask.jpg

"Ready and masked"


Jean bra photo (1).jpg

"NO MORE BRAS... now just masks"




By mid July 2020 the COVID stats for Canada are:

9,000 dead

108,000 cases

80% deaths in Long Term Care homes

Border with USA still closed to non-essential travel

lorry montage of 'hood.jpg
lorry's composite of pix.jpg
lorell pic of Black womanpic (1).jpg
lorru pic.jpg

Lorell Harris

Visual Arts Feature, Summer 2020

Lorell self  photo.jpg

My name is Lorell Harris. I am 19 years old. I have a passion for photography and graphic design, which I'm now studying at college.  My dream job is to have my own photography business. In my creativity journey so far, I have achieved my Level 2 in Creative Media. This was a big achievement for me. I didn’t pass it the first time around, which really affected my confidence. However, my determination and commitment enabled me to succeed and attain this level. I have grown in confidence in my work, and I have learned not to give up. As I am not academic, I struggle in subjects like English and Maths. But when it comes to my photography and design work, I feel I really excel in communicating a message. The imagery and the words I use give me a sense of freedom. 


These photos were taken in north London's Finsbury Park.

lorry blm poster.jpg
Chekia painting.jpg
Chekai painting (3).jpg
chekai painting (2).jpg
Che. paintingIMG_20190902_170815 (1).jpg
Chek. paintingIMG_20200702_161749 (1).jp

Chekia Madiridze

Visual Arts Feature, Summer 2020

Chekia self photo.jpg

Chekai Madiridze, forty seven, is a talented and passionate artist. He teaches art at a high school in Harare, Zimbabwe. He says of his work, "Art is how I communicate what is inside me. I seek a platform to exhibit my thoughts, a platform that reaches out and helps the world interpret reality in different ways."

Prav photoGraffit on Newbury St.jpeg
Prav photoGraffiti.jpeg
Prav photoEscape copy.jpeg
Prav photoLongfellow bridge at Night .jp

Prav Menon-Johannson

Visual Arts Feature, Summer 2020

Prav Menon-Johannson is a theatre producer and director in London. In 2019, she moved for a year to Cambridge Massachusetts, where these photographs were made. Currently engaged in  documentary filmmaking, Prav travelled to Ghana and Senegal in January, creating a short documentary for a sexual health contact tracker ( Covid-19 brought new insights as friends from all over the world told their stories about the virus’ impact. The emergence of Black Lives Matter also came to the fore, creating more essential narratives. Based on these new realities, Prav is assembling a world photomontage of how people in different countries perceive the shutdown and the impact of BLM on individuals and communities. Her newly formed PMJ films will release a film in 2021, a look back at this tumultuous time. See her current work at

These photos were taken in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in June, 2020.

Prav self photo.jpeg

Tamara Capellaro

Visual Arts and Poetry Feature, Spring 2020

I earned my living as an artist from 1981 until I 'retired' in 2013, partly in response to the closure of an Arts Council funded project I was leading at St. Ann's Psychiatric Hospital for inpatients, outpatients and staff.  The Water Tower, where the project resided, and the Walking the Wire Well sculpture were both made for the hospital. I was an inpatient there in early two thousand.


Since retiring from drawing and sculpture, I have been improving my writing skills, partly because I am 'manic-depressive' . Writing enables me to channel some of the visionary states and anger which both inspire and plague me during mania.  The desire and ability to write desert me entirely during depressions. 


For years I worked as an art teacher (not art therapist) in HMP Pentonville, often with suicidal prisoners.  A lot of my writing is about issues around imprisonment in London and about mental illness. It does not always make light reading, despite my devotion to humour. But I work to tell my truths clearly.

_EETamara Capellaro self portrait .jpeg.
EE St. Ann's Hospital sculpture .jpg


The paced sound of birdsong accompanied my digging, quiet rain watering my work.
I lay my dog’s body in the grave and covered her with the hard clay of London.
Wooden planks made a barrier between my old companion and the appetites of foxes.
A posy of white sweetpea, scabious and faded rose pays tribute to her qualities of
constancy, spirit and grace.

Ten years ago she arrived with an angry-eyed girl, both refugees from a crueller home.
Pregnant with nine puppies, she ate earth, dug nests and taught me how to be wild.
Soon she breathed out her brood and we fed them with bitch milk and porridge.
When the last puppy left, we settled into a serene alliance between human and hound.

Five years later I was taken to live in a hellish lunatic asylum.
Denied the right to be with my daughter, I sat on a bed’s edge and planned my death.
At night I stretched out my hand, thirsting for my dog’s tempered sighs.
On release, my dog and I dashed to the wild woods and stood still in our little patch of

Now I haunt the woods alone, held stable by the songs of birds and the leaps of

My doctor and the blackbirds warn me to pace myself as I stamp the earth with bitter

I rest my ear against a tree and see a picture of my daughter crying for her lost dog.
I rest my head against a tree and see a mirror picture of my daughter crying

EE Thinking Man .jpeg

Thinking Man

EE Walking the Wire, St Ann's Hospital.j

I compared myself to my dog

She’s a bitch.
She doesn’t mind that I haven’t had a sheet on my mattress for over a year.
She doesn’t mind that the duvet has no cover.
She only minds a little bit that the duvet has torn and each day more and more duck
feathers float around the tiny bedroom and get stuck on the end of her nose.
She’s a black dog and the white feathers look silly on her.
She’s a long-haired black dog and her fur floats around the room and gathers in
corners like the brushwood in deserted cowboy towns.
Each day I look at the state of my bedroom and ask myself
“Should I do something about the state of this room?”
Each day I answer: “If my dog doesn’t mind, why should I? it’s our lair, It’s private.”
The white feathers and the black fur remind me of the sort of fairy tale where a
princess is locked into a room full of thousands of different bird feathers and if she
can’t sort them by the morning something terrible will happen.
Well, I know I’m not a princess but here I am in my room and the morning never
comes in my story and the Terrible Thing has already happened.
Time is stopped and the only movement is the breathing of my dog and the floating of
the feathers and fur.
In the middle of the night I put my hand out and find my dog and pat her and say
“Good girl .... good girl.” because once she lived in a home where she was tied up at
night and beaten in the morning if she had wet the floor - and now she needs to know
that she is ‘good’ just for being alive. Sometimes I say “You’re precious.”
Once I lay in a hospital bed in a psychiatric hospital and I longed to feel the breathing
of my dog under my hand and hear the sound of her sighing in the way that only dogs
do when they expel air and their whole bodies relax. It’s a comforting sound when
you are trying to hold onto life.
My daughter told me she is writing her autobiography: it is English homework.
She said that one part describes our living room floor. She won’t read it to me
but said that, if I want, I can send it to Dr. M, who is my psychiatrist.
I know that in this writing she mentions the empty tin of tuna that our dog raided
from the kitchen and has kept her company for a week or so. And other mess.
Each day I look at the state of the living room and ask myself:
“Should I do something about the state of this room?”
Each day I answer:“Yes, it is bad for my daughter to live like this. I must try to do something about it.”
Some days I try to tidy up. Most days I say to myself:
“It seems so unimportant compared to other things.”
I look at the cello on the floor, the keyboard on the chair, the microphone stand, the amplifier, the
bass guitar in the corner and the whole contents of my old, enormous studio crammed
into one end of the living room.
The only living things in this room are my dog and my daughter and her music.
I get home sometimes very tired.
I walk down the path and see and hear my daughter playing cello through the window.
She doesn’t stop when I walk in and I have to cuddle our dog to stop her barking.
She doesn’t stop when I walk in because she knows that listening to her playing is
another thing that keeps me alive. She doesn’t stop because it is her own world.
I look at her and wonder “How could this have happened? That something,
someone so profound and balanced could have grown out of this room? This home?”


Biddy Peppin

Visual Arts Feature, Winter 2020


The  left hemisphere of my brain is like a loose-leaf sketchbook full of doodles and half-formed thoughts.  I find words slippery, provisional and often treacherous. Strung together, they can easily be manipulated into ‘fake news’.  Though words may pour onto the screen, core ideas are hard to capture.  I have to hack through undergrowth, navigating hidden crevasses while struggling to maintain a sense of what is honest and authentic. 

Brushes and paint are my weapons of choice.  Visual images, lodged in the brain’s right hemisphere, have a reassuring clarity and permanence, particularly when given physical form on canvas.  I can spend months wrestling with a painting; it may not ever work in the way I’d hoped. But some paintings make it through to independence, bearing authentic witness to particular moments in time.   

When viewers of my work say, as they occasionally do, “Your paintings don’t look like anyone else’s”, I take it as the greatest possible compliment.  

This is one of my first attempts using words to discuss my work.  I returned to full-time painting in 2004, after a career teaching Art History, latterly at the University of East London. What fascinates me about artworks from the past (from yesterday backwards) is the physical evidence they provide of other minds at work.


I’m going to take a few of my paintings as case-studies.  My work isn’t primarily or overtly political. But I’ve found it impossible to cut my practice loose from the succession of menacing situations tainting the 21st century, so I’ll attempt to uncover the contexts of these images.

Image 1.jpg

‘Fence’, 2007 (oil on heritage paper, 27” x 40”).  Private Collection

Image 2.jpg

‘On Edge’, 2016 (oil on canvas, 24” x 36”).  Private collection

I work without a plan. One painting leads to another, though I usually have some sense of what each metaphorically represents.  The idea for ‘On Edge’ emerged when I jumped in fury on a cardboard box, outraged by the result of the Brexit referendum. The black object on the right was a piece of PVC, sellotaped at the back.  At one level, the painting was intended to stand for what I saw as the unjustifiable attack on pan-European ideals of sharing and co-operation, and the lies that were spread during the campaign.  The angular brown and black shapes confront and argue with each other, so the image can also be read as a more general response to the ways of the world. At the same time, I was thinking about formal issues. I wanted a composition that contained quite a lot of empty space (I often spend more time working on backgrounds than on the objects represented).


And the title ‘On Edge’ refers not only to a state of mind, but also to the fact that the represented shapes of the cardboard and PVC are firmly attached to the borders of the canvas.


‘Flight’, 2018 (oil on canvas, 24” x 32”)

In this painting, ‘Flight’, my starting-point was my partner David’s torn pyjama top.  In placing it, I was thinking about the flight of birds (as seen, for example, in some late paintings by Braque) as well as the suffering of human refugees, at that time prominent in the news.  The background in this painting shows a slight gradation from lighter (on the left) to darker, an attempt at  spatial ambiguity. The actual pyjama top was lying on the floor while I painted it, but the picture was intended to be viewed hanging vertically on a wall; the flying bird references the sky.  I was hoping to open up the possibility of more than one spatial reading.

‘Abandoned’ was  triggered by an old sweater and a piece of twisted metal my sister found.  Like ‘On Edge’ it reflects, but doesn’t exactly illustrate, a state of mind.  My brother-in-law Donald Curtis wrote the following poem after seeing it, and I think  it sums up what the painting is about:


Like; divested

apparel dumped upon a beach

before the long swim to oblivion? 

Like; a mantle, cast aside 

to be taken up by another

belt ready to be buckled on?

Like; o.k., we have taken leave 

of our collective senses

not a scarecrow of ourselves remaining

to garb in cobalt [?] blue

Like, Biddy, you leave us lonely

each with a conundrum.

We know not what to do.  

image 4.jpg

‘Abandoned’, 2017 (oil on canvas, 24” x 32”)

image 5.jpg

‘Nameless Fears’, 2017 (oil on canvas, 28” x 39”)

‘Nameless Fears’, begun in late 2016, uses paper packaging and a soldier’s belt from a charity shop. At that time I was obsessed with what I saw as the lies disseminated by the Brexit campaigners and the folly of those who believed them. I was aware that my fears for Britain’s political future constituted the main subject of the painting.  Subsequently I’ve been wondering if it unintentionally illustrates the workings of my own mind.  The crumpled paper can be seen as a metaphor for the furrows and grooves in the brain’s physical structure, while its apparent unravelling may come out of the deep anxiety about mental decay experienced by many in my generation.

image 6.jpg

‘Confrontation’, 2019 (oil on canvas, 23.5” x 31.5” approx.)

This fairly recent painting references both ‘On Edge’ (in its bipartite composition) and ‘Nameless Fears’ (in its use of crumpled paper).  The paper packaging was retrieved from a dustbin and faces a red painting-smock stiffened by paint brushes wiped on it over many years.  During its evolution, the image gradually came to signify the bullying tactics becoming increasingly widespread in public life, and the spectacle of Donald Trump throwing his weight around during the months I was working on it.  

I wrote earlier I sometimes find words ‘slippery’, and I’ve had particular difficulties finding a title for this painting.   It started as ‘Face to Face’, then became ‘Debate’, then ‘Challenge’. Its current title is ‘Confrontation’, but I’m wondering whether to re-name it ‘Fake News’ or ‘War Path’.  With visual metaphors, there’s a fine line between stating the obvious and failing to communicate. Titles are supposed to help, so it’s important to get them right.   

Incidentally,  the photos of ‘On Edge’ and ‘Accident’ (below) show the wooden fillets that I almost always attach to the edges to emphasise both the physical limits of the canvas and the compositional design.  Nailed directly to the stretchers, these fillets don’t overlap the canvas, allowing the whole picture surface to be seen.

image 7.jpg

‘Accident’, was started in 2018. Like  ‘Confrontation’, it was painted over quite a long period.  Breaking a teapot is is probably something we’ve all done. But as the painting evolved, it came to stand for the potentially disastrous results of simple human error.  As a ‘war baby’ (conceived during the Battle of Britain and christened --by unbelieving parents--on the day Germany invaded Russia), I reached adulthood at the height of the Cold War. This era was saturated with the widespread realisation that civilisation and most of the natural world could be obliterated if either an American or Russian finger landed on the nuclear button.  My life experiences make it hard to close my eyes to the possibility of catastrophe now.

‘Accident’, 2019 (oil on canvas, 12” x 12”).

Private Collection

Fortunately, not all my paintings  turn out to be pessimistic. I see ‘Housemaid’s Knee’ as cheerful in mood, despite it stemming from a realisation that my knees have seen better days.  A relative had undergone a successful knee replacement, which suggested the inclusion of the mysterious wrought iron implement, found in a Somerset ditch.  The crumpled blue fabric is a pair of denim jeans which, as a messy worker, I wear for painting. Does the broom ‘stand in’ for a paintbrush? I’m not sure.

image 8.jpg

Housemaid’s Knee, 2014 (oil on canvas, 36” x 28”)

image 9.jpg

‘Rust’ is also fairly buoyant in feeling.  I really like old, rusty stuff. Objects that are decayed, discarded and of little or no monetary value have formed the mainstay of my work since 2004.  I’m delighted that, belatedly, we’re now being urged to re-use and recycle. I like to think an underlying idea in my work is a rejection of consumerism.

‘Rust’, 2015 (oil on canvas, 27” x 36”)

And I had fun with ‘Anatomy’ even though it’s about mortality!

Looking back over my fifteen years of practice, I realise I’m wedded to a sense that by pursuing truthfulness and authenticity in my art, I can somehow make a minuscule contribution to a now much-needed bulwark against contemporary threats, which include international capitalism, neo-Liberalism, religious oppression, ‘fake news’ and environmental degradation.  We can all only do what we can do. If any of my paintings survive into the future, perhaps they will at least offer viewers a glimpse of one artist’s particular experience of being alive at a particular time.

Please visit my website - –  for more info and other examples of my work.

image 10.jpg

Anatomy, 2016 (oil on canvas, 30” x 24”)

‘Fence’, dating from more than 12 years ago, shows a broken and twisted metal barrier and pieces of bent wire.  It was painted at a time of extreme anger at Britain’s continuing involvement in the Iraq war.  The fence serves as a metaphor for a particular idea: destruction caused by bombing.  However, I did not deliberately set out to make a painting with a political message.  Political content seeps uninvited into my work, reflecting contemporary issues about which I feel strongly.

Paintings carry layers of meaning.  ‘Fence’ references a simple fact – the idea that underlies most of my paintings - that everything in the world starts new and then dies, wears out or is destroyed.  In this painting a further layer (only recently recognised) is that as well as recording the interesting shapes of randomly-discovered metal objects, the image draws on childhood memories of the terrifying anti-tank defences that ran the length of Chesil Beach during WW2. Navigating these in c.1944 provided my earliest experience of the seaside.  This anxiety-enhancing wartime recollection probably lies behind the genesis of this painting.  

Gulce Tulcali

Visual Arts Feature, Summer 2019

selamet roll.jpg

 I was a self-involved photographer with a background in business management before attending Royal College of Arts. I was raised with art in my life.  My grandfather was a painter and an art history teacher, one of the first teachers after the Republic of Turkey was founded. I completed a month long filmmaking program at New York Film Academy after my bachelors degree. Due to my country's political circumstances, I was also reared with a sense of activism. This led me to discover more about women and their place in society, especially in the chaotic circumstances of the Middle East.

Milk and the Middle East is a portrayal of how the politics of religion oppresses women in many Muslim cultures. A society grows up on women's' milk. Yet it demands women cover up. This kind of society prevents natural feminine pleasure, inhibiting the development of a full identity for millions of women. I believe that when a human condition is suppressed or prohibited, it comes back in absurd and mostly harmful practices.

Milk and Middle East, 3.jpg

As a living, evolving being, I am fond of fluidity. It's a sense of a continuous flow of the consciousness we live in, despite being limited by particular space and time. I find the discipline of photography in line with this essence of being. Authentic visual simulation enables the viewer to travel to someone else’s consciousness, to an unaware part of their own consciousness, to past or future or all at the same moment. A photograph can simultaneously capture past and present. The photos I take, especially the staged ones, reflect my own desires, fears, experiences, opinions. They also reflect my disturbance about causes larger than my own being, especially societal conflicts and political systems.

Milk and Middle East .jpg

My goal is to create an umbrella of creative work which people feel safe to gaze upon and then connect to their suppressed sexual senses. I strive to construct a community conscious of its sexuality, therefore in control over it and in peace.


Tiwalade Ibironba Olulode

Performing Arts Feature, Summer 2019

My name is Tiwalade Ibirogba Olulode.

I'm an emerging artist from Northampton. I trained at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York. From there I moved to Lagos, Nigeria, where my writing sparked interest. One of my plays has been produced  by respected theatres around London including Lyric Hammersmith, Barons Court Theatre and The Space Theatre.

I'm currently with the National Youth Theatre Rep Company. I will perform in three shows from October 2019 through January 2020: Great Expectations, Frankenstein and A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Southwark Playhouse and The Criterion in the West End. It's been deeply rewarding to build a relationship with a company of actors. I'm so excited to channel the incredible energy we've developed in workshops into our rehearsals for the shows.


I've always dreamt of a future as a respected artist-- acting, writing and directing. Acting is my first love, and I can't see that fading. I always enjoyed creative writing, but it wasn't until I graduated from drama school that I started my first play Rush. When it was selected for a couple of runs, I decided to put on the director's hat as I had a clear vision of how I wanted my writing to be presented.  For now, I'm going to focus primarily on acting. But in the future, I can't see anything stopping me from being successful in all mediums. The future is bright! 

The Colored Museum, George C. Wolfe 

My friend recommended this play to me whilst I was at drama school. I hadn't read anything like it before. It made me laugh to the point of tears. I also felt the tension build in my stomach, emotions on two extreme ends. I  knew I had to do a monologue from this riveting play. The Colored Museum is a dark comedy that looks into the African American story, spins it on its head and leaves you with a satire that at times can be hard to swallow. 

The Girl with the Brightest Smile, Tiwalade Ibirogba Olulode 

I wrote this poem  shortly after I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. It was therapeutic to write about how I was feeling. I didn't feel ashamed of my inner thoughts. The smile is about the mask we put on for the world. A mask is needed in social settings, but it can be dangerous when you don't get the opportunity to be free. Growing up, my smile was repeatedly praised, something that became part of my core personality. I asked myself:  when I don't have that, who am I? The smile is something that had become automatic, even when I was feeling terrible inside. This poem is an exploration of those feelings.


Chris Avis

Visual Arts Feature, Spring 2019

Why am I so curious about women? I think it's because, as a woman,  I want to find out why.


Why do we so often react according to stereotype; why do we let ourselves fade into insecurity; who are we here for? Is it for ourselves or for those around us?

Chris Avis by Chris Stokes.jpg
Desolation from Voices in the

"Desolation" from Voices in the Shadows

My work explores the many facets of being female. Using a camera, digital manipulation, digital animation, light, sound and the spoken word, I create photographs, videos, installations and performance art. At the heart of my work is a curiosity about females.

My work includes:

‘Red Lips’,  an installation of eight mannequins. The 'ladies' speak  with pride about their red lips. Normally silent, I have given them a voice.

Labeled for Life.jpg

Labeled for Life

Red lips.jpg

Red Lips

‘Labeled for Life’ is an installation wherein a seated mannequin, dressed in an antique rusted gown, celebrates her own decadent decay.  It's a challenge to the invisibility of the older woman.

‘Time Passing’ is a series of digital prints celebrating the strength of women in their sixties, seventies and eighties.

Time Passing.jpg

Time Passing

Voices in the Shadows.jpg

Voices in the Shadows

‘Voices in the Shadows’ was part of a cross disciplinary collective of four artists working collaboratively.  


We produced a provocative body of work focused on how fear, despair, and loss of trust impacts our sense of reality and mental wellbeing.


The videos produced for the performance art focus on women’s vulnerability, lack of confidence and fear of isolation.

No. I have not exhausted my quest, it will continue to be a fundamental element in my future work.

Shoreline, a video by Chris Avis

Voices in the Shadows.jpg

Voices in the Shadows

Chris Avis Blast from Voices in the Shad

"Blast" from Voices in the Shadows

1980/1990 Designer maker in porcelain glass and mixed media

1994 BA. Fine Art. First Class Hons

1996 MA. Art in Architecture

1996-2009 Senior Manager

2013 Winston Churchill Travel Fellowship six weeks researching the attitudes of the arts communities in the cities of Berlin, Copenhagen and Amsterdam towards older artists.

2014 Devised and directed a Barbican and Guildhall Open Lab.

Revelation: Artists of the third Age

2009 -2019 Exhibitions/ video screenings/ installations in London/ UK / parts of Europe

Joan McLane

Visual Arts Feature, Winter 2019

Joan McLane is a painter living and working in Chicago, Illinois 

Impending, mixed media, 20 in x 20

Impending, mixed medium, 20" x 20"

In Joan's words...

About 18 years ago, I retired from training teachers of young children and after a long absence returned to painting . When asked what I do in retirement, I respond: “I paint.”  But I don’t call myself a “painter”. This term implies a professional status I haven’t attained. On the other hand, I resist the term “hobby” because it sounds unserious—and I am serious about my painting. 

Dancing on the Edge (mixed media, 30 (1)

It's difficult for me to categorize my work.  My paintings are abstract. However, they often contain forms which suggest animated figures. I paint in oil, and several years ago I began to incorporate bits of fabric—linen, silk, cheesecloth. I now use mostly cheesecloth because its loose weave makes it an ideal medium to create interesting, fluid forms. These forms emerge in the process of manipulating fabric and paint—a process that is both exploratory and playful. 

Dancing on the Edge, mixed medium, 30" x 30"

I examine aspects of movement and emotion, particularly with figures moving in and on the edges of space. Figures are in flight or on the verge of flight, some leaping freely into or through space, others on the brink of taking off. Many figures hover precariously on the edge of of a vast open space that is both inviting and terrifying, full of possibility and risk. Figures are caught at particular, unsettled moments which suggest possible relationships and narratives.The relationship between the figures and the spaces they inhabit is open to multiple interpretations: tension, excitement, fear, anxiety, exuberance, exhilaration, freedom and play.

Surprise, mixed medium, 24_ x 24_.jpg

Surprise, mixed medium, 24" x 24"

Exhilaration, mixed media, 30_x 30_.jpeg

Exhilaration, mixed media, 30" x 30" 

Elation, mixed media, 24 (1).jpg

Elation, mixed medium, 24” x 24"


Alexandra Baraitser

Visual Arts Feature, Autumn 2018

My recent paintings are my individual interpretation of what might be called 'contemporary culture' or 'iconic twentieth century design'. The fashionable scenes I paint are peopled, but focus on the non-communication or separation of each figure from the other. My aim is to infer an emotional absence. The iconic frozen-in-time scenes depict a human presence, but the characters in these minimal spaces are speechless and isolated. The work explores the relationship between the figures and the space around them and invokes the silences within the relationship.

I am both an artist and a curator with experience curating at ArtKapsule, APT Gallery, Cambridge University, Tripp Gallery and Stour Space. I have exhibited (and my work is in art collections) internationally, from Cork Street in London to Tasmania, Australia. I was selected for the final round of judging at the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition 2017. Shows include John Moores Painting Prize, British School at Rome, NatWest Art Prize, Kettles Yard, Art Basel, University of Cambridge, Hirschl Contemporary Art, Mark Jason Gallery and Tripp Gallery.

See more of my work at

Illumus Borgus2013.JPG


Oil on Canvas 2015 120cmx110cm


The painting 'Charles and Ray Eames at Home' is based on a famous photograph of the couple in the house they designed and built at 203 North Chautauqua Boulevard in the Pacific Palisades, Los Angeles. I painted them alongside their unique and eclectic collection of objects and designed pieces. This work reflects my fascination with design and the way light falls on interior artefacts. I sought also to express the designers' emotional relationship.



Oil on Canvas 2016 26cmx100cm


I was drawn to this photograph taken in 1939 of Poul Henningsen in the demonstration room he designed for the Danish lighting company Louis Poulsen.  Henningsen's startlingly modern electric lights orbit above the figures like planets and provide a glare of cool brightness. 

Poul Henningsen in the demonstration Roo
Donald - ra.jpg


Oil on Canvas 2017 63.5cmx 79cm


The artist Donald Judd's bedroom in central New York is now open to the public as part of a museum on Spring Street. I love to paint empty interiors. Judd's minimalist bedroom and his iconic neon light pieces produce an array of coloured reflection on the polished wooden floor.


Awards and Prizes:

Grants for the Arts, Arts Council England (2005)

Commissions East, Awards for Artists for mentoring with Rachel Thomas (2001)

Shortlisted for MOMART Fellowship (1999)

NatWest Art Prize (1998)

The Abbey Scholarship in Painting, The British School at Rome (1997)

The John Moores 19 (1996)

The Ray-Finnis Trust Art Funding (1995)

The Florence Trust Studio Award (1995-6)

Collections: Design Centre, Tasmania, J Sainsbury PLC, BP Amoco, Cambridge University (Clare Hall Art Collection).


Essay by Eva Bensasson for the catalogue The Future Past March 2007 at Mark Jason Gallery: "Alexandra Baraitser's paintings pay homage to some of the greatest designs of the twentieth century. Visions of the future pertain to history, firmly rooted in the time-specific aspirations of the societies and cultures that create them. Yet the utopian dream that characterised twentieth century Modernism has left a vision so compelling that the revolutionary designs of the fifty years ago still inform the popular imagination today. Baraitser's paintings highlight the contradictions of the current condition of modern furniture, still denoting 'the new' while simultaneously acting as 'design classics'; embodying socialist thought while serving as symbols of social status. The relationship of painting to these subjects is itself highly relevant in Baraitser's work. Using paint she labours to represent the patina and tone of objects which were designed in order to be mass produced. Through her dedication to each painting she emphasises the fetishistic qualities that these objects have aquired. Baraitser's paintings are based on photographs, this imbues them with a quality at once slighlty distant and , through the human touch, particularly individual."

Jackie Hopfinger

Visual Arts Feature, Summer 2018

Even in the Rain I was Happy choreographed by Catherine Lafleur, 2014

I’m based in London N4 , and have a lifetime love of photography.  I’ve been taking photos for over 40 years. In 2010, I went back to college to study photography and to learn more about digital imaging.  I was lucky enough to get the opportunity to photograph this Montreal dance festival in 2012, and have gone back every year since. I love dance and I love photography, so for me it’s the ideal combination. 

I had an exhibition in 2014 at Lauderdale House. It was  a large body of work called “Without the Past the Future is Formless”.  I used old photos of my friends, added up- to- date pictures and interviewed each person about their life then and now.

Photo documentaries, travel and dance photography continue as my focus.

A piece by choreographer Alix Dufresne, 2015

Dirt by Catherine Lafleur, 2017

Festival Quartiers Danses

Festival Quartiers Danses is a contemporary dance festival which has taken place in Montreal for the last 15 years. The festival aims to be accessible to all audiences, especially those who would not normally attend dance shows.  The performances are in a variety of venues across the city, both indoors and outdoors. Works often feature both older and disabled dancers. The festival predominantly showcases local artists, but each year has included works  from both national and international companies.

Tentacle Tribe performing Threesixnine, 2017

Under my Skin by choreographer and dancer Morgane Le Tien, 2015

Athena Stevens & Lily McLeish

Performing Arts Feature, Winter 2019

Screen Shot 2018-12-22 at 4.22.48 PM.png

Lily McLeish (left), Athena Stevens (right)

Athena Stevens wrote and stars in Schism,a play about two people finding each other, exploring what they cannot be for one another, powerful as is their twenty year relationship.  Lily McLeish directed the production.

These clips, from the May 2018 north London Park Theatre performance, give a flavour of the connection between Katherine, played by Stevens, and her lover Harrison, played by Jonathan McGuinness. The interviews between director and writer/actor provide an insight into their creative process as individuals and as a team.

See an excerpt from Schism and two video excerpts from an interview with Lily McLeish and Athena Stevens below. 

Lily McLeish and Athena Stevens in conversation about Schism


Prav MJ, PMJ Productions

Performing Arts Feature, Summer 2018