NO CHANGE GIVEN SUMMER 2019
VOLUME 1
“All great changes are preceeded by chaos” Deepak Chupra
GREEN AND PLEASANT LAND
A HAUNTED EXISTENCE
EDITOR’S NOTE
The articles contained in this issue are presented as a collection of human stories, stories that at first glance may not appear to have anything to do with what we percieve as change. However, in them we will see how individuals have managed to alter the status quo in their own way.
BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE
Be it the work of the late Mark Fisher or a photographer reflecting on their journey through adolescence. A punk group jostling to be heard, a filmmaker documenting the history of a well loved landmark or be it a community who have had great changes forced upon them and are still unsure of what the future holds, the following articles are intended to reflect the indefinable nature of change itself and are best enjoyed when experienced together.
ROCKIN’ A HARD PLACE
MEAN AS THEY COME*
*Plus interview with Richard Gilligan
A HAUNTED EXISTENCE “The downside occurs ifthe we long for past as a way of avoiding present” the
On the 13th of January 2017, blogger, philosopher and author Mark Fisher took his own life at his home in Felixstowe. A lecturer of Aural and Visual Culture at Goldsmith’s University, he first gained notoriety in 2002 under the online pseudonym K-Punk. His blog covered everything from album reviews to sprawling academic essays and would ultimately put him on par with some of the 21st centuries greatest theorists and thinkers. The inquest into Fisher’s death heard of how he had sought treatment for depression in the weeks leading up to his suicide. With his GP unable to see him face to face and only offering advice over the phone, he finally bowed out of the system that he had spent a lifetime critiquing at the age of 48. 3 NO CHANGE GIVEN
Today, Fisher’s blog sits dormant and it is unlikely that it will ever be altered. Its design already reminiscent of a time long gone by. For Fisher, human society had seemed to lose any and all sense of imagination and it was difficult for him to imagine a future that wasn’t uniquely different from whatever had come before. Known as ‘Hauntology’ this concept was first described by the philosopher Jacques Derrida and refers to a culture that is running out of steam. Unable to progress independently of its own past, the present is haunted by the memory of what has come before it. We can observe this phenomenon manifesting itself in modern music, film and television. It is present in everything from reboots of iconic movie franchises, samples of famous songs to grainy Instagram filters.
Fisher’s book ‘Ghosts of my Life: Writings on Depression, Hauntology and Lost Futures’ explored his own troubled psyche and how it was moulded by a capitalist world from which he felt there was only one escape, death. Of his depression, Fisher wrote, “The depressive experiences himself as walled off from the lifeworld, so that his own frozen inner life – or inner death – overwhelms everything; at the same time, he experiences himself as evacuated, totally denuded, a shell: there is nothing except the inside, but the inside is empty. For the depressive, the habits of the former lifeworld now seem to be, precisely, a mode of playacting, a series of pantomime gestures (‘a circus complete with all fools’), which they are both no longer capable of performing and which they no longer wish to perform –
vate. Not in energetic bursts, perhaps, but, again, when has that ever been the case? Literary movements, such as the Renaissance and Romanticism, last a long time and we need to be able to observe somewhat drastic changes in a contemporaneous slipstream before we declare a new movement is occurring. This is a tricky thing to do, especially in these postmodern times where time is secondary to space. When everything is instantaneous, we lose sight of the bigger picture.”
Children at birthday party
there’s no point, everything is a sham.” In much the same way, Fisher viewed modern society itself as a sham, a victim, much like himself, of hypercapitalism and humanity’s innate need for greed. I reached out to Simon Obirek, an academic and youtube personality, in the hope of gaining further insight into Fisher’s writings. His video, ‘Mark Fisher: Capitalist Realism’ helped me to get my head around some of Fisher’s more complicated concepts and I wanted to know more. I asked Obirek whether he believed that Hauntology was as all-encompassing an idea as Fisher seemed to suggest. “I think Fisher was too enthralled with, or too caught up in, his interests in mythology and horror because his descriptions of capitalism make it out to be an omniscient and omnipresent monster. Culture is a leaky phenomenon; it sloshes around and laps against other phenomena. Within capitalism, culture is still able to inno-
Maybe then, our dependence on the past comes from some deep-rooted nostalgia or even some dissatisfaction with the present. ‘Longing for the past whilst in a system of capitalism realism has both an upside and a downside,” explains Obirek. “The upside is that we are able to reinvigorate our emancipatory energies; we are able to mine the past for new takes on old ideas, or, old ideas which were not fully fleshed out during their own time. Looking at the past in this fashion makes us notice that there are other ways of doing things than the way we do them currently. That is a tremendously important aspect of longing, one I think we should preserve. The downside occurs if we long for the past as a way of avoiding the present. It feeds cynicism. I believe that is one aspect of what political theorist Wendy Brown deems left melancholia; it is a way for leftists to cling onto past sentiments, convictions, and passions and to never let them go properly. They become objects we pride ourselves on in the same way capitalists pride themselves on their material possessions.” If the past then is as important to the present as Obirek suggests, should we treat it like an unwelcome guest, or are we better off embracing it like an old friend? As technology changes, so will culture. This has always been the case from the invention of the 45 rpm record to the 808 drum machine and there is no telling how much further human imagination and innovation will take us. We live in a rapidly changing world and while Fisher’s writings consistently pointed out the many flaws of the current capitalist system in which most of us enjoy, I believe that culturally, there is still much to look forward to.
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ROCKIN’ A HARD PLACE
While in her second year of university, Katie Dinnage began to realise the true extent of the abuse she had suffered as a child. For the young photographer and visual artist, the years since have been a difficult period of transition. Through her intimate self-portraits, poems and sculptures, she has tackled the trauma head-on and burst through the other side with a fresh, more positive outlook on life.
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Katie Dinnage and Josh Adam Jones
One cold March morning on the eve of her first-ever solo exhibition, Katie explains why she finally feels ready to share her work with the public. “I’d been trying to get away from doing personal stuff...” she tells me between puffs of a tightly rolled cigarette. “Even in my BA, I was trying to shoot other people but A, my anxiety couldn’t cope with shooting others and B, I just couldn’t focus on anything else apart from my recovery and my recovery is completely intertwined with this series and communicating what I’m feeling to other people.” The exhibition entitled ‘Liminal’ explores feelings of unease and being stuck in a space that you wish could get out of. “I guess for me what I’m exploring is this trauma, because I was abused as a small kid and I didn’t have any words to explain it, now I’m explor-
ing it through image because I still don’t have those words, words don’t do any justice to it, photos don’t either, but they are another step towards it.” Interrupting herself, she stops to ask if I’m cold and whether we should move our interview inside. We’re sat drinking coffee in the smoking area of Bedminster’s iconic Tabacco Factory. It’s a stone throw from the artist’s home and an imposing metaphor for how things can change and be repurposed over time. I ask Katie whether she still recognises the person in her photographs or if she has noticed any discernible disassociation between her work and herself, now that she too has begun to change. “They used to scare me a lot actually,” she admits. “Some of the beginning self-portraits I did, I’d
look at them like, yeah I was not okay and I’m still kind of not okay. They were a bit much and that is because I can recognise that fear and that scared girl in my face. It is powerful recognising that and then accepting it. Moving on to the next step from it.” I ask how important her photography has been in her recovery. “Just self-portraits as a thing. I’d do that anyway if I’m feeling shit, put that energy into something creative and distract my mind to make something really nice or to reflect on. But the photos I have been doing for this series I’ve been working with a councillor and picking over bits and pieces that I want to explore. Tutors and friends noticed that I would always shoot myself from the waist up and I was like hang on, why do I do that? And then I explored It through these images and realised
that I’m really numbed from down there and it makes sense why.” As soon as the coffee is finished and Katie’s last cigarette has gone out, she hugs me goodbye and cycles to the gallery where her work is being shown. ‘Hours’ is an independent gallery and art-space nestled within the living room of a home near Bristol’s Christmas Steps. It is perhaps then the perfect setting for such a personal display. When I arrive later that same evening, Katie is surrounded by friends and fans of her work. The smile on her face gives everything away. It’s clear how important tonight is for her. The culmination of almost a year of intimate self-study has finally become a reality and for the next month, guests to the gallery will be able to experience a snippet of Katie at her most vulnerable, but also her most empowered. Almost two months pass before we can arrange to meet each other again. A few weeks after our first interview, Katie was knocked from her bike and sent straight to A&E. The resulting injury has left a permanent scar on her chin and is a physical reminder of a city that has caused so many ups and downs for her. “I was a completely different person when I came to Bristol and it has been horrific, but it can only be horrific to grow from it really. There are too many memories here good and bad. Like everywhere I go it’s like; ‘had a mental breakdown here, almost topped myself there’, but there are also some beautiful memories! I have made some incredible friends, I’ve made my family up here.”
Above: Onlookers at exhibition Left: Katie Dinnage Below: Sculptures hanging in gallery Other-page: Gallery owner
Katie plans to relocate to Berlin at the end of the year, the move marking the end of one journey and the beginning of another. She describes how she has found life since the exhibition. “I’ve done a lot of processing, like, it actually happened, I had an idea, and I made it and I did it, mostly by myself as well. It’s nice to see it come to fruition. Is that the word? Fruition? Fruit-ition? Fruity-tooty?” She breaks out into a fit of giggles before regaining her composure. “It’s like a right of passage. I recognise that I’m moving out of that liminal stage now. I’m ready to grow a bit more, I need to push myself a bit more.” In the months since her solo show, Katie has taken part in one group exhibition and is preparing for another. “I am ready now to shoot other people, I’m ready for that now. I want to shoot lots of things before I go away, of what I’m leaving behind in Bristol and then, who knows what will happen when I’m in Germany. I feel like I can finally close this chapter fully on this city, it is what I needed to do and I god damn bloody did it!” NO CHANGE GIVEN 8
WN G DO R NI N S E OWN E HOU I NG D BU R N O U S E WN THE H ING DO BURN OUSE WN THE H ING DO BURN OUSE WN THE H ING DO BURN OUSE THE H I’m sat in the living room that singer and guitarist of Bristolbased punk band Grandmas House, Yasmin Berndt shares with drummer and vocalist Poppy Dodgson. Bassist Daisy Hodgson has endured a coach trip from London on one of the hottest days of the year for a show later that evening. The band are sprawled across the sofa trying to forget about the heat, while I’m resigned to a miniature wooden chair in the centre of the room. They suggested I sit on it as a joke, but I spend the rest of our 45-minute conversation perched like a garden gnome beneath them. As the interview develops, I can’t help but feel how appropriate my choice of seating is, seeing as the band, like many young women before them, have also spent much of their lives feeling small and looked down on. The band met while at Kingston University in London. Poppy and Daisy were on the same course studying Fine Art, while Filmmaking student Yas, met Poppy through shared halls. When Yas and Poppy began recording and releasing music together, Daisy quickly became their biggest fan. “They released a song called ‘Men in suits’ on SoundCloud and it was fucking sick. So, I was like do you guys need a bassist and they were like,” cutting 9 NO CHANGE GIVEN
(From left to right) Yas, Poppy and Daisy posing next to an upcoming gig poster outside the Lanes, Bristol
off Daisy before she can finish, Yas and Poppy join in a chorus of “Noooo!” before the whole room creases with laughter. Instead of drafting in Daisy when they were still at university the band waited until she had moved to Berlin before they finally felt ready to recruit her. “We were literally learning our instruments from scratch,” says Poppy, “I was on youtube hitting cardboard boxes with pencils. I couldn’t buy a drum kit…” As humorous an image as that is, the decision to take up an instrument well into adulthood came out of a place of severe frustration and dissatisfaction with the current musical climate. “Girls just don’t get that encouragement to be like you can be in a band. Like growing up queer is the same thing. In TV you don’t have any positive representation and that’s the same with music,” explains Yas, “so that’s why I think it is so important for us to be like we are girls and we’re queer.” It is so rare for Grandmas House to see other girls in punk bands that when they share the bill with other females it is a cause for celebration. “One time we were playing The Thunderbolt (Bristol) and there was just one other girl in any of the other bands, and she came up to us like oh my god you don’t understand I am just so happy to see other women,” says Yas, “women see us, and we see other
women performing and it’s just incredible.” While it may be easy for some to say that the misrepresentation of females in the music industry no longer occurs, the proof comes when Poppy runs upstairs to grab a flyer from a relatively large and wellestablished festival they had played a month before. In it, they are a featured artist alongside a teenage female duo and 10 other bands. While Grandmas House’s 23 word bio focusses on their ‘potent dynamism’ and ‘grunge fuelled vitality’, the teenage duo’s bio begins with the line ‘It is hard to say without sounding pervy, but here goes....’ Needless to say, seeing a group of teenage girls represented in this way spoiled Grandmas House’s inclusion in the flyer. “I was just like how disgusting for these young girls, imagine their parents reading that,” screams Yas in disbelief, “how uncomfortable would you be sending your kids, your young girls out there. It just makes you feel so unsafe once again.”
“I think it is so important for us to be like we are girls and we’re queer” It is not as if Grandmas House believe in a male-directed conspiracy to oppress female artists and the number of positive experiences they have had far outweigh the bad, but this flyer is a concrete example of the often tone-deaf nature of the industry the band are trying to change. “It obviously went through so many people to get printed and no one even noticed,” says Poppy shaking her head, “because that’s again one of the problems, men are ruling the music industry and they don’t have these experiences, they are not even clued up enough to spot that.”
Top Rigjht: Poppy Dodgson Right: Yasmin Berndt Below: Grandmas House
While Grandmas House’s live show may now be a joyfully extended middle finger to anyone who doubts their capability as musicians, taking to the stage has not always come so easy. They all told me of the severe anxiety they experienced in the band’s early days. “We were so nervous we had to create personas of us 40, 50 years down the line when we had actually done it all,” reminisces Poppy. These creations helped the band deal with the prospect of playing punk music to crowds that probably weren’t used to seeing female artists in that sort of environment. “There is this stereotype that women need to be singing high pitched, like this,” Poppy’s voice strains as she sings the sentence at the top of her vocal register, while Yas nods in agreement. “This is my singing voice, this is how I want to sing. No one wants to hear me growling instead they want a pretty singing voice,” adds Yas. While their elderly alteregos once helped to curb the band’s nerves, they have outgrown any need for them and hope girls in similar positions will feel as confident as they do. For Sue (Yas), Gert (Poppy) and Marge (Daisy) Grandma’s House is stronger than ever. “We are amazing and we don’t give a fuck, because we’ve seen it all now at this point,” says Poppy with a hard-earned smile. NO CHANGE GIVEN 10
MEAN AS THEY COME “I’m ready for it mate, ‘ave it!” Filmmaker Dan Higginson and I are crouched behind a wall at the bottom of Dean Lane Skatepark. He’s calling out to Benny, a Dean Lane legend as he attempts to land a hardflip into the shockingly steep bank below us. “I’ll be fine when I do try and stick it, I’m just shitting myself” laughs Benny as he swaggers back up to the top in a bright yellow Skate Cafe T-shirt. The footage he gets will bring Dan’s Dean Lane documentary into modern-day and serve as the final piece of the filmmaker’s puzzle. “I moved to Bristol in 2003 for Uni and this was one of the first places I came,” Dan tells me as he juggles his camera and a dripping can of Red Stripe, “In third year I moved right around the corner and for a chunk of time this place was my second home.” The affinity he has for this crumbling monument to skateboarding is admirable, but by no means unique. Ask anyone bombing down the Deaner’s mountainous main strip and they’ll probably tell you a similar love story. “People are massively passionate about this place, as 11 NO CHANGE GIVEN
Overleaf: (Collage) Daniel Higginson films the finishing touches to his documentary ‘Nothing Meaner’
First opened in 1978, Bristol’s Dean Lane Skatepark is almost as old as skateboarding itself. We caught up with filmmaker Daniel Higginson who has dedicated the past 9 months documenting the park’s riotous history.
much as I have ever seen anything in skateboarding,” explains Dan. Dan began making skate films at the age of 14 and since founding Clockwise media in 2006 has had a very successful career as a commercial filmmaker, but as time began to tick on, filming skateboarding became less of a priority for him. “It feels like the thing that got me into filmmaking is no longer the thing I get a chance to do. I last made a proper edit in 2000 and... Fuck knows, 2002?” With the 20th anniversary of the annual Dean Lane Hardcore Fun Day looming, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for Dan to revisit one of his oldest passions. “You just hear so many stories and you think, fucking hell this place is more than a skatepark. I remember seeing the flyer for the anniversary and I was like right, it’s now or never.” The ninety free tickets for the documentary’s premiere were nabbed in under 24 hours. When I ask Dan how it feels to have the skateboarding community behind him he is humbled in his response, but his mind is elsewhere. “It’s a
testament to the Deaner and how popular it is,” he explains before interrupting himself. With a look of conviction, he turns to me and says “Here it comes.” We hear the familiar scrape of Benny’s board against the gnarled tarmac floor as he rolls up and pops into the bank. He lands the hardflip perfectly and screeches away to screams of “Jesus Christ!” and “Fucking hell” from all around the park. As Dan rushes off to show Benny the footage I say my goodbyes and slip away amidst the chaos, confident in the fact that I had just witnessed a piece of Dean Lane history being made. As skateboarding has changed so has the Deaner. The snake-run was knocked down in the nineties and its original bowls are currently resting under several feet of concrete. But even now, skaters are taking it upon themselves to add to its story. Whether it be in the form of another DIY ramp installed without the council’s permission or just another battle scar for the collection, people like Dan are continuing to prove that there is really nothing meaner than the Deaner.
‘The Deaner’
FIVE QUESTIONS WITH PHOTOGRAPHER RICHARD GILLIGAN Richard Giligan’s is the author of ‘DIY/Underground Skateparks’, a photo-book first published in 2014. His career behind the lens began as a teenager in Dublin, now based in New York, Rich has shot work for influential brands like Adidas, Carhartt and L’uomo Vogue. We sent him a cheeky email to find out what it was about DIY skateparks that first caught his eye and how skateboarding has influenced his career as a photographer. In your photo-book DIY/ Underground Skateparks you have managed to find beauty and serenity in what many people may consider a blight on the landscape. Do you think that people outside of the skateboard scene who encounter these DIY spots can appreciate what they mean to those who skate them and those who build them?
& that is incredible even if you compare it to how things were 20 years ago. I appreciate that a lot of them are badly designed & could be better but the roots of skate culture have always been in places where people didn’t want us to be. Pools, Schoolyards, Urban Plazas etc. Street skating will always exist & I am thankful for this. The idea of skateparks caging in this subculture is at Yes, absolutely. After the publication times alarming but it’s not all negative. As a kid in Dublin, of the book DIY, I received lots of interest from designers, architects Ireland I would have dreamt of a & people involved in urban planning public skatepark but no such thing existed - even the possibility of it who could see the potential that was laughable back then. these spaces had beyond just “a place to skate”. People were Hypothetically, do you think if there interested in how these locations had the potential to bring together was a state of the art skatepark on every street these spots would still people from all walks of life & at exist? the same time bring life to parts of the landscape that are normally Yes. Skateboarding can be forgotten. homogenized, repackaged & capitalized on commercially but it Do you think that DIY spots are will always attract misfits who will a reaction to poorly maintained want to do things on their terms. skateparks (particularly in the UK) or just an expression of If someone builds an extension skateboarding’s rebellious side? on their house that is 5cm over what was agreed in the planning This is hard to say. I think skating permission it is usually at risk of has & always will have a very specific DIY/Punk attitude. Because being torn down, yet some of of this people are not afraid to just these DIY spots that we’re talking about have sat unmolested for make things happen on their own decades. Through your travels did terms. This is both a blessing & a curse but it is this attitude & way of you get an idea as to why these thinking that initially attracted me to spots seem to be tolerated in skating in the first place. In regards most cities? poorly maintained parks, I think this is unfair as there have never been This really depends on the local as many publicly funded skateparks authorities standpoint on things. Some cities are more openin the UK as there are right now
minded about these things (Malmo, Sweden or Portland, Oregon) and others are so caught up in the fear of insurance liabilities & bureaucracy that it’s near impossible for them to turn a blind eye. This is probably a question you get asked a lot but what first sparked your interest in DIY skateparks and why did you feel it was important to document them so extensively? Seeing Burnside in old skate videos always just fascinated me. I was drawn to everything about it. The way these locations looked & sounded had a huge impact on me. For me, it was the perfect way to combine my interest in topographical photography with a subject matter that I was embedded in & held close to my heart. The obsessive documentation of them was a labour of love so really once the project started & I gained momentum I just keep going. I’m still shocked that I somehow pulled it off.
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GREEN AND PLEASANT LAND I’m sat playing Bingo in a Polish Community Centre in West Swindon. The numbers are being called in Polish, a language I don’t understand, but luckily I have 91-yearold Helena Smereda whispering their English translations to me as soon they are announced. Around the table sit four women including Helena, all of whom are a similar age and are all widowed. One of them is 87-year old Bronia Miotla, a greyhaired lady with a youthful and contagious smile. She has spent the majority of her life in Britain after being forced to flee her home during the Second World War. “We couldn’t go back there, we didn’t have anything,” she explains to me. Bronia’s birthplace was separated from Poland by The USSR and is now part of modern-day Ukraine. Before moving to England, Bronia had already been a refugee for most of her life. Along with her mother and two sisters, Bronia first travelled to Russia and then Iran, where she lived for three years, before moving on to Pakistan and finally India where they resided for another five years. Bronia’s father had fought at the Battle of
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Monte Cassino and was invited to bring his family to Britain at the end of the war as thanks for his service. Considered to be one of the bloodiest and hardest fought battles of WW2, Bronia’s father bravely fought alongside an estimated 48,000 Polish soldiers. Today, Briona is a grandmother to eleven British grandchildren, but after 52% of the country voted to leave the EU, she still worries about her status in the UK. “Everyone is very frightened about what might happen to them. It is alright for my children because they were born here but with me, you never know. I don’t have anywhere to go because I was 12 when I came to this country.” The running of the community centre wouldn’t be possible without the work of Ania Rabuszko and Krysia Szczerkowska. I interrupt them for a chat as they are counting up money for a trip to the beach for the club members. “Everybody does their bit, but I keep the books, I look after the money and I do the shopping, but everybody does their part whether it is bingo calling or washing up and this place
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“Everyone is very frightened about what might happen to them...”
Above: Krystyna Jura calls out Bingo numbers in Polish Right and below: Club members check their cards
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Clockwise: ‘Eddy’ celebrates his 87th Birthday, Krystyna shows her hand, Man playing Bingo, Time for lunch 17 NO CHANGE GIVEN
“We couldn’t go back there, we didn’t have anything” wouldn’t exist if we didn’t”, explains Krysia. While the Polish club has existed in its current state for the last 36 years, many of the older generations of Swindon’s Polish community started their journeys in England together. Both Ania and Krysia have known one another since childhood and are still treated like kids by some of the older clubmembers, despite being well into their 60s. “Most of us know each other either through school or through youth club,” Krysia directs her attention to an elderly gentleman who has been stood quietly listening to our conversation. “I’ve known Tolik here all my life,” she says matter of factly. “He was the first person we knew to have a record player! We played it and played it until I think it had a hole in it,” reminisces Ania. “I remember falling on the ice at Fairford and he picked me up and saved my life,” adds Krysia as Tolik looks on. Following the war, over 1000 displaced Polish citizens were offered refuge at Fairford camp. A disused American field hospital on the edge of the Cotswolds, Fairford became home for many Polish families after the war. Henrik Lenartowski was brought to the camp when he was just 6 months old. “We were taught nothing but Polish, hoping that one day we would return to Poland but unfortunately that didn’t happen.” Henrik has played the accordion since he was 13 years old, now 72, he has played music at the Community Centre for most of his life, “When I was a boy, the leader of the band was an old Polish soldier, the whole band were ex-soldiers, so we would only play Polish traditional music.” For many who come here, it is the only way they get to experience the traditions of their homeland. As we sit down to lunch at ‘U Agnieszki Restauracja’ (translated means ‘At Agnieszka’s Restuarant’) a popular restaurant housed within the Community Centre, I get speaking to 88-year-old Helena Gumineiak over steaming hot bowls of Chicken Noodle Soup. Like Bronia, Helena too came to Britain as a refugee after the war. “In 1940, they took us by force to Kazakhstan. I was nine years old,” she explains, “The journey lasted one month in a cattle train. Forty, fifty of us in there all stood up. It was horrible, but I still didn’t take much notice I wasn’t old enough to understand it.” Once lunch is over and it is time to go home I feel overwhelmed by the reception I have received. Once I have said my goodbyes, I spy Henrik waiting for the bus back into town and I hop on with him, desperate to hear more about his life. As governments across Top: Waiting for the globe shift closer and closer to ideological lunch extremes, it is important to remember where we Bottom: Henrik came from and that we live amongst people who Lenartowski have seen the damage it can do. Maybe if we studies his card take the time to listen, we can better understand where we are going. NO CHANGE GIVEN 18
‘Bingo’
‘Lunchtime Laughter’
‘Liminal’
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EDITED BY DAVID STURGESS WRITTEN BY DAVID STURGESS DESIGNED BY DAVID STURGESS PHOTOGRAPHY BY DAVID STURGESS CONTACT davidjsturge@outlook.com SPECIAL THANKS TO THE LATE MARK FISHER, SIMON OBIREK, KATIE DINNAGE, ‘HOURS’, JOSH ADAM JONES, ELLA WHITEN, YASMIN BERNDT, DAISY HODGSON, POPPY DODGSON, DANIEL HIGGINSON, BENNY, RICH GILLIGAN, DLH, DEAN LANE SKATEPARK, HELENA SMEREDA, KRYSTYNA JURA, BRONIA MIOTLA, ANIA RABUSZKO, KRYSIA SZCZERKOWSKA, HENRIK LENARTOWSKI, DAVID HANSEN, HELENA GUMENEIAK, POLSKA PARAFIA RZYMSKOKATOLICKA SW. JANA PAWLA W II W SWINDON, DAVID VICKERMAN, ANNE HARBIN, MARCUS GILROY-WARE, CHRIS BROWN, MYRA EVANS, ARVIND HOWARTH, LORNA STEPHENSON, SHARON ALCOCK, RAY STURGESS, BOZENA STURGESS, ALEX TAYLOR, THE CITY OF BRISTOL, UJIMA RADIO, PHOTOGRAPHIQUE, ASHLEY BOURNE, THE UNIVERSITY OF THE WEST OF ENGLAND, ETC. NO CHANGE GIVEN 22
Do we all have the power to change the world, or does our influence only extend to our immediate vicinity? Whether we are looking for change within our own lives, fighting for change within a larger system or reacting to changes imposed upon us, this magazine hopes to examine the nature of change itself. Change is not a given. But it is perhaps by observing and studying change (or the lack thereof), that we can see how far we have come and how far we need to go.