Q3's Change: Art Collection

C H A N G E art | photography | poetry

It’s a cruel change when you look back and know that you were once a different person. You were happy and carefree and ignorant to the pain that awaited you. You weren’t always this broken. It was something happy. It’s now something new. It’s waking up and knowing today you will fail again. It’s looking in the mirror and dressing but knowing regardless you will look wrong. It’s walking with your head down so no one has to put up with your awkward conversation skills. It’s trying to talk but instead choking on your own breath. It’s saying ‘I will do better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s internalising every spoken word with fear that you sound incredibly stupid. It’s rehearsing every word you speak aloud yet kicking yourself for all of the missed opportunities to just talk. It’s taking ‘I love you’ and turning it to ‘you are really annoying’. It’s missing deadlines because you know what you do will be terrible even before its written. It’s saying ‘I will work better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s imagining all the ways you could fail and playing it like a never ending movie in your mind. It’s relying on drinking because drinking makes you talk without thinking through every breath. It’s the fear of a tutor asking a question to the room and the dread of being picked. It’s friends making inside jokes and having your fears justified. ‘They don’t need you, they wouldn’t notice if you weren’t here.’ It’s screaming inside your head to just stop but you can’t. You just can’t stop. It’s the fear of isolation yet needing isolation to feel something other than crippling fear itself. It’s looking in every reflection to see how bad you look. It’s telling yourself ‘I will love myself more tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s jumping out of your skin at the slightest noise and a rush of panic when someone raises a voice. It’s hating others for being so relaxed and outspoken and hating yourself more for not being so. It’s the desperation to change but nothing ever changes. Nothing works. Nothing. It is my mind’s own torture device. It’s cruel and sadistic, weaving its way into every situation and holding your breath captive. It is all you are yet it’s no real part of you. It’s knowing that you weren’t always like this.

It’s knowing that between then and now that something has changed. You’ve changed. And one day you’ll change again. For the better. promise.It’s a cruel change when you look back and know that you were once a different person. You were happy and carefree and ignorant to the pain that awaited you. You weren’t always this broken. It was something happy. It’s now something new. It’s waking up and knowing today you will fail again. It’s looking in the mirror and dressing but knowing regardless you will look wrong. It’s walking with your head down so no one has to put up with your awkward conversation skills. It’s trying to talk but instead choking on your own breath. It’s saying ‘I will do better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s internalising every spoken word with fear that you sound incredibly stupid. It’s rehearsing every word you speak aloud yet kicking yourself for all of the missed opportunities to just talk. It’s taking ‘I love you’ and turning it to ‘you are really annoying’. It’s missing deadlines because you know what you do will be terrible even before its written. It’s saying ‘I will work better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s imagining all the ways you could fail and playing it like a never ending movie in your mind. It’s relying on drinking because drinking makes you talk without thinking through every breath. It’s the fear of a tutor asking a question to the room and the dread of being picked. It’s friends making inside jokes and having your fears justified. ‘They don’t need you, they wouldn’t notice if you weren’t here.’ It’s screaming inside your head to just stop but you can’t. You just can’t stop. It’s the fear of isolation yet needing isolation to feel something other than crippling fear itself. It’s looking in every reflection to see how bad you look. It’s telling yourself ‘I will love myself more tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s jumping out of your skin at the slightest noise and a rush of panic when someone raises a voice. It’s hating others for being so relaxed and outspoken and hating yourself more for not being so. It’s the desperation to change but nothing ever changes. Nothing works. Nothing. It is my mind’s own torture device. It’s cruel and sadistic, weaving its way into every situation and holding your breath captive. It is all you are yet it’s no real part of you. It’s knowing that you weren’t always like this.It’s knowing that between then and now that something has changed. You’ve changed. And one day you’ll change again. For the better. promiIt’s a cruel change when you look back and know that you were once a different person. You were happy and carefree and ignorant to the pain that awaited you. You weren’t always this broken. It was something happy. It’s now something new.

It’s waking up and knowing today you will fail again. It’s looking in the mirror and dressing but knowing regardless you will look wrong. It’s walking with your head down so no one has to put up with your awkward conversation skills. It’s trying to talk but instead choking on your own breath. It’s saying ‘I will do better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s internalising every spoken word with fear that you sound incredibly stupid. It’s rehearsing every word you speak aloud yet kicking yourself for all of the missed opportunities to just talk. It’s taking ‘I love you’ and turning it to ‘you are really annoying’. It’s missing deadlines because you know what you do will be terrible even before its written. It’s saying ‘I will work better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s imagining all the ways you could fail and playing it like a never ending movie in your mind. It’s relying on drinking because drinking makes you talk without thinking through every breath. It’s the fear of a tutor asking a question to the room and the dread of being picked. It’s friends making inside jokes and having your fears justified. ‘They don’t need you, they wouldn’t notice if you weren’t here.’ It’s screaming inside your head to just stop but you can’t. You just can’t stop. It’s the fear of isolation yet needing isolation to feel something other than crippling fear itself. It’s looking in every reflection to see how bad you look. It’s telling yourself ‘I will love myself more tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s jumping out of your skin at the slightest noise and a rush of panic when someone raises a voice. It’s hating others for being so relaxed and outspoken and hating yourself more for not being so. It’s the desperation to change but nothing ever changes. Nothing works. Nothing. It is my mind’s own torture device. It’s cruel and sadistic, weaving its way into every situation and holding your breath captive. It is all you are yet it’s no real part of you. It’s knowing that you weren’t always like this. It’s knowing that between then and now that something has changed. You’ve changed. And one day you’ll change again. For the better. promise.It’s a cruel change when you look back and know that you were once a different person. You were happy and carefree and ignorant to the pain that awaited you. You weren’t always this broken. It was something happy. It’s now something new. It’s waking up and knowing today you will fail again. It’s looking in the mirror and dressing but knowing regardless you will look wrong. It’s walking with your head down so no one has to put up with your awkward conversation skills. It’s trying to talk but instead choking on your own breath. It’s saying ‘I will do better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s internalising every spoken word with fear that you sound incredibly stupid. It’s rehearsing every word you speak aloud yet kicking yourself for all of the missed opportunities to just talk. It’s taking ‘I love you’ and turning it to ‘you are really annoying’. It’s missing deadlines because you know what you do will be terrible even before its written. It’s saying ‘I will work better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s imagining all the ways you could fail and playing it like a never ending movie in your mind. It’s relying on drinking because drinking makes you talk without thinking through every breath. It’s the fear of a tutor asking a question to the room and the dread of being picked. It’s friends making inside jokes and having your fears justified. ‘They don’t need you, they wouldn’t notice if you weren’t here.’ It’s screaming inside your head to just stop but you can’t. You just can’t stop. It’s the fear of isolation yet needing isolation to feel something other than crippling fear itself. It’s looking in every reflection to see how bad you look. It’s telling yourself ‘I will love myself more tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s jumping out of your skin at the slightest noise and a rush of panic when someone raises a voice. It’s hating others for being so relaxed and outspoken and hating yourself more for not being so. It’s the desperation to change but nothing ever changes. Nothing works. Nothing. It is my mind’s own torture device. It’s cruel and sadistic, weaving its way into every situation and holding your breath captive. It is all you are yet it’s no real part of you. It’s knowing that you weren’t always like this.It’s knowing that between then and now that something has changed.

You’ve changed. And one day you’ll change again. For the better. promise.It’s a cruel change when you look back and know that you were once a different person. You were happy and carefree and ignorant to the pain that awaited you. You weren’t always this broken. It was something happy. It’s now something new. It’s waking up and knowing today you will fail again. It’s looking in the mirror and dressing but knowing regardless you will look wrong. It’s walking with your head down so no one has to put up with your awkward conversation skills. It’s trying to talk but instead choking on your own breath. It’s saying ‘I will do better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s internalising every spoken word with fear that you sound incredibly stupid. It’s rehearsing every word you speak aloud yet kicking yourself for all of the missed opportunities to just talk. It’s taking ‘I love you’ and turning it to ‘you are really annoying’. It’s missing deadlines because you know what you do will be terrible even before its written. It’s saying ‘I will work better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s imagining all the ways you could fail and playing it like a never ending movie in your mind. It’s relying on drinking because drinking makes you talk without thinking through every breath. It’s the fear of a tutor asking a question to the room and the dread of being picked. It’s friends making inside jokes and having your fears justified. ‘They don’t need you, they wouldn’t notice if you weren’t here.’ It’s screaming inside your head to just stop but you can’t. You just can’t stop. It’s the fear of isolation yet needing isolation to feel something other than crippling fear itself. It’s looking in every reflection to see how bad you look. It’s telling yourself ‘I will love myself more tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s jumping out of your skin at the slightest noise and a rush of panic when someone raises a voice. It’s hating others for being so relaxed and outspoken and hating yourself more for not being so. It’s the desperation to change but nothing ever changes. Nothing works. Nothing. It is my mind’s own torture device. It’s cruel and sadistic, weaving its way into every situation and holding your breath captive. It is all you are yet it’s no real part of you. It’s knowing that you weren’t always like this.

It’s knowing that between then and now that something has changed. You’ve changed. And one day you’ll change again. For the better. promise.It’s a cruel change when you look back and know that you were once a different person. You were happy and carefree and ignorant to the pain that awaited you. You weren’t always this broken. It was something happy. It’s now something new. It’s waking up and knowing today you will fail again. It’s looking in the mirror and dressing but knowing regardless you will look wrong. It’s walking with your head down so no one has to put up with your awkward conversation skills. It’s trying to talk but instead choking on your own breath. It’s saying ‘I will do better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s internalising every spoken word with fear that you sound incredibly stupid. It’s rehearsing every word you speak aloud yet kicking yourself for all of the missed opportunities to just talk. It’s taking ‘I love you’ and turning it to ‘you are really annoying’. It’s missing deadlines because you know what you do will be terrible even before its written. It’s saying ‘I will work better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s imagining all the ways you could fail and playing it like a never ending movie in your mind. It’s relying on drinking because drinking makes you talk without thinking through every breath. It’s the fear of a tutor asking a question to the room and the dread of being picked. It’s friends making inside jokes and having your fears justified. ‘They don’t need you, they wouldn’t notice if you weren’t here.’ It’s screaming inside your head to just stop but you can’t. You just can’t stop. It’s the fear of isolation yet needing isolation to feel something other than crippling fear itself. It’s looking in every reflection to see how bad you look. It’s telling yourself ‘I will love myself more tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s jumping out of your skin at the slightest noise and a rush of panic when someone raises a voice. It’s hating others for being so relaxed and outspoken and hating yourself more for not being so. It’s the desperation to change but nothing ever changes. Nothing works. Nothing. It is my mind’s own torture device. It’s cruel and sadistic, weaving its way into every situation and holding your breath captive. It is all you are yet it’s no real part of you. It’s knowing that you weren’t always like this.It’s knowing that between then and now that something has changed. You’ve changed. And one day you’ll change again. For the better. promiIt’s a cruel change when you look back and know that you were once a different person. You were happy and carefree and ignorant to the pain that awaited you. You weren’t always this broken. It was something happy. It’s now something new. It’s waking up and knowing today you will fail again. It’s looking in the mirror and dressing but knowing regardless you will look wrong. It’s walking with your head down so no one has to put up with your awkward conversation skills. It’s trying to talk but instead choking on your own breath. It’s saying ‘I will do better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s internalising every spoken word with fear that you sound incredibly stupid. It’s rehearsing every word you speak aloud yet kicking yourself for all of the missed opportunities to just talk. It’s taking ‘I love you’ and turning it to ‘you are really annoying’. It’s missing deadlines because you know what you do will be terrible even before its written. It’s saying ‘I will work better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s imagining all the ways you could fail and playing it like a never ending movie in your mind. It’s relying on drinking because drinking makes you talk without thinking through every breath. It’s the fear of a tutor asking a question to the room and the dread of

letter from the editor The time has come. This letter is officially the last bit I get to do as the editor of Q3 Magazine. The past year has been a lot of fun - from rebranding and setting up our website to editing our contributors’ brilliant ideas, to designing art collections, I have enjoyed every minute of it. This last theme, Change, has been particularly emotional. Indeed, with dissertations finally submitted and graduation fast approaching, change (along with attempts not to fear it) has been all I could think about.

It seems I am not alone; in the pages below, you will find various pieces of poetry and photography inspired by different interpretations of the notion of change. Some discuss change in relationships, others weigh over personal character developments, yet others focus on travelling or seasonal change. I am contributing a set of acrylic paintings which came to be during a time of dramatic lifestyle change. The collection culminates with students’ accounts of their feelings regarding graduation. I hope you fall in love with the following pages as much as I have.

The collection never would have happened without Samantha Harford, Q3’s Deputy Editor this year, who handled marketing and gathered these works.

Thank you, Sam; the magazine would not have been the same without your consistent work and organisational skills.

Lucy Aprahamian, Q3 Editor-in-Chief

Change/Destroy

by Isobel Roach This is destruction art, A work of translation, Transfiguration; luxuriating Fire to obliterate the soul.

Saints’ bones and monks’ Ashes, bricks and mortar Are nothing to the stroke Of heat that burns to Remake history.

This is a voice you’ve Never heard before, This is an ode to arson And matches, a hymn For foolishness and Fascination. Until Now you never knew That fire was a virtue.

You never thought You’d be the one Pouring petrol on The past.

We don’t remember how We were before the fire; Its instinct is for birth; To erase erase erase And make nothing Out of something; To bate breath.

This is chaos art.

We didn’t know Who we were Before the fire; Maybe bones And ancestors; Maybe the Close of a Shutter; Perhaps a Sickening Summer’s Day spent Locked In heaven, Paris, France.

Change.

Destroy.

Take a Church And Un Make It.

Taken with a Minolta X500 on 35mm film. Change is both seen through he medium (film rather than digital) and through the notion of the train-station, symbolising a change of location.

by Sai

Honeymoon

by Cynthia Vera

Tonight is the night we become one; One pulse One flesh The pink skies above us are crafted with the finest silk – suffocating us.

A hymn of praise roars through the thunderous applause from the pink skies above “I am yours. You are mine” – are you choking on a lie? You’re trembling.

I have dreamt of this moment for a thousand nights; Imagined my silk lined dress – manufactured from white lilies gathered from two harvests ago Imagined the isle – glowing from the firestorm that surrounds us.

Tonight is the night we become one And the birds will sing from the north to the south And the dragons will dance from the east to the west.

I have dreamt of this moment for a thousand nights; A ceremony of our love – envisioned sharing my body and soul with you The pink skies above us crafted with the finest silk embrace us.

To me, you are the whole sky – endless and majestic But your dark storms might make me unlove you.

In the morning, the pink lily skies bleed hues of dark magenta I got into the sea with a burning itch and bury my head six feet under the water.

Here, I dream of being baptised – cleansed I dream of the waves washing away every memory of you.

By the evening, you are just a blank space in my head A void left in my heart that I will fill up myself – eventually anyways.

I had dreamt of this moment for a thousand nights Us becoming one – one pulse and one flesh.

I wanted to give myself to you fully But you were just a black crow ripping at my wounds And I was but a fraction – incomplete.

Tomorrow, I will try to utter your name under the crimson skies And it will turn into ash in my mouth And I will finally become whole – without you.

Here, “change� is mainly through the medium of 35mm film on the Minolta X500, as well as a change in focus

by Sai

Dislocates

by Sophie Squire

I’m still waiting, Stationary pacing While they all watch.

Told I’ll wake up One morning, the penny Will drop.

It never has, it never will, I’ll stay the same standing Still with my head in the clouds While everyone stares From their chairs of airs And graces.

Told to gracefully grow Into something that shows I’m a child no more.

But an adult with thoughts Afforded no time to figure Out what I want From myself.

So I bend to fit a mould That dislocates not only me But my joints, fractures bones And draws blood.

All to say I’ve changed When the answer really Is that I only wish I could.

35mm film with Minolta X500, showing a change in existence

by Sai

I Have Changed

by Hannah Stait

It’s a cruel change when you look back and know that you were once a different person.

You were happy and carefree and ignorant to the pain that awaited you.

You weren’t always this broken.

It was something happy.

It’s now something new.

It’s waking up and knowing today you will fail again. It’s looking in the mirror and dressing but knowing regardless you will look wrong. It’s walking with your head down so no one has to put up with your awkward conversation skills. It’s trying to talk but instead choking on your own breath. It’s saying ‘I will do better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s internalising every spoken word with fear that you sound incredibly stupid. It’s rehearsing every word you speak aloud yet kicking yourself for all of the missed opportunities to just talk. It’s taking ‘I love you’ and turning it to ‘you are really annoying’. It’s missing deadlines because you know what you do will be terrible even before its written. It’s saying ‘I will work better tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s imagining all the ways you could fail and playing it like a never ending movie in your mind. It’s relying on drinking because drinking makes you talk without thinking through every breath. It’s the fear of a tutor asking a question to the room and the dread of being picked. It’s friends

making inside jokes and having your fears justified. ‘They don’t need you, they wouldn’t notice if you weren’t here.’ It’s screaming inside your head to just stop but you can’t. You just can’t stop. It’s the fear of isolation yet needing isolation to feel something other than crippling fear itself. It’s looking in every reflection to see how bad you look. It’s telling yourself ‘I will love myself more tomorrow’ but tomorrow never comes. It’s jumping out of your skin at the slightest noise and a rush of panic when someone raises a voice. It’s hating others for being so relaxed and outspoken and hating yourself more for not being so. It’s the desperation to change but nothing ever changes. Nothing works. Nothing. It is my mind’s own torture device. It’s cruel and sadistic, weaving its way into every situation and holding your breath captive. It is all you are yet it’s no real part of you. It’s knowing that you weren’t always like this.

It’s knowing that between then and now that something has changed.

You’ve changed.

And one day you’ll change again.

For the better.

I promise.

Seasonal change

by Finley Clarke

G R A D U A T I O N What does graduation mean to us?

It is true that graduation is looming around the corner, and with it come mixed feelings.

On the one hand, it is a mark of success. A milestone. After three gruelling years of study, I have finished university and with it, hopefully earned a bachelor’s degree. It is a coming of age if you will; a first step into the vast wide world of ‘adulthood’.

Although I will not deny the sense of achievement I am feeling, a shroud of uncertainty still lingers within me. Coming from a culture which emphasises formal schooling, this sudden change has left me floundering. Now, instead of being told what to do, multiple roads diverge from this turning point. What will I want to do in my life? Where will I go?

What paths shall I take? All these questions are laid bare in front of me, and soon I will have to make a choice. Will I choose to further my education? Will I jump right into the workforce? Or will I instead take a gap year to travel around the world? Although I have somewhat vague plans of going down a specific path, the future is not set in stone. And that’s the thing – you can’t know what choice you’re going to make until you’ve made it.

There’s also the notion of friendship – university life has given me a great opportunity to meet people from all over the world, each with their own unique backgrounds. Whilst it would be fairly easy to arrange hangouts with my friends now, graduation is going to unfortunately complicate things. As we all live in different parts of the globe and everyone has their own plans after university, keeping in touch is going to be a challenge. This is especially true for those who are international students like me. I can only hope that even with the distance imposed after graduation, I will still be able to communicate and build a healthy relationship with my friends.

If I had to sum up what graduation means to me, I would say it not only brings a feeling of success, but also trepidation for the future. Furthermore, there is this sense of nostalgia, as I am looking back on all these years to see how far I’ve progressed. With that being said, will continue to do my best to push forward in my studies and finally complete this semester – with the way things are going, graduation is so close and yet so far.

- by Tiffany Tong

Since my first university lecture, I had perceived graduation as being so far away; an unachievable goal. Riddled with self-doubt, I felt I’d be lucky if I ever made it that far. But now I’m here. I did make it. I pushed myself as hard as I could and I have achieved something amazing. Graduation is a celebration of my dedication, a commendation of my hard work, and a reason for my loved ones to be proud. That little piece of paper is the power to tell anyone that I know what I’m talking about. It’s the physical evidence of your chosen discipline. It’s the proof to employers of your academic and employable ability. It doesn’t mean I’ll definitely get a job straight after university, but it’s proof that I’m dedicated, hardworking, and educated. The academic side of university has educated me about my chosen subject, but the experiences gained throughout, and the people I’ve met, have taught me more about the world than I could have ever known before. They’ve taught me to be empathetic, understanding and open minded. Skills that I will carry with me forever, whatever life choices I make. I will be graduating in July, and I am so proud. I did my best, and I made it!

- by Emily Hattersley

Two things spring to mind when I ask myself this. A sense of pride but also a massive feeling of fear. I’m immensely proud of myself and my friends for having got into Cardiff and for having survived the past three years. But I’m also afraid of what the future holds, since I have no clue what I want to do. Rather humorously, I’m also slightly fearful of having my divorced parents in a room together both trying to outdo each other with their clapping, but that’s another story.

I am trying to think of graduation as just another day. After all, just to get to this point we’ve all experienced ‘graduations’ from secondary school and sixth form, and in hindsight they seem like just another day. But if graduating from Cardiff really means anything to me, it’s a massively bittersweet ending. July 18th marks the official end to my undergraduate days, meaning no more essays, citations, or living in student houses. However, it also means no more sitting about in Pontcanna, no more varsities, and an end to living with your best mates. Wrapped up in all the awful hours spent in the ASSL, university has given me some of my best and worst experiences, which is why it’s so hard to determine what graduation really means to me. Ultimately, it means that it’s time to move on. Even if moving on means spending these last few months leading up to graduation both happy and fearful for what the future holds. Like I said, it’s just another day, but I’ve marked it on my calendar with a bunch of upbeat stickers, so from a distance it doesn’t seem too bad.

- by Meg Hurst

Acknowledgements Editing and design by: Lucy Aprahamian

Assembled by: Samantha Harford

Contributors:

Isobel Roach | Cynthia Vera | Sophie Squire Hannah Stait | Tiffany Tong Emily Hattersley | Meg Hurst Finley Clarke | Sai