David Van-Cauter

      Tip In the evening light at the freezing tip we lug bin bags from the blanket of the car in masked anonymity through tired hi-viz employees, mumbling advice to pallid human figures, barely there, excising months of lockdown trash. I find a working...
C. Albert

C. Albert

      The Watermelon Universe*   I love these Gypsy schoolchildren, hands uniformly clasped, lost in camouflaged pieces of planet scatter. Their shadows are as long as countries. Children curious about the whole world stand on the maps, try to...

Sarah Harrison Reid

    blackhouse when I squat down by a stone wall the moment enters windless broken arms around me naked to the sky filled with a hearth of tree a machair rug when I lose all sense of others as far as           the sea and then some slip down a funnel become...
Swells

Swells

    We’re very grateful to be able to re publish ‘Swells’, a project in which artists have responded to the pressures on their craft in the middle of lockdown. In the words of the project: After a year of profound creative challenges,...

Sarah James

      Floundering March 1897, a rough winter turns rougher. A mast-gnashing southwesterly disrupts the balance between sea and air. The horizon swirls, then vanishes. Gale-force surges churn up 30ft waves, haul chaos in their wake. Surf froths like the...