Grace met Trevor Wishart - I wish I could experience your art - in a library he didn't know he could use when he was a baby student. What a delightful man. Brightness shines the way for others. Hi, this is her husband. I'm very sorry to say that Camille passed away in June. Diagnosed... Continue Reading →

On repeated erasure

I've written about "yellow" people being invisible. Being ignored, erased, invisible, unheard. I used the word yellow, offensive as many find it, because we are not black or brown, "oriental" objectifies us, and hardly anyone knows what "East Asian" really means when they use the term. The census and data collection forms only have a... Continue Reading →

Triggered. Edinburgh.

I guess there must be people who reckon that trigger warnings are silly. That that is babying folk. That we are more robust, or should learn to take the knocks. I wonder, I question how much I use the words trigger, triggering, trigger warning. How it really is a concern of mine. Am I only... Continue Reading →

Hot Brown Honey

TW: sexualised violence It was amazing to see a body - which carries on being the same body post-show, we cannot scrape off our skin - onto which I and so many people map our lustful desires onto, be SO STRONG on stage. In order to make such a powerful show, all those bodies and... Continue Reading →

Day 1 

Running notes. A three night, some days DIY. Artists development residential session led by Rachel Mars and Greg Wohead.  This feels like my Live Art phase part 2 plus mid-life crisis. Not bad things at all. Recklessness. What is audaciousness? What is it in relation to you?  If you're comfy pulling things out of your... Continue Reading →

A small daytime dream 

A writing exercise from today. I had fun revisiting this task - remembering sensations, the things that are important to me now and how they may or may not transpose into the future. Not so much material things but sensations and beauty and the joy of curiosity. But material things as well. Things and people... Continue Reading →

Post event report

I'm tired a LOT. Thank you to those who come towards me, who find me in my space. I am, as usual, typing this on my phone while stuck in bed. Last night I didn't talk about my mental health last night and I regret it. I didn't feel like reading my essay from The... Continue Reading →

I don’t see race – who sees what and who cares?

I'm curating a panel discussion at Housmans: I don't see race - An informal discussion around skin colour politics, (in)visibility and the intersection between race and gender. Included is a brief reading from The Good Immigrant. Details HERE. Some notes below for the (sold out) event at Housmans Radical Bookshop this evening: Thank you for being in the... Continue Reading →

Things that help me

Was asked recently what helps with my depression. Listing them helps me remember. These below are mostly quick pick me ups. I'll be adding detail to this list.  1. The right breakfast. It's taken decades for me to find the right kind of brekkie to have in the UK. Given how difficult it often is... Continue Reading →

People together in space 

It's something I notice - how people who are meant to be "together" move about in space. If one stalks ahead without caring where the other(s) are. Walking through doors without holding it open for thre person right behind them. Crossing a road without indicating to the group that that's the route. The "I'm on... Continue Reading →

Visibility and invisibility

Following on from The Good Immigrant - Off The Page at Tara Arts, I'm curating a further panel discussion inspired by The Good Immigrant, this time at Housmans Radical Bookshop. While the panel at Tara looked at the idea of "immigrants" and the overlap (or not) with "people of colour", this session will focus on skin... Continue Reading →


Wheels I snuck into a room I wasn’t meant to use. He turned around and we talked about swimming. Bodies in water, wriggling about. He told me 'bout wild days and nights at posh school. He sold soft drugs wearing fine wool. This neat Italian man. Do you want to? he asked from under his... Continue Reading →

Obviously – A study.

A writing experiment in preparation for a longer piece - In 1996, aged too-old-to-be-a-virgin (says who?), I slept with Pandrew “surely you’re old enough” Bobertson in my creaking metal-frame, single bed in the Florey Building, down St Clements. The Florey is an architectural marvel. An “iconic” building designed by James Stirling clad in red tiles... Continue Reading →

Recent important reads

On white woman as a violent presence: On survival: A book for me to read asap to help me survive: Something recommended to me: Another book I am so looking forward to in terms of giving me hope and stretching my heart and mind:

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