Tuesday 22nd July 2025
Blog Page 769

College families – bizarre or beneficial?

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Recently, whilst immersed in the ritualistic escapism from the woes of a reading list that is a Bridge Thursday, I found myself witnessing my college mum entangling herself in the arms of a good friend of mine – a fellow fresher. This in itself may seem an unspectacular occurrence, and yet it was nonetheless a peculiarly unsettling thing to see. But why? It was not as if it were an actual family member I was watching make dubious drunken decisions (thank God – to be honest, the less said about the last family wedding, the better).

That night in Bridge, as these nights have a tendency to do, provided some uninvited inspiration for retrospection; in particular, about the semi-institutionalised peculiarity that is ‘the college family’. So readily accepted by new students from the moment of receiving that first welcome email by college parents, the entire family system itself is strikingly, but brilliantly bizarre when we stop to think about it – much like many of the wonderful quirks of being at Oxford.

Visits from family and friends are perhaps the occasions when we become most aware of how unusual college families are from an outside perspective. I defy anyone to have explained the concept of having other, unofficial (and slightly more youthful) parents to those not indoctrinated into Oxford life, without having faced a reaction of some incredulity. Even more surreal is the experience of introducing friends and family to your college spouse. I don’t blame my non-Oxford mates at all for looking as confused as an unsuccessful Union hack when the words ‘oh, this is my wife’ cross my lips without a hint of humour.

Because of the normality of college families in Oxford, it is easy to forget that people at other universities don’t regularly find themselves opposite their ‘grandmother’, ‘second cousin’, or ‘nephew’ on a night out, and so tales of family bar crawls and nights out tend to be met with perplexity and hilarity during the vac.

However, like families in general, college families can be extremely varied. At one end of the scale are those with parents who have seen an introduction to the myriad joys of Oxford’s nightlife as an essential part of their ‘pastoral’ role. While bonding over several rounds of shots may be a fast way to establish strong family ties, it’s hard to believe that raucous nights out were the intended function of the college family system when it was first introduced back in 1458 (trust me; I’m a historian). But on the other end of the spectrum are the ‘parents’ who encourage their ‘children’ to attend their lectures, give advice on reading lists and generally guide their little ones through the trials of Oxford academic life. I’m not saying either type is better than the other. In fact, they both have their perks.

It is perhaps true that the more active college families are a fantastic representation of the system working. It’s generally accepted that the whole phenomenon of ‘college family incest’ is possibly a step too far in establishing a close relationship between college parents and children. Is it strange that ‘close interactions’ between members of a college – who are actually not remotely related and only linked through the superficial family system – are quite often criticised, if just in good humour? Very possibly. Does that make it any less disconcerting when horror stories about cross-generational one-night stands come to light? Speaking from first-hand experience, I’d say not at all.

Of course there are those college families who have very little interaction with each other. That family formal is right around the corner…just as soon as you’re all free at the same time. With all jokes aside, it can be surprisingly difficult for those in a more inactive college family when friends receive fifth-week-blues gifts from their parents, or help in the form of old notes and general advice. It may be easy to make jokes about ‘dysfunctional’ college families, but it is true that having decent parents, or otherwise, can have a huge impact on a fresher’s experience, particularly in their first Michaelmas term.

By all means, the college family system, when it functions properly, is excellent. It is a way of ensuring new freshers have an approachable point of contact upon their arrival, that they have someone to answer any questions (that tutors would suggest rustication for the moment they dared ask them), and it’s a way of guiding them through the baptism of fire that is Michaelmas of first year. All in all, college parents can be truly invaluable.

But the question must be asked whether it is fair to place such responsibility on second years? Whether or not a fresher feels ‘loved’ by their parents is hardly the determining factor in how successfully they integrate into the world of Oxford, yet having a consistent and reliable aid can certainly help.

Is this something that should be considered when hasty proposals are being made left right and centre during fresher’s week? (God forbid you’re the one still single in Hilary). The rush to desperately get down on one knee to the first person who seems fairly normal may be entertaining, but can undermine the long-term purpose of a college marriage. Come next Michaelmas, there will be new arrivals who will look to you, a battle-hardened second year, for guidance and advice, but you and your spouse will hardly have spoken since freshers’ week.

By no means should college families become an overly-institutionalised element of life at Oxford – part of the joy of them is their inherently tongue-in-cheek nature. But it’s nevertheless important to remember how much a college family can change the Oxford experience, whether simply as a friendly face around college or as a support network for notes and advice.

Coming to Oxford is for many a terrifying experience – at least at first – and college families can serve as a highly effective means of reducing the difficulties faced upon arrival, whatever place on the aforementioned ‘spectrum’ they may take.

Oxford defeated in dramatic boxing Varsity

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The refined extravagance of the Oxford Town Hall appears to be a strange setting for the Varsity Boxing Tournament, in light of what was to come. The blood, the sweat and demand for one to physically break down another.

It is not.

In fact, this apparently strange juxtaposition was nothing of the kind. Instead, it was the perfect setting: a visible materialisation of the beauty of the sweet science and the history of the battle for the Truelove Bowl.

As the room slowly began to fill, the Oxford boxers had one thing on their minds. They looked focused and nothing was going to get in their way. As the fighters from both sides lined up in the ring, the MC gave a moving tribute to the late Sir Roger Bannister, for which there was an applause and subsequent silence.

After some last-minute illustrative shadow-boxing from the coach, which was met with receptive nodding, the first two fights got underway, both of which were stopped by the referee in favour of Cambridge. Both of Oxford’s fighters, Lara Kotecha and Sasha Skovron, showed immense heart and desire, continuing to throw back and standing firm against an onslaught of leather, and would, no doubt, have carried on had they been allowed. An admirable performance by the two women and one for which they should be proud. By the end of the second fight, it appeared obvious that it was a competition between two styles. On one hand was Cambridge’s hectic, charging style and on the other was Oxford’s skilful blend of counter-punching and ring craft.

The score was 2-0 to Cambridge. Hoping to change Oxford’s fortune was Lydia Welham who was set to face Emma Baghurst. From the bell, both fighters showed blistering hand speed, with Cambridge being especially successful with work to the body. Welham answered with formidable straight shots to the face of her opponent. Both fighters displayed an abundance of skill and grit, both shipping heavy blows. The round finished with solid jabs being traded between the pair – a very competitive first round with both finding success. As the second round began, Welham, determined and focused, walked straight through a barrage of heavy shots, forcing Cambridge to exert effort with little reward against her unrelenting pressure.

As Cambridge appeared to fade, Welham sensed the chance and began her own assault, forcing Cambridge to seek space around the ring in order to escape. Welham, covered in blood but undeterred, began to tee off. The bell sounded to end what had undoubtedly been an Oxford round. Welham, keen to carry on the momentum from the previous round, was up and ready before her opponent had left her stool. Straight back into the fight, Welham’s work forced her opponent to cover her face with a tight guard which Oxford’s fighter only took as an open invitation to work the body. Cambridge’s Baghurst went back to basics, working behind a stern jab and lining up her straight right hands. Welham responded by stepping up the gears, showing her class. As the final ten-second warning rung out, Welham had the Cambridge boxer against the ropes. Not content with settling for a points win, she worked until the very end. A remarkable performance, worthy of a captain, was rewarded with a unanimous decision in favour of the dark blue.

More brave battles and skilful exhibitions followed. The fourth fight was awarded to Cambridge via a split decision for a fight that I had given to the Blue, Joel Howells. The judges were clearly impressed by the work of the Cambridge fighter early on, as Oxford came on strong in the latter stages.

The fifth saw Oxford’s Sam Luxa take on Tim Benger. Benger came straight in with big clubbing punches whilst Luxa remained calm, working well behind his jab, letting his hands go when appropriate. Cambridge achieved limited success with his speculative right hands but Oxford counter-punched well, negating any success enjoyed by his opponent. Luxa finished the round well. In the break, the Oxford coach encouraged his fighter to defend against the wild punches of his opponent.

In the second round, the Cambridge boxer remained aggressive and continued to search for big shots. Luxa, again, remained calm, refusing to be drawn into a brawl and wobbling Benger with a solid jab. Oxford displayed great ring craft, snapping back the head of his opponent with stern one-two combinations. Frustrated, the Cambridge boxer swung again, this time finding success and finishing the round strong. The third round saw a continuation of their respective styles, with Luxa managing to drop his opponent. Valiantly up and willing to carry on, Benger showed his spirit but the fight was waved off by the referee, giving Oxford the victory. The score stood at 3-2 to Cambridge.

The sixth and seventh fights saw points wins for Christopher Huang and Polchate ‘Jam’ Kraprayoon via respective unanimous and split decisions, leaving the score at 4-3 to the Dark Blues. Alec Murphey put on an impressive performance at Light Middleweight but was beaten with a split decision, making the score an even 4-4.

The ninth and tenth fights were entertaining although they gave Cambridge a two-point lead, with Ravi Hayer coming up short based on the early work of his opponent and a loss for Gabriele Abbati. Coming on stronger and stronger as the fight went on, another round and the result might have been very different for Hayer. The Light Heavyweight and Heavyweight boxers both showed skill and power but were stopped by the referee. Both fighters looked despondent but should not have done. They threw everything into their fights and displayed great bravery, neither willing to give up, just being beaten by the better men on the day.

Cambridge took the Truelove Bowl with a victory of 8-4, and it would be hard to argue that they did not deserve it.

Regardless of the differences between the two clubs’ styles, both had an abundance of bravery and strength to get into the ring and, for that reason, all should hold their heads high.

The Flick review – ‘a little theatrical masterpiece’

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We often talk of ‘works of art’, but rarely its workings. In the case of theatre, we often forget how the performance itself performs. We forget its artifice, the ‘art-making’. Isabel Ion’s production of The Flick is a triumph in theatre-making. Having debuted Off-Broadway in 2013, winning the Pulitzer Prize for Drama the following year, Annie Baker’s play opened at the National Theatre last year. The play follows three movie ushers – Sam (Peter Madden), Avery (Lee Simmonds) and Rose (Antonia Clarke) – as they labour amid the detritus of a failing movie theatre. As Jesse Green, reviewing for New York magazine, remarked, “No one does anything generally regarded as theatrical.” So how is Ion’s The Flick a little theatrical masterpiece?

Green is right. Nothing really happens. The action never leaves the movie theatre, and is contained amongst four cast members. On the surface, the dialogue is as mundane as the detritus. Lewis Hunt’s design presents a set strewn with burger buns and yoghurt pots, coke cans and coffee cups. Popcorn is constantly swept up as if by a tide. The set is quite literally a wasteland. The dialogue and the rubbish are closely connected: “Are you sure it’s not, like, shit?” Avery asks, confronted with a suspicious remnant of a screening.  Sam’s reply is simple: “Definitely not shit.” The dialogue is like listening in on a kind of verbal garbage, conversational leftovers. Drawn-out debates about film, like naming “one great American movie”, seem more like fillers than communication.

The focus then shifts from content to performance. We are entertained not by what is said, but how it is said. The Flick was so successful because it presented the best student acting I have seen. The result was a striking naturalism. The rhythm and inflection of the dialogue was so natural that I forgot it was scripted. The mannerisms of all actors – be that biting of nails, awkward glances, frowns – meant that we witnessed the behaviour of real people, of how real people act. We cringe at awkward conversations, we are cast adrift  with Avery’s alienation; we’re moved by Rose romping to ‘Gold Digger’.

But it was the interaction between the characters – the way the actors worked off one another – that produced a compelling energy. This was especially apparent in the scene between Sam and so-called Dreaming Man (Sholto Gillie). The exchange features little to no words. Gillie finishes his coke, drives the drink towards the usher and suspends it in his grip for a few drawn-out seconds. But the two actors cooperate in such a way that this moment of suspended action speaks for itself; Gillie’s acting makes us notice a man we could lose in the silence.

The fact that The Flick is set within another theatre space – the movie theatre – means that the play acknowledges its own performativity. It is these moments that are particularly dazzling. The play opens with the end scene of Woody Allen’s Manhattan (1979) projected onto the wall behind us. We had to unscrew ourselves, turning around to view another performance. It means we were highly aware of The Flick as a spectacle, and as ourselves as spectators. The play revels in the nuts and bolts of production. Scenes transition seamlessly with films shown with a large projector in the middle of the stage. The beam of light evokes a kind of magic: it reveals wisps of smoke that seem to dance. The darkness is pierced by colourful light, blue and orange hues broken with threads of red. The way the film is produced is more alluring that the film itself.

The same can be said for the play. Unlike works by Samuel Beckett and Harold Pinter – famous for the same stripped dialogue – it was difficult to find meaning in the mundanity. But the production of The Flick is a masterpiece, the best piece of theatre I’ve seen made by students. So buy your tickets, take your seats, as every element of this performance is wonderful – in the true sense of the word.

Vincent’s Club elects first female president

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Vincent’s Club, the 155-year-old sports club known as ‘Vinnie’s’, has elected its first female president.

Sophie Taylor, a medicine student at St Catherine’s College, will step into the role next term following Tuesday night’s elections.

Taylor saw off three other presidential candidates – although the full election results remain confidential.

Vinnie’s, which was established in 1863, has a membership made up largely – but not exclusively – of Blues sportsmen and women.

It is based just off the High Street, at 1A King Edward’s Street.

The club has only admitted female members since 2016.

In 2015, the club’s members voted in favour of removing the word ‘male’ from its constitution, and thus admitting female members, but failed to reach the necessary two-thirds majority.

A year later, however, some 85 per cent of members voted in favour of the change.

Previously, to access the Vinnie’s clubhouse, a female student – or any other non-member – had to be invited as the guest of a member.

Taylor won her full Blue in 2016 as part of the women’s hockey side that beat Cambridge, and captained the women’s cricket Blues throughout the summer of 2017.

Outgoing president Ronan Llyr said that Taylor’s election represented “a historic moment for Vincent’s”.

“Sophie was the events secretary on the committee this year, a role which she carried out in a truly exemplary manner,” he said.

“I have every confidence in Sophie and look forward to offering my full support to her over the coming year.”

Taylor chose not to comment on her election.

Uni apologises after cleaner told to remove International Women’s Day graffiti

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Oxford has apologised after a picture of a female cleaner scrubbing out the words “Happy International Women’s Day” from the Clarendon steps went viral.

Oxford Associate Professor of Political theory, Dr Sophie Smith, tweeted the photo of an unidentified cleaner scrubbing off the chalk graffiti, prompting an angry backlash and over 3,000 retweets.

Smith claimed an onlooking group of male university security officials had made the cleaner remove the graffitti.

The image was branded “shameful” by some Twitter users, with one saying: “having a woman scrub off chalk that says Happy International Woman’s Day while some blokes stand around in the background isn’t a good look.”

Twitter user Jessie Raymond added: “A picture’s worth a thousand words.”

Others remarked on the poignancy of the image, with one tweeting: “Wow. Is this a photo or a Banksy?”

Oxford University apologised for the incident, saying it was “deeply sorry”.

In response, Smith demanded the university give the cleaner “a heartfelt apology, a warm cup of tea, the rest of the day off and, along with all our precarious staff, good enough pay to live in this city.”

The incident followed an International Women’s Day rally organised by picketing UCU trade unionists and students outside the Clarendon Building.

Union elections marred by voting blunder

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A candidate in last week’s Oxford Union elections has been denied a spot on the Secretary’s Committee despite winning more votes than his nearest rival.

According to initial results Rai Saad Khan, who was running on the ‘Ignite’ slate, was narrowly beaten to the final position on the committee by ‘Reform’ candidate Mo Iman.

However, last night the Union’s returning officer stumbled upon a spreadsheet error which had undervalued Khan’s votes, meaning he should have been elected.

As no complaint was registered in the 48 hours following the close of the poll, the society said it would not amend the results to the correct outcome – a decision which prompted Khan to question “the democratic nature of the Union”.

Last week saw the first contested Union presidential election in five terms, with the race for Secretary’s Committee also being remarkably competitive.

Only the first eleven of over twenty candidates would make it onto the committee, and the results announced on Saturday morning showed that Iman had just pipped Khan to the final spot.

However, last night a mistake with the vote count was discovered. In a document outlining what happened, the returning officer said he had “discovered an error in the Excel spreadsheet formula for vote change for Rai Saad Khan.

“I subsequently went through the spreadsheet to investigate whether there were any further errors, and also produced a corrected version,” he said. “I asked an ex-Returning Officer trained in using STV [Single Transferrable Voting] to independently confirm this.”

He discovered that Khan should have had a vote value of 86.298 by the final round. Mo Iman, meanwhile, only had a vote value of 81.490. As such, Iman should have been eliminated in the final round, with Khan taking his place on Secretary’s Committee.

Despite this error being clear and the returning officer labelling it “an injustice”, he concluded he could not change the result. Union Rule 33(b)(vii)(1) states that the Returning Officer may order a recount if an error is brought to his attention within 48 hours of the close of the poll, meaning the deadline had long passed when the mistake was discovered.

Rai Saad Khan told Cherwell: “I deeply regret the turn of events, and sincerely hope Mo resigns on his own accord, as it is unfair for all those who are elected on committee and those who didn’t get elected.”

Khan also expressed his frustration at the Union’s rules. He told Cherwell: “Rules such as 33b vii(1) that still exist within the Union highly call into the question the democratic nature of the Union, and it is deeply troubling that all malpractices or violation of elections laws are protected beyond a 48 hour period, such that even when evidence of a miscount or illegal electorial acts do arise, the elected members are protected at the cost of ordinary members and voters.

“This rule is made to benefit the elected members, and is another sign of prestige and inequality within the Union that needs to be changed.”

The returning officer of the Oxford Union did not wish to comment.

The electoral blunder follows reports of infighting at the upper echelons of the society.

In a recent meeting of the Union’s Standing Committee, outgoing Secretary and defeated presidential candidate Molly Greenwood accused President Laali Vadlamani of acting “very unprofessionally on many levels”.

Tensions had first been raised early on Monday morning, when the agenda for the meeting detailed Greenwood’s intention to make a statement regarding “the unacceptable conduct of the President, Laali Vadlamani”.

However, when she stated her intention to read this out, there was an objection from the sitting Librarian, Sabriyah Saeed. She referred to Standing Order B6, stating that the agenda had not been sent out in due time by the Secretary and thus that Greenwood’s statement should not be heard.

Greenwood argued that the President had already made statements which were not highlighted on the agenda, such as accusing Greenwood of the “serious offence” of failing to provide minutes of previous meetings on time.

The objection was seconded by Treasurer – and winner of last week’s presidential election against Greenwood – Stephen Horvath. This meant the statement could not be made, as per Union rules.

After this heated exchange, it seemed that Greenwood had been silenced. However, when Horvath proposed a vote of thanks to President Vadlamani, referencing her efforts to improve the diversity of speakers at the Union, Greenwood made an objection on the grounds that she had “acted very unprofessionally on many levels”.

The vote of thanks went on to pass immediately with no further opposition, and the fractious meeting was brought to an end.

Saeed, who first objected to the reading out of Greenwood’s statement, told Cherwell: “I believed that it was improper for this business to be brought to Standing Committee and under standing order B6 I exercised my right to object to it being brought forward.

“The reason B6 is not always invoked where it might be is due to the fact that the Standing Committee often needs to deal with business arising less than 48 hours prior to the meeting, and in such cases the invocation of B6 would prevent it from acting on its duty towards the general membership.”

Vadlamani and Greenwood declined to comment.

Laura Freeman: “If you are unwell, you have to find the thing that motivates you”

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Journalist Laura Freeman’s biblio memoir The Reading Cure charts her voracious reading habits, and the recovery from a more dangerous obsession that accompanies it.

Since Freeman was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa at the age of 14, a love of literature has provided a constant throughout the “for every two strides forward there was a lurch back” unpredictability of recovery.

In describing those initial days, Freeman is firm in her refusal to glamorise anorexia: “When I was told I must try some new food I behaved like a captured animal chained to the table leg, wild with distress.” Constructing a metaphor of her ideal mind as a library, with thoughts stacked neatly like books, Freeman sets about re-ordering the shelves torn down by illness. Steering this is the hunt for literature’s finest scenes of food, a preoccupation which encouraged her to break the cycle of repetitive and restrictive meals. First it is Mrs Cratchit’s plum pudding, next comes a hearty breakfast of “eggs for zest” with Siegfried Sassoon. Meanwhile, the recipe for Mesdame Poulard’s perfect omelette is a revelation. Laura stomps out the rhythm – “Break, beat, butter, shake” – re-learning to eat as if choreographed into dance.

Speaking to Cherwell, Freeman considers at what point she felt ready to write about her experience. It was not about reaching a significant milestone of recovery, but the realisation that younger girls might benefit from this kind of book. She thought that if she “could tell a story that’s actually positive, one that isn’t a misery memoir, then that would be a good thing.” Did she envision other people suffering with anorexia among her readership? “Not exclusively” she says. The book is “for anyone who loves books or is interested in food writing, who has struggled with anorexia or looking after someone with anorexia, or who has…felt that their mind has been against them.”

Even so, Freeman admits that certain scenes might be difficult for someone with the illness. Does this mean she advocates trigger warnings? She isn’t particularly set on their increasing usage, as such a protective move “rather patronises the individual and takes away the bit of agency of being able to say ‘I am strong enough to cope with this’”. Freeman expects her reader to be responsible. I inquire whether, given she attended Cambridge and then pursued a career in journalism, one might not consider Freeman responsible as well. She has repeatedly opened herself up to the risk of criticism, negotiating the draining presence of this illness while vulnerable and overworked. Freeman is characteristically unfussed by this, recalling how in finding student journalism, “the bustle and hum of a newsroom were so attractive that that outweighed any nervousness about going into that world.”

Upon graduation, she completed nearly 80 job applications in the first eight months. When the opportunity arose to start at the Daily Mail, she admits “I was so relieved to have a job that I think worries about risk didn’t really come into it.” Notably, Freeman has thrived doing anything that takes her out of hr illness, finding solace in walking, art and her journalism.

Freeman is adamant that reading itself is not the prescription: “I think the message is that if you are very unwell and in despair you have to find the thing that motivates you that makes it worth getting better for, and for me that has been books and reading and writing.”

With so much to be positive about, do I dare tackle the oft contentious question of modern food politics? Flippant food trends can have serious repercussions, and Freeman attributes the emergence of the clean eating movement to a near relapse in 2014. Should bloggers be held responsible for misleading nutritional information? With punchy phrases like “kale saints and chocolate sirens,” Freeman uses her book to ridicule, rather than rail against the idiocy of our new discourse around food. She prefers not to be afraid, instead laughing at the inadequacy of courgetti as a replacement for pasta. Nevertheless, she laments the narrow definition of wellness proposed by an industry that advocates a vegan, dairy-free, gluten-free, and sugar-free lifestyle.

“If I look at what I eat I have porridge with milk, and tea with milk, and roast chicken and new potatoes, and tarte tatin, and rhubard crumble, and Greek yoghurt, and scrambled eggs, and poached eggs, and boiled eggs, and I feel well, I am well, and I feel strong and resilient, and that for me has to be what wellness is.”

Let us not forget that Freeman lost her teenage years to this illness. Having nearly been sent hurtling back to that former anguish, I find her outlook incredibly forgiving. Similarly, when I mention Doritos’ recent plans for a ‘female-friendly’ crisp, she laughs heartily at the gendering of food for supposedly dainty women.

But Freeman is serious about the profound impact of attaching moral value to food. If restraint is virtue and indulgence is vice, both are equally harmful ideas. She regrets the way in which advertising of ‘guilt-free’ and ‘naughty’ foods is targeted at women. She suggests: “I do think we should be more bolshie than the advertisers would have us be.”

This word ‘bolshie’ sticks with me. Freeman is no stranger to unusual words, and her book is peppered with discoveries of novelty utensils (truckle, jorum, dixy, and pottle abound), all of which help to make the actual eating less daunting. Throughout these multifarious discoveries of words and characters, I find that it is the people in Freeman’s life who deserve the most credit.

Recovery is a solo-marathon, but their steady presence provides crucial support. Freeman concurs wholeheartedly, arguing that “the heroine of the book is not Virginia Woolf, and it’s not J.K. Rowling, it is my mum.” We cannot all have the infinite patience of her mother, but we can do our best to make an apparently vulnerable person feel welcome.

After a dismal freshers’ week, running solely on oat cakes eaten in isolation, Freeman describes how an invitation to share a stir-fry provided the turning point she so desperately needed.

Conjured from the electric hob and eaten crowded around a bedroom floor, she finds that “in company and with these strangers who would become friends, I could eat.” May we help each other to keep the minds-library in place.

Commercialism kills artistic legacy

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The music world seemed to have a unanimous thought on the morning that news broke of David Bowie’s death in January 2016. His album Blackstar, released just two days previously, instantaneously became a treasure-chest of significances. What was he trying to tell us? Lyrics analysed, music videos pulled apart and his private life — that is, his decision to keep his cancer diagnosis out of the public eye — opened out in a media frenzy. It was a bizarre blend of international mourning and interrogative entitlement.

According to Official Charts, more than five million Bowie records have been sold in the last two years. This includes greatest hit releases, anniversary picture discs, and as recently as this year, re-issues of original demos. It was certainly a lucrative time for record companies, as the perpetuation of the memory of one of the most well-loved pop stars ever is a nearcertain way to produce profit, espescially at a time when Spotify-led, algorithmic processes sell music on an increasingly whimsical, ‘hyperpersonalised’ basis.

The lure of a nine-time platinum selling musician to compete against the potentially fake artists which constitute streamed playlists and save Spotify millions in royalties is clearly just too strong. But the impact on how we remember the man himself is far more complex. However Bowie’s identity is now caught up in a mercenary battlefield which forgets the spirit of the artist and reproduces it in the interests of modern-day market demands.

The same is true for other highprofile figures — Graceland, ‘The Home of Elvis Presley’, in Tennessee offers anyone willing to pay $169 an Ultimate VIP Tour. The result of this mass commodification of memory is a net worth, on the 40th anniversary of Presley’s death, of $300 million.

Tragic circumstances around Amy Winehouse’s death were handled with delicacy and intimacy in the 2015 film Amy which received critical acclaim (rated five out of five by The Guardian’s Peter Bradshaw) and has become the highestgrossing British documentary film of all time. Her family’s response, however, was far from congruent with positive public reaction. Her father Mick claimed there are “basic untruths” and if people want to remember Amy and enjoy her art, they should individually listen to her music and video content instead. He later proposed an alternative, “more accurate” film to include details of his assistance with addiction treatment, as in the film he is portrayed as actively opposing Amy’s rehabilitation.

If there is dissension in how someone’s life facts are recorded and presented, how is it possible, in media and art, to do justice to the more subjective concept of their memory? There is a fundamental discord in the approach to comprehending someone’s memory. This results in a distortion in our view of who they are; their legacy becomes fragmentary splinters of constant, alternative interpretations, leading to collective commemoration away from the original figure.

These commercialisations of memory are odd incarnations of the elegiac form. In the place of a personal handling of grief has come the intense socialisation of how a person is remembered: there is debate over which aspects should be celebrated, invasion into the most intimate parts of their home, and outrage at decisions about privacy.

Of course, elegies have existed since ancient Latin poetry and various forms of media and art have adopted elegiac modes in order to process death, such as the enchanting, minimalist illustrations of Mari Andrew, or grief blogs like ‘Diary of a Widower’; they hold a kind of cool closeness with lost loved ones.

As a genre, its purpose is to provide a transcendence of original pain, enforce recognition, and stimulate disclosure. Freud famously wrote in his 1917 essay ‘Mourning and Melancholia’ that an elegy is a ‘work of mourning’ by being both about mourning and helping the creator to work through their grief. It is a genre entirely personal, and at once medicinal for those in pain and restorative to the memory of those passed.

The modern elegy has seen its multivalence expanded into tweets, tours, films and anniversary release discs. It has become increasingly difficult to ignore the financial agenda that infuses itself into the public arena of remembrance. Tennyson’s 1849 poem In Memoriam A.H.H., which took 16 years to write and was not even conceived with publication intended, seems a lexicalised therapy session that is numbingly repetitive, but rewarding in its intimacy. Kenny Ortega’s documentary-concert film This Is It, released in October 2009, is intimate too, with footage of Michael Jackson in the last rehearsals before his death just four months previously, but somehow feels invasive and exploitative, a view shared by the countless fans who held boycotts.

Commercialised associations of an individual appear as false impressions repeatedly compressed and repackaged. The memory of the person is at risk of becoming inauthentic and deflated, a version of the original which is easy to access and profitable. Remembrance is supposed to be complicated and difficult, hard to read and hard to watch. Shiny shows and anniversary editions remove the personal from the person. When the figure in question is no longer alive to keep their identity up-to-date and in their control, there is a serious risk that their memory is repurposed for consumerist ends.

We would do well to realise that memory is, and always will be, a mere construction of our imaginative reality. When the remembered is absent, we ought to keep our constructions between us and the lost subject, so that memory — and mourning — is idiosyncratic, respectful, and above all, demarketed.

Adwoa Aboah: Dreamgirl

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I love Adwoa Aboah.. But I don’t really know how to convey my love for this woman. When I first think of her, her insane beauty comes to mind. Check bones so sharp you could mandolin vegetables on them, espresso shot eyes and a perfect, freckled almost sepia complexion. Yet, sharper, even than her cheekbones, is her intellect and vocal criticisms of the fashion industry.

She leads frank discussions around about mental health, body image and sexuality. Aboah uses Gurls Talk, the online platform she founded, to tackle issues ranging from imagery of black women in the media to the impact of social media on self-esteem. So that’s pretty great. A model who is using her position to scrutinize the fashion industry and address issues in earnest. She is passionate, opinionated and serious.

These qualities distinguish her from many other models out there. When Aboah gets video interviewed by Vogue she speaks compellingly, using her platform to challenge the very real diversity problem still highly visible in the fashion industry. This is serves as a refreshing break from the manner in which other models conduct themselves in interviews. There is no girlish prancing around, feigning giggles in a sickly-sweet manner (cough Poppy Delevigne, Gigi Hadid, Karlie Kloss etc.). She doesn’t want to be adorable. She looks the camera dead on and in her deep gravelly voice tells everyone why it’s all bullshit.

And that is exactly what Adwoa Aboah did last week when she gave a speech at the opening ceremony of London Fashion Week. She used the opportunity to highlight the recent allegations of abuse of models at the hands of powerful figures in the industry. Aboah praised Conde Nast and Kering/LVMH for their respective Model Charters, both of which are designed to implement positive change within their respective businesses. She describes how such efforts provide her with a growing sense of comfort and confidence, assured that we are taking the right steps.

This is the first move towards systematically changing the way we work collectively to protect the safety and rights of models in the industry. She stressed that the British Fashion Council must question how the fashion industry could better represent “the reality of our larger community and provide our next generation a proper example of what they see around them every single day?”. Her conclusion was extremely powerful “as a model and as a woman – I want to challenge each and every one of you today to think about what your role is within this industry and what you are going to do to ensure that you use your own voices to help change the system that has allowed such rampant abuse of power and fear to take advantage of so many that have not have voice. I plan to continue to use mine – and I challenge you today to do the same with yours.” Brilliant. Just really brilliant. That speech encapsulates all the reasons why, and this is not an overstatement, Aboah is one of the best role models that the fashion industry has ever produced.

But what is more courageous than Adwoa Aboah’s tenacity to critique the fashion industry, is her own candid discussion of her mental health struggles. I really (really!) implore you to watch her amazingly candid and honest video interview for The What’s Underneath Project by StyleLikeU. Aboah takes off her clothes while speaking frankly about her experiences of depression and addiction. Watching that interview really affected me more than I can say. I have struggled with some pretty serious mental health issues myself, and one thing that I have always found extremely hard is talking honestly, openly and accurately about my experiences.

There is still a huge amount of stigma around mental health. And a lot of that stigma may not even be external. People are more informed today than they perhaps even have been about mental health. But what many people who suffer from mental health conditions, myself included, find is that the people harshest on them for having these “issues” are themselves. It can be really difficult and uncomfortable to talk to even your closets friends about what’s actually “going on with you”, when you’re filled with self-loathing and embarrassment about whatever the hell is going on, because you yourself don’t really understand.

How the hell do you go about finding rational sentences among irrational web being spun inside your head? Should I even release these thoughts to the world outside my head? And then comes Adowa. “I just didn’t want to be Adwoa” So simple. So direct. So honest. “I was like, ‘F***, I don’t even know how to be this person. That self-hatred is something I work on on a daily basis.” Talking about anxiety, self-hatred, substance abuse and suicide attempts with clarity is not easy. However, she eloquently addresses the complexities of her personal struggles with the same forceful directness she employs in her political activism.

Often, and most especially when I’ve had a few drinks with friends, and the subject of mental health or my own mental health issues come up, I get very animated and suddenly find myself 20 minutes later deep into a Adowa Aboah based rant. I am sure my company appreciate the rambles, but just to make sure they don’t forget I will inbox them all the link to the StylelikeU interview I have been discussing. I realise now that in this article is many ways the written form of that same drunken adoring Adowa Aboah chatter.

Yet, the way I find myself depending and falling back on Aboah to navigate difficult discussions is case in point of her brilliance. She is helping young women formulate a dialogue around and broach the immensely difficult issue of mental health in a novel way.  She is making young women (or at the very least this young woman) engage with and feel animated by important issues, forcing them to reevaluate their political and personal spheres.

Labyrinth preview – ‘an impressive blend of exciting text and creative movement’

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Labyrinth tells the story of the Minotaur in King Minos’ labyrinth, with one important difference: it is written from the monster’s point of view. Adapted from the Borges work The House of Asterion, the company has shown a wide range of innovative and enthralling techniques in order to reinvent this ancient myth. Each character has two actors playing them, each revealing different aspects of their personality.

It was interesting to see how the actors interacted with each other, whether it was Asterion, (played by Math Roberts and Harry Berry) battling with his own conflicting personas, or Ariadne (Alma Prelec and Kristen Cope) and Theseus (Patrick Orme and Jeremiah O’Mahony) exploring their relationship together with both visual and verbal language. Working from a script co-written by Nick Smart and Krysianna Papadakis, the actors devised a lot of the scenes themselves, using physical theatre to unite all of the action.

Watching the first scene, in which Asterion tells us of the hardship of his isolation, this physicality becomes integral. The two actors showed themselves to be playing the same character by working so close together, their movements reflecting the other’s speech and entwining in moments of heated tension. The physicality made this scene clear, without being too overpowering, and the movement was choreographed to work seamlessly with the dialogue. This was the same with the second scene I saw, where Ariadne and Theseus both watched the Minotaur, mocking him in his isolation.

Again, physicality was used to bring out the tensions between the two mockers, as the ‘other’ Ariadne and Theseus played out a romantic to and fro. The spacing was masterfully balanced here, and there was always something going on in every corner of the stage, without any one movement taking precedent over the others. Here, Theseus and Ariadne presented a strained relationship, the awkwardness of their communication coming out in Alma Prelec’s delicate portrayal of a fiery Ariadne, while Patrick Orme played up the sadism towards the Minotaur to an unnerving extent.

Labyrinth is set to be an impressive blend of exciting text and creative movement. Though interpretations of such famous myths can sometimes go astray, it seems like the actors and directors have worked hard to inject new life into the story, and to bring out different aspects of each character individually, and their relationships with the others.