1. Producer: Arguably the most important role, they balance the creative decisions of the film as well as the logistics of it. Without them, films couldn’t happen.
2. Director: An actor can only focus on their individual performance in the moment, a director is there to guide these performances so that they are coherent as part of an ensemble of characters and also coherent from shot to shot.
3. Assistant Director: Not a creative role at all, actually. The AD does the schedules and makes sure the film is finished.
4. Director of Photography: The visual director of the film, the DP assesses how the story is
best told through image. A DP is not simply someone who is good at image composition.
Rather, it is someone who can use angles, lenses, light, movement etc. to communicate.
5. Editor: The editor approaches the footage from a fresh point of view to build the story
out of building blocks of cuts.
6. Gaffer: The gaffer works with the DP to play with light and set the mood of the image. It
seems trivial, but use of light is one of the most effective ways to trigger emotion.
7. Sound and Boom Operator: A lot of a film is the sound. They are the most noticeable errors and this department has to be patient and meticulous for the film to go off without a hitch.
8. Script Supervisor. They sit next to the director and watch for continuity errors, much to
the dismay of those YouTube channels who like picking at them.
Coming onto the stage with an undeniably acoustic sound, Ward Thomas feel strangely out of place with the Bullingdon’s notorious grimy vibe. Somewhere behind us, a drunken fan screams “They are sisters and aren’t they beautiful?!”
It is the second night of Catherine and Lizzy Ward Thomas’ UK tour. The audience, a mix of older people who fell in love with country music in their youth and younger students who have become enthralled by the recent surge of British country artists such as The Shires, are all united by the power of their harmonies.
The band effortlessly embody the emotion of their songs, harmonising with each other in a way that only family members seem to be able to do. Harmony is not just a trend, but the crux of this kind of music. Tonight’s support, Scarlet, is yet another act putting harmony at the centre of their performance. Ward Thomas seamlessly transition from folksy duo to pop country singers, bringing a real honesty to the stage. So much so, that their song ‘Cartwheels’ forces you to hear the heartbreak either one of the sisters may have felt, even if you’ve never been through heartbreak yourself.
No matter the heartbreak and hard times they sing about, it’s clear that they love what they do. The two sisters constantly share glances throughout the gig. Each time their faces light up with a contagious delight. The gig reaches its height when the opening of their most famous song ‘Guilty Flowers’ begins. The band share an anecdote about their reaction to this being played for the first time on Radio 1—dubbing it their first ‘cool’ song.
There is a sense of surprise mixed with pride in this story. The sisters are humble enough to have clearly never expected to reach that level, and probably never thought they’d be touring the UK following a number 1 album. They also take time to pay a rather touching tribute to the late Terry Wogan, dedicating their first single, ‘Push for the Stride’, to his memory as a “thank you” for featuring them on Radio 2.
Towards the end of the gig, they strip back to a ‘snug session’: a more toned-down version of ‘Proof’, accompanied by ukulele and accordion. Their vocal and instrumental talents shine here. With nothing to hide behind, the two musicians are stripped back and raw. At their most vulnerable state, they continue to impress, no small feat considering the close, and likely intimidating. proximity of the audience.
As they slink back onto stage for their encore, they are greeted by a chorus of fans who all sing the harmonies of ‘Carry Me Home’ back to them. You can see in their faces that the sisters are moved by the sight.
I first read Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited in the Michaelmas I came to Oxford. Its reputation as the definitive summary of the experience of going to university at Oxford had drawn me to it: a literary testament from an institution famed for the writers it had produced. Brideshead carried an aura of being a summation of what it means to be an Oxonian, even if only its first third is set in Oxford. It’s surprising how its depiction of Oxford still resonates, despite being firmly set in the 1920s. The great speech given to the protagonist, Charles Ryder, by his older cousin Jasper, who’s already at Oxford, carries a good bit of truth, even after all this time:
“You’re reading History? A perfectly respectable school. The very worst is English literature and the next worse is Modern Greats. You want either a first or a fourth. […] Time spent on a good second is time thrown away. You should go to the best lectures […] irrespective of whether they are in your school or not…Clothes. Dress as you do in a country house. Never wear a tweed coat and flannel trousers—always a suit. […] Clubs. Join the Carlton and the Grid at the beginning of your second year. If you want to run for the Union—and it’s not a bad thing to do—make your reputation outside first, at the Canning or the Chatham […]. Don’t treat dons like schoolmasters; treat them as you would the vicar at home… You’ll find you spend half your second year shaking off the undesirable friends you made in your first. … Beware of the Anglo-Catholics—they’re all sodomites with unpleasant accents. In fact, steer clear of all the religious groups”.
Comparing now and then, what immediately becomes clear is how little store was set by academic work. Lectures are to be gone to for the general improvement of the mind, rather than whether they aid with a tutorial essay (and thankfully, the tradition of attending open lectures continues). There’s an idea that Oxford is fundamentally a social university, a space to meet other people—hence Jasper’s exacting recommendation to ‘[d]ress as you do in a country house’. Sartorial standards may have dropped in the intervening decades amongst the majority. Although a minority can still be reliably found in a suit and tie most days. Some of the clubs mentioned, like the Canning and Chatham, are no more, but the Union is going stronger than perhaps ever before and features amongst the collective consciousness of the university.
There’s also the snobbery. The casual dismissal of Modern Greats (now known as PPE) betrays a mindset of subject rivalry which has mellowed but is still present and encouraged to some extent; on the other hand, the contention that ‘You want either a first or a fourth’ in an era of Gentleman’s and Ladies’ thirds has long since passed since the expansion of universities in the post-war era. The homophobic attitude towards Anglo-Catholics reveals what were still underlying tensions toward the disputations of the Victorian Oxford Movement.
Some would argue that snobbery has far from disappeared from Oxford. While students come from increasingly varied backgrounds, with 59 percent of this year’s freshers having been state educated, undergraduates sharing the background of the Ryders are very much part of the fabric of university life, just as the Gridiron Club still exists in its rooms above Pizza Express in Golden Cross. Oxford has changed substantially in many respects since Waugh went here, yet one need only scratch beneath the surface to see an institution where it is possible to step back in time, even for those who have not been privately educated. Brideshead Revisited still tells us where to look when we want to peel back the layers of a university nearly a millennium old.
On Tuesday, Oxford Fashion Week put on a talk at Oxford Castle Unlocked on cultural appropriation. Their panel was diverse, and consequently gave a varied and interesting discussion. The fashion experts were Dr Natascha Radclyffe, the Inaugural University of the Arts London Teaching Scholar and Course Leader for BA Fashion Marketing, and Pamela Church-Gibson, a reader in Cultural and Historical Studies at the London College of Fashion. Alongside these appeared Professor Constantine Sandis, a Professor of Philosophy at the University of Hertfordshire, who wrote a book entitled ‘Cultural Heritage Ethics: Between Theory and Practice’, and two students – Christy Chin, pursuing a BA degree in Business and Management at University of Exeter, and Brian Wong, who studies PPE at Oxford.
Discussions were initiated by looking at the problem from a more general and global perspective. Brian Wong brought a colonial aspect to the fore, suggesting that cultural appropriation is rooted in a power dynamic between cultures. Citing historical examples, he convincingly argued that dominant cultures are able to define other cultures, shaping the narratives of authenticity and originality by displacing what is actually the reality. The global economic domination of the West was also highlighted as another key element of the issue. Brian argued that economically speaking, cultural appropriation doesn’t benefit minorities in a vast number of instances. Rather, it displaces them from positions of economic power because revenue and profits largely go into the hands of the white dominant and privileged classes. These classes produce and generate these items without necessarily redistributing the profits into the hands from whom the culture was taken.
(Valentino ‘Africa’ Collection Spring/Summer 2016) ‘Africa as vibrant, as throbbing, as imperfect purity. The analogical, hand-made approach is the antidote to the digital deprivation of individual character in order to maintain authentic individuality.’ (description from Valentino’s website)
Turning to fashion more specifically, Pamela Church-Gibson and Dr Natascha Radclyffe explored many different shocking examples of insensitivity from designers. African themed collections particularly generated objections. Key words such as ‘Wild’ and ‘Tribal’, in fact explicitly used by Valentino for his ‘Africa’ collection in 2016, demonstrate the displaced view of the ‘exotic.’ Pamela highlighted how in many of these collections, Africa, which is an enormous and diverse continent, is bundled together as if it was one simple country.
Junya Watanabe’s 2016 Spring/Summer show similarly mixed African styles together. It did not include a single black model, and most disturbingly portrayed false scarification on their models. The use of Native American clothing in Dsquared2’s ‘Dsquaw’ collection (‘squaw’ is a derogatory term used by English-speakers to slur Native women), similarly generated protest and outrage.
The lack of acknowledgement and appreciation of the significance and meaning behind different people’s cultures was taken as the root of the offense by all of the panelists. The whole panel was firmly in agreement: cultural appropriation is prevalent in the fashion industry and it is fundamentally wrong. Yet, despite unanimous agreement against cultural appropriation, the panel found it difficult to answer straightforwardly when probed with questions as to where to draw the line on appropriation. Two fundamental questions were raised during the discussion. Firstly, micro vs macro – looking at whether an individual can culturally appropriate, compared a trans-national company or brand. Secondly the issue of the subjectivity of offensive behaviour making policing or even defining cultural appropriation a complex issue.
A piece from Junya Watanabe’s 2016 Spring/Summer Collection
All panelists were fully behind multiculturalism, and inspiration coming from different cultures. Jean Paul Gautier’s 1989 show ‘Around the World in 168 outfits’ was praised for celebrating other culture’s handcrafts and textiles.Yet, when asked by an audience member whether buying a local shawl from street sellers in Bolivia and returning to the UK to wear it was appropriation, there was disagreement- disagreement which seemed to reveal underlying issues within complex attitudes towards cultural appropriation. Pamela, Natascha and Brian all argued that the street sellers were benefitting economically and so in this instance it was fine. However, Professor Constantine contested this, saying that the act of wearing the shall could still be inherently wrong because even if the buyer has the best of intentions the act itself can still be invested with power dynamics. One litmus test for cultural appropriation, suggested by Brian Wong, was to look at ‘who is occupying centre stage and who is getting credit’. But in opposition, Professor Constantine highlighted the inherent problems behind the idea of a ‘giving a green light’ to designers. His response to an audience question on the labelling cultural appropriation I think is the most pertinent to the issues raised:
“I think it’s a mistake to think that we can give a definition of cultural appropriation in terms of necessary and sufficient conditions… morality is just far more complex than that.”
The talk was enlightening and created thought-provoking discussion, but it also highlighted the difficulties of resolving the complexities surrounding the issue of cultural appropriation.
We live in an uncertain world. Brutal civil wars and ever-changing foreign relations undoubtedly put the issue of national security on the front line of political discourse. Factoring in increased Russian expansionism from an unpredictable Putin regime, it’s understandable large parts of British society support the Trident nuclear programme. However, all that being said, so long as we live in a world of nuclear superpowers far superior to us, Trident makes little difference to our power relations.
After all, the UK’s nuclear capabilities hold no real influence in a bilateral nuclear world. The Arms Control Association estimate Russia have 4,500 warheads stockpiled and 1,735 warheads deployed on Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles, compared to the USA’s estimated 4,571 stockpiled warheads and 1,481 deployed warheads. In stark contrast, the UK is estimated to have 120 deployed warheads and 95 stockpiled or retired warheads. As far as the balance of power goes, our contributions are evidently insignificant. Indeed, the most frequently deployed argument defending the Trident nuclear programme is to ensure a happy stalemate to prevent mutually assured destruction; mutually assured destruction is the belief that a single missile launch would prompt a chain reaction causing irrevocable damage to all states involved. So long as two states with nuclear capabilities sufficient to totally annihilate the other exist, this doctrine is upheld. That is to say, we require only the USA and Russia to maintain a peaceful balance averting the threat of mutually assured destruction. Not us.
The frequent counterargument presented is that we ought to maintain stockpiled and deployed warheads should a nuclear threat be levelled directly against the UK. The burden of proof then is on Trident supporters to prove that Russia and the US would not react with proportion to any show of nuclear force, triggering a bilateral conflict and resulting in mutually assured destruction. This is, for obvious reasons, unlikely.
So why does this matter? We can safely decommission Trident, but why should we? The answer fundamentally lies in the cost of Trident. Pinpointing the precise price tag is almost impossible, with rough approximations ranging from official estimates of £31 billion to the CND’s claim that it’s a whole £205 billion. On top of an unequivocally hefty sum, there will be a further cost of £250 million to maintain existing warheads and between £1.2 and £1.4 billion to run existing Trident submarines until 2028. In the meantime, the NHS ran a deficit of over a billion pounds this past year – and it’s not the only public service which is struggling.
So why are we spending such obscene amounts of money on the renewal of a system that really holds no impact on a bilateral nuclear world? We must come to accept that Trident is a gross waste of money, and go on to make a demonstrable positive impact on the lives of British citizens by channelling this funding into our strained services. Trident has had its age – and it’s time to retire it.
Blue: Matt Burwood
Nobody likes nuclear weapons, just as nobody likes war. As a technology designed to end countless lives and bring suffering upon countless more, it is straightforwardly uncontroversial to condemn them and wish that they had never existed. Alas, developments in relativistic physics rendered the development of the first nuclear warheads inevitable, this leading straightforwardly to multilateral armament. While I fully sympathise with those who wish it were not so – that these weapons could be unwritten from history – the world becomes no less dangerous through our wishful thinking.
The most important concept in this debate is that of the aptly named MAD, or mutually assured destruction. “You nuke me, I nuke you” is essentially the deal, made possible using Trident submarines with second-strike capability. If rational agents behave in such a way as to promote their continued existence, then the threat of retaliation renders a first nuclear attack irrational. There’s simply nothing to be gained from such an apocalyptic decision. When Mhairi Black claims secondary strikes are pointless “because we’d all be dead anyway”, she misses the point that we wouldn’t all be dead in the first place precisely because we have the ability to retaliate.
All this talk of rational agents is very well, I hear you say, but what if some raving despotic lunatic comes to power? What if we let enthusiasm trump rationality? Armageddon at the hands of a reality star with a bad hairdo seems a pithy end to thousands of years of human endeavour. Well, the argument works both ways. While a nuclear capable North Korea with increasingly strident rhetoric is concerning, what would be more concerning is a world in which North Korea were the only nuclear capable state. The unilateral disarmament folk need to consider which state actors they would be content to see retain their weapons while the rest of the world honourably set theirs aside. North Korea? India? Israel? Or maybe Russia, who have recently scrapped their non-proliferation treaty with the United States, and stationed weapons in Kaliningrad for good measure?
Putting existential threats momentarily to one side, the anti-Trident campaigners are often quick to criticise the cost of the system. Renewing Trident is undoubtedly set to be a big cost, and the running costs amount to around 5% of the annual defence budget. But the costs are only meaningful when one considers the counterfactual. It is impossible to say where the money would otherwise be spent, but there is a plausible argument that without nuclear weapons in the latter half of the 20th Century there would have been far less to deter Russian aggression, and far less to discourage conventional attacks on European nations. How much might this have cost? It seems plausible that providing an equivalent deterrent in terms of conventional weaponry would either be impossible or cost far more than 5% of the defence budget.
So think of Trident as the ultimate insurance policy. Just because you never claim on your insurance doesn’t mean it was a waste of money, and you have to consider the costs you may otherwise incur in the worst case scenario. At best, scrapping our deterrent could cost some hopelessly large fraction of national GDP. At worst, the country could cease to exist.
Professor Dame Anne Glover is one of the most influential women in science. Initially a “traditional” scientist who developed a novel system for monitoring soil quality by genetically engineering microbes to emit light, she later became Chief Scientific Advisor for Scotland and then for the European Commission. Her time as a political advisor ended in 2014 when the European post was controversially scrapped. She spoke to Cherwell about her career, the relationship between science and politics and the challenges facing science today.
Your biochemistry degree led to you developing a system to test soil quality using glow-in-the-dark bacteria…
Yes, I was at a conference with my first PhD student in Portugal and we went for a midnight swim. She stood up from the water and was simply glittering from head to foot – these were tiny bioluminescent crustacea. It got me thinking about the bioluminescence reaction which is rather interesting: most reactions are not 100 percent efficient and [wasted] energy is usually given off as heat, but in this case energy is given off as light. Enjoying the friendship of many colleagues in different areas of science, we discussed whether we could apply it to track organisms, bacteria in particular, in the environment. Bioluminescence tells us all sorts of interesting things about an organism: whether it’s metabolically active, how you can activate organisms to make them do things like clean up pollution in the environment and about the ecology of the organism.
From there you took a career turn and held the position of Chief Scientific Advisor for the European Commission.
Well that sounds massive the way you say it! Until I was in my late forties I had a very traditional scientific career—writing papers, getting grants, having PhD students, teaching undergraduates and so on—although I’d also done things like been on the governing body of the Natural Environmental Research Council so I’d had some introduction into policy for science and what you do with the knowledge generated from scientific research.
I spent five and a half years seconded part-time to Scottish government as Scientific Advisor to look at evidence for policy making; if you like, science for policy rather than policy for science. Because I’d enjoyed that so much I then accepted the post of Chief Scientific Advisor for the President of the European Commission. It was a big step but amazingly enjoyable.
Was it difficult at any point to keep a healthy dialogue between science and politics?
Yes, because politics is a marriage of lots of things such as evidence, necessity, philosophy, economy, and sustainability. In science we tend to look just at how we can unpick and understand our particular area of interest but sometimes, in politics, the evidence is a little inconvenient. My role was always to try and provide challenge. I think what success would look like—and I don’t think I ever fully achieved this, in fact I know I didn’t—is if I could get politicians to say, ‘Well the evidence tells us one thing, but for other reasons we’re actually going to do another, and here are the reasons…’. But politicians are still reluctant to acknowledge the evidence when it doesn’t suit their philosophy and I think that everybody loses when that happens. The politicians lose because it can be demonstrated that they’re misrepresenting the evidence, science loses, and indeed citizens lose because they pay for much of the evidence being produced.
The post of Chief Scientific Advisor and the bureau for the EU no longer exist. How is science presented to the EU now in their absence?
Because the entire scientific community across the EU and much further afield objected very strongly and very vocally to the role of Chief Scientific Advisor being discontinued, the Commission responded and have something they refer to as the ‘Science Advice Mechanism’. That’s seven individuals of the highest quality representing a number of different scientific disciplines, including social science, across Europe who have had experience of not just working in the scientific environment but also working at high strategic levels with governments and funders. I suppose what they don’t have is the same figurehead that the CSA provided. That role has to be borne more by the Commissioners. I think we’ll have to wait and see how the Science Advice Mechanism delivers. It’s early days but I would be optimistic that they will be able to do many things that will have a positive impact.
So we’ve talked about the dialogue between science and politics. How have you found the relationship between science and the media?
One of the things I’m very proud of in the UK is that we have the Science Media Centre which has a database of people who are willing to talk on specific issues to try and address what was a deficit: when a story broke in the media and they didn’t know who to go to for credible comments. It’s independent and they give media training to scientists, but also journalists can get comments from people who are highly credible and expert in particular areas which can help to undermine any misinformation that’s going on.
This was partly set up in response to the MMR triple vaccine issue which the media saw as a big scoop; they love controversy. So I would say my disappointment with our mainstream media is that it prefers sensation rather than clarity, but there’s variation across the media of course. In a scientific environment that’s anathema really; what we want is clarity.
Many of us for a long time have been concerned with false balance. If 99.9 percent of scientists think that climate change is happening and it is highly influenced by human behaviour and 0.1 percent think it isn’t and you give equal airtime to the 0.1 percent then that’s a false.
If there’s one thing I would say to scientists it’s for goodness’ sake speak out! If scientists don’t do it then who do they imagine will? You think when you do small things that they don’t make a difference, but actually they all add up. Everything that we do is underpinned by science, technology and engineering. It could not be more important whether you’re in the UK, the EU or a global citizen.
I think it’s good to see that there’s a chink of light, that people understand that science is for everyone and we should make an effort to communicate it, for one because it’s so blooming exciting! It’s just so interesting! In the nineteenth century it was entertainment. People used to come along and look at science experiments. Well, we’ve got an obligation as scientists to continue that and let people share in the excitement and joy of what we do.
To round off, what do you feel is the most pressing issue in science today?
Actually I think it’s a little bit what we’ve been talking about; it’s getting our voice heard and getting the value of science acknowledged. At times when being able to secure budget and investment is very pressing I think we need to make people understand that investment in science is an absolute necessity, it is not a luxury.
Taking advantage of all our talent [is another issue]. I’m particularly concerned about gender issues and any minority issues; we need to get full excellence and creativity; we need to be pulling from the widest possible spectrum of people. We need the best.
And the last thing—maybe it should be the first thing at the moment—is how are we to protect our science excellence in the UK, which is so important for our future if we have a Brexit? And that requires all our creativity to think about possibilities and continued collaboration. For science is an international language, an international pursuit. We can’t do it as the UK on its own, it’s just not possible.
A few short years ago, a grassroots fashion phenomenon swept through social media, challenging the mainstream perceptions of who can be a designer, and who can own a label. I’m referring, of course, to the rise of independent streetwear labels. The reverberations from this movement have since impacted both mainstream and high fashion; think not only of Yeezy and Rihanna x River Island, but of Givenchy and Chanel producing streetwear style t-shirts and tracksuits. Jack Morrison, second-year History and Politics student at Oxford and founder of the streetwear brand ‘Light Work,’ was among the first to ride on the wave of social media hype.
Although he had always had a keen interest in fashion, Jack almost stumbled upon the idea of starting a clothing label. He describes the conception of Light Work in characteristic humble terms: “In sixth form me and my mate didn’t have any money, so because we were both interested in fashion we just started off creating t-shirts in my mate’s school – we used to sort of break in after school to use the heat press to print them.” After the first batch sold out immediately on Facebook, Jack realised the label’s business potential and created a website, after which, he says as if still in shock, “it just grew and grew” – since then production has increased tenfold.
“There’s lots of similar brands that do what we do, selling through Facebook. But we were one of the first brands to do it, at the same time when Wavy Garms and Basement first took off. That helped us because we were able to get initial promotion for free, reaching a huge audience straight away.”
Excerpt from the Light Work ’16 editorial for Cherwell Fashion
Creating a website early on was a smart move – the Facebook wave eventually broke, and it now befits the brand’s image to use the platform of a sleek website. Jack is the first to admit that the democratisation of streetwear fashion by social media, which allowed the brand to incubate and flourish, has also been a hindrance in some respects. There is a glut of products saturating the market, making it difficult to stand out. I ask whether, like in mainstream fashion, there is a need to keep up with, or set, new trends in order to keep afloat. “It’s not really about trends, it’s about building the brand name and making it visible through lots of channels. You have to make the name desirable, so people want to wear it on their shirt.” There are many layers to cultivating this desirability, it seems – from the aesthetics of the website and photography, and the artist names associated with the brand, to that coveted je ne sais quois which it manages to exude.
Slightly dizzied by Jack’s knowledge of an industry which laypeople like myself can only glimpse from the peripheries, I ask him who his audience is. “It’s evolving at the moment. Initially Light Work was targeted at people aged 15-25, because that was what we knew. But the only problem with targeting them is that they have limited incomes, and that limits what we can produce. Now, by targeting a higher age range, we can challenge ourselves to produce better quality stuff, because if we’re asking the customer to spend more money, we have to produce something which is reflective of that price tag”.
As the aims of Light Work change, so too do its methods of promoting itself, which have matured and expanded considerably since the brand’s conception. As well as conventional promotion through magazines and their own social media channels, Light Work’s exciting collaboration with artists opens up many possibilities. Although he plays an active role in design concepts, Jack admits that he is “no good at art”. This led to the decision to foster relations with local artists. By commissioning art from young creatives and promoting their talent, Light Work functions as a social enterprise as well as a business. They are supported by UnLtd, an organisation in London, who provide mentoring and funding to social enterprises: “We work with artists in order to give them experience in the fashion industry, promote them, and advise them on the best ways to promote themselves. So, when we work with an artist or a photographer, we’ll tell them to create a website before we release the collection, so that when we do release the stuff people can follow you up and see what you do.”
This approach has led to an impressive lineup of collaborations, with artists such as Mr Phomer, Rebel Yuth, and Joe Monroe showcasing their work on Light Work’s garments. I ask Jack how collaborations benefit his business. “It is mutual gain. These artists find it difficult to get publicity for their work, especially because many of them are primarily using Instagram.” It is, Jack says, much easier to sell artwork if it is printed on a marketable product like a t-shirt. In return, the artists channel their thousands of fans and followers onto the Light Work website, giving the brand direct access to an audience already invested in the art, and, therefore, the garments.
This ingeniously simple model not only allows Light Work to stand out in the saturated online streetwear market, but also creates the possibility for an interesting artistic and political edge in the clothing it produces. When I ask him about the political potential of fashion, Jack’s answer is unpretentious: “We know we’re not going to change the world or anything with a t-shirt. But it is all about spreading ideas and reflecting on things that are happening around us.”
Although the brand doesn’t take itself too seriously, the artwork in the new collection deals with some heavy themes. “The capsule collection coming out right now is a collection of t-shirts on the theme of political events in 2016. We thought it was a crazy year, so we really wanted to create something which commented on it.” He shows me a selection of t-shirts, emblazoned with satirical cartoons and slogans on the theme of 2016 – Nigel Farage, the EU, Black Lives Matter, Donald Trump. The work is both subversive and iconic; if it were buried in a time capsule, it would capture the disillusioned spirit of modern youth, perhaps as the sarcastic use of the Union Jack captured punk.
To mark the release of this collection, Light Work staged an art showcase in London, showing the extent of its progression since its conception on Facebook: “It was a day where all of the artists and photographers we have worked with came together and showed their work. We had a photographer, and then, at night, a musical showcase. The theme of the day was 2016, and all the money raised went to our chosen charities, Black Lives Matter and Refugee Action.’ In addition, all of the money raised from the sale of the Black Lives Matter t-shirt will be donated to the charity. I ask Jack about his reasons for doing this and, not one for speechifying, he says “because that’s just what we believe in”.
What is the future, then, for a young brand which has grown so much already? First, they will focus on their exciting new cut and sew collection, which is increasingly conscious of the ethics and quality of production. “We always wanted to do cut and sew stuff from the outset, but we didn’t have the skills to do it, as we’re not fashion students ourselves. We moved into it this summer after I worked at Port magazine, where I was able to interview lots of designers to better understand the process we need to go through.” So, it’s kind of like the brand is maturing as you are? “Yes, exactly. It’s about building our own skill-set as we move into new things. All of the new collection will be handmade from scratch in London.”
With the exciting new collection launching this week, it is difficult to see what could stop Light Work’s momentum. Maybe Jack’s Finals next year? (Yes, he’s only a second year student – it’s sickening isn’t it).
For more on Light Work’s new collection, check out Light Work ’16, an exclusive editorial for Cherwell Fashion, or go to their website, http://www.lightworkclothing.co.uk/.
College reserve team football is not exactly seen as the pinnacle of sport in Oxford. When the topic of sporting participation comes up and I mention that I play for the college, the first reaction is usually incredulity (since I do not exactly look like an athlete, and first team college football is well-respected). The second reaction, when I reassure that I only play first team football when injuries and tutorials mean they lack a full team, is slight relief on their part that the universe still makes sense but also slight bemusement, which increases when I point out that whilst I lead a team, it is actually the college thirds.
The perception carried by some that college reserve sport is not to be taken seriously carries weight in some regard. We do not enter the field of play fired up with adrenaline intent on claiming victory at all costs, willing to hack down and injure opponents to cynically stop play development. Nor are we a well-drilled organisation that trains regularly and has tactical meetings.
In last week’s LMH Men’s 3rd team fixture, two members of the team turned up less than sober and then had to leave at half time, leaving us with ten men, whilst the game was occasionally broken up because neither of (both blue-shirted) teams had a full set of kits and some of those without looked too similar to each other and had to change. Formation was decided on by a raising of hands for each position and who wanted to play where, including a surprising lack of desire from anyone to play up front resulting in a regular defender making his first start as a forward.
Inasmuch as serious means professional, therefore, it is a fair point to look at reserve sport in Oxford as some kind of lesser playing arena, something for the more casual if still enthusiastic players. Indeed, it is often the bane to our reserve teams when we come across a player insistent on loudly complaining to the referee about every call, or dangerously throwing themselves into tackles without any kind of apology, seemingly intent on harming their fellow students (one of them rather aggressively once admitted that it was his intention to do so).
However, to judge such levels of football on such grounds would be to entirely miss the point of why they bring such entertainment and joy, and why so many people still play (even if it was not quite enough for us to have a full team in the second half). It would be like saying that the lower down the English football pyramid you go, the importance falls, when in fact the importance merely changes. For lower league or non-league football the purpose is in part to act as a feeder system for the elite tiers, and in some ways reserve teams are a platform for players to demonstrate their worth to the first teams.
More importantly, at least in my opinion, reserve team football brings about the same amount of entertainment, passion, emotional release and energy as first team sport, but without the stress or disappointment that taking the sport too seriously can bring.
As an example, the noble LMH 3rds team did not exactly have the most successful of seasons last year. Finishing the season with a 4-4 draw against Teddy Hall’s 3rd team represented the only point of the season, with the other nine games all lost (and only two by a margin of less than four). One defeat was even as distant as 8-1. Yet, the team kept drawing in players, week in and week out, who kept enjoying themselves and getting stuck into the spirit of the sport, and the love of the game. After that 8-1 defeat rather than glumly despair, one of our regulars merely piped up that it was the close ones that hurt the most, and we all trooped off chuckling, ready for the next one (which we lost 6-1).
All that brings us up to last week, which was above all a demonstration of the ability for reserve college sport to bring as much joy, as much passion and energy as any other level, even in the lowest tier of the reserve divisions. In our first league game of the season, the LMH 3rd team claimed its first win since November 2014, with a stolen winner in the last ten minutes having put up a ridiculous defensive performance and survived unscathed (with the aforementioned 10 men) a second half onslaught after a half-time score of 3-3. The game had everything you could want: some very fine goals from both teams including a lovely dinked finish that saw us fall behind 3-2 in the first half; intensity and passion with both teams fighting hard right to the death; a pretty fast pace to the game; chances and shots galore, and even a penalty just to add a bit of drama if the late winner against the run of play was not enough.
That is the beauty of reserve sport here in Oxford, and the beauty of amateur sport everywhere. It contains all the purities and all of the beautiful elements of sport at all levels of the game, without any of the negative distractions. Sport at its finest, even if not at its highest quality.
The sacking of Francesco Guidolin, on his birthday, represents somewhat uncommon ground for Swansea City as of late. It is a club that saw its rise from the lowest tier of English professional football through a series of managers well-chosen, given time and patience. Kenny Jackett oversaw promotion into League One back over a decade ago, before Roberto Martinez took the helm for two years, Paulo Sousa for over a year and then Brendan Rodgers’ near two-year stint led Swansea into the promised land of the top flight. Even Garry Monk, a loyal servant to the club but untested as a manager held the post for nearly two years, as did Michael Laudrup before him. Yet, Swansea has seen its latest head coach dismissed after 25 games, but importantly only nine games into the current season.
Even then, one might argue that to sit 17th in the premier league after seven league matches, and to have failed to win at all in all competitions since playing Peterborough in late August might be just cause for the sack. However, this overlooks the fixture list. Swansea have, realistically, suffered one seriously disappointing result this season, that of the 2-0 home defeat to Hull on the second day of the season. Aside from that, their losses had been away to champions Leicester, away to Southampton twice at home to Manchester City, and then again to Liverpool. They even managed a respectable draw against Chelsea in amongst those defeats.
Whilst Swansea’s return has been poor, their fixture list has been mightily unfavourable, and Guidolin might have been looking ahead to upcoming fixtures against Watford, Stoke, Everton and Crystal Palace as far more winnable affairs. It is not, after all, as if Swansea were gunning for the top four last season.
It might just strike some as odd, or at least disappointing, that Swansea have seemingly succumbed to the kind of impatience that has destabilised managerial appointments of late, but it is undoubtedly a well-known trend.
After Arsene Wenger’s 20-year spell, the next longest serving Premier league managers are Eddie Howe and Sean Dyche of Bournemouth and Burnley respectively, each nearing the end of their fourth years in charge. However, there are only six managers who have held their roles in the Premier League for more than two years, and nine who took up their posts within the last twelve months. The Championship makes for even dire reading. Ipswich’s Mick McCarthy and Preston North End’s Simon Grayson are the only managers to have been serving for more than two years; seventeen were installed within the last year.
Yet the picture changes. If one examines the lower tiers of English professional football, the problem remains but to a lesser extent. Between League One and League Two, fifteen managers have held their roles for over two years, almost double that of the top two tiers combined. Seven of the eight longest-serving managers (Arsene Wenger being the exception) in England are from League One or League Two, with all seven having served over four years.
Furthermore, that issue that many have of stifling English talent through the constant hiring of overseas managers becomes less apparent, particularly amongst longer-serving managers, and also in the lower leagues. Amongst the 34 longest serving managers in the four professional leagues of English football, two are Irish (Mick McCarthy and Chris Hughton), two Scottish (Alex Neil and Gary Caldwell), two Welsh (Mark Hughes and Tony Pulis) and three foreign (Frenchman Arsene Wenger, Spaniard Aito Karanka and Argentinian Mauricio Pochettino). The other 25 are all English.
Contrastingly, of the 21 most recently appointed managers, just five are English, with a further five from Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland. For the statistical aficionados out there, that means a slim majority (25 of 49, but a majority nonetheless) of English football league managers are in the top third or so of managers in terms of time at the helm, whilst almost half (11 of 23) of non-British managers are in the most freshly appointed posts.
Of course, there is no shame or negative to any one team hiring a foreign manager. The issue, as Sam Allardyce drew attention to back in May, then as Sunderland boss and yet to engage in his ill-fated England career, is that the trend is pointing towards a smaller and smaller number of homegrown managers, particularly in the top of English football. This becomes increasingly worrisome when coupled with the fact that no national team has ever won the world cup with a foreign manager, and that the only team to win the European Championship in such a manner was Greek in 2004 with German Otto Rehhagel at the helm.
In the same way that the lack of playing time for English players at the top levels of football would and does hamper the prospects of the national team, so too the lack of opportunities for English managers hampers our choices at the international coaching level – something we are desperate for now more than ever – and our ability to produce our own top managers.
Guidolin’s departure might represent Swansea starting to join the raft of teams at the top of English football burdened by impatience, but it also highlights the increasing desire to look abroad, rather than down to the lower tiers of English football, where plenty of talent is waiting too long to be snatched up.
As discussed in my first column – Why does sport matter – ‘we (humans) always try to simplify, quantify and break down life.’ Sports largely satisfies this in its winner versus loser nature, but nothing quite exemplifies this human instinct as much as our love for lists. Type ‘Top 10’ followed by any category into google somebody has probably made a list for it. The questions we most like to ask, and the lists we most like to compile, are the ones without obvious answers. The big questions, ‘Is there a god?’, ‘What is the meaning of life?’ occupy the biggest proportion of time as there is the most scope for debate, there is no single objective answer and therefore never a knockout blow.
Returning to the sporting sphere, while perhaps never reaching the levels of questioning the purpose of existence, there is no shortage of big debates – the largest potentially being, who is the greatest sportsperson of all time?
Many different people make a case for many different sportsmen and women alike to be heralded as the greatest of all time, the GOAT. Posing the question to a few people last week was met by a multitude of differing answers; Federer, Woods, Ali, Jordan and Pele all got numerous mentions, yet there was no one stand out overriding winner. The reason behind this is, clearly, that it is a subjective question.
People qualify greatness in different ways. Probably the most commonly cited man when discussing the award, Muhammad Ali, did not own a perfect boxing record like many others, but is known as ‘The Greatest’ for wider reasons – his role in the Civil Rights movement, his refusing to serve in Vietnam, as well as winning two of the greatest boxing fights of all time, the Rumble in the Jungle and the Thriller in Manila. Roger Federer, another of the most popular people in this debate, is not only valued so highly as having won more tennis slams than anyone else, but also for his style and grace, both on and off the court. Perhaps the most interesting answer a received when posing the GOAT question was Don Haskins, not simply a college basketball coach, but a man who is largely credited with the desegregation of the sport in southern USA. It is easy to see how his greatness can be valued over someone who could simply could run fast or scored a lot of goals.
A statistician at heart, when pondering the GOAT conundrum myself, numbers are my first port of call. While I do not believe you can ever crown one individual as the greatest, the figures can help paint a decent portrait, and despite the issues of comparing across generations and sports, one man stands out as the greatest statistical anomaly of all time.
2,827 people have batted in the history of Test cricket. Of those who have played over 20 matches the man with the second highest batting average (runs per dismissal) is Graeme Pollock, who averages 60.97; number one – Don Bradman, averages 99.94. The histogram of individuals test batting averages is one of the most remarkable graphs in sport. Bradman is arguably the only sportsperson whose inclusion or exclusion in a data set can alter an axis to such an extent. He is nearly 64% better than his closest rival in test cricket.
Some may argue, Michael Phelps’ 23 Olympic gold medals (more than twice the amount of anyone else) is as statistically impressive, but what people typically fail to recognise is that winning an Olympic gold medal is a binary event, the person who comes first gets infinitely more accreditation than the person in second. In Bradman’s case we are staggeringly dealing with averages.
Sport is a game of fine margins; little differentiates the great from the good. When Phelps won the 400m Individual Medley at the 2008 Olympics breaking the World Record, he did so by 2.32 seconds, swimming less than 1% faster than his closest opponent. At Tiger Woods’ peak in 2000 he achieved the lowest ever scoring average on the PGA tour with 68.17, Phil Mickelson in 2nd place averaged only 1.7% more with 69.35. Michael Jordan holds the record for most points per game in the NBA but his record (30.12 PPG) is only marginally greater than Wilt Chamberlain (30.07 PPG). While Pele’s goal scoring record is truly frightening, it is now being matched by Messi and Ronaldo. Even, Wayne Gretzky, owner of 61 NHL records upon retirement in 1999 only averaged around 2% more points per game than his closest competitor.
We have to be careful comparing different statistics, but even so Bradman’s 64% seems truly unrivalled. Even if you dock him a third of his career runs he would still possess the highest batting average of all time by a distance. It is impossible to objectively determine who is the greatest, but in terms of determining an individual who has statistically dominated a sport by the greatest amount we have a pretty good idea. The greatest statistical anomaly of all time, the GSAOAT, the Don.
