What if we brought back stone circles and burial mounds? If we started to build ceremonial sites with contemporary, sustainable materials for our loved ones and the generations to come? Laura Robertson recently visited Malta to learn more about URNA, a proposal that provokes us to ask questions about death, grief and architecture…

The ritual of death is complex. When my dad James died, the funeral felt like a tipping point, a reckoning with his character and how I would remember him. His personality and character became summarised in my mind, in a strange way, as if all of his existence had stretched to this final point and a conclusion was needed. The body can only cope with so much grief; I felt extreme stress, anger, and a type of bereft unmooring. I didn’t know where I was. I found that my dad was an anchor in our family of three, so as that point in the triangle was removed, the strength left us. This new knowledge was part of the ritual.

For most, a funeral is the main focus of death, and so were the steady demands and considerations of others; how many could fit in the small chapel; the choreography of shaking hands and accepting messages; a flurry of communications in the lead up and a tapering off in the days that followed; the exhausting combat of other people’s irritation and regret; all amongst the dull concerns of administration – unpaid credit card bills, catering, choosing a coffin and its accessories (so many fittings and veneers!) from a glossy brochure.

His eulogies were short; the formal goodbyes felt so very quick in comparison to the procession and scheduling of the days following his death, from hospice to funeral home to grave. Now, I very rarely visit his cemetery, which is over an hour away on the outskirts of the city, but that’s not really why. I realised very quickly that his gravestone, well, isn’t him – it’s a marker, rather than a person with a story. The stone simply indicates where his remains are buried. What about his life, identity, choices? His family, his legacy?

These are the questions that URNA prompts. Exhibited through June at Somerset House for London Design Biennale 2025, and responding to the festival theme of ‘Surface Reflections’, Malta’s Pavilion proposes URNA as a long-lasting, more striking vessel for the dead. Suggesting ‘urn’, this imposing, sculptural sphere is engineered from limestone and cremation ashes, acting as a contemporary columbarium, or a monument or building with niches for funeral urns to be stored.

The Pavilion exhibits include the actual stone sphere, flown over from Malta, plus film and publications that document its manufacture and imagining its possible rites. Conceptually, URNA honours prehistoric artefacts and locations that are circular in shape: spherical stones found in Malta (in the Ħal Saflieni Hypogeum catacombs), in Costa Rica (the Diquís spheres, named after the extinct Diquís culture); stone circles and burial mounds found in Ireland (like Newgrange); celestial stones engraved with astrological signs in Persian and Arabic (India) and swirls and discs (Scotland) thought of as early watches. Humans, here, positioned themselves within the seasons, the rising and setting of the sun, the wider cosmos, and our short duration on the globe.

Made by a collective of architects, artists, designers and curators – Andrew Borg Wirth, Anthony Bonnici, Tanil Raif, Matthew Attard Navarro, Anne Immelé, Stephanie Sant, Thomas Mifsud – URNA is as practical as it is conceptual. The material has real-life potential: created out construction waste and dust, and of an urgent need to preserve Malta’s UNESCO recognised asset, limestone, which has been excavated for thousands of years, and to make it sustainable for future construction. The placement and performance of the spheres, if realised, would need a big cultural shift; one that evokes and respects ancient practices; a new mausoleum site that is less about the immediate, shorter-term concerns of the mortuary, or a graveyard that may be subject to relocation or development, and more about enduring structures that are part of the landscape and the planet, that signal our place in geological, or deep, time.

URNA’s proposal includes Maltese architect and poet Richard England’s When I Die, taken from his book connecting solid structures to words, the timeworn to the fleeting. An extract:

IN THE PENUMBRA OF DEATH

ISLAND ROCK AND HUMAN BONE

MERGE INTO A WAXEN LIMESTONE WHOLE.

UNDER THE CREPUSCULAR SKY

AS EACH MIDNIGHT HAUNTS A MUTE CATAFALQUE OF DEATH

THIS FLOATING GRAVE

BECOMES

MY ASTRAL PASSPORT TO ETERNITY

The grave to eternity. Bones to sediment. I wonder about my own dad, or me, being treated in this way: combined with the ashes of other people, the dead from our families and wider community, in a way that symbolises togetherness for eternity. Would I feel differently about his absence? His remains? I’d go so far as to say that I might face his death differently if it was treated with poetry and import. I wonder how much say we have in these things today, beyond the epitaph. I imagine a hillside dotted with permanent, giant spheres marking many souls. In Liverpool, we often sing You’ll Never Walk Alone at times of unity or strife; a tender song that represents a football team, yes, but also recognises the Hillsborough disaster dead, and the decades-long fight for justice in the courts by their families. Death brings the living together, and acts as a meeting place to remember, grieve, and find joy in life, too.

In the accompanying film, the URNA sphere is halfway built, showing thin layers of concrete-ashes mix, that incrementally build the whole globe. At the bottom of a Maltese Quarry, three wailing women are hired to descend to the sphere and perform grieving. The women establish new rituals based on ancient examples; as well as pouring and painting on the liquid concrete with bear hands, they create a writhing body language, crying out, touching, curling like serpents around each other’s twisted limbs and entangled garments.

This naked performance of grief feels welcome as it does strange. What, in the end, can be stranger than our reactions to death? Suggesting a return to professional mourners is a direct acknowledgment of what we have made death into: awkward, taboo, sterile and remote. Grief is commonly treated as an infectious disease. I can only speak of British culture, in which the grieving – beyond the sympathy cards and kind gestures – frequently experience isolation. If the public again thought of death as a true return to the land, in a lineage and legacy of stone circles and burial mounds, what then? If the dead weren’t avoided but visible?

The URNA team asked students to make their own proposals, and, like stitching on a cloth, the resulting plans have monoliths, walls, towers and stones sewn into rolling hills, deserts and forests across South Africa, the USA, the Amazon and Iceland. This act situates URNA in real places, visualising it and making it possible in the minds of the viewer.

I recently went a step further and visited where URNA was designed and built. Twelve-storeys down into a light-filled quarry, I ran my fingers over the rippled surface of the sphere, and stood in the limestone dust at its base. I visited Malta’s 6,000-year-old burial sites and temples, its Roman quarries, and leaned over its fortress walls to look out at the sea. When at ruins anywhere, I love to feel connected to those people long gone; there’s something exquisite about this tactility, standing on foundation stone, or placing a hand on a pillar – tenfold when at a grand mausoleum or stone circle. URNA has forced me to think how differently I feel at an English cemetery, and what it might take, one day, for those two experiences to truly connect: the physical with the spiritual. Perhaps, as URNA suggests, it is a return to what our ancestors did so well: to make ambitious ceremonial structures at sites of geographic, cultural, and celestial significance.

Laura Robertson

See URNA, Malta Pavilion, at London Design Biennale, Somerset House, 5-29 June 2025, £22 tickets

URNA is commissioned by Arts Council Malta (@artscouncilmalta) and made possible through support from Halmann Vella, Gasan Foundation (@gasanfoundation), Embassy of France in Malta, Malta Enterprise, Visit Malta, KM Malta Airlines and all other partners

Images from top: URNA, render image 2025; URNA photo essay, courtesy Anne Immelé; research images from URNA instgram @urna.project; URNA film still, courtesy of Stephanie Sant, 2025; URNA photo essay, courtesy Anne Immelé

Pushing the idea of jewellery to breaking point, Royal College of Art tutor Jonathan Boyd is encouraging the next generation of designers and artists to exponentially challenge their practice. He tells Laura Robertson about the experimentation, the expertise, and the RCA’s dedicated postgraduate scholarship for British silversmiths…

Originally from Aberdeen, Jonathan Boyd has spent most of his life in Glasgow. Talking to me over Zoom, he sits on an iconic orange and red 1980s Glasgow bus seat, which reminds me of the Liverpool buses I grew up with. The walls behind him are plastered with pages of handwriting, photographs and ink drawings. It’s not what I expected from a jeweller – but what was I expecting?

Head of Programme for Jewellery & Metal MA (JaM) at the Royal College of Art, I was interested to find out how Boyd’s own artwork impacts his students. His recent exhibition – Thoughts Between the Land and the Sea: Raising the Doggerland – featured animations, spoken word, sculptures, texts and sketchbooks.

A multi-award-winning artist, jeweller and academic, Boyd was a lecturer at the Glasgow School of Art for nine years and he has degrees from the RCA and GSA. His work is in the Victoria and Albert Museum and the Boston Museum of Fine Arts collections. He is represented by Gallery Marzee in The Netherlands.

TDN: You’re making work about language and object, can you expand on that?

JB: So I’m sort of a jeweller, but I’m probably working on the edges of jewellery and fine art. It’s a weird place to be, but I’m interested in jewellery as an art form because it connects with the body and the person in really strange ways. My own practice was sort of driven by a neurodivergent inability to read when I was growing up, and I became fascinated by typography and the image of language.

It’s no surprise, then, that your RCA2023 graduate show really pushed at what we’d conceive as jewellery and metal work. There was a social distancing belt made of arms, animations of dreams, a bikini made from feathers and gold…

Yes, there were so many incredible makers. Two people who for me exemplify what we were doing are Lili Murphy-Johnson, who was the first Jewellery & Metal student to be nominated as a Bloomberg New Contemporary, who would buy cheap earrings from Accessorize and remake them in fine gold, and put them back in the shop; and Elaheh Naghi Ganji, who was making incredibly powerful, quiet pieces, where she was writing protest letters, using an eraser to rub them out, and then collecting those rubbings and turning them into pearls.

What about RCA2024? Can you introduce us to a couple of stand-out postgraduates?

So this year, one metal student is amazing, Yating Zheng. Inspired by her relationship with her Grandmother, she made this teapot which she talks to, slowly transformed through silver-smithing techniques, into this bodily, insane and amazingly-crafted teapot with a belly. Margo Misiak-Orlovic has made like a body of potatoes: it’s really strange but she’s looking at ways of thinking like a non-human. She’s been recording sound by submerging speakers in the ground, and made a series of jewellery objects and wall objects that are electroformed. The electroforming process is a lot like a type of rooting, growing, where you’ve got an object in a metal tank submerged in acid. An electric current is put through them and the metal reaches out to each other neurons or something crazy.

Jewellers, silversmiths and performance artists: all of whom are interested in the body and how we understand the world of things. Jewellery is something that connects, it is really symbiotic. You wear this ring because it symbolises something, but actually, it’s more than the symbol – it becomes you. And when you take it off, your body feels heavier.

And so there’s something there about our students understanding the world through jewellery, as a thought process, and through metal as a medium for expression.

It’s a progressive way of looking at jewellery and metal work that clearly fits with your own ideas of what it can be. What do you want to do with the programme moving forward?

We want to enable people to work across a spectrum of creative practices. We’ve got a lot of students working in biomaterials, looking at making things that are sustainable and ethical.

I’ve worked very closely with Dr Peter Oakley, who’s the RCA’s Reader in Material Culture. His area of interest is fair trade metals and so, together, we’ve created a research cluster, where all the staff come together. We share our research and it’s a lovely, peer relationship of understanding.

Because we were able to do that, we’re able to share really effectively with the students a teaching of ethics, carbon emissions, luxury goods sector, etc. For me, it’s about creating this type of jewellery thinking, which enables them to create their own approaches.

How about heritage or rare crafts, native crafts? I believe you offer a scholarship in British silver? Why?

The South Square Trust Scholarship is really important to us. What interests me about interdisciplinary work is that it comes from people working with real disciplinary expertise. Heritage is knowing, that tacit understanding of metal, and how it moves and how you shape it and how things are formed. Things move in different ways, depending on environmental pressures: silversmiths know that when you apply heat, things change. We want to keep that connection to our heritage alive, but also think, where does that discipline go now? What does it mean to be using these materials? There are still traditional vessels, but do we need to question their function? Do we need to question their environmental stability? Do we need to question?

So even just a teapot, although it’s made of aluminium, there’s something there about taking silversmithing and applying narrative to it and saying, actually, this object isn’t just this memory, this is familial, this is my life. You get it because it’s autobiography.

How do people apply for The South Square Trust Scholarship (for Home students using silver in their practice: £10,000 towards living costs)? What are you looking for in the MA application that would make them eligible?

It’s worth mentioning that this scholarship is still to be awarded for the 2024/25 academic year. It’s offered to a high scoring applicant to JaM, so anyone interested should apply asap!

We’re looking for people working in metal, who want to challenge and question their practice. I think so many people look to study an MA because they’ve been working for a long period of time, and they just need time to think. So often we’re taught in a certain way, especially in apprenticeships or undergraduate degrees, and you get to the point where you think, no, I need this to be something else and I need to reframe what I’m doing.

We are looking for applicants to highlight their craft skills; to show us the way that person sees the world. Tell us: how do you capture the world? How do you understand the world, visually, aesthetically, materially? So, if you’re taking photographs as research and then that develops into pieces of work, that development process is what we want to see and hear more about. Development shows us how you shift from an idea, through to how you progress, and back to idea to ‘thing’.

Try to articulate what is elemental to your practice, and how it’s developed, that’s it.

Would you also want to kind of hear what they specifically want to learn at the RCA, to push it to a step change?

Yeah, it’s good to have an idea of where you want to go. But knowing that when you come to the RCA, there’s a very good chance that your ideas will change fairly radically fairly quickly! Some people don’t study an MA because there isn’t a scholarship.

The RCA is renowned for its staff expertise. Tell me more about the technical and academic staff you work with.

We’ve got incredible facilities, stone cutting and a silversmithing room etc., but what’s really amazing is that our technical and academic staff are practising artists. They’re all working at the tops of their fields. People like Mary Ann Simmons, who has work in the British Museum and the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Pete Musson, not only is he a really well established silversmith, he works with companies as a design consultant, for Stella McCartney, Cubitts eyewear, Microsoft. Mah Rana, one of the key figures of contemporary jewellery in the 1990s, is now an expert in Psychology. Sophie Boons is studying a radical PhD where she’s growing rubies straight into rings. We are all questioning materials, and the meanings that come with material. The way we run the programme is that we break jewellery and metal into these smaller philosophies, that we call platforms. One of them is about digital; I run one about science and art; one is dedicated to metal. We’re really trying to foster an environment of critical working.

As told to Laura Robertson

Applications for the September 2024 intake of the Jewellery & Metal MA are still open, but places are limited. Visit the RCA website to find out more

Ask the RCA Student Team for advice about any scholarship, grant or bursary you might be eligible for… Including The South Square Trust Scholarship (for Home students using silver in their practice: £10,000 towards living costs)

See a host of RCA2024 exhibitions until 4 August 2024, across the RCA’s Battersea and White City campuses, and the Truman Brewery on Brick Lane. See here for more details 

This article was sponsored by the RCA

Image credits from top: Yating Zheng (2024); Lili Murphy-Johnson (2023); Margo Misiak-Orlovic (2024); Jonathan Boyd, with work from Doggerland (2020)

“I think my favourite remark of Kubrick’s [is] about the belief in ghosts as a fundamentally optimistic point of view.” Ahead of a new publication addressing the enduring fascination with The Shining, we caught up with Rough Trade Books’ Craig Oldham…  

So steeped in Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of The Shining is the cultural consciousness that last new year, people – me included – were sharing a slightly edited version of the photograph shown at the very end of the film. The original, inscribed in flowing handwriting with the legend ‘Overlook Hotel July 4th Ball 1921’, had been doctored to read ‘Overlook Hotel New Year’s Eve, 1921’. So powerful is the textured lore surrounding the film that, even with an incorrect date (and more than forty years on), it is meme worthy.

But The Shining has always attracted more than its fair share of mythology among fans. See 2012 documentary Room 237, which addresses the film’s many supposed enigmas, as proof, if it were needed. Still, fascination persists, so news of a new publication exploring the film’s cultural legacy got our attention. We spoke with Craig Oldham whose book, The Shining: A Visual and Cultural Haunting, will be out later this year.

The Double Negative: This is the second book in your Epiphany Editions. Was it always going to be on The Shining? If so, why/why now?

Craig Oldham: We were always going to do The Shining, but it wasn’t always going to be the next one after They Live. We had a few others underway at the same time, but then the pandemic hit and forced us all into isolation, and that made it much more pertinent to pursue. Pulling at threads in the film – isolation as mentioned, but also domestic violence and domestic abuse, mental health, patriarchy and such – it felt they only served to cement that decision really.

TDN: You’ve made some really interesting design decisions around the book’s format – can you talk us through your thinking?

CO: Firstly, with the Epiphany Editions we are aiming to replicate the fictional books appearing in their respective films, so we work with what we see on screen. What we see in The Shining, and what most remember, is the reveal scene where Wendy leaves through a series of loose typed sheets of yellow paper (actually script paper) which are kept in the ream.

In other scenes we see that this box has been modified, presumably by Jack, with a torn down lip at the box’s base so paper can be easily moved. From that we have taken our design lead and license, sourcing the typewriter to replicate the typeface, taking the almost Concrete Poetry aesthetic of the pages to give form to the essays and of course replicate All Work And No Play Makes Jack A Dull Boy in the exact form they appear on screen.

From that, I was almost obsessed with having no binding in the book, having it completely loose, but still functioning as a book. So each piece is independent but collectively can be re-ordered, re-interpreted, edited, added to, and so on in a circular motion which makes the book echo the eternal reoccurrence that the film hints at in its ending. That lead and influenced so much in terms of the format.

TDN: What does the book add to conversations around The Shining?

CO: We’ve tried to address the gender imbalance on the film by heavily incorporating female criticism, but that is an issue across all critical writings on Kubrick not just The Shining. We have also, consciously or unconsciously, slanted a lot more on the visual and design culture of the film and the production, bringing in ephemera and visual art into the reading of the film which largely focuses on the film as a text.

But personally, for me, the piece that speaks the most to me which was a thread lesser pulled, at least in my own research, was Cosey Fanni Tutti’s piece where she discusses the film as domestic abuse, and domestic violence as a survivor, making really interesting parallels with film tropes such as the final girl in that context. I think that’s really relevant and, in a way, refreshing because it moves away from the male fascination and is another side to the argument of the film being about a male monster.

TDN: You’ve secured a rare interview with Shelley Duvall. Was it important to include her voice (especially given the frequent suggestions of her terrible on set experience)?

Absolutely. And we feel it’s such a coup for the book to have Shelley involved and her insights and validity as well as her voice are important. It’s a sensitive discussion to have but we also felt it’s important to not have that experience dominate the discussion as we were also really interested in her pioneering work as a producer and being a woman in that industry in the 70s and 80s.

TDN: Critics regularly laud the movie, while author of the source material, Stephen King, thought it “maddening, perverse and disappointing”. Presumably you’re in the former camp?

CO: To be honest, I flit between the two. I can find it immersive and its perplexities compelling at times, but equally I can be left cold and not really frightened (which is a problem for any horror film). I can understand why King doesn’t appreciate the film, but I think, again if I’m honest, and given my research into the film’s pre-production, a lot of King’s animosity towards the film involves ego not necessarily the film as a work. Plus, you only have to watch the TV versions directed by Mick Garris which King was heavily involved in, to see that perhaps King’s take on what makes a good adaptation can be questioned and criticised just as heavily.

TDN: What’s your favourite myth or belief about Kubrick’s take on horror and the nature of evil?

CO: I think my favourite remark of Kubrick’s was one he said in discussion with Michel Ciment (and Jack Nicholson) about the belief in ghosts as a fundamentally optimistic point of view, as it implied a continuation of existence and death not being the end.

TDN: Finally, in his study of the film, Roger Luckhurst remarked “I, too, have been tempted to stay in the Overlook for ever and ever.” Have you ever considered checking in?

CO: Indeed, but let’s be honest, there’d only be one room I’d like to stay in…

As told to Mike Pinnington

Support The Shining: A Visual and Cultural Haunting’s Kickstarter campaign

“Becoming more resourceful has been a very helpful part of this situation.” For our latest In These Times series in partnership with Liverpool John Moores School of Graphic Design & Illustration, we spoke to second-year student Amy Cummings about finding ways to adapt and maximise creativity over the last year…

The Double Negative: Are there any reoccurring themes that you’re raising in your work, intentionally or on reflection?

Amy Cummings: Most of the work I create is more visually inspired than inspired by narrative and context, I usually think more about visual elements than creating and representing deeper meaning. However, I am passionate about feminism, and where I have the opportunity to research into the history of feminism and strong female activists and artists, I gravitate towards this in my work. I’m interested in female creatives, and how they have created success in the face of adversity in their careers, and have created a lot of work in my degree surrounding female artists that inspire me. I am currently researching the history of Women’s suffrage in the UK for my final year graphic arts research project and focussing on the work involved in the success of the movement.

Visual reoccurring themes in my work include vivid colours, abstraction, and psychedelic imagery. I like to juxtapose contrasting elements – combining realism with abstract pattern, digital methods with physical, and hand drawn stills and digital animations.

TDN: Can you tell me a little more about that blending of different styles and techniques?

AC: I like working in an abstract style because I feel that the lack of restriction allows me to work to the best of my creativity; however, sometimes I find it difficult to work purely from my imagination, which is why I often set up photographs as an anchor point to begin my drawings from, or for practice I find photos from my camera roll and draw from them as a quick drawing exercise. I find that when I’m working from a reference, I like to exaggerate the patterns and textures to abstract a realistic drawing, and with purely abstract work I like to include detailed tonal areas to juxtapose the abstract elements, crossing the boundaries of realistic and non-realistic.

TDN: Who or what inspires you?

AC: Female artists, for the adversity they face in their careers, particularly artists like Yayoi Kusama and Frida Kahlo as they overcame many struggles in their careers. I’m inspired by artists that go against what is expected of them, and are resilient despite any setbacks. I’m inspired by the work of Bridget Riley, as a female artist and a strong example of abstract art that inspires me, I love how her work is so simple yet so striking. I’m also inspired by orphism, Sonia Delaunay’s work being a strong source of inspiration for me. I also love the work of Hilma af Klint. I’m very inspired by editorial illustrators, and how they make accurate whilst also creative drawings in a quick turnover that are descriptive for their purpose, this is definitely something I would like to master over the rest of my degree.

TDN: How do you feel your practice has been affected by recent events globally and nationally?

AC: I definitely miss being in the studio, bouncing ideas off people and seeing other people’s work which I always found inspiring. However there is also more of an online community, which is nice because it is a great way of seeing other people’s work, and being in touch with people more consistently in and out of term time. I think a lot of people on our course have used this time to really expand and focus on their practices, and put effort into their social media presences. It can be easy to get disheartened and demotivated by the current situation, constantly working from the same desk in the same room. But also I feel that having this extra time for us to expand on our creative practices has benefitted a lot of us, and given us all a chance to pause and reflect on what is important to us.

TDN: What approach will you take to your future learning, how has this experience changed you’re understanding of being a student and being in education?

AC: Hopefully, going back to the studio in September for the rest of my degree, I want to really take advantage of all the facilities that are available to us in the arts building, and to really harness all of the benefits of being in a studio environment. Whether that’s the facilities, spending time with course mates, asking for feedback and ideas from tutors and students, just generally making the most of everything we missed out on for the past year. I want to make the most of the printing facilities, such as the risograph machine and screen printing, and be more experimental with the facilities that we have access to that we couldn’t access at home, and won’t have direct access to after graduation.

TDN: Are there any positives to studying a practice-based course during a lockdown? Has this experience opened up any possibilities or opportunities you wouldn’t have considered before?

AC: Working completely from our devices this year has put more focus on having an online presence, which has lead to opportunities and contacts that may not have been accessed if we had been in the studio more. I also think becoming more resourceful has been a very helpful part of this situation, learning how to do printmaking from home and just generally teaching ourselves things that we want to know without the extra support of being in the studio. Having to be more self-driven is a benefit of this situation, which I think is a key part of being a freelance illustrator and therefore will benefit our future careers.

Making more connections online and adapting work for online use is a useful asset to have and has been a much more important part of this year than last year, all of our submissions having been online. This has made me improve the digital presentation of my work, which I think is so important because that is the way to access a wider audience, through posting work online. I think working more digitally has lead me towards more animation-based practice and gif making, which is a skill I look forward to building on in the future.

TDN: Have you learned anything new about yourself and/or your process?

AC: I have always thought of myself as fairly self-driven and resourceful, quite independent and someone that enjoys being alone; but being forced to work in isolation, without certain resources, facilities and people around to encourage me I have realised how much I depend on external sources. I think this has made me appreciate all the things we have all had to go without over lockdown, and understand how, even though it is powerful to be self-sufficient, there is so much to appreciate about working around other people and helping each other out.

TDN: Do you have anything you’re working on now, or something on the horizon you’d like to tell us about?

AC: Having finished term for the summer I’m currently back to working on my series of abstract round canvasses. I started working on these last year in lockdown when I finished my first year; I wanted to build more on my abstract, visual-based work after working to briefs throughout first year. I started off by painting a series of small (20cm) round canvasses, and the one I’m currently working on is 60cm, which is the largest one so far. I’ve been sharing my process on Instagram, posting progress pictures and taking time-lapse videos as I’ve been working, as I find it interesting seeing other people’s process behind their work and so I think it is useful for me to also share mine. I also want to experiment more with animation over the summer, teaching myself to use after effects and adding animated elements to my round canvas designs as I think they hold a lot of potential for psychedelic-looking gifs and animations.

As told to Mike Pinnington

Check out more of Amy’s work. All images courtesy Amy Cummings

This profile is part of the series In These Times, a partnership between LJMU Graphic Design & Illustration and The Double Negative. Acknowledging the profound difficulties posed to students in the face of the COVID-19 pandemic, the series recognises outstanding work produced during this challenging time. Profiles of students selected by their peers will be published between April and June 2021.

“Creative students aren’t getting the recognition for how we’ve adapted.” For our latest In These Times series in partnership with Liverpool John Moores School of Graphic Design & Illustration, we spoke to second-year student Lucy Topping about adapting and making the most of extraordinary circumstances…

The Double Negative: Are there any reoccurring themes that you’re raising in your work, intentionally or on reflection?

Lucy Topping: When I reflect on my work it’s easy to fit each piece into two categories – the meaningful stuff and the things I just find fun. In terms of the more message-based work, I focus on themes that are personal to me. They are things I’ve experienced myself or seen in the news that I want to talk about and highlight the importance of. For example, some of my work is centred around my experience with social anxiety. Other pieces are influenced from things my closest friends have experienced. I’ve recently done small pieces based on the introduction of pronouns to Instagram profiles and the murder of Sarah Everard. I think if you’re going to do work with a particular message or theme it has to reflect the views and beliefs you’re most passionate about.

TDN: You work in a really accessible, graphic novel/comic-book style – can you tell me about that?

LT: I’ve always worked in styles that I enjoy being a consumer of. For example, I love cartoons, animated movies and illustrated novels and these were my earliest interests in art. I love looking at art that has lots of bright and pastel colours and this is reflected in my work. The Disney movie Tangled was especially formative in my style and it remains probably my biggest stylistic influence to this day. I think this is really important to always improve and keep developing my practice. If I’m working in a style that I love looking at, then I’ll never find myself stuck. There’s always so much more out there.

TDN: Who or what inspires you?

LT: I find inspiration from anything I’m interested in. It depends on the day! If I read a book then I’ll spend a week drawing the main character. Same with movies and TV shows, or music I listen to, and most of my drawings are examples of this. The Instagram explore page is also good for finding inspiration! Recently I’ve been following a lot of environment artists on Instagram who use bright colours in unique ways. I love Angela Pan’s Instagram account and Jasmin Lai’s work and they’ve inspired me to try and do more landscape illustrations.

TDN: How do you feel your practice has been affected by recent events globally and nationally?

LT: Obviously, there’s been a lot of limitations with what work students are able to create without access to a studio, and that’s been a huge disadvantage throughout the pandemic. I know myself and a lot of people on my course have had moments where we think a piece would look so much more effective if it was done in a specific printmaking style or professionally photographed, for example. We’ve all had to adapt to that. Fortunately, a lot of my work is digital based. I like playing around with a variety of mediums and exploring new ways of creating but my practice has mostly been digital since the pandemic started. It’s allowed me to improve a specific skill but also hindered me in some ways too as I’ve not had the chance to experiment.

TDN: What approach will you take to your future learning, how has this experience changed you’re understanding of being a student and being in education?

LT: Not taking resources or being in the studio space for granted! We’ve lost a whole year of in person teaching and creative students aren’t getting the recognition for how we’ve adapted. This experience makes you realise that you can create anywhere. People are making tiny studios in their student accommodation, taking over their kitchen tables – it’s not ideal, but we’ve done it! I only have my third year left and fingers crossed that we will be fully back to the normal, in studio sessions. I’ll definitely make the most of that studio time!

TDN: Have there been any positives to studying a practice-based course during a lockdown? Has this experience opened up any possibilities or opportunities you wouldn’t have considered before?

LT: During lockdown I’ve really focused on improving my digital art. It’s lucky that we have so much immediate access to things like Procreate, which has been my main process throughout the past year. Without lockdown I don’t think I’d have spent so much time on it! This is especially relevant to my animations. I’ve tried it before but this year I was able to really explore it in depth and make something that felt like my work, rather than just experimenting with animation. I managed to find a style that felt like me. Without lockdown I wouldn’t have had that opportunity, and then I wouldn’t be doing this!

TDN: Have you learned anything new about yourself and/or your process?

LT: Before anything else, you have to enjoy what you’re doing. In the past I spent way too much time trying to force some deep meaning on my work, or thinking that it had to say something profound if I wanted it to be received well. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great if your work does that! But you can’t force it. Sometimes it will mean a lot and sometimes you’re just making work about something you think is funny. Both are important. That was a huge learning point for me this year, and I feel a lot less pressure with sharing my work on a public platform now.

TDN: Do you have anything you’re working on now, or something on the horizon you’d like to tell us about?

LT: There are a few summer projects that I’ll be starting soon which are going to be fun! Other than that, I’m always working on smaller pieces that I will be sharing on Instagram. Consistently creating is the most important thing when you’re trying to improve your artwork. I want to spend the break from university doing more experimental, physical art too. Just really having fun with it and making the most of the time off!

As told to Mike Pinnington

Check out more of Lucy’s work. All images courtesy Lucy Topping

This profile is part of the series In These Times, a partnership between LJMU Graphic Design & Illustration and The Double Negative. Acknowledging the profound difficulties posed to students in the face of the COVID-19 pandemic, the series recognises outstanding work produced during this challenging time. Profiles of students selected by their peers will be published between April and June 2021.

“You learn to make things work.” For our latest In These Times series in partnership with Liverpool John Moores School of Graphic Design & Illustration, we spoke to first-year student Emma Brown about staying creative and productive in extraordinary circumstances…

The Double Negative: Are there any reoccurring themes that you’re raising in your work, intentionally or on reflection?

Emma Brown: I’d say, if we’re talking about themes, I have noticed that black and white is a very strong theme in my work. I feel like colour can cloud the message. Also, I like to use handmade methods, and then take those methods into digital to create textures and things. So, for example, I’ve used a flatbed scanner, and moved the paper around on top of it to create a distortion, and used a rubbing technique. So, rubbing something over paper, over a texture and then scanning that in to create this animation of moving textures. I would say handmade techniques are one of the biggest things that I use.

If I work solely digitally, it doesn’t quite work as well for me. If I do something in the real world with my hands and take it into digital, it just tends to be more successful. It feels very clinical and just a bit flat when it’s all digital. The handmade helps to get into what you’re doing.

TDN: Is it fair to say that your work is as much rooted in art as it is in design?

EB: In my mind, art is anything that someone’s created using their hands, whether it’s digital or physical, and that it has meaning to them. That’s what I would consider art. So, I would say that there’s definitely an art influence in my work, because everything that I’m doing has meaning to me. And I think art is very subjective. Some people think art is just easy and you can just throw something on a canvas and frame it, and it shouldn’t be art. But I think if it’s done by someone’s hands and they have a meaning behind it, then it is art. There’s a fine line between [art and design] but there’s definitely overlap.

TDN: Who or what inspires you?

EB: Most of my inspiration comes from Instagram; sometimes you’ll just see a specific creator come up and then get really invested in what they do. One of the biggest influences that I’ve had is someone called TraceLoops. He uses really interesting techniques. It’s quite hard to explain, but if I use an example, he took an image of his face, a photo, and put it into some kind of coding software on a laptop, and kind of broke up the code. He broke it up and then it distorted the image, so that it kind of sliced it up and made those slices askew. And then he took that and traced it onto a piece of fabric and did some stitching on it and he used the backside – where it was all kinds of loose threads and stuff – to create a really interesting piece of work with his face. It’s not the specific things that he does, but it’s the way that he creates this method of doing something and taking that elsewhere to create some really interesting things. I really like … that he does something before he does it digitally. It’s really intriguing to me and it’s really influenced me. It’s the process. I’m definitely influenced by process more than actual visuals.

TDN: What approach will you take to your future learning, how has this experience changed you’re understanding of being a student and being in education?

EB: I think that with the virtual learning side of it, I really thought that it would be quite difficult to be working in a space – when you go to uni for graphic design, you expect to be in big studios with huge tables and be in this space. Then you hear that you have to do it on a computer screen at a small desk in your flat and you think “this is gonna be really difficult”. But I think it’s quite easy to adjust to working in specific environments. So, also with being shipped back from home back to the flat – back and forth – you learn that you can adjust the way that you work, and where you work with the space that you’ve got, even just the lighting. You can adjust in different environments. And, I think, for future learning, I’m not gonna be in the same environment every time, so I’ve just got to learn to be ok in a different space, different desk, different room; it’s not about where you are, it’s what you’re doing. I think I’ll definitely take that forward.

TDN: How do you feel your practice has been affected by recent events globally and nationally?

EB: I think I’ve definitely learned to be more innovative with what I’ve got because, with lockdown, you’re not always able to access things. You can order [things] online, but if you have a deadline it’s not always gonna come on time, so you learn to be able to make things work. For example, I had to do a model and I wanted to create fake water – so it looked wet, but obviously not, because it was a model. What I really wanted to use was resin, but I wasn’t able to get that in time. So I dug around, and I thought about what I could use, and I ended up using gel nail polish, and I would never expect to be doing that sort of thing, but when you have limited things to use, you do find yourself making things work. The positive with it being a practical course, is that – like I said before – you adjust to wherever you are. You find that there are things that stay the same no matter where you are: your process of thinking and how you come up with ideas. It helps you to understand your ways of working that isn’t dependent on your environment and where you’re sat; it’s just about your brain and how you think about things. It’s definitely pushed me to try and make things work with what I’ve got.

TDN: Are there any positives to studying a practice-based course during a lockdown?

EB: The thing that’s stood out for me is that you really figure out how you want to present your work digitally. I don’t think you really ever think about it until you’re forced to do it. With my module submissions, at first I was just compiling the images into a PDF, but then you figure out that you can do more exciting things, and you can create title pages, or a bookmark of different chapters. And so the last one, I used the actual sketchbook that I’d been working in, and I used that as a front cover and then scanned in the different project names, and used that as kind of like a little paper in between each project. You learn that you can present things in interesting ways, even when you’re limited – there’s no other way to submit it. It’s opened up the fact that I can do that, and you can make it really exciting. It’s quite exciting to think about what else you can do in that format.

TDN: Tell me about something you’ve enjoyed working on.

EB: I did a lot of sketchbook work for this recent typography project. I didn’t have set sketchbooks to work in for the first few semesters, I was working on paper and it just didn’t have the same feel. So, when I got this sketchbook, I was filling it with pages and pages of different letter trials and things, and they were just really exciting pages to look at; I think I just went a bit crazy. We had to design a typeface that was based on a specific character’s voice. I chose HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey, and I was struggling to find a type of letter form that would represent him well, but then something clicked and I was just doing pages and pages, making these letters as best as I could. I really struggled with differentiating between the U and the V, because sometimes they kind of overlap, and they can be quite difficult to tell the difference between. I really wanted to get it right, so I just kept doing it over and over and over again – I think you can see my thought process on the page. They’re not exactly neat, but they’re organised in such a way that really does help to see the way I think, and they’re just nice to look at if I do say so myself. I’m really proud of that sketchbook!

TDN: Have you learned anything new about yourself and/or your process?

EB: I’ve definitely learned quite a lot about myself. I think it’s mainly about confidence. When we were first getting into the virtual learning and having these small groups where we’d have to talk about our work and get opinions and things, it was quite scary, because no-one’s really used to that environment, but I have found that I can be really collaborative in a virtual space – probably even more than I would be in a physical space. I slowly got really comfortable with just talking in front of, y’know, eighty-odd people, which I would never have done before. Being able to share ideas, or in smaller groups if someone’s talking about their work, I can find it easier to just chip in and say what I think. I’ve shocked myself with how I’ve been able to talk so openly. I’m a very shy person when it comes to social situations, so even when it doesn’t feel like that many people, I really shocked myself because I really thought I was just gonna be quiet. I really enjoy going to the little crits that we do. It’s a really good collaborative space, and it makes you really motivated to do it, and y’know, get work out and do your course, if that makes sense.

TDN: Do you have anything you’re working on now, or something on the horizon you’d like to tell us about?

EB: I’m currently working on a publication design that is based on manifestos that we’ve been looking at. The manifesto I’m looking at is called the Riot Grrrl movement and it’s about a punk rock feminist movement. I’m really excited to discuss feminist issues and bring light to them by making it visual and fun to look at. I’m really excited to just go crazy with the feministic notions and go crazy in teaching people. I think it should be a good project to really smash. I’ve been listening to Bikini Kill and Le Tigre – the messages within [their songs] is so strong. It’s easy to listen to the song and not think about what’s being said, but when you look at the lyrics, they’re so powerful and they’re so great – I love them a lot!

As told to Mike Pinnington

Check out more of Emma’s work. All images courtesy Emma Brown

This profile is part of the series In These Times, a partnership between LJMU Graphic Design & Illustration and The Double Negative. Acknowledging the profound difficulties posed to students in the face of the COVID-19 pandemic, the series recognises outstanding work produced during this challenging time. Profiles of students selected by their peers will be published between April and June 2021.

“The pandemic has definitely impacted my practice.” In a new series in partnership with Liverpool John Moores School of Graphic Design & Illustration, we’re speaking with students about their experiences during extraordinary circumstances. Our inaugural In These Times conversation is with first year, Meg O’Flynn…   

The Double Negative: Are there any reoccurring themes that you’re raising in your work, intentionally or on reflection?

Meg O’Flynn: I enjoy creating art that has a deeper meaning or message behind it. And so, where I can, I include issues that are important to me. Politically my work is very left-wing, raising awareness of poverty and other social injustices. Feminism is definitely the most prominent social injustice that my work focuses on which is done intentionally. With women still being treated as second-class citizens, I want to continue to push the issue and gain more awareness about what women face on the daily.

TDN: Some of the work on your Instagram page features music icons, like Grace Jones and Joan Jett, and celebrates Riot Grrrl – can you tell me a little about this interest in the wider, feminist-tinged, pop culture?

MO’F: Looking back on my life, I would say that music has always been a huge part of it. Whether it was spending my summers with my nan playing the Beatles on her record player, or my mum playing her Blondie CD in the car. Basically, every memory I have of my childhood involves music. So, I think it was only natural that as I got older, and my understanding of what feminism was and how it affected my developed, my appreciation of strong women creating art in the music industry, which is so male dominated, also grew. I believe that music and feminism coincide with one another, especially recently, with there being so many incredible female artists turning the tables and dominating the music scene.

TDN: Who or what else inspires you?

MO’F: I have been finding a lot of inspiration in the entire Riot Grrrl movement lately as this is the focus point of my most recent and ongoing project. The 90s ‘do it yourself’ aesthetic that is seen throughout this movement seems to be making a huge comeback in design with the younger generation, which is something I love and have been able to recreate in my own work.

TDN: What approach will you take to your future learning, how has this experience changed you’re understanding of being a student and being in education?

MO’F: Being a first-year university student during a global pandemic has been a very strange experience. I am yet to meet my classmates or teachers face to face which has not been the idea of university that was built up in my head. Hopefully in the near future, we will be able to go back to face-to-face learning, which is something that I will definitely not be taking for granted. Being able to bounce ideas off other students is something that I will appreciate, as well as having studio time and lecturers nearby to ask questions.

TDN: How do you feel your practice has been affected by recent events, globally and nationally?

MO’F: The pandemic has definitely impacted my practice, with university buildings being closed, my classmates and I have had no access to studios or other specialist equipment that would have been beneficial for a few of my projects. This resulted in me having to create my own studio in a cramped student halls room, using a bedsheet as a backdrop, a window for my studio lighting, and an iPhone as my camera. However, having to use such a basic set up has led to other aspects of my work improving, such as my editing skills, my photography, and my patience.

TDN: Are there any positives to studying a practice-based course during a lockdown?

MO’F: While COVID has undoubtably negatively impacted a lot of students’ work, I would say the opposite happened for me. My entire school career, I have thrived outside of school hours, always getting most of my work done at home when away from other distractions. Online learning has allowed me the freedom to work within the hours that I choose, which in turn helps me stay motivated because my work doesn’t feel like a chore but an outlet of the stress of the day. COVID has also given me inspiration for my work, with a very turbulent political climate churning up new issues to inspire my work every day.

TDN: Has this experience opened up any possibilities or opportunities you wouldn’t have considered before?

MO’F: Since lockdown began, I’ve been buying and selling clothes, leading to my own little business of selling second-hand clothing online, this has been the only income I have had throughout the lockdown. It has been incredibly beneficial to me as it has freed up a lot of time for me to focus on my course rather than having to go work in a part time job and risk getting sick which would make it even harder to get work complete. This is an opportunity that I never would have considered before the lockdown as I already had a part time job.

TDN: Have you learned anything new about yourself and/or your process?

MO’F: Throughout this year I have definitely learned a lot more about my style of work. My willingness to experiment with photography has grown over the academic year and I have really enjoyed incorporating this into my work. Photography has always been an interest of mine and is something that I have wanted to develop further, so the opportunities I have had on my course to be able to carry this out have been really exciting. Travelling is a huge inspiration when it comes to my photography, I love being able to experience different cultures and new ways of life as well as explore new scenery. Due to the travel restrictions, this hasn’t been possible for anyone this last year, and so travelling is something I am really looking forward to when the time comes, and the restrictions are lifted.

TDN: Do you have anything you’re working on now, or something on the horizon you’d like to tell us about?

MO’F: I’m currently working on my final module project, which is a 16-page publication design which I have centred around the Riot Grrrl movement. I am really excited about this project because it represents me and my style of work more than any other piece of work this year; being able to thoroughly research the Riot Grrrl movement along with all of the feminist music and icons that come along with it, including Joan Jett and Kathleen Hanna. I wanted to create a publication that would educate today’s women on these incredible feminist icons of the 90s who walked so they could run.

As told to Mike Pinnington

Check out more of Meg’s work. All images courtesy Meg O’Flynn

This profile is part of the series In These Times, a partnership between LJMU Graphic Design & Illustration and The Double Negative. Acknowledging the profound difficulties posed to students in the face of the COVID-19 pandemic, the series recognises outstanding work produced during this challenging time. Profiles of students selected by their peers will be published between April and June 2021.

The Moon, for so long unknowable, has inspired much myth and folklore. With science and space travel bringing us, at least metaphorically closer, interest has – arguably – intensified. We caught up with award-winning designer Tim Easley, whose lifelong fascination with our near neighbour has inspired a new book…  

Whether it’s a result – or symptom – of lockdown, we’re not sure, but lately we’ve increasingly been looking upwards at the night sky. While it’s a thrill to be able to pick out constellations, rarely do you see anything as spectacular or haunting as the Moon. Whether it be shrouded by cloud, emitting a lunar corona, or appearing in classic – from the movies – crescent shape, it is something to behold. People have been drawn to our nearest neighbour for as long as time itself, and it has inspired artistic responses through the ages. Its allure hasn’t waned. This is evidenced by the release of a new book dedicated to the celestial body: The Moon. A Photographic study from a distance of 0.002569 astronomical units. We spoke with its author, the illustrator, designer and photographer, Tim Easley.

The Double Negative: Please tell us about the photographs in the book.

Tim Easley: Although the Moon looks pretty big in the sky, as soon as you take your phone out to get a quick snap of it, you’ll soon realise how little of the frame it takes up. I’ve been into photography for quite a few years and have slowly built a nice setup that includes a couple of long lenses (we’re talking 400mm-800mm), which is what I use to take most of my Moon photos nowadays. That, along with a decent amount of cropping, means I can usually fill up the frame with the Moon. However, I’m still a big fan of much wider shots and not everything needs to be crystal clear – I prefer a photo that brings out an emotional response rather than one that belongs in a scientific journal.

TDN: Can you talk us through some of those you’ve shared with us?

This one (top) is actually a daytime shot, believe it or not. I processed it so that the sky was under-exposed and made the Moon stand out a bit more.

This (below) was a slightly cloudy night, but was actually taken through a tree that was rudely in the way of my view, which is why there are some random patterns of shadow on the image. I love when something is interacting with the Moon or making it look a little different, especially when it’s not obvious what it is.

I love this one (below) even though the Moon is out of focus. It was taken through a window on a rainy night, and I just love how emotive it is. It reminds me of looking through rainy windows at night time as a kid.

This next one is a good example of a composite image. The Moon is extremely bright compared to the stars, so it’s practically impossible to take a photo of both at the same time – the Moon would either be a big white circle, or the stars would be invisible, so you have to take two images and combine them in Photoshop to achieve the same range that your eyes can see.

Again, I’m a big fan of blurry images of the Moon. Sometimes it’s nice to leave something to the imagination, and I think that the leaves help you imagine where you might be if you were the one taking the photo.

TDN: Tell us about the distance from which they were taken, which also serves as the subtitle to the book (‘a photographic study from a distance of 0.002569 astronomical units’).

TE: An astronomical unit is the measurement of the distance from the Earth to the Sun, and it’s how distances in the solar system are measured, so 0.002569 astronomical units is the average distance from the Earth to the Moon.

TDN: We know you as a designer first and foremost – was this project a nice opportunity to combine twin passions?

TE: I love being able to both create the content and design and framework for that content – besides just being great fun, it means that I’m more able to present everything exactly as I’d like to. I can also change things a million times or completely scrap a concept and try another, without annoying the designer (too much!), which is another advantage.

TDN: Tell us about some of your creative choices in making the publication.

TE: I love books about space or the Moon, but they’re often designed with certain audiences in mind, so although they’re interesting to read, they’re not always great to look at – the exception being the large collection of 70s/80s space books that I own, which are all accidentally amazing! I wanted to make this book nice to look at, even if you’re not really into the Moon, and maybe more people would see how fascinating a subject it is. I chose pink as the single colour for the book because I thought it contrasted well with the subject, and I packaged the book in an anti-static bag to resemble space rations.

TDN: Why do you think we remain so fascinated by the Moon? 

TE: I think it’s just always there and still pretty mysterious. It has a seemingly random path through the sky, it changes shape, and it has a lot of meaning to a lot of people.

TDN: Where does your own interest stem from? 

TE: Personally, I grew up in the city, so the Moon was nearly the only object that I could see clearly in the night sky, it’s been a constant throughout my life, and it’s the celestial body that I’ll most likely be able to visit some day!

As told to Mike Pinnington

The Moon. A Photographic study from a distance of 0.002569 astronomical units, is available now

All images by and courtesy of Tim Easley

As we watch on as a struggle of binaries plays out in the US, ahead of the publication of her timely new book, architect and writer Professor Keller Easterling asks: ”What if political stances were also placed on a spectrum that gauged their temperament?” 

Taking a political stance usually means taking a position on a left-right spectrum that gauges allegiance to a political philosophy or political party. But what if political stances were also placed on a spectrum that gauged their temperament – the degree of violence they induced? A political stance, whatever its content or philosophy can result in authoritarian concentrations of power. Any political stance can exacerbate tense and competitive binaries. The content of these left-right philosophies perhaps tells us very little. And maybe the entire left-right apparatus is a vestige of the modern Enlightenment mind – a set of philosophies and habits cobbled together to replace the certainty of a god but maintaining a quest for ideational monotheism and a Manichean binary struggle between oppositions.

The old liberals go into various contortions as they persist in claiming a political temperament capable of perfecting the dance of free trade exchanges with no concentrations power. The socialist also envisions Kropotkin-like mutualism that, like the liberal fantasy, is perfectly anarchic in temperament. These philosophies – with wildly different origins and motives – are nevertheless espoused in relation to temperamental forces that often remain unexpressed.

And then when consequently misunderstood, and true to the Enlightenment mind that must emerge with the absolute solution, the philosophies square off against each other, baffled that the other cannot see the inherent sense in their proposal. If it were not abundantly clear that temperament was at least as important as content, now temperament in the form of the binary fight fully obliterates content.

Meanwhile the superbugs of power – ignorant of content or savvy enough to know that temperament can overpower it – align with any political philosophy long enough to confuse it or conflate it with its opposite. Superbugs may be political figures, but they may also be any of capital’s noxious cocktails. Decoupling content from temperament, one superbug strategy is to foreground an impossible temperament of harmlessness or benevolence. Trump is a populist decentralizing power. Amazon is a convenient, fun-loving way to deliver a smile. Facebook is an all-access network that is about sharing. Free zone cities are not centers of labor abuse but rather instruments of free trade. It is possible to have a kinder, gentler form of capitalism. A murderous dictator is a dear leader.

Another strategy, often pursued simultaneously, is to foreground those fierce temperaments of ingrained binaries that already exist in culture. Culture can be divided into teams through which the superbug garners loyalty, and the content of political philosophies then becomes only the oft-repeated lyrics of fight songs and purification rituals.

The superbugs working on temperament can even successfully convert dissent associated with an opposing ideology into fuel for their own engine. There are plenty of examples of this trick. Trump sent in the national guard or a MAGA militia to incite racial hatred. The principled activist had no choice but to march in the streets, condemn this hate, and deliver the fight that Trump craved for his own propaganda. Then to unseat the most violent superbugs – to cause them to release their grip – often also requires violence. In self-defense, activists have no choice but to respond to slow, structural violence with a riot. That riot speeds up the existing violence already endured to create a discernable event that is then, maddeningly, regarded to be the only crime.

The superbugs make that fight necessary. Because each side must man their army, even the smartest people in the world, trapped in a binary fight, reinforce the superbug’s own myth that the other side is the singular source of evil. Again monistic minds will declare either capital or socialism to be the anti-Christ. Further purifying and weaponizing their arguments, both sides declare their enemy with full throated declarations and radical manifestos.

Meanwhile all the other sources of evil and lethality – the depravity of whiteness, the controlling power of radical cults, as well as the dangers of nonhuman actors like biological agents or atmospheric chemicals – are only dealt with incidentally as if they were accidents. They are not the providential primordial evil that has become the accustomed target.

But how might political forms respond if, in addition to familiar approaches to resistance, temperament was also gauged? Considering temperament, uprising, rioting, and sabotage are often the gentlest response to much greater structural violence from a dominant regime, and sometimes a direct assault is the only way to unseat abusive power. At the same time, when considering temperament, the Left wisely stayed away from the insurrection at the US Capitol so as not to deliver a fight that might have been used to justify violence. Inciting violence might be considered to be politically radical but temperamentally conservative and conformist. A activist identifies an injustice and takes a stance against it. But while not softening any resolve about fighting that injustice, they might also work to dull binaries – outwitting the superbug’s schemes and robbing them of their white sugar fuel.

Medium Design considers a spectrum of evils—capitalism, fascism, racism, whiteness, imperialism, xenophobia, and sectarian violence – as well as the ensuing dangers of non-human atmospheric and biological agents. This is not a betrayal of any one crucial struggle. (Maybe it is the Enlightenment mind that makes this category mistake – this mistaking of part for whole.) Instead it reflects a keen sense of the ways that political superbugs run rings around singular evils and singular solutions. Singularity only makes it easier for them to keep you in a divisive fight and do whatever they want with you. But a spectrum has a better chance of gathering terms that migrate between multiple struggles to build global solidarity.

Medium Design also suggests that design might sometimes play a stealthy trick of its own since space embodies so many undeclared potentials that can reduce violence and create value through new arrangements – none of which need to go out of their way to exacerbate the violence of a political fight. Early in the book there is an anecdote about a parent with squabbling children who does not attempt to litigate or parse the content of the argument, but rather manages potentials in the environment. They might lower the temperature of the room, move a chair into the light, increase the blood sugar of one child, or introduce a pet into the arms of another so that the chemistry of the room no longer induces or supports violence. In another example, a dog hears a human speak the words “good girl,” but it does not take meaning from the lexical expression alone. The dog also gathers meaning from many other cues and relative positions between things in context: whether the human is holding a leash, their position relative to the door or the dog bowl and even their level of tension. Together with the sound of words, the dog assesses all of these potentials and temperaments.

Like the parent or the canine, designers can take hold of, dismantle, and rewire some of the abusive structures of capital by manipulating an interplay of physical contours that are also expressing limits, capacities, and values. If there is no single all-encompassing market and if there is no comprehensive solution to await, designers can work on many modes of exchange that can be nourished in parallel. While potentially repulsive to the purist who is waiting for a more transcendent moment, this approach may respond right away to urgent issues with the material at hand. Different from the neoliberal “working from within,” this is a form of reverse engineering that may nevertheless use the dominant market’s own multipliers as a way amplifying their inversion within the vast infrastructures of inequality, labor abuse, climate catastrophe that causes suffering on all sides.

The work is not solutionist, and it doesn’t put its faith solely in new technologies and data. What is needed is not the more precise measurement of global problems, but a synthetic design imagination. The form for innovation is something more like a “lumpier” set of protocols, not unlike the essential protocols that followed for COVID-19 prevention. They mix information of many kinds, from the scale of microns to the scale of territories. It may be that in addition to new technologies and quantitative appraisals of spatial economies, the protocols for these mixtures and rewired relationships should be regarded as the most consequential innovations.

Finding the means to short-circuit and transition away from abusive organizations and industries can also work on their temperament to simultaneously defuse and unwind. These efforts potentially benefit from the insanity of the weak and friable fights as well the contorted logics and lies used by those who hoard power. Countering authoritarian power requires all the techniques we have – direct, indirect, and everything in between.

Keller Easterling

Medium Design: Knowing How to Work on the World by Keller Easterling is available 19 January, published by Verso

Originally published in January, this article has since been amended by the author to clarify the argument and better reflect Medium Design’s intentions and alliances.

Images, from top: Keller Easterling portrait; ‘Trump’ Photo by Rob Walsh on Unsplash; Medium Design sleeve artwork

During the last few months we have turned like never before to popular culture to see us through lockdown. We caught up with illustrator Ben O’Brien to chat about creativity, and keeping busy with Tim’s Listening Party…   

These are precarious times for creatives of all stripes, and yet, it is their endless ingenuity that has helped see us through the challenges posed by various lockdowns. In particular, many of us have found solace by reconnecting with or listening to more music. Its power to transport and transcend has been ably demonstrated by Tim’s Listening Party, initiated by the Charlatans’ Tim Burgess. If you’re unfamiliar with them, the listening parties take place on Twitter, bringing together bands and musicians with fans who, in real time, listen and Tweet along to a particular album.

So far, traversing genre, era and geography, this has included the likes of the Charlatans (of course), Paul McCartney, Jane Weaver, Run The Jewels, Pulp, Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip, Low, Anna Calvi, and many more. Alongside their obvious aural and communal qualities, the parties have a very distinctive aesthetic, provided by Ben O’Brien (AKA Ben The Illustrator). These have since taken on a life of their own, seeing O’Brien paying tribute to albums old and new with his Cover Versions series. We spoke with the illustrator about his involvement, staying creative over the last few months, and his plans for coping with the latest lockdown.

The Double Negative: During lockdown you worked with the Charlatans’ Tim Burgess, illustrating his twitter listening parties – how was that and how did it come about?

Ben O’Brien: It. Was. Great. It was such a fun thing to happen and became a good cure to the trickiness of being locked down and not being able to see friends and family. Tim had already started the Listening Parties, I’d enjoyed plenty already, then he tweeted that Twitter were giving him his own emoji attached to his hashtag. Having illustrated a Twitter Emoji for Elton John already, I offered my services to Tim (if you don’t ask you don’t get and all that!). Alas Tim’s emoji was already designed but it gave Tim a chance to see my work and he asked if I’d be interested in illustrating some scenes for the Listening Party website. I created four illustrations of people in their homes, connecting with the world through music and social media.

The illustrations went down well, but it was the simple little record sleeves in each scene that people really loved. And so Cover Versions were born. Tim’s been amazing, it’s such a pleasure to get messages from him, he really cares about people, about music and art. I’ve kept illustrating as many Cover Versions as possible, Tim will always give them a retweet, and we even ended up collaborating with Rega to produce a limited run of custom turntables covered in Cover Versions!

TDN: Did the listening parties introduce you to any new favourite bands?

BO’B: Actually one of my now absolute favourite bands, DMA’s, an Australian indie band who I now just adore, I wouldn’t have heard if it wasn’t for the Listening Parties. Also Billy Nomates, Girl Ray and Pip Blom I think I first heard from the Listening Parties.

TDN: Did you find music helped your mood generally?

BO’B: 100%, it’s a constant, music will always be there, and there’s something for every mood. I found myself going through some real nostalgic phases during the first lockdown especially, and it was jumping back into albums I’ve not listened to for decades that was the comfort when the mood was low, and then you can put something else on to give you some energy, enough to boost you into leaving the house and getting some air and exercise. Connecting with fellow music lovers (through the Listening Parties especially) has been a great help for the mood too. I really missed my Dad last year (he passed away three years ago now) but through Twitter I’ve connected with a few people who reminded me of him, mostly Bowie fans, which was a nice comfort.

TDN: What were your favourites – both as a listening experience and in terms of your creative response?

BO’B: I think my favourite Listening Party personally was The Go! Team’s Thunder, Lightning, Strike, it’s a great album, but also it reminds me of a fun time of life, and some of the mates from those times were following and tweeting along during that party, it was a reminder of more carefree times! The Run the Jewels RTJ4 party was pretty special, it was a good insight into one of the best albums of 2020.

I think my favourite creative response was I’ve Seen Everything, by the Trashcan Sinatras, it was an album I knew and enjoyed when it came out, but it somehow never really stuck, I don’t remember listening to it since, until the Listening Party and it somehow just sparked all the right listening bones in me! It’s one of the only Cover Versions I illustrated while following the Listening Party live, the full experience. I just regret not listening to that album in the years in-between!

TDN: We’ve all experienced ups and downs during lockdown, do you have any go to techniques or strategies to cope and remain creative/productive?  

BO’B: For me it’s all about the mind, look after the mind and I’m in a good place to be creative and productive. Walking is my key therapy, just get out and walk, alone or with family, beautiful countryside or around the block, with music or just listening to the sounds around you. I’ve tried meditating but I never stick with it, or I get interrupted! Talking helps, my wife and I can talk about anything, but also just having a chat with someone else, I’ve not been so keen on the big Zoom group chats, but a catch-up with a friend or even a brief ‘how’s it going?’ with the DPD man can help the mind. Creatively, I love what I do, so I just want to do it, the covers still feel new and exciting to me, so I remain productive with them, they connect me with people, they can be diverse, and it keeps me tied to the music I love.

TDN: You never name the album you’re interpreting – is there a specific reason behind this, or do you like to give us all something to guess at?

BO’B: Originally it was the guessing game, people loved it, I know they got used for Zoom quizzes quite a lot last year, ‘Can you name these 10 albums?’ etc, which is great.  But also it’s become part of the art, the simplification of it.  I feel like if I used typography it would jar with the illustration, also I’m always super worried about typos!

TDN: Have you any particular creative plans for dealing with this latest lockdown? 

BO’B: This lockdown feels different to last year, maybe it’s the weather, it feels heavier.  In the short time, over this next few months I’m mostly focused on getting my son through home schooling, but creatively I’m aiming to produce some more Cover Versions, I’d like to stray into some genres I haven’t touched yet, and fill in a few gaps on some of the more popular genres. Looking ahead to post-lockdown, I’ve streamlined my illustration practice a bit for 2021, I’d like to focus on doing good client work, find some stability after last year.  But I also want to have a whole lot more fun with the Cover Versions, more covers, more prints but also move into some different products, I’d love to produce a pack of playing cards, have an exhibition, connect with more people, listen to more music, have more fun.

As told to Mike Pinnington

Check out more of Ben’s work. All images courtesy Ben O’Brien