A Lot, But Not Too Much – ‘A Few Short Studies On Cannibalism’ Review

culture & society, Review

James Huxtable’s new play, A Few Short Studies On Cannibalism, begins with a silence that lingers just a moment too long, a precursor for the uncomfortable confrontation that will follow. And I say that in the best way, though only his 3rd play, Huxtable isn’t shying away from big questions as his newest offering is inescapably political and challenging. Though the title suggests a kind of thriller-movie gore, the play is deeply rooted in day-to-day morality as it questions the audience on everything from religion, to pop culture, to the lines and limits of political rhetoric.

All photos by Sam Dangerfield

It begins immediately as the Kelsey, played by Harriet Anderson, enters the minimal kitchen set positioned in the centre of the audience. Addressing the audience, her monologue is violent and deliberately aggravating as the character speaks of violence against men as a feminist act. Dressed in distinctly normal clothes, the character of Kelsey is unexpectedly confrontational, pointing at the audience as she spits her sermon of slaughter. There’s no rest in this opening study as Huxtable holds back on the humour, leaving the character as a sinister figure from start to finish, forcing the audience to consider their own stance. It makes the choice to place the stage in the centre of the audience interesting, as I found myself looking to the men across from me, attempting to process their feelings on a monologue that is so divisive. I saw men looking down, women with their head in their hands and even one woman crying, possibly a reaction to the character’s description of assault. The range of emotion seen in one corner of the audience immediately speaks to the power of Huxtable’s writing, opening the play with such a punch that I couldn’t help but wonder what was coming next, with feelings of anticipation and fear.

The second study sees the return of Huxtable’s dark, unconventional humour, as Joe Kinch, playing Flesh, steps onto the stage undressed and marked up like a Butcher’s cow. The contrast between Kinch’s ditzy Flesh and India Willes as the imposing and in-charge woman makes the scene dynamic and gripping with the perfect balance between humour and tension. The subject matter is a familiar one; a young woman’s experience within the music industry and the limits of our sex sells culture. But the conversation of cannibalism as the woman and flesh discuss contracts in a pre-arranged agreement that she will murder and eat him, leads to a confusing moral watch. Honing in on audience members across from me, there were looks of confusion as the audience grappled with their own opinion in the final violent moments. Huxtable writes no good characters, in the best way. Not one of his characters is wholly likeable or agreeable, his best work comes when he’s writing evil, sinister people with charm so intense you can’t help but laugh at their jokes. This scene shows that best as he allows no sway, no room to pick a side in this debate so the audience simply has to sit and take it. In his most political work yet, Huxtable takes no stance. His characters open up questions, leaving them to the crowd as the lights dim at what seems like only the start of something. For people that demand resolution, I can see why his work may not be for you. For people rigid in their beliefs and unwilling to loosen the ties of their morals for an hour or two, maybe skip this one. This show demands an unshaken, active audience, ready to sit and watch, questioning the whole time.

The climax of the play truly comes when Huxtable himself steps onto the stage in the final of the studies with Matthew Bevan. Playing unlikely friends, Huxtable as ex-con Jared and Bevan as Marty, a priest, the scene begins slower than others as Huxtable sways along to the music from a record play and sips wine. His transformation for the role has to be noted as he shaved his head and trained to make the character more muscular, his work truly leaves no detail untouched. Playing a role he wrote for himself, you would hope that he would be excellent, and he was. In contrast to Bevan’s sweet bumbling Marty, Jared is unnerving. From his twitch to the way he regularly stretched out his neck and licked his lips, Jared was imposing and unsettling as Huxtable took on a character head-to-toe. This study has all the key features of a Huxtable piece; dark humour, unsettling pauses, intense builds that provide no relief, clever use of music. To have such a recognisable and refined style so early in his career speaks volume for the confidence and self-assurance Huxtable seems to have in himself as a writer, so it was nice to see him display the same attitude in his acting.

As scene partners, Huxtable and Bevan are a match made in heaven. You can tell they are friends off-stage as they appear to ride each other’s waves of spontaneity and improvisation flawlessly. As Bevan ebbs into an impassionate monologue, Huxtable flows into a witty remark, providing a moment of guilt-tinged comic relief as we chuckle at humour so dark you know you should gasp. In such a short scene, each study lasting around 20 minutes, these characters especially go through an intense development as they touch on a number of issues from the political situation in Ireland to an underlying discussion of homosexuality and free will. Unafraid of a big question, the scene hangs on the timeless debate; ‘if this is a sin, why did God make me this way?’. It’s the opening up of this debate that leads the audience to undeniably feel a strange sense of empathy for Jared, one of the most tragically twisted characters I’ve seen on stage. As he tells Marty of the precautions, he’s taken to be untraceable, from cutting off his fingerprints to living in abandoned houses, his sinister performance comes with an underbelly of deep sadness as he lives completely in fear of the places his instinct to eat people may take him.

Throughout cannibalism steps in as a symbol for other things. Rape culture, punishment, a desire to steal power from another, the differing worth society places on gendered flesh, homosexuality, general inequality through race, gender and religion; the discussion of cannibalism becomes almost silly and humorous when the audience knows he was addressing bigger fish the entire time. Strangely, it is the addition of cannibalism that prevents the piece from becoming too political. The outrageousness of Kelsey packing a dog bowl full of meat for the victim she keeps downstairs as a pet, the ridiculousness of Flesh’s nudity in such a twisted scene, Marty holding onto the cross in his pocket as Jared announces his desire to eat people; somehow the topic brings relief, allowing a slight escape from the depth of the subject matter that is truly being dealt with. While I left the play feeling exhausted and challenged, I also left with a slight stitch from laughing as punchy one-liners, cutting through the darkness with the absurd.

My only wish for the piece was for a stronger opening performance. For such an intense and divisive subject matter, I wish the performance would have been more over the top. Anderson switched from a soft tone to yelling and swearing, but I would’ve liked more commitment to one side or the other, either playing Kelsey as a sinisterly soft-spoken psychopathic character, or an actively aggressive figure. I think the swaying midground can be put down to nerves, carrying the opening scene all alone through a monologue is a scary feat for any actress, but pared with such a small and intimate set with an audience on either side, I can imagine it’s an intimidating role to step into. With these being the preview performances, I have no doubt this will be refined and perfected over time, but I would’ve liked more commitment to and consideration of the character’s voice.

Overall, this was my favourite of Huxtable’s shows so far. With each one, his style becomes more and more refined and perfected, so I’m excited to see where he goes being only right at the very start of his career. With some refinement, I believe this show has huge potential being a piece unlike anything I’ve seen in a long time. Intense and challenging but never too much, Huxtable provides no rest and takes no prisoners, but still wants his audience to have a good time. We all walked out questioning and confused but energised, just as any piece of theatre should leave you.

4 Stars

‘I know the feeling’ : About Lucas

head talks, Interview, Music, Uncategorized

I don’t feel like a writer anymore and it breaks my heart

               You are a writer every time you feel you yearn to be

Writing is less about writing than it is a spiritual desire to explore emotion and humanity

You’d be the best writer in the world and never need to put down a single line

I worry I’ve lost it Lucas

Like every day

I think that’s the thing with every creative pursuit though, every time we make something we think it’s a fluke and that it will never happen again

But it’s the other way round, you don’t have a choice, you cant switch it off, you’ll always be that thing whether you like it or not

And I fully believe that anxiety/depression is a by-product of an abundance of creativity because our minds are on a 1000 all the time. And fuck me we know we can’t just switch that off

I think a bit of it is that I’ve actually had like real life shit go on that I haven’t been able to contemplate enough  or distance myself from enough to wrap into cute little word packages

So maybe one day I’ll write gut-wrenching poems about this but at the minute they only wrench my gut you know


Yeah man some shit is too raw

It has to fade a little and then you can kind of -not romanticise it – but something like that

Is that what we do by making art out of sad things? Romanticise things? I guess so

Maybe not even romanticise, I think for the creator its more of an attempt to get something good out of it

Maybe creators are all closet optimists

Hmmmm I agree

It’s healing

I wonder if I’ve downplayed the level to which making music/writing has saved me from ACTUAL madness

I always think that about your work, maybe because of our conversations

Like its so beautiful and articulate and then there’s a line that’s like BRUTAL and I’m like ow I hope Lucas is okay

You’re so talented at being on that line between relatability and personalism

Hahaha I was thinking that myself the other there’s a song on the new EP that’s like SERIOUSLY me dealing with some shit but its wrapped in a bop

And I was like

Issssss this healthy?… let’s hope

That’s really kind of you to say and means a lot, thank you

Big mood

Feel that

In general it’s a strange thing. Like because you wrap it up in pretty paper, we’re happy to send our deeeep daaark personal emotions out into the world

It’s a magical thing though, that the world has birthed that

Even more magical to have friendships like this were we rarely actually talk about that stuff, but its enough that we share our work. It probably says it more honestly than if you were just like hi lucy this is going on and this is how I feel about it

Oh absolutely


I think that’s why we’ve been friends for like 4/5 years and only met once, because it’s way more genuine to be like here’s something I made that represents all the parts of who I am

Without having to navigate the social politeness to get to the deeper stuff

And our friendship was builttt on that, like day 1, deep dive

Hahaha ennit

I remember the night I first talked to Lucas Jones vividly. At around 2am, we both recommended each other the same song at the same time, and we’ve been connected since, two taureans, two writers, certainly soulmates somewhere along our timeline of lives.

Ours is a friendship rooted almost exclusively in our work. In the years we’ve known each other, we’ve met only once when I wandered half-cut into his gig, but we’ve shared maybe the most intimate moments of our lives with each other; laying our fears and pain at each other’s feet as poems and songs, rarely discussing the motivations. Rarely talking beyond ‘can I send you the new song?’, ‘could you read this for me?’, but we know each other, maybe closer than most others.

And though probably biased, Lucas is my favourite artist. He has a way of articulate his place in the world, tied between a purely ecstatic celebration of emotion, shouting out in praise of pain and love and anything given to us by living; and anger, questioning the state of things. He dives deep into everything, analysing every experience, cross-referencing it within the context of his life and further, and threading it together in a way only a prodigy could do. Writing it with a blessed pen, singing it out as another way to praise.

His new song Blush is no different which Lucas introduced to me as ‘essentially me having an existential crisis (WHAT A SHOCK)’. We’ve always been connected by our hearts, managing to stumble across someone with emotions are sharp and soft as our own, we’ve talked a lot about what it means. We’ve stayed up into the early morning hunched over phones and pulling apart our thoughts and feelings, begging each other for conclusions, do I love that boy? Do I feel this way because of A or B? Is this ever going to be a good thing or will it always hurt? Am I even a writer? That’s what I hear in Blush, Lucas trying to figure out what inside him is real and actualised, and what is just his emotions, stolen by his imagination. ‘I know the feeling’ becomes the conclusion, a cry that he doesn’t know what it means, whether it’s real, or where it comes from, but he knows it well, feeling it for certain. He spirals through the spectrum of emotion from screaming highs to weeping lows, and the conclusion is that. I don’t know why, but I know I feel it.

Knowing Lucas is a privilege. The world is lucky for getting a piece of his art, a gift that I don’t doubt will blossom and boom. But getting to know a piece of his soul, hear the thoughts, see the reasoning; is a blessing, and not just because I can brag about it when he’s famous. Each song I hear or poem I read, I feel I’m catching up with my friend, we’re working through the problems and feelings, combing through the mess, finding a path through. I never ask what or who they’re about, I only ask about the thought process behind it.

It’s a rare thing to have a friendship built like this. When we speak, we slip because to the 60s, to New York, to the Chelsea Hotel, to our own coterie, writing to each other in poems, hearing each other’s news in song. But it’s a beautiful thing we’ve built, and by ‘we’ I mean every creative, falling into and making their own little communities built in this way, in respect and admiration first. It’s a beautiful thing to see the merit in his work first, seeing the glorious crafting, then see him in it. In blush, I first see a perfectly done music video, complete with the complexity of real-world connections and the merging of lives in love. I then see Lucas, all the conversations we’ve had about the feeling, all the heartbreaks and the excitement of the newness of love. But first, always the poem, always the song. Work first, us later. The blessing of building from art; admiration into friendship.

monster. : Unnervingly Hypnotic


I think the best way to begin talking about monster. is to talk you through my posture. It’s a play that has to be experienced, lived through almost as you undergo a watching experience that is bodily. I experienced it hunched over, my head resting on my fists, my elbows on my knees, finding myself leaning further and further forward. Then back, suddenly, joining the audience in collective gasps and tight lungs, eased just as quickly and unexpectedly by laughter. When the curtains closed and the rapturous applause subsided, we all sat for a moment, letting our bodies calm.

Watching monster. felt like a sharp inhale after a strong peppermint. It takes you by surprise, hurts almost, but you still want to do it again.

monster., written and directed by James Huxtable, is played out by three plotlines, the most notable being the story of an elderly couple, Annie and Martin, who are harboring an unknown creature in their basement. Without spoiling the plot, Huxtable shows his merit as a writer by expertly weaves these storylines together, letting the audience like and dislike each character, making the finale even more intense as all the prior opinions and emotions are culminated and questioned. The ability to leave the audience completely in the dark until the final moments is a huge merit to the cast and Huxtable alike.

The promotion for the show was minimal and cryptic, leaving the plot largely unknown. But from the off-set it was clear that the minimalism of branding and promo, did not reflect in preparation. The work and development gone into characterisation was apparent, especially in the case of Emily Bowles, playing the elderly Annie. Bowles’ performance was in a word, show-stealing, due to her full body and mind characterisation. She appeared almost engulfed by the frail, anxious Annie, appearing to shrink more and more as the character falls deeper into her worry. Her performance, capturing the personal torture of trauma, pill abuse, and psychosis, is unnerving yet graceful, you can’t help but feel for Annie, desperate for her to find some ease in their isolated life. Credit in part is due to Charlotte Schofield for incredible make-up, managing to turn the 20-something into a 60-something, but my eyes were always on Bowles, twitching in the corner and spiraling into insanity.

Emily Bowles and Jack Hewitt’s anxiety-provoking performance as the couple try to live with the beastly secret, was perfectly aided by the shows clever use of sound and lighting. The most effectively used feature of the set was the door to the basement where the creature was kept, which glowed red as shrieks filled the theatre, sending us all shooting backward in our seats. It was the use of sound that brought me fully into Huxtable’s chaotic nightmare. When Bowles, Bevan and the shadows broke into a dance scene, disco dancing along to Sweet Jane, I thought I might be the one who had lost their mind.

From the hellishness of Annie and Martin’s beast, Lucy Bytheway and Jake Bastable’s performance as Angel and Lamb, a young married couple failing to conceive, moved me from fear to near tears. Jake Bastable’s performance was both vast and deep. His range of emotions from pure joy and love as we meet the enamoured couple, to deranged desperation as he tries but can’t make his wife happy, is astonishing, with each performed as fully and believably as the last. The chemistry between Bytheway and Bastable was natural, perfect casting for the volatile couple. While Annie and Martin’s plight is scarily unknown, the struggle of Angel and Lamb is upsetting due to the audience’s complete understanding. The woman, longing for a child, for something to give her love to, Bytheway brought that pain to life in a gut-wrenching performance, adding a real-world element to the seemingly otherworldly aspects of the play.
Lorna Dale’s performance at the young girl brings relief to the darkness. The character’s infectious naivety and joy is, as she says, ‘a nice thought’. However, Dale performance captures a sense of instability in the girl’s eyes, a frantic happiness on the edge of a cliff. The multi-layered performance managed to be both a relief and an unnerving warning. The character proves Huxtable’s talents for the highs and lows, showing his range in the switch between the young girl’s monologues on love, Angel and Lamb’s intense arguments, the comic relief of the nurse, and the pure darkness of Annie and Martin. Each of his characters moves in and out of good and bad, they’re complex and developed to the point that the audience isn’t quite sure what to make of them, as though who are we to judge these people?

monster. isn’t easy to discuss through free of revealing too much. It’s an intricate web of clues and links, coming together in the last moments and closing the curtains on a gasp. The merging of the complete unknown and conventionally scary ‘monster’, and the all too familiar problems haunting the characters, show the sophistication of Huxtable’s writing, tackling major issues in a plot that is as uncomfortable as it is gripping. It’s unnerving, but you find yourself leaning into the chaos. A real merit to all involved, monster. is student theatre at its finest, hypnotising, challenging, and new.

5 stars – intense, comic, and clever. Huxtable is one to watch.

monster. is playing at Sheffield University Drama Studio until 17/11/2018. Read more HERE

On Aesthetics : Elizabeth Corrall



When I took my most recent roll of film, the only thoughts that crossed my mind were ‘angelic’ and ‘aesthetic’. I often find in photography the idea of a photo as having a hidden meaning or element of performance can oversaturate my work, I take images to perform and portray emotion, evolving with what my photographic style is and what I want to say more than what the images themselves contain.


This over-saturation of ideas and meanings can clog the mind; so on this roll of film, I wanted to go back to why I started taking photos, aesthetics. I began taking photographs of things I found attractive, and that evolved more and more into making parts of myself attractive to perform them to the camera, creating surreal series’ of work. For the first time in a while, I elected to take images of things that were pretty, with no meaning other than their aesthetic value.


Aesthetics are frequently used on social media, using hashtags to gain likes on attractive images, taking the ideas of being an aesthete and turning it into a way to gain popularity. The idea of an aesthetic has evolved from a beautiful detail in a work of art, in a building, into a moodboard of ‘aesthetic outfits’ and ‘satisfying images’. Aesthetics have changed from something that is beautiful and the reaction to a beautiful object into an Instagram trend.


Going back to basics was important to me when I took these photos, testing what I find aesthetically pleasing, what I consider to be the beauty in every day life, even when that day is grey and rainy. Attractiveness is a very personal thing, we all see beauty in different walks of life, and that’s what makes aesthetics interesting; one person may see flowers as the most aesthetic object from mother nature, for others, it’s the clouds. Aesthetics and our personal view of what is aesthetic is fascinating, no two people see the world the same, we all see with different colours, different perspectives, different senses. My personal goal was to take images that I consider to be beautiful and have no deeper meaning, to show everyone around me what I personally find attractive.


I think aesthetics and the idea of simply using creativity to create beauty is fascinating. I want to create more for the sake of creating, with no emotional ties, just looking at everything we may overlook with the idea of placing it on a canvas. Beauty is in every walk of life, it is who documents it that makes it beautiful to the rest of the world. The idea of taking images that follow this soft, angelic and gentle aesthetic is a personal breath of fresh air, giving myself a chance to recharge from a constant internal pressure of giving all art a meaning.


Sometimes, it is nice to just look at a picture and enjoy its aesthetic – its texture, its contrasting colours, the small details that may be lost when you’re in the moment, rather than deciphering a meaning to every image. Beauty for the sake of beauty is a connection to the core of creativity, turning the world into a new aesthetic canvas every day.

Beaker’s Place : Dark, Strange, and Hilarious


If I could save an art form, I would pick theatre. I would save the puzzlingly intimate relationship between actor and audience, the goosebumps of dimmed lights and carefully selected sounds, the aim to immerse; to engulf the watcher through dialogue, costume, setting, things explained and things understood. I would save theatre, for all the sensations you can’t get through a screen.

That’s why my heart lies with student theatre, and writers who choose to mould their words into lines in alternating voices. So when James Huxtable, a contributor for KILORAN, actor and writer, announced that his debut play; Beakers Place would be going to Edinburgh Fringe, taken there by the theatre company, Only Lucky Dogs, which he set up with his peers, I was immediately excited. But James revealed nothing, keeping the plot a mystery, revealing minimal clues or information about his characters, so I saw it fresh-eyed and free of expectation as they previewed the play ahead of the Fringe.

The first thing that struck me was the minimal set; only a table, shelves lightly decorated with an urn labelled ‘paul’, and two chairs with a noose hanging above one. There’s little to rely on, but when Matthew Bevan, playing the titular role Beaker, starts to speak, you quickly realise he needs nothing. Eloquently and with-ease, Bevan slips into mania, switching in seconds between humour and hysteria, each as believable as the other. Talking to himself in a tone that’s reminiscent of a modern-day Macbeth, the audience is introduced to the inner turmoil facing Beaker, as the confident and charming character lightly contemplates his suicide plans. Revealing the name on the urn, Paul, to be his dead cat, Beaker’s one-sided conversation with his lost companion opens up the challenge to the audience; you can’t help but like this psycho. Bevan’s faultless presentation of turmoil, moving seamlessly between fast-paced raving coated in dark humour to tears, builds dimension upon dimension, confronting the audience almost instantly with a character so intense and real, I wasn’t quite sure how to react except to let myself go. I laughed at Beaker’s mindless thoughts on Hitler’s art career and felt myself ache for him as he dusts his feet, before climbing onto the chair in front of the noose.

The one thing we know for certain about Beaker is that he disposes of bodies, knowledge that prompts the arrival of the not-dead Drew, played by Lorna Dale. Again, the audience isn’t sure what to do with this character, as Dale’s initial presentation is one of innocence with a sinister aftertaste. The two characters interactions start almost as weirdly as they end, with Beaker sharing too much and Drew stabbing back with brutal one-liners, asserting herself as an outright, no-bullshit presence in contrast to the frantic Beaker. Paul Simon’s Call Me Al makes it, providing the strangest soundtrack to the strangest meeting of two of the strangest characters, a sickly sweet backdrop to total mania as the characters yell at each other.

Strange is the perfect description. Huxtable’s characters are a constant conflict, both in the plot and in the mind of the audience. You should hate them; you should hate Beaker who talks pleasantly about Hitler and Drew who is unphased and unsympathetic to the signs of Beaker’s suicidal thoughts. While the play deals with difficult subjects like suicide, depression and loss, Huxtable’s character are insensitive, making them all the more captivating.

Lorna Dale as Drew was especially captivating as the character begins to unravelling, undoing all the earlier misconceptions of her innocence and naivety. I found myself unblinking during her monologue about Pandora’s box and the danger of curiosity, a moment that suddenly crescendos. It’s poetic, displaying Huxtable’s merits as a writer, and again is reminiscent of Shakespeare as Dale has the intensity of Lady Macbeth in her eyes. You can’t help but feel a little guilty as an audience member, undeniably curious about these two characters, secretly willing them to boil over and reveal the reasoning to their condition, to open the box and release it. The addition of sound effects, used sparingly in the rest of the show, heighten Drew’s sudden transformation, dragging the audience into whatever sinister trance the character is lost in. The goosebumps change to sweaty palms.


The only thing that I could criticise was the speed of the ending. The intensity deserves more, Huxtable’s talent for writing complete chaos deserves a longer time in its climax. I would’ve liked a slightly slower unravelling, and to hear more from Beaker during the finale and a pause to check in on his mental state since we first meet him in a suicidal state. However, Dale and Bevan carry the mania off perfectly, never slipping up and fully diving into the confusion and hysteria of the scene. Despite the sudden increase in pace in the final moments of the play, the quirks and personalities of the two characters remain, allowing them to stay complex and challenging even as the action picks up. Down to the last second, the audience is still left unsure whether to like or hate them, and whether to celebrate or mourn the outcome.


Without stumbling, Huxtable’s writing flows between these two states; humour and intensity, full of the honesty and uniqueness evident in his poetry too. The concept would be laughable if it wasn’t executed so well, circling serious topics around the focal point of a dead cat, with Paul’s ashes sitting centrally in the story. Peaks and troughs of mania and humour, comedy and tragedy, power shifts and moments of intimacy all sit around this centre point, rocking back and forth between the two like a lunatic in the corner. While the storyline is fiction and exaggerated, the anxieties that float between these two characters are real and reflective, confronting the audience again and again when we suddenly start to see ourselves in the carelessness of Drew or the obsession of Beaker. Beaker’s place is exactly what I love about theatre, it’s controlling, making me laugh, cry and gasp on cue. All the jokes land, all the twists are shocking, and the characters, with their complete lack of morals, make you question your own stability in this world. I won’t forget it in a while, I’m still contemplating whether the curiosity would get too much, whether I would open the box.

Rating: 4.5 Stars – Unique, unexpected, and captivating; add it to your Edinburgh Fringe itinerary immediately.

Cast & Crew

Beaker – Matthew Bevan
Drew – Lorna Dale

Writer – James Huxtable
Director – MichaelSalibaa
Technical Manager – Iz Potter
SX – Conal Gallagher

More information and tickets HERE



Are you a passionate, driven, creative individual?

Do you want to take a stand, and make change for social justice and equality movements?

Do you have interest and/or experience with art, design, up-cycled clothing or social media?

We are in the process of creating a company, Take Pride, that will provide eco-friendly, screen-printed, up-cycled apparel for equality movements (such as Intersectional Feminism, Black Lives Matter, and LGBTQ+) as well as for individuals to express pride in their identity. Beyond this, we want to serve a greater purpose, by becoming a place to share relevant news, information and educational resources. When possible, we also want to donate a portion of the profits to charitable organisations.

Currently, this is a passion project. While there may be an opportunity for payment in the future – when we are selling items and can get an idea of what our profits will look like, what we will need to circulate back into the company to pay for materials, and what will be given to charities – we’re still at a very early stage.

What We’re Looking For

We’re specifically looking for:

  1. people who can create interesting and visually appealing designs that would look great on up-cycled clothes, and/or
  2. people who could help us run our social media, promoting the clothes as well as other information and resources.

We want people who are:

  • passionate, driven and creative
  • environmentally conscious
  • able to create artwork that will express the identities and/or movements they belong to, to create empowerment and raise awareness
  • savvy with social media
  • informed and up-to-date with social justice and equality movements/issues
  • wanting to bring about change

You don’t have to meet this full criterion – if you feel you are strong in certain areas, but not others, that’s fine! This is why we want to form a diverse team, so that we can bring different strengths and experiences together.

Why You Should Apply

This opportunity would allow you to meet and engage with new people, allow you to creatively collaborate in a diverse group, and give you the opportunity to bring your designs to life. You would have the opportunity to learn new skills – if you’re more interested in the design aspect, you could still give the social media coordinating a try, and vice versa.

If the above excites you, then whatever your race, (a)gender, (a)sexuality, age or ability, and wherever you live, we want to hear from you!

Follow this link to apply: https://www.curatorspace.com/opportunities/detail/creative-team-formation–diverse-creators-wanted/2261


call for submissions

You can be naked while fully clothed.

Confidence and vulnerability are not switched up in the seams of what you choose to put or not put on your body. And so the theme of issue 7 is NAKED in all its forms and definitions; vulnerability, confidence, empowerment, fear, openness, beauty, acceptance, love, truth, brutal honesty, and the pure self. Whatever being naked is and means and represents to you, explore it.

What would you say to your body? Or to your best friends body? Your lovers body? Would you write long letters along the lengths of their arm, point out the sparkle of their untouched bed hair, hush their critical mouths with soft compliments to your own? Would you do the same for yourself?

When do you strip back and allow yourself no form of shield? Is it just in the mirror? Or when was the last time you were naked in plain sight, open, honest, vulnerable, and soft? Or are you jagged? A body of strong, sharp edges, stood up straight, regal and confident? Is your naked body your cry of empowerment? When did you learn to love it?

How are you? How do you feel? Tears, screaming fight, holding someone afterwards, waking up in love. Which version of you is the most truthful? How do you dig out your authentic self, who will you allow to be present for the welcoming of the pure you? Who do you want to tell your secrets to? Whose secrets would you keep? Whose skin do you mindlessly stroke with your thumb, sat in silence and at peace?

To be naked is not always to be nude, so how you do you, feel, talk, or turn to when you’re bare?



Germination : Lucy Harbron

films, visuals

s p r i n g

Germination is a piece about taking time. It’s a self-affirming message of accepting rest after hurt, waiting and then getting back up. Not a rebirth, just a regrowth, a rejuvenation.

‘I will be still til spring.

I will be still til spring.

and I allowed myself the wait’

Poem by Lucy Harbron, film by Lucy Harbron, Penny Eastbury, Samara Sajid and S. J Zhu

Issue #6 ‘HOME’ : Call For Submissions

call for submissions

For issue #6 KILORAN wants to delve into the comforts, and noncomforts of places of belonging. Tackling issues of settling, confrontation of your past self, childhood, family, love, and your place. Where have you arrived when your stomach sinks into the sensation of coming home? Whose hand do you hold, whose back do you stroke during the embrace that follows ‘hello’? Did you even take your shoes off?

Where do you fit? Is it in that photo on the fireplace? A dip in the sofa carved out over time, or in a fist mark in a pillow, a crack in a wall? Which voices sound most comforting saying goodnight? Where do you hope to wake up? When you walk into your childhood bedroom, what does it say to you? Does it welcome you back with open arms and warm scent, or force you back, tell you straight all the things you’ve avoided?

How many times have you run away? Packed small bags with shaking hands, or not packed at all. Walking, or running, or not moving at all. Where did you run to? What opened the door and pushed you out? Or were you the hand? Did you scream and yell so loud that your home ran away from you? How did you ever make it back?

We’d like you to think about where you feel most you, or if you even know that at all? Who, what, where has the ability to centre you, or is there an external place at all? What is home? From universality, locality, and in, in, in to the self. Where is home?

We want your work. We want your photography, artwork, poetry, essays, films, arguments. Anything you want to provide, we want. We are looking for refined work with distinct voices and perspectives, and we believe you can do that.

Deadline for submission is December 30th.

Send your work along with at least 1 image, a picture of yourself, and a short bio to KILORANMAG@OUTLOOK.COM.

‘Lakehouse’ : The Rose Affair tackle loss

Interview, Music

With their unique mix of art and indie, The Rose Affair are back with a new video for the release of their newest single, ‘Lakehouse’.

Possibly more ambiguous than their other tracks, singer Lucas Jones dances his way through nuances lyrics of specific sensations and locations; soundtracking a sombre tale of love and loss, being in-between dependence and independence, with a track that is as catchy as ever. With jingly riffs, high production values, multiple levels and incredible vocals, we’ve come to expect nothing less from our favourite band. Lucas’ writing spills perfectly into song, creating tunes that are profound and poetic as they are ambient and sing-along worthy.

But the video raises the song, bringing it to life while also adding an entirely new perspective that you felt in the song but couldn’t quite put your finger on. Lakehouse is brought to life by the narrative of loss of childhood, solidified by the loss of the one thing that might symbol childhood more than anything, your home. The soft light surrounding the protagonist and her younger self is cut through and rudely interrupted by an ominous figure in a black suit, threatening her with the end of youth.

The Rose Affair never settle for anything less than cinematic, with even the shots of the band performing are dipped in aesthetically pleasing pink light, and aren’t removed from the narrative. The band are never at the forefront of the video, handing their work over to the higher power of a bigger, ongoing narrative weaving its way through all their releases and urging fans to connect the dots. In the video, they turn their crowd into a confrontation forcing the protagonist to face her final conclusion, a stack of moving boxes.

For Lucas, ‘The house is life. The place where all of the main character’s (Nikki) memories exist but in a non-linear sense. Basically how our minds are – it’s all happening and being remembered at once on an infinite loop consciously or subconsciously. The story focuses on the stage in our lives in which we (like it or not) have to face the reality of letting go of our childhood. The man in the suit is the estate agent who Nikki associates with ‘taking’ her childhood house from her. The people in black are Nikki’s subconscious, trying to attack her / defend themselves from being erased from her memory by time.’

But regardless of the intricacies, the video is beautiful. The light that switches from white, to pink, to blue, and the silky camera work makes for a product of envy, far superior from what you’d expect of an unsigned band and clearly a product of passion.

Ending with photos from our PAST issue, The Rose Affair sign off on the statement about loss with a stare that says ‘to be continued’, a hint that this video joins the rest in a yet unresolved story.