Luke Allan
Ursula Cheng

Carolyn Angelo
Tobias Cook

Tom Benn
Kirsten Cowie

Emily Bone
Andrew Denholm

Sarah Christie
Elizabeth Stewart

Jack Clark
Eileen Glass

Edward Keeble
Imogen Scott

Kerrick Newstead
Anette Fritsen

Laura C-Harries
Lindsay Grime

Daisy Dawes
Alison GlanvilleJones

Sam Elliot
Laura Darling

Martin Gaston
Gillian Kirkland

Mary-Caitlin Hentz
Sarah Tanat-Jones

Kirsty Kelly
Jaimie Lane

Miranda Jackson
Trine Mangernes

Ailish McA Green
Lindsay McBirnie

Gina Mortlock
Lucy McCririck

Richard O'Brien
Elizabeth Walker

Vidur Nauriyal
Sophie Newell

Sophie Playle
Marc Noble

Kirsty Smellie
Fiona Purves

Frankie Taylor
Genevieve Ryan


I like to feel like I'm living in a photo of a worn-through home. That's why my wallpaper is always peeling; it gives a real sense of time. Old flags are nice – all full of memories and the strange knowledge of a history, now forgotten. Some nights I look up at the sky and it feels like the stars are shining right down onto this house. It's then that I can really smell the perfume I use. It's like the light from above makes things pure. I like to feel that because sometimes in my house things aren't like that. People I know like to shout at me. When that happens I look at the painting of a tree I have on my wall and for a second I'm far away, out of history. It's like all of a sudden the volume gets turned down and the patterns on my wall jump out and blow through the tree. I float away; caught by the sky. Shouts in the daytime are worse. Daylight makes the tree thin and dry. The flag crumples on the ground without shadows or milksun from the moon washing over it. It just sits there, blank and dirty, like my stupid house and the perfume I wear but have to save up for. It's like everyone in this place. Always hoping for the little ways out while ignoring the door. If I could just get out maybe I'd learn something, maybe the flag would be more than history and the stars more than a dream. Maybe I'd be less stupid and shouts wouldn't go off all day long, like firecrackers on the fourth of July.

TEXT by Jack Clark + IMAGES by Eileen Glass