MA Performance: Screen Screening 1 – Central Saint Martins, UAL

Review by Dr. Suneel Mehmi

Wednesday, June 10 • 6:30 PM – 8:30 PM

My Mum has an Art Studio, by Zhang Jiaqi

MY REVIEW:

In India, the goddess of art and culture is Saraswati, a mother goddess. It is The Mother that gives inspiration and art. Similarly, this story sees the powerful figure of the mother as the instructor and enabler of creativity for a daughter that is suffering from creative fatigue.

The mother is shown as the greater voice of experience from an Asian culture which values and respects elders. She is also full of vitality, a quality that the daughter aspires to and therefore, one suspects, this is missing in her life. The mother seems to be the young one and not the daughter. The scene which clinches this impression is when the mother is encircled by a group of young dancers and dancers in the centre, entrancing all eyes with her energy. Therefore, just like the Mother Goddess, the Mother in the film is power. The power of creation. The film is the worship of The Mother, similar to Hindu religion.

The Mother’s studio was amazing, full of busts and plants, showing that she was one with nature. The daughter also describes the mother as amazingly beautiful, which invokes the Freudian idea of the desire for the mother too.

The mother’s role is set amidst a homecoming. Does the Mother represent China and its continuity of culture over thousands of years? Is there an idea that unity with the Motherland is the secret to creativity?

SUMMARY:

A daughter who hasn’t been home for years comes back exhausted and uncertain after graduation. Facing her first major life choice, she doubts if she should continue painting and struggles with reality.

At home, she notices her mother is different. The woman who always waited for her is now building her own life. In this gentle spring, they take a short but profound trip. The mother leads her to a hidden studio—a secret space she built for herself. During their time together, the daughter finally sees her mother’s persistence and growth, which helps her rethink her own path.

This is a journey of self-discovery and mutual understanding, a transformation for both mother and daughter. It is a homecoming and a rediscovery of the mother’s growth. In each other’s eyes, they show their true selves and complete a change of understanding and companionship.

–
Cast:
Daughter: Junhuan Cheng
Mother: Jiahan Bu
Dancing guys: Lytia Liu, Argo, Cheryl Ding, Jingyi Yuan, Xinxin Zhang, Frank Liu, Guosheng Sun, Zeyang Li, Changxin Ma

Director and Screen Writer: Jiaqi Zhang
1st Assistant Director: Xinxin Zhang
Script Assistant: Argo
Director Assistants: Xiaoya Wang, Hanchao Yang
Production Manager: Cheryl Ding
Production Assistant: Jingyi Yuan
Production Runner: Changxin Ma
Director of Photography: Songming Cai
Focus Puller: Frank Liu
Camera Assistant: Kai Wang
Camera Technician: Jiqin Zhang
DIT: Liangyu Huang
Gaffer: Yuyang Chen
Lighting Assistants: Guosheng Sun, Changjun Zhou, Fengchun Yu
Production Designer: Sers Shi
Art Director: Runyu Li
Property Master: Hai Zhao
Art Production Assistants: Muyi Fu, Zile Wang
Sound Recorder: Zeyang Liu
Editor: Jiaqi Zhang
Colorist: Xilin Zhang
Sound Designer: Die Lai
Composer: Junwen Wu
Poster Designer: Jiaqi Zhang
–

Berglas Effect, by Todd Chen

MY REVIEW:

This is an ambiguous meditation on the theme of domestic violence, which is what joins together all of the characters. Characters mirror each other in attempting to end domestic violence (against women), or attempting to revenge it. But their attempts culminate in murder itself, suggesting that there is no escape from violence (although feminist criticism might argue something very different here). In many ways, this is a comment upon human culture. There has always been an argument between peace and war, between violence and non-violence. The two are structurally connected, however much one tries to separate them. And in this sense, the film is a Derridean analysis of how much unites what is thought of as discrete. How there can be no separation.

The title refers to the sleights of hand and illusions that the film makers are creating with the script.

There were technical faults with this film which I am pointing out because these are students and therefore this is constructive criticism. One, the subtitles disappeared into the white at some points. I cannot understand (Chinese?) and therefore I missed some of the dialogue. Second, the face of the main character was blurred in a few scenes.

SUMMARY:

Berglas Effect is an attempt at a film creation in the suspense and crime genre with dark elements. This work depicts a series of consecutive tragedies triggered by domestic violence, in which three characters are drawn into the vortex due to their respective obsessions, and ultimately no one achieves true liberation.

–
Cast: Zhang Xu, Wang Hu Lei Lei Ben Zhang

Director: Song Yan Ze & Chen Jia Cheng
Actor Assistant Director: Huang Yin Luo
Script Supervisor: Li Guan Yuan
Production Manager: Wu Si Rui
Director Of Photography: Williams Zhang
Gaffer: Zhu Yan Tao
Production Designer: Song Shao Pu
Art Director: Wan Jing Ning
Special Effects Makeup: Cheng Zhuo Ya
Recording Supervisor: Chen Yu Fan
Production Sound Mixer: Wang Tian Jiu
Editor: Zhang Peng
Sound Designer: Chen Ruo Jing Chen Yu Fan
–

UPHILL, DOWNHILL, by Wenhan Qin

MY REVIEW:

This mountain is a metaphor for the uphill climb or struggle of life, and how one can get lost or disorientated within it. These youngsters climb the mountain to try and connect with the heavens, with alien life forms, with an advanced intelligence and the gods of the sky. However, they become lost. There is much pressure on them. They do not form that connection with the heavens that they so desperately want.

This is a young person’s idea of ambition. Ambition, however, should not be to connect with something greater, something that is not human. Ambition should be to connect to others, to one’s relations. In the film, the young man cannot connect with his mother. He ignores her phone calls and argues with her. It is relationships that ground us to this world, our origins that remind us who and what we are, where we are and where we are going.

Instead of asking strangers for help and thinking that they won’t just leave you to die (when that is what they will do, because you and everyone is expendable to them), and treating our nearest and our well-wishers as enemies, we have to accept that they expect things of us and we have to try our best to achieve those expectations. For our family and the ones that love us, we are not expendable. We are not just our careers. We are the ones that they love. And that should be enough. Why is it not enough? That is what you have to ask of this society.

SUMMARY:

A phone call from Xiao Xiu’s mother threatens to drag him back into a life he can no longer control. Desperate to escape, he retreats to an isolated mountain rumoured to receive mysterious signals. There, he encounters a young content creator and an obsessive inventor — each searching for a different kind of answer.

When one of them disappears, the mountain transforms from refuge into maze, filled with dead ends, unresolved choices, and a reality that keeps closing in.

UPHILL, DOWNHILL is a poetic film about young people stumbling through early adulthood — fleeing their fate, and anxiously hoping someone will show them the way.

–
Cast: Xiao Jiang, Huaiyi Zeng, Duo Hu
Director: Wenhan Qin
Assistant Director: Litao Li
DoP: Luyao Liu
B-Camera Operator: Peng Zhang
Focus Puller: Yazhou Cui, Chuandong Wang
Camera Assistant: Weizheng Li, Xiao Wang, MKX
Production Designer: Junyan Jiang
Art Assistant: Xiangcheng Wang
Sound Recordist: Jia Hu
Sound Assistant: Yongwei Zhang
Script Supervisor: Shiran Xu
Production Assistant: Dakang Lu
Still Photographer: Mingyuan Liu
Editor: Wenhan Qin

Thanks: Anne Beresford, Gabi Tropia
–

Last night, I dreamed I learned how to swim, by Yuyan Zhang

MY REVIEW:

Jealousy of the mother is apparent in this one, particularly the sexuality of the mother. The sexuality of the mother and modelling upon it is related to the burgeoning periods and sexuality of the teenager, suggesting that the film is possibly an examination of female role models in the construction of young girls and the firing off of mirror neurons in the brain and how these relate to vision (this is a film) and action.

The mother is also controlling. Therefore the expression of her sexuality is seen as a form of power perhaps. And this is why the young teenager is jealous and attempts to acquire that power for herself. One wonders what a feminist might make of this characterisation, that sex is power for women. Is this a stereotype? Or is the film debunking this stereotype?

The teenager is a spy and this is therefore about the construction of a scopic regime and surveillance, perhaps the idea of Foucauldian panopticism. The scene that is therefore of particular interest is when the young teenager cuts off the swimming costume that covers her whole body (like the panopticon) and exposes her body. There is the tension between exposure and revealing. The final ending has this too, when we are finally exposed to the sexual development of the daughter, although through the implicit rather than to the bodily. The aesthetic is revealing through concealing, showing through hiding, manifesting through veiling. I’m sure someone has written about this in terms of sexuality, that there is the dance between showing and telling.

SUMMARY:

Sixteen-year-old Xu Muze is forced by her mother into swimming class, anxious over her delayed first period. By chance, she sees her mother secretly dating the swimming coach and watches her become a different woman in a dance hall. Water mirrors her fear and longing. In a dream, she finally learns to swim, but can never catch up with her mother. She wakes to her first period. After seeing her mother, she truly sees herself for the first time.

–
Cast: Harmonie He, Jun Liu, Xiaobao Zhao, Benben 
Director: Yuyan Zhang 
1st Assistant Director: Qiren Xu
Script Assistant: Xinyi Li 
Production Manager: Diman Luo
1st Production Assistant: Tong Lv, Jiaying Wu
2nd Production Assistant: Yongqi Su, Zhuyue Hu 
Director Of Photography: Jiacheng Chen 
Camera Operator: Jeff Zhang
Focus Puller: Tuoran Li 
Gaffer: Shuhao Wang
Best Boy: Tianwei Bao
DIT: Yaokun Mo
 Art Director: Cong Le
Art Assistant: Ruimin Li 
Stylist: Xinjue Wu
Hair and Make-up: Xiaochen Zhu, Yanping Zhang, Yixin Chen 
Sound Recordist: Zhixuan Zhao
Boom Operator: Xiaoni Huang
 Sound Designer: Yufan Chen 
Colorist: Shiqi Sun
 Editor: Yuyan Zhang
–

Puann-hì, by Ding Wei

MY REVIEW:

This one appears to be gauging the contest between Western drama exemplified by Medea and Chinese traditional art forms which are interlaced throughout. It is about the idea that acting is about courage, what it means to be a woman that is not docile and weak, to be able to speak up and express oneself.

This was the most technically beautiful film for me, with its choreography and dream-like sequences.

The film investigated the theme of domestic abuse and, moreover, the man was the powerful villain because he was the landlord and held the financial power. Therefore, one might see the film as an exposure of the patriarchy and its misogyny driven by feminism.

SUMMARY:

A Minnan girl named A-ning, who studies far from home, is rehearsing for a production of *Medea*. Returning home during the holidays, she finds her homeland both familiar and isolating, uncertain where she truly belongs. The struggles of real life often make her long to become a powerful woman like Medea in the play—but in Minnan, Medea is dismissed by her grandmother as a foolish and selfish woman. She can’t help but wonder: without a dragon-drawn chariot, without myth, what kind of “revenge” do we need in the 21st century?

–
Cast: Faymin, Ding Yunchen, Huang Jiale, Li Weisi, Chen Xiufeng
Director: Ding Wei
Assistant Director: Li Yihan
Producer: Li Fan
UPM: Kilin Lin
DOP: Cai Songming
Camera Assistant: Jin Xiao
Puller: Huang Jinqi
Gaffer: Peng Junjie
Lighting Assistant: Tu Erqi
Production Designer: Fang Woni, Hu Jingtong
Art Assistant: Feng Yu
Stylist: Feng Yu
Sound Designer: Tang Chenhui
Sound Assistant: Peng Haiyun
Script Supervisor: Chen Yufei
Editor: Ding Wei
–

Xiang Qian Kan Qi, by Cong Le

MY REVIEW:

Castration (the Freudian losing of the teeth) figures as a major theme here, perhaps the castration of the individual by the state, since we are talking about a performance for the nationalistic Olympics here. If castration is not about power, what is it about? It is a powerlessness imposed by the powerful, the oppressors in the state that control representation. This was perhaps the essence of the body horror that we saw here, the hair cutting, the teeth being pulled out, even the contortionism of the heroine.

This was the most lavishly shot out of all the films which made me wonder how the budget was so big! The choreography made the film very beautiful.

This film seemed to be about the idea of disappearance in the body. Teeth disappearing. The body of the heroine disappearing. The lack that the state creates in the body…

SUMMARY:

Amid the Olympic fever of 2008, in a dance troupe with a strict hierarchy, the girls were compared, selected and replaced amid the undercurrents of competition. Qianqian tried hard to fit in with the rules, but the honour she eventually gained was to completely disappear from the most dazzling stage.

–
Cast: Xuanyu Zhang, Xuanyushan He, Peixin Li
Director/Writer: Cong Le
1st Assistant Director: Zhiyuan Li
2nd Assistant Director: Yuyan Zhang
Script Supervisor: Yi Lu
Choreographer: Xinyi Du, Jiayi Ding
Unit Production Manager: Fujiwara Kai
1St Production Assistant: Siyu Chen, Yujing Yang
Director Of Photography: Yinghai Hu
Focus Puller: Shiyong Li
1st Assistant Camera: Yingqiang Liu
Gaffer: Jun Yuan
Best Boy: Fadong Li, Zongyang Duan, Qun Yuan
Digital Imaging Technician: Ziwei Goh
Art Director: Zifan Wang
Prop: Fei Gao, Hui Tian, Chaochao Zheng, Zhenjiang Lu, Hongling Zhao
Costume Designer: Haoying Zhang
Stylist: Zhao Chen
Hair And Make-up: Zhiyang Li, Zeyu Wang, Yixuan Zuo
Sound Designer: Yiran Ma, Zikang Wang
Sound Mixer: Zikang Wang
Boom Operator: Yehan Li
Composer: Monstar Cao, Yiran Ma
Editor: Cong Le
Colorist: Shangbai Jiang

Platform 1 at the Bloomsbury Theatre – Saturday the 23rd of May at 6.30pm

SPOILER ALERT!

Mia Debenham and Marie Saint-Yves: Neptune-Ball AEGAGROPILE & Co v The ANTHROPOCENE WORLDWIDE CORPORATION performed by Arthur Wickham

A lecture from a lawyer about microplastics and how we end up becoming our rubbish by eating it. It could be seen as a combined demonstration of the persuasive arts of our time: medicine, law, environmentalism and science. All executed under the rubric of rhetoric. It is left up to the audience to decide their fate once the legal argument has been completed.

Molly Lau: Eon City

A video installation which showcased an imaginary city that was powered by bioluminescence. An investigation of architecture through light, evoking a European tradition and architectural imaginary of light which dates back to at least Saint Denis and Abbot Suger.

Gabriella Day: The ladder is an A

A video of the performer reading out a script which begins in darkness with a headlight focused on the page and ends with the same vision. First light and then reading. The body emerges out of darkness into the light and the text and then disappears into darkness from the light and the text. Is this an investigation of the before and the after of reading, its construction, origin and ending, its enabling by light and the body?

Beth Simcock

A read piece accompanied by a video of the art of the artist. The drawings drew an expression of admiration from my friend

Arthur Wickham: Bian Lian

A performance in which the artist peels off several masks off his face, does a handstand, dances and wears a building on his face too. There was a mention of the grotesque in art and how it relates to the culture of the spectacle, which perhaps explains the form of the masks. The dynamic appeared to be unveiling and its frustration as each time the mask was removed, there was another mask underneath. Eventually however, we see the face of the artist with the suggestion that under the art, the artist stands exposed, the striptease of the face appropriated to challenge gendered conventions of performance?

Da In Park: Entangled Steps, A Salt Prayer for the Haunted Garden: Reconciling Colonial Legacy and War Memories behind the Beauty of Cherry Blossoms. (For more, Saltprayer.com)

A mesmerising silent protest against Japanese colonialism and the implication of UCL within this with its Japanese garden through Korean ritual. The salt prayer is a ritual to cleanse ‘colonial rot’. The silence of the moment reflects the silencing of the colonised and invites reflection and healing for oppression.

Margot Wilson: Sacrificial Package. With Eva Titherington and Juliet Dodson

Two ladies in red overalls wind shrink wrap around the artist to the sound of some cassette players. Is this about the packaging of the female body and its commodification, the packaging of the artist? Is it about how plastic is reimaging the body in the era of the anthropocene? The two cassette players compete with each other and we see the slow circling of the female body by the two women. Because the artist has told me that she is a sculptor that works with shrink wrap and we see sculpture in the round, maybe this is a reflection on the process of creating sculpture for the round and on its viewing. Also perhaps a reflection on how this is the era of transparency, with plastic and glass, a reflection on its restriction for the human body as the artist tries to walk with the shrink wrap around her and her movement is severely impeded.

Juliet Dodson: Stage Fright

Persuading a large red curtained box to get into the spotlight when it does not want to. And therefore an exploration of visibility and disappearance on the public stage, the coercions of visibility and the association of invisibility with what? Freedom or insignificance and obscurity? The artist’s dilemma.

Rosalind Wilson: Stack

Building things with sticks which keep on falling down. A metaphor for something? The futility of human endeavour? A feminist comment about women in art? The life of the artist? An exploration of construction and destruction? The ephemerality of art?

Lily Hosotani: How old is this ___? With Molly Lau

An oversized tape measure which the performers measure tools with. I get the feeling that there is a sexual innuendo that informs this – the measuring of ‘tools’ by women. At the end of the performance, the performers measure themselves. An element of disruption is perhaps intended. In constructing something, it is usually space that is measured, not the tools that will be used to work on the space. And then why would measuring be extended to the self if there was some work of construction? Of course, the Ancient Greeks might be being invoked in a feminist revision – ‘(wo)man is the measure of all things’?

Eva Titherington: Running for the Hills

A group of figures huddled together with a painting of a red hill attached to them so that they are faceless. They all keep on repeating ‘she is running for the hills’. Seems to be a literal meditation on the repetition compulsion behind language and idoms. These idioms and language itself is created through endless repetition so the performers do it ad nauseum to build up the image of the red hills and insist upon it, highlighting how metaphor and visual imagery is also crucial to the act of repetition itself. So an investigation of the dynamics of language and their intersection with the visual, how we create shared images in our minds and thoughts.

Munaye Lichtenstein: The End is Knot in Sight

We see the performer pulling at the rope and then as the rope takes centre stage, eventually we see what she was pulling – herself. A comment about how we have to pull ourselves along through life, the struggle to get through things, a comment about the burden of the self in the journey through life.

Hannah Stanley: Billy & CO

A composer with an orchestral band that aims to control them but produces the worst music in the entire world. About control and consequence.

the conviction of legacy

21.05.2026

S: Does an artist fear death?

A: Why do you ask?

S: It is always a question with a question for you. There is a reason to think so. The artist attempts to capture that which is fleeting, a flicker in the wind. He will paint an animal or a woman. He will paint a baby or a feeling. He attempts to rescue the moment from death. He attempts to write eternity.

A: But does the artist think this when he works?

S: Surely yes. Surely those portrait painters of the past thought that they were preserving a likeness for all time. Surely their patrons thought that they were preserving a monument to all time. Read the poem ‘Ozymandius’.

A: Ozymandius is about the folly of power.

S: It is also about the corruption of time. The tragedy of time.

A: Only you are the one that I can discuss literature with. But do you worry about your legacy?

S: No. I have produced enough already. I can produce more, much more. What you do not know is how easy everything is for me.

A: You have found everything easy in your studies?

S: Yes. There is nothing complicated in anything that I have studied, law, literature or art history. Or psychology, criminology, anthropology, philosophy, history, any of the subjects I have studied at university level.

A: But you are not read. Your published work, your art, your photography. You are not famous.

S: Yet. I know that I have produced good work. Therefore, I do not worry. You cannot make the ignorant listen to sense. I am the truth. I have produced the truth.

A: Stop these scribbles and these sketches. Do something more substantial.

S: Why? Why do things that you get nothing from? I know that I am a genius. I have nothing to prove to anyone.

A: Remember that your name is the name of the Untouchables. The Oppressed. They need your shine. Don’t forget that. Don’t become selfish. Remember what other geniuses have said. Genius is a gift. You have to give and give and give. It is your duty. For the community.

S: I am listening. I have perhaps forty more years in me. And I will work, don’t you worry. I will work on substantial things.

A: Now, while you have the energy. Do not let this life defeat you.

the money monsters

02.05.2026

S: I read with disgust that London’s Whitechapel Gallery hired an Economist in Residence.

A: What’s so bad about that?

S: She thinks that she can tell us what the value of art and culture is, that is the most disgusting thing. All of us that get into arts and culture are trying to escape from these money monsters with their bullshit ideas of value. And this London institution is hiring precisely that kind of individual to talk about what’s important and significant about art and culture. For us to be represented by these jokers. What the fuck does she know about it? Does she have any training in art and culture? This society is a joke. The people that are least able to do anything are the ones that they employ and listen to.

A: Come come now. I’m sure she’s interested in art and culture.

S: Then she wouldn’t demean it by being there to appraise its value as an economist. And pander to this bullshit fascist and idiotic government and this audience of philistines.

A: I’m sure there’s more here.

S: This society can only listen to a fake. When it comes to people that care for art and culture, live for art and culture, produce art and culture, then they cannot listen. They force us into marginalisation. They do not value our interpretations or our ideas. Because they want to keep on doing the same stupid thing over and over again. And what is the most stupid thing? Money. That’s all that comes into their rotten heads. Everything is about money. Make everything about money. They have a monomania. Their language is about money. Their ideas are about money. And these are the people that you want in the museum representing what the museum is about? These are the people that you want in art, representing what art is about? Do you wonder why I am angry?

A: Relax. There’s nothing you can do about it.

S: There is something that you can do about it. There’s always something. Do you know, when Michael Jackson wanted to shoot the video ‘They Don’t Care About Us’, which is about protesting racism and how the government mistreats people, about showing reality, the Brazilian government banned him from shooting it. So he went to the Mafia. The Mafia looked after him. They took him to the favela. They made the video happen. The disenfranchised supported the disenfranchised. I know that there are more of us.

A: You are not Michael Jackson.

S: I believe anyone with conviction, strength and discipline can change this world. Just like Jesus stood for something against Mammon, so can I. I can stand for a world of art and culture that does not rely on money. I am living proof of it. I have my own publishers. I have my own books. I have my own blog. I have my own photography and art accounts. All done without requiring money.

A: You do not have fame.

S: I have something better than the value that these cretins accord to those that apologise for the injustice and racism of this culture. I have my own self-respect and I have love for my community, the community of Tigers. That love is evident in everything that I produce. I don’t have to show why I value the community in terms of money. My love is a love that does not cost money. My love that I express? It does not cost money. And that is why I am the genuine article. That is why I am the poet, the artist, the photographer, the writer, the scholar. The genius. I am above money.

Day 1 of Study Holiday

01.05.2026

It was close to the time of sleep. When we are closest to death while we breathe. Weariness was creeping in. But there was A. to talk with. Always A.

This was the first day of my study holiday from work. To complete a degree in Art History through my dissertation. The morning began with taking a lady with me to the ‘Sea and Seurat’ exhibition at the Courtauld Art Gallery, an event I had booked several weeks ago. The artist had been obsessed with the sea and the light upon it. Water that gleamed. The paintings, I noted, had been enabled by the advances in rail travel at the time.

Afterwards, it was a complimentary photo shoot that I had given to a client to build up both of our portfolios. I had actually just finished editing up the shots and sending them down to him. This was followed by the Stubbs horse exhibition at the National Gallery after lunch in the park behind Holborn Station (Lincoln Fields). Stubbs wanted to be anatomically correct, an exercise I find completely pointless as an artist. But then, I have photography to be accurate, art to be imprecise and imaginative. I live in an advanced technological age.

When I had finished the contemplation of all of those glistening flanks of horse, I met up with a friend at the guitar recital at Saint Sepulchre near Holborn Viaduct followed by photos of Nathaniel the young musician which I shared on my photography account. On arriving home, the dissertation, a long shower and then eating the family bbq and booking some weekend tickets for myself and my girlfriend and a friend.

I had spent most of the evening thinking about Indian art in Britain and most of the day in the world of art, spectator, scholar and practitioner. It was an art life. A connected life with a girlfriend and friends. There had been an unexpected message from a good friend of many years too after a while. It was a good first day for a study break.

Farthing Downs and Happy Valley – 27.03.2026

39,000 steps/17.31 miles (equivalent to 66.6 circuits of a soccer pitch)

Birds seen: parakeets, crows, possibly a raven, blue tits, pigeons, goldfinch, starlings

Highlights

The Flint Game

Strewn about all over this area, there were pieces of flint. We are hypothesising that the area might have been a major hub for prehistoric man. We were talking about the craftsmanship required to make the flints into weapons and then, suddenly, I had the idea that we should each of us have a go at doing it.

So my friend and I picked up two pieces of flint, one piece smaller and one piece larger and we placed the smaller piece onto a piece of flint that was embedded in the ground. Then, we struck at the corners and edges of the smaller piece of flint with the bigger. Unlike in cinema, there were no sparks. We were both wearing our glasses as eye protection. My friend went first and he struck out a piece quite quickly. I put it into my pocket and felt it. It was incredibly sharp. I did my piece next. It took a few goes to get going as I wasn’t firmly onto the embedded flint bed but then a satisfying sharp tooth came off. We had both reconnected with our prehistoric past. I kept both the pieces and now they are on my bookshelf in my bedroom. A reminder of what? Our ancestry? The trip? Friendship?

The Chaldon Doom Painting

After getting slightly lost, we entered Chaldon Church which was a pretty construction to do the art part of our walk. We were going to see the Chaldon Doom painting. This had been created by a monk that fancied himself as an artist and was about the sins, a bit like Hieronymous Bosch’s masterpiece, ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’.

As we entered, we came across two friends, R. and A. One was a young woman with dyed blonde hair who was the very picture of silence. The other was a stout man with black hair that chatted to us amiably about the mural because he was a local. His first words to me was that we are all a part of god so that we are all gods, a statement fit for a church. He had watched a video on YouTube about it and chatted to my friend about what he knew while I studiously read the labelled diagram of the mural and read the extended curator label about it.

The mural was reddish and quite ugly, although interesting to look at at the same time. The church was not particularly impressive but it was a novel experience to go to look at art and actually find a stranger that you could talk to about it. It never happens in London.

The View from Farthing Down

At the top of Farthing Down, there was this stone compass which pointed out all of the things on the wonderful view that you could get from this vantage point. We were looking at the mast for Crystal Palace, at Canary Wharf and also trying to see what else we could get our eyes onto. After you struggle up a hill, the view is the reward. And the rest and the sense of accomplishment that goes with it.

The Hive Garden in Coulsdon South Library

Noticing that there was a library around when we got into Coulsdon South, we decided to go in and check out the Ordinance Survey maps for our walk. Then, when we circled back to it to get on track onto our walk and were walking past, I noticed a charming little garden to its side. It was a delightful little construction, with little statuettes of fairies strewn about for the children. There was a wonderful yellow bench and it was wondderfully organised. Such a pleasant place for reading in the summer. We only spent a few minutes there but it was a lovely experience.

The Beauty of the Woods

We walked past decaying logs overlaid with green, green moss, past Yew trees and also delightful looking fungal growths on the ground. It was much warmer in the woods than in the outside world and also there was no rain like there was in the exposed elements. It was the usual but always relaxing and soothing immersion in nature. The birdsong was particularly beautiful, incredibly loud too. Like a concert that nature had put on for us specially.

Coffee in the morning

When we were drinking in Caffe Nero, we had a conversation with the Irish barrista. It turned out that the owner of the cafe was actually a Londoner and that he had only gone to Milan for university.

The Museum in the Pub

When we stopped for a drink at about two o’clock, the table where we sat in the pub had a framed document from the king at the end of the war, thanking the schoolchildren for their share in the hardship and struggles of the war. It told the children that they were worthy members of the sacrifices and the grit of the nation. This was an insight into that momentous time and the lives of the schoolchildren who lived then.

the worship of anger and the master of the field

27.03.2026

S: Recently, Imran Khan, a failed actor with no good films of his own and, really, a non-entity in Hindi film who was there because of his famous uncle, criticised Ranveer Singh, the hero of Dhurandhar 2 (‘The Master of the Field’). Khan said that he didn’t want to do any films portraying an angry man and this version of masculinity.

A: Thoughts? Are we preparing for another diatribe?

S: The thought is that we get all these people that are against anger. It is their culture. They want to kill anger. They think they are better than other people because they don’t have anger. They act like anger is a false emotion. In fact, anger is the most real of the emotions.

A: Proof?

S: Look at the Christian idea that you should turn the other cheek. And I remember reading a summary of a book that said the ancient writers all talked about expelling anger from the collective psyche. There is a conspiracy against anger.

A: People do not worship anger like you do.

S: I do worship anger. I worship the Dark Mother, Maa Kaali. Whose bloodlust is uncontrollable.

A: Why?

S: Do you know why The Mother has four arms? Because she is strength personified. Anger gives you energy. In the film that Imran Khan mocked, Ranveer Singh (a fellow Punjabi) says that not everyone can attain revenge. For revenge you have to have courage and energy. That’s what the film says. It is anger that gives you energy.

A: Proof?

S: Look at me. I am motivated by rage. Absolute rage. A rage that is unthinkable in this society. I got up after three or so years of debilitating illness because the Mother Goddess, Maa Kaali came to me. To get my revenge. I do seven paid jobs, more volunteering work on top of that, university study, a girlfriend, family commitments including mentoring and teaching my nephew. It is driven by absolute rage. The energy of anger. The energy of the Revolutionary.

A: You are Dhurandhar? The Master of the Field?

S: If it is not the Punjabi Tiger, who is it then? Certainly not Imran Khan. He can go back to his non-existence as an actor. India has rejected him. Me? They have accepted. I am their hero.

Writer Biography of Dr. Suneel Mehmi

In the contemporary landscape of British letters, Dr Suneel Mehmi stands as a singular voice bridging the rigid structures of jurisprudence and the fluid boundaries of visual culture. A writer, scholar, and artist based in East London, Mehmi’s career began in the high-octane environment of student journalism, serving as a contributor to the London School of Economics’ The Beaver and later as the Lead Editor for the University of Westminster’s newspaper. This foundational period birthed his 2023 collection, Juvenalia, and established a writing style that is at once rigorous and vibrantly accessible—a “popular academic” tone that treats the law not merely as a set of rules, but as a literary genre that dictates how we perceive reality.

Mehmi’s intellectual trajectory is defined by a fascination with the construction of authority and identity. His seminal monograph, Law, Literature and the Power of Reading (Routledge, 2023), argues that the rise of photography and legal literalism in the nineteenth century fundamentally altered the human psyche. This interdisciplinary lens extends into his sharp cultural criticism, where he deconstructs modern media with surgical precision. Whether he is exploring the eco-horror and gender dynamics of Natalie Portman’s Annihilation, dissecting the gendered power plays in the Bollywood classic Beta, or uncovering the linguistic weight of Charles Dickens’ pseudonym in his article “The Power Name Boz,” Mehmi reveals the hidden ideological machinery behind our most beloved stories.

This versatility is most visible on his popular blog, Diary of a Lone Man, where his most widely read pieces pivot from dense theory to the universal language of emotion. His deep dives into Hindi cinema have garnered a dedicated following, blending nostalgic appreciation with academic rigour to explain why Bollywood resonates so deeply with the global diaspora. Central to his digital output is an ongoing, lyrical exploration of the concept of love—treating it not just as a sentiment, but as a transformative force capable of defying social hierarchies. This philosophical curiosity is mirrored in his art book Paisley, where he serves as writer, designer, and illustrator, proving that his creative reach is as expansive as his academic depth.

Beyond the ivory tower, Mehmi remains a writer of profound social conscience. As a journalist for The Borgen Project, he has produced vital reports on the Punjab floods, pivoting from cultural theory to humanitarian advocacy with seamless ease. His work is deeply informed by his Dalit heritage, a theme that vibrates through his creative output, such as Dish of Flowering Scents (2024), where he weaves personal reflection with the global struggle for Dalit rights. Ultimately, Suneel Mehmi represents a modern-day flâneur of the archive. Through his original synthesis of law, art, and activism, he reminds us that a film, a flood report, and a Dickensian pen name are all interconnected threads in a larger tapestry of power and memory.

samurai and the indian hamlet – a day in culture

04.02.2026

I was writing to A. It was always a letter to A. A. was the best of my friends. I was telling them what The Tiger had done today.

It began in the morning with shaving after a week. Then, after a hearty and healthy breakfast, I rushed down to the British Museum for the Samurai exhibition. The space was spectacular. The weaponry, the costumes, the video along a massive wall. The mission was to show that the warrior culture is also an artistic and cultural endeavour. There were splendid Japanese woodblocks and even video games concerning the heroic exploits of the warriors and the ruling class.

This decadent culture looks to the time of the Samurai as an inspiration. A society with honour and with bravery that makes the corruption of the present pale into the insignificance that it is. And where do the Samurai come from? It is not Japan. They come from India and Buddhism. The Samurai are the brothers of India.

I rushed through the Hawaii exhibition afterwards. It was marred by a concentration on the relationships between that country and Great Britain. However, there were some glorious costumes on display, feather necklaces and feather cloaks radiant with the beauty of colour. The grimacing statuettes were splendid in their own way, truly characterful representations of humanoid figures.

The Oxfam bookshop next to the British Museum followed. I am saving a visit there tomorrow at lunchtime to pick up what I spotted if it is still there – fate will decide.

The Outernet was the next distraction before I wolfed down a reduced price M & S gala pork pie for lunch in about ten minutes. I watched a number of videos:

Biophilia by Sebastien Labrunie – about the Mother Tree.

Superradiance by Memo Akten and Katie Hofstadter – About embodiment in the planet

Pools by Maggie West and Scott Pagano – about water absorbing into sand in brilliant colours

Cacophony of Stillness by Jesse Woolston – the expression of natural phenomena in new and challenging ways

Transcendence by Robert Newman – geometry and the depths of the natural world

I played on the Roland piano. There were some really accomplished pianists that played before me and after me. I played something very simple and got one of the accomplished guys to film me. It will go up on my Instagram soon, maybe tomorrow morning.

A jaunt in Liberty next. I have never been there before. The textiles and fabrics were amazing. They reminded me of when I would go into the Indian shops with my mum around Green street and she would buy the Indian fabrics to make her own clothes. I will definitely at some point in my life go there and get a shirt made in one of the fabric designs.

Next stop, Tate Britain. First it was the Lee Miller exhibition. I had watched the film first and this was what was informing my viewings of the photographs. I liked her modelling photographs much more than her photographs as a photographer. There was some video footage of her posing as a statue which drives a poet mad and also her messing around stroking a phallic piece of sculpture and laughing about it, so the exhibition veered into a type of pornography, an impression that was reinforced by the number of nudes of her that were being exhibited. I had studied this period of photography before and it reminded me of my many years of research.

I was somewhat envious of her life. The great difference between being a glamorous woman and being an average man (albeit a handsome one that was a genius and a god). I had never had and never would have the opportunities that she had for love or for a life of high society. She had hung around Picasso and Man Ray, the latter when she was not even famous. The life that I had wanted had never come – being friends or even lovers with artists and writers. She’d had it all.

Desultory walk through the Turner and Constable exhibition looking at the differences between them and their rivalry. I’ve never liked either of them. However, it can’t be denied that they had some spectacular and striking pieces. As I was walking through the gallery, I had the same thought that I always have in these places. The people there will never talk to you. You can’t find any friends or lovers there, any fellow lovers of art. What a degraded time that we live in.

On the way home, I shopped in Tesco and got some reduced price Black Cherry conserve, two whole jars of it. I also had a call with a friend in a country that is going through atrocities and upheaval at the moment.

At home, it was chicken curry and rice followed by hot chocolate cake and custard. Then a phone call with the one that is mine before I watched the Hindi film Dhurandhar that has raked in so much money at the worldwide box office. It was an Indian version of Hamlet where the hero goes into the enemy’s country in the name of justice and revenge. It was a tightly constructed film. Where do I sit on the controversy? India claims that the Pakistani state creates terrorists that attack India. Who knows the truth of these matters? I don’t have the information or the intelligence. Like me, the average person does not. Are Indian people, film makers and the state falsely claiming that the Pakistani state is covertly fighting them? Is this racism? The state is all about racism. That is the precondition for the modern day state, us and them. It is the state that is disgusting and corrupt. Any state. I am an anarchist. I stand for real freedom. I stand for love rather than hate. I watch the film. I don’t let the fiction influence my understanding. All states are corrupt and predicated on hate and terrorism and violence.

Finally, a long shower and then, as always, the writing to A. We are companions of the night.

Eija-Liisa Ahtila, “The Power of Trees”

Exhibition at Kew Gardens Shirley Sherwood Gallery of Botanical Art

Running from April 12 to September 14, 2025

Review by Dr. Suneel Mehmi (first version of an exhibition review for Plantcurator.com)

Images courtesy of Kew Gardens.

What is a portrait of a tree? And what can such a portrait do? What can a tree portrait tell us about ourselves as humans and our systems of representing ourselves and nature? These are some of the questions behind the Finnish visual artist Eija-Liisa Ahtila’s exhibition ‘The Power of Trees’ at the Shirley Sherwood Gallery of Botanical Art at Kew Gardens.

The Power of Trees. Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. The Power of Trees invites visitors to explore the enduring beauty of trees across art and culture.

A prominent – and spectacular – piece in the exhibition Ahtila’s Horizontal–Vaakasuora offers the living video portrait of a 30-metre-tall spruce in Finland’s boreal forest. The tree is shown as a sublime horizontal, subverting our intuitive perceptions of how to portray a tree and highlighting how the limitations of the film frame can shape understanding since the tree could not be captured as a great vertical but had to be rendered horizontally to capture its majesty.

Alongside the installation are Ahtila’s preparatory works, Anthropomorphic Exercises in Film, which are going to be seen for the first time in the country at Kew. Anthropomorphic Exercises in Film are a series of sketches which cast the trees as human characters in movie scenes. The conception is to foreground and analyse our human ways of seeing through film, one of the forms of representation that dominate our understanding of the world around us.

What I found to be an especially stimulating artwork is Point of View/With a Human. There is a step and in front of it, there are three sections on the tree. The fourth section at the top is a mirror in which we look into. Is this artwork a ladder of the tree into the self? The tree as a spiritual guide for the recognition of the self? Or (even at the same time), a puncturing of human arrogance as you step to look at your face in the top branches of the tree? An insight that our sight and our vision of nature is based on narcissism and ego? That we can we only see ourselves in nature? Nature as ourselves?

Finnish art has traditionally been preoccupied with fragments rather than wholes as we learn from the exhibition curatorial note. What is the artwork saying about human beings as a fragment of nature, as part of nature’s collection of fragments? The fragmented self of human beings in the world of nature?

I found Eija-Liisa Ahtila’s exhibition “The Power of Trees” to be a very well conceptualised thought experiment into how we represent the outside world of nature, but also how we represent the inner world of ourselves through filmic representations. How a portrait and character is built. It is an art of the tree that allows us to know ourselves and the limitations and fabrications of our self-knowledge. The exhibition is playful, earnest, important and stimulating and worth not just one, but repeated visits to tease out its subtlety. After you see it, when you look next at at tree in art, you will definitely look at it differently. And perhaps at yourself too.