The first national lockdown in March demanded a seismic shift in group behaviour which as a psychology teacher, I found both strange and exhilarating.  Suddenly we had permission to stop, to stay at home, to be vigilant.

We had time to notice small things, neglected details in our domestic hinterland, to look and to listen …

Where we live, close to the forest edge, on the perimeter of a feeder road to London’s North Circular, the sudden drop in traffic volume gave way to a quieter soundscape & a different air quality in the microclimate of our suburban garden.

I found my way into it’s overgrown and secluded corners where I could watch & listen  undisturbed.  The tactile qualities of these quiet and shared spaces came into focus. 

As we were not going out, I began to play with what came to hand – lockdown loo rolls and off cuts from rampant garden pruning – this precious garbage was the fodder for my work.  

A theme emerged … the tension between freedom and containment

that arises when the rules of collective behaviour shift…

Perhaps it’s possible to discern a play  between forms and beings with a degree of freedom to conform or defy clear rules in this work?   

Shifting rules produce unpredictable results… and chaos spreads the virus…

Recommendations #3 Three decades of William Kentridge’s animations available online – this week only!

Don’t miss William Kentridge online film festival

September 29 to October 3, 2020

at 5pm each day on Goodman Gallery website (https://www.goodman-gallery.art/film-programme-william-kentridge)

Waiting for the Sibyl by William Kentridge


29 September

Drawing Lesson One: In Praise of Shadows (2012), 1 hour 2 minutes

30 September

Second-Hand Reading (2013), 7 minutes

Waiting for the Sibyl (2020), 6 minutes 3 seconds

1 October

Drawings for Projection – Part 1

Johannesburg, 2nd Greatest City After Paris (1989), 8 minutes 2 seconds

Monument (1990), 3 minutes 11 seconds

Mine (1991), 5 minutes 50 seconds

Sobriety, Obesity and Growing Old (1991), 8 minutes 22 seconds

Felix in Exile (1994), 8 minutes 43 seconds

2 October

Drawing for Projection – Part 2

History of the Main Complaint (1996), 5 minutes 50 seconds

WEIGHING… and WANTING (1998), 6 minutes 20 seconds

Stereoscope (1999), 8 minutes 22 seconds

Tide Table (2003), 8 minutes 50 seconds

Other Faces (2011), 9 minutes 45 seconds

3 October

Premiere of City Deep (2020) on The Art Newspaper website, 9 minutes 41 seconds

Year 1 Thursday: Drawing and Print Modules

Claire Parker Instagram: @funny_little_marks

Being encouraged to experiment with both instinctive mark-making and rigorous perspectival drawing has brought out a tension between freedom and constraint which has felt very real during life in lockdown.

Domino Pateman Instagram: @dominopateman

I enjoyed the drawing exercises we were given and, in lockdown, being forced to use only the space and equipment we had. Following the instructions in the exercises and riffing off them, made me realise I was interested in space itself, how it might be sliced up in different ways and put together again – and how exciting it is to try to represent that as a drawing and in 3D.

Ellen Thornton Instagram: @quiet_ellen

London Bridge Hot Desking

Drawing on old microeconomics text

Francesca Giuliano Instagram: @francesca.giuliano.here

Drawing has been a revelation for me on CLFA. It has released a lot of creative energy that I hope will, in turn, inform other areas of my practice. A nice surprise was noticing a long-running love of parallel freehand lines and unfinished dangling threads in my textile work from many years ago that is re-emerging in my drawings.

James C

Charcoal and chalk on paper.
Charcoal and chalk on paper.

James Shahdin

Developing and using the contrast between darkness and light as a vehicle to reflect the social and economic climate that has changed throughout my teens and into adulthood.

Laura Madeley Instagram: @lauraraborealis

Today is not just for today

When lockdown wasn’t a lockdown, revisiting previous drawing projects to explore home-based print techniques and create new work was the obvious solution. Breathing new life into a site-specific project about the solar cycle gave me space to reconnect with ideas of time and transition. These images are of work in progress created on the last Saturday session of yr 1. The title is taken from tutor Brian Hodgson’s advice, words which landed somewhere in my head and haven’t left yet, bringing with them ideas about how to combine print, paint and drawing in my practice in year 2.

Mark Engel Instagram: @markusengel27

Return of Nature
An experiment in mark making with charcoal, incense and singeing paper

Dreamscape mark making
An experiment in trance like mark making using charcoal, tea bags, frottage and baby oil.

Nasrin Parvaz Website: nasrinparvaz.org Instagram: @nasrin.parvaz

Under lockdown

Under lockdown

Natalie Dee Instagram: @art.journey4

Down Memory Lane

The human psyche has always fascinated me, but it wasn’t until I started this term that I realised how much my work is trying desperately to unravel the mysteries of the mind. This project started with drawing a random cube and some screwed up paper and ended up evoking a surprising childhood memory. Inspired by this process, I am now experimenting with making prints using random objects like masking tape and plastic bags, hoping that these unintentional marks will eventually evoke more and more memories.

Rosie Mayston

Castles in the sky during lockdown

I moved from work grounded in observation to drawings and objects tied to internal states, the result of which was darker and more raw.

Samia Mallek Instagram: @samia.mallek1

Freedom after lockdown

Experimented with ink, charcoal, teabags and watercolours which lead me to an abstract figurative painting.

Sandra Beidas Instagram: @nomadicpens2018

Unconscious memories

When I put these images together for this blog I noticed there were recurring marks and vocabulary. Yet they were produced at different times and with no conscious thoughts of reproducing the same imagery. Are they subconscious memories of the many times I have spent gazing down at landscapes from the air or are they related to something else? Looking forward to CLAF2 to probe more deeply!

Tatiana Solowjowa Instagram: @taniczka_s

Emotional subconscious

Exploration of inner landscapes

Year 1 Tuesday Final Drawing Research Module: Narrative and Process

Once upon a time, someone opened a box…..

There was wiring, and spanners

The machine came to life

And transported us to a strange island

The home of a goddess

And a benevolent alien.

The little bird was safe in the grass.

We set out across the hills

The weather was controlled by a sleepy beast

It was raining when we got to the city

It was a place of many different forces

People had adapted to live there

It was time for us to fly

But how would we ever get home again?

Thank you Mina for curating this and for your overarching narrative interpretation,





“There exists for each one of us a house of dream-memory that is lost in the shadow of the past,” says Gaston Bachelard in his Poetics of Space; “thanks to the house, a great many of our memories are housed, and if the house is a bit elaborate, if it has … nooks and corridors, our memories have refuges that are all the more clearly delineated. All our lives we come back to them in our daydreams.”


OTHER ROOMS started as an investigation of domestic spaces by way of building small-scale, portable, assemblage structures, and it has been growing into an ever-expanding installation inside my home studio. OTHER ROOMS explores domestic interiors as spaces moulded by real and fictional memories and by daydreaming. The geometry of these domestic spaces is transformed by the way they are remembered; the joys and horrors that have happened within their walls; the stories that were weaved in their corners. Their nooks and crannies are resting places for human intimate lives. As the physicality of the room dissolves with the passing of time, the only way to experience it is to conjure its fiction.

Autobiographical to an extent, OTHER ROOMS aim to trigger the viewer’s own intimate narratives and dreamscapes. After all, “the house is one of the greatest powers of integration for the thoughts, memories and dreams of [hu]mankind. The binding principle in this integration is the daydream.”


OTHER ROOMS reaches out to include other stories as it grows to encompass the room it is installed.

Contributors are invited to send me

* a personal memory (story, impression, dream) – connected to a domestic interior (room, corner, piece of furniture, object) of their past, and

* a piece of cardboard and/or any other materials they wish, including photographs


The text can be as long and as descriptive as contributors wish. Contributions can be anonymous.

I will use the materials and text sent to me to create a three-dimensional structure which will be my interpretation of the memory. If the text contributors send is used in any subsequent publication, permission to reproduce it will be sought. The structure will be incorporated in the installation. If the contributor wishes they can respond to the finished piece any way they wish (drawing, painting, film, performance). The contributor’s response may be included in the installation.

OTHER ROOMS will conclude with an exhibition held inside the installation (subject to social distancing rules). Possible outcomes include a video piece and a publication.

See the work on my website http://www.litoapostolakou.com


on Instagram http://www.instagram.com/inklinks

Please send your contribution to

Lito Apostolakou

41 Donovan Avenue

London N10 2JU

or if you live within an 8-mile radius I can walk to you and pick it up.

Any questions, contact me on Whatsapp or email me on l.apostolakou@gmail.com

Here is an extract from Proust’s Remembrance of Lost Time, vol. I on memories of rooms

“These shifting and confused gusts of memory never lasted for more than a few seconds … But I had seen first one and then another of the rooms in which I had slept during my life, and in the end I would revisit them all in the long course of my waking dream: rooms in winter, where on going to bed I would at once bury my head in a nest, built up out of the most diverse materials, the corner of my pillow, the top of my blankets, a piece of shawl, the edge of my bed, and a copy of an evening paper, all of which things I would contrive, with infinite patience of birds building their nest, to cement into one whole; rooms where, in a keen frost, I would feel the satisfaction of being shut in from the outer world … and where, the fire keeping in all night, I would sleep wrapped up, as it were, in a great cloak of snug and savoury air … in a sort of alcove without walls, a cave of warmth dug out of the heart of the room itself … or rooms in summer … where the moonlight striking upon the half-opened shutters would throw down to the foot of my bed its enchanted ladder (…)

Other Rooms installation

Other Rooms installation in progress.


Picking up a box of materials from the first contributor.

The quoit is skimming across the deck…

The quoit is skimming across the deck, it lands with a wobble. I win a prize. This is my first memory. I am on the deck of the Queen Mary transitioning from being three years old to being four. I am somewhere on the sea between England and Sri Lanka, or is it Sri Lanka and England? Exactly where, and even the direction of travel matters not.

I am mixed, mixed race.

Some say mixed up. I don’t, I am privileged, though sometimes confused. I certainly discombobulate others, but I’m no nincompoop.



Wendy Manel de Silva, May 2020

WIP (work in progress)


Inhabiting and journeying through the house,

I live in my brown skin – always.

I live in my rusty house, the rust chosen to echo and fix

memories of the disappearing industrial landscape

of my English husband‘s hometown.

It’s been my home for over 15 years.

Like a hermit crab, I’ve found,

sometimes made myself, several homes in London,

the city I landed in, on a BOAC aeroplane in January 1971.

Enoch was dreaming of bloody rivers.

What greeted me on my journey from the airport

was a cold, cold, grey sky

blackish sludge on the edge of the road

and children skating on the duck pond in Broomfield Park.


I’d moved from  Park Road in Havelock Town

named after Arthur Havelock, the British Governor of Ceylon,1890 -1895,

to stay with my generous aunt and her family

in an upper level maisonette in Palmers Green which is named after a field,

Palmer’s Field, in records that date back to 1204.

My parents, eking out their Sri Lankan exchange controlled £50 allowance

lodged in a bedsit nearby.

My two brothers dispatched north, to Manchester, for a sojourn with our maternal grandparents who lived in Fallowfield, neat Platts Fields.

The family rumour is that Nanny was disinherited, why we never found out.

But we learnt, 50 years later, that there were probably two sides to that story.

My Grandpa’s sister spoke Ancient Greek. Her (uncorroborated) history included being headmistress of Manchester Grammar School for Girls.


I did not mean to end up reading like a page out of out of ancestry.co.uk.

Indeed, with a start I realise I can’t nestle in there.

People; kind, curious, nervous, alarmed, racist maybe,

will ask me where I’m from, where I’m really from.

Maybe in one sense they are right,

I’m not really from Highbury in North London.


My art practice is an attempt to answer that question for them.

For me, it’s a question that keeps presenting multiple answers

with shimmering lights and black holes

which I explore when I’m feeling strong.

It’s about living in my skin, more or less comfortably.

It’s about living in this world, on this planet,

from before I was born, to after I am gone.



Wendy Manel de Silva, May 2020


Symphony for the speechless

Aurelia Duplouich May 2020
Sound Collage Duration: 3 min 41 seconds

The idea of making a soundtrack came from being in lockdown in a farm in the French Alps, isolated from any other human beings apart from my own family and two farmers. Like many, I experienced this time as a moment of introspection and because everything around me was about nature, the cycle of life and death became very present.

I started teaching myself how to mix tracks for my vocal harmony group, so my new routine included lots of time spent practising vocal parts, mixing them with others and basically producing music rather than making it.
I began recording sounds of my life here: my kids playing with newborn lambs and shepherds dogs, or walking in the fields, but I have also given them lines to read. They decided it was more fun to act them out. The incredible variety of sounds in an isolated rural place I hope were giving an idea of how beautiful and unspoilt it all was here.

In the same time, we were witnessing death all the time, not just the death toll that was painfully enunciated at the evening news, but also right here, a couple of meters away, a dog dying of old age, chicken eaten by the foxes one night, a baby lamb slaughtered by the shepherds dog because he wouldn’t feed….and more tragically, many pine trees dying of viruses, a direct consequence of recurring droughts and rise in temperature.

The idea of a collage was inspired by Robert Rauschenberg and his view that anything could be used, not just what is aesthetically pleasing. I have, in the same way, left mistakes, spontaneous laughs or curses, background noises and done a very basic editing.

I’d love to continue developing this piece back into a proper 4 parts symphony type composition, and collaborate with a performer/mime or signing-artist to develop a full installation of it. AD

Composition /Voice: Aurelia Duplouich
Piano: Ricardo Gosalbo Guenot
Readings: Evie Raford, Teo Raford, Noah Raford

Image: Aurelia Duploouich – Mapping research
Aurelia - Mapping Research

Recommendations #2

The Encounter is free to watch online from 15 May until 22 May 2020.

The Encounter tells the story of National Geographic photographer Loren McIntyre who, in 1969, became lost in a remote part of the Brazilian rainforest while searching for the Mayoruna people. His encounter was to test his perception of the world, bringing the limits of human consciousness into startling focus.

“We are, as a consequence of this pandemic, bodily cut off from one another. Disconnected. Isolated. But perhaps this sense of our separation one from another, is simply a heightening of what we felt before this all began. We are thinking now, not only about how long this will last, but also what happens on the other side. To reconnect we need, perhaps, to learn to listen more closely. To each other. To our communities. To other cultures. To nature itself. The Encounter is at its heart a story about ‘listening’, not ‘hearing’ but listening; to other, older narratives which, at the deepest level, form who we are, and if we do, we can imagine how we can ‘begin’ again.”

Simon McBurney, Complicité Artistic Director

I saw it at Barbican in 2018 and was under its spell for a long time after. I am really happy to see it return, even if in this substituted form.

Monika Kita

Lockdown Day 19 – Memories through photographs

I remember the sensation of waking and in half sleep tracking the journey of the sunlight moving through the blinds and across the wall. The songs of birds in the trees and the silenced traffic. The skies were cloudless and seemed to be the brightest of blues. Reaching for my camera I crept out of bed and started moving silently around the room, aware of the click of the camera shutter in a still, sleeping house.

Memories of watching the blur of the moving rectangle of light slowly travelling down the tiled shower wall. I remember thinking how beautiful the early morning light was and how something so ordinary could suddenly appear extraordinarily beautiful.

As if it were yesterday, I am transported back to the sensation of moving around almost in a dreamlike state, noticing the early diffused light slowly drifting, casting a blurred palette of muted coloured shadows.

In the early weeks of the lockdown I was very restless and unsettled. Like many people I found it impossible to get back into my year 2 art project. The process of experimenting with photography and filming inside the house, in the garden, and on local walks has helped me to feel more grounded and connect with the desire to respond creatively to the context we are in.

Initially I resisted the idea of creating art as a response to Covid-19 and in many ways have struggled with this – something about the dissonance and discomfort of inhabiting multiple and different worlds – one minute having endless time, enjoying the beauty of found images, taking solace in blue skies and the blossoms of spring, juxtaposed with the impact of the ever present global pandemic like a surreal film projecting in the background of my mind.

I have come to realise that both the context and constraints we find ourselves in as artists will inevitably shape and frame our work, both consciously and unconsciously. I find myself embracing this experience and am valuing the time to be more reflective.

A few weeks ago, during a tutorial with Tony, we reviewed a selection of my photos including the 7 AM images. We discussed ideas around new looking – how something used to be and appears now, the ambiguity and instability of some of the images creating a feeling of not being sure where you are and what you are looking at.

Over the past weeks an emerging theme in my work has been playing with the notion of looking in and out and glimpsing fragments of the world. Photography has become more integral to my artistic practice. I have welcomed a somewhat heightened sensitivity to looking, resulting in a different type of noticing and responding. Currently I am in the process of embarking on making an experimental film, working with fragments of still and moving images, which I hope to put together with a poem or narrative. At the moment I am still in a state of prevarication and finding it easier to work on fragments of things.

Completing writing this blog coincides with reading the following article where acclaimed photographers from around the world share a single image reflecting on their experience of the coronavirus outbreak.


From Inside 22.04.2020. Photograph: © Nadav Kander Courtesy Flowers Gallery

I particularly liked this image by Nadav Kander and his words below:

I find it quite a gentle, poignant image. I like the way the blind drawn between inside and outside asks questions rather than answers them. The clear view would have been less ambiguous, I guess. This is veiled – I think that makes it more alluring.”

I am wondering how the voices of these artists and their chosen images resonate with you.

Fiona Horigan