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contents welcome cover artist blankverse - John Maher blankverse -Karen Lavin blankpicks this month’s mp3 short shorts - Luke Kenyon feature- The Turner Prize blank media presents... spotlight blank media recommends... credits

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cover - original polariod taken from ‘This Boy’s Life’ by Andy Glinka illustrations, unless otherwise stated, copyright Michael Thorp

welcome Welcome to the first issue of blankpages for the new decade. I hope you have all recovered from last month’s festivities and that you said goodbye to the ‘noughties’ in style. For January, our guest Visual Designer is Michael Thorp, an illustrator and artist from Manchester. I’m sure you’ll agree the magazine keeps getting better and better, and this is a trend I intend to continue. This month’s fiction, from Luke Kenyon, has a wonderful, effortless simplicity. It is an enviable talent when an artist can make their work appear in such a way, and I’m very pleased to be publishing more short shorts. If you are reading this, thinking, ‘I’ve got some short short fiction I’d like to be published’ then do send it over – we are always looking for new work to publish. The same goes for the other strands of blankpages – why not make 2010 the year when you really start getting your art out into the world? Aside from emailing us directly, you can create a portfolio on the Blank Media Collective website or even just fill out the contact form on the blankpages section of the site. It’s that easy to start getting your work noticed. Or if you’ve seen a piece of art lately and want to tell the world what you thought about it, you could be writing our next ‘blankpicks’ article. So, Happy New Year, dear readers; I’m looking forward to travelling through the next twelve months with you all. Enjoy!

John Leyland blankpages Editor

Blank Media is kindly supported by &

cover artist Andy Glinka

This Boy’s Life “Photography isn’t perfect, but life isn’t either” - Peter Galassi People often say children grow up too fast and that kids should just enjoy being kids, playing out and not having any worries. This philosophy is something often expressed by adults; yet, it’s the actions of adults that can have a profound effect on how children grow up. For the 1980’s child (which includes myself), one such action that was all too common and that has a lasting effect on children was that of divorce. Although the rates have started to fall – partly due to less people getting married, the fact remains that the break up of the domesticated home affects children more than any other member of the family. My current work deals with the subject of separation and the effect it has on a pre-teen child. Isolation, fear, loneliness, boredom, neglect and depression are constant feelings experienced, as children these feelings can be alien and as a result they are unfamiliar in how to deal with them. The work highlights intimate moments of a child trapped in an adult’s world, struggling to understand the effects of something out of their control. The photographs are shot on SX-70 Polaroid. Polaroid’s have a certain aesthetic that hark back to the past where we reflect on our own childhoods and experiences. The Polaroid also acts as a sacred, found memory, which is otherwise hidden away. It bares the damages and imperfections of domesticated life and invites the viewer to look closely at the images which gives them a sense of intimacy.

Andy Glinka is a fine-art photographer/visual artist based in Manchester, England. Having recently graduated with a BA (hons) in Photography, he successfully continues to produce work that is experimental in both medium and concept. Dealing with both personal and social issues such as loneliness, childhood, escapism, neglect and the everyday, his work is often reflective, challenging the viewer to delve into the world he has captured and asks them to further explore it for themselves. Andy Glinka is currently studying for his post-graduate degree in teaching and has ambitions to complete an MA whilst continuing to have his work publicly shown, having already exhibited locally and in California, USA.

blankverse Wrong Disc by John Maher A man searches for his favourite CD. Finds the case, grabs it, opens the case. Inside the sleeve is his favourite CD. But underneath is another record. An unfamiliar disc. Placing it in the hi-fi he wraps his ears around the sound. Some distant chrome. Some cosmos. A tone of crisp slivers. - abandoned recording studio, long closed railway station Different journey to the one you imagined. Pinpricks dint, embers in empty wavebands. White sheeted interface curls and pops Stabs of goldplucked light. Clink of a cloud, a blackfluffed cotton bud

Frosty scratch morning crisp - sunformed rasp arcade creakiness bursts rusty bleach synth shards blister spiked ruby-glaze flesh notes from other rooms, elsewhere boom the symphonies high-end drum patterns stitched mumbles in washing up bowls jigsaw balloons, quiet church-bell choirs until the friction fissures the stacker system into smithereens.

John Maher was born in Liverpool. He has roamed the streets of Aberystwyth, Cardiff, Manchester and London, but returned home because he missed the smell of the water. He writes poems and short stories about reality without the spam filter on. He likes techno and cats.

FLY BYE by Karen Lavin This morning was the rubbish tip, my little patch of heaven Followed by some dogs’ dirt, thank you to those seven Horse manure in the farmer’s field, straight in – WHAM Next it was the farmer’s house, where I tasted jam I flew around his piggie’s sty and found me some more muck The spider almost got me there, this time I was in luck The farmer’s butties left alone, when he began to wheeze Ham’s the thing I would have chose, but I didn’t mind the cheese Thirsty now I spotted sweat upon the farmer’s brow I flew at him and sapped it up, I’m feeling better now I’ll sit awhile upon some dung, approving of the smells Much better than those scented things humans call bluebells The farmer’s wife is baking cakes, the odour is so strong That’s my cue to get back there, I adore that pong Lemon tarts and apple pies, all good tasty food It smells so good I’ll taste it all, then I won’t be rude She’s spotted me, damn and blast, I know I mustn’t stay This sticky tart ain’t helping me, I can’t get away Oh dear God she’s got that tin, with the smelly stuff Almost killed me back last week, really made me rough Three legs free I’m trying hard, using all my power When I’m safe I’ll have a rest, upon a smelly flower Four legs free she’s getting close, I’m using all my might Her face is tangled, angry now, she’s giving me a fright Five legs free just one to go, there I’ve done it now She’s got the spray an inch away, oh no, holy cow…… It’s hit me hard that rancid stuff, I know I cannot fly I lift leg six to point at her, she laughs as I wave byeeeeeeeeee

Karen Lavin has just hit a magical milestone in age. She has enjoyed writing poetry for family and friends over the years, but after joining COZI WRITERS in Fallowfield run by Steve O’Connor, poetry has become a passion – the more diverse the better.  Karen is also a regular attendee at FREED UP in Manchester.  This poem is the first to be published and she is quite excited about it!

blankpicks: Anish Kapoor By Mark Devereux

After a very busy month or so preparing for the launch of our new website, I treated myself to a trip down to London. As well as catching up with my wonderful cousin, I was able to visit the Turner Prize at Tate Britain, Anish Kapoor at the Royal Academy and Sophie Calle at Whitechapel Gallery. As Petra has done such a good job reviewing the Turner Prize, I will not bore you with my views, except for that my vote would have gone with Lucy Skaer. Instead my blankpick for this month is the work of Anish Kapoor. An artist that won the Turner Prize in 1991, Anish Kapoor has gone on to amaze the world with his aweinspiring works. During an interview on BBC’s Imagine with Alan Yentob, Kapoor stated that his aim was to enable the participants to bring themselves into his works. Kapoor was clear that he wanted each viewer to bring their own personalities, experiences and understandings into the work. This, in my humble view, is a refreshing change to some artists’ works that you have to know the meanings of before you can understand the work. Looking at the number and demographic of the audience at the Royal Academy that day made me think about whether he may just have cracked it!

Throughout Anish Kapoor’s career, he has created majestic and beguiling sculptures arresting the viewer’s attention. It is very difficult to pick out favourites because there are so many, but for necessities sake, I would like to highlight Shooting into the Corner, Svayambh and Yellow. After all the media coverage around this show, I’m sure you’ve probably heard of him by now but if you don’t know his work, do have a look – it might just change the way you think… For further information on Anish Kapoor please visit his website at

this month’s mp3 This month’s MP3 is called ‘Black Water’ and was written and performed by Salford rock group Samuel Sharp. Visit for more information, songs and information about their gig in Liverpool on January 26th.

“We have no manifesto as a band really. Does anyone? I’m not sure they do. We got together because finding other people who understand how you like to make music and play music is near impossible. Due to biological similarities we almost have to like what we do. What we do is try to be honest. Try to make something that moves us and hopefully in that way it will move other people, whether that’s to tears or to violence depends on the listener I suppose. To describe what we do in terms of genre, I guess you can just say rock and that will suffice... but to accurately define it so that everyone can get a clear mental image/soundscape would be impossible as we rip off so many different bands, and badly too, that it just sounds like us in the end.”

Baby’s Game by Luke Kenyon One mealtime, Yasuaki noticed that his baby son was making hand gestures. Open hand. Closed fist. Two fingers. Open hand. Closed fist. Two fingers. Intrigued, he watched some more and then called to his wife, Miki, who was in the kitchen. ‘Miki! Come and look at’s the baby, he’s making gestures with his hands.’ Miki came in and folded the tea towel, putting it on the table. Looking at her, the baby made the gestures again. ‘Aww, look...he wants to play rock paper scissors with you, Yasu.’ ‘Don’t be daft, he’s 6 months old. He can’t even talk yet.’ The baby looked at his father, then mother, then made the gestures again. ‘Coincidence,’ Yasuaki mumbled. ‘Go on, play with him,’ Miki said, sitting down next to the baby. ‘Come on then,’ Yasuaki sighed and moved closer to the high chair. Unconsciously assuming a dumb face, he counted very slowly and deliberately, waving his hand. ‘One...two...THREE!’ He looked down and blinked. The baby’s paper beat his rock. The baby looked nonplussed. ‘Ok, one, two, THREE!’ Again, paper beat rock. They played again. This time Yasuaki chose scissors, but the baby chose rock. Yasuaki - paper, baby - scissors. Yasuaki - rock, baby - paper. Yasuaki - scissors, baby - rock. And so it continued. They played for half an hour, and the baby won every single hand without drawing once. Miki, her washing up forgotten, was staring at her child and her husband alternately. Had she been educated, she would have known that the odds of such a thing would be very long indeed - nigh on impossible. Yasuaki had gone through amusement, shock, anger and back to shock and had stamped off into the kitchen to find something to drink. Miki took her baby in her arms and mollycoddled him a little. ‘Whoooo’s a clever little boy, eeeeh? How did you doooo it?’ she said in her silliest mother voice, more to herself than to the baby. ‘Eeeeh? How did you dooo it?’ Baby wanted to tell her that his father, as a rather lazy, unsophisticated and often aggressive man, relied unconsciously on rock, due the primitive and masculine connotations it holds. From this, he could calculate a simple formula, knowing that the subtle, peaceful paper would only be used arbitrarily and not as a tactical weapon, and that the practical, controlled aggression of scissors, often employed when winning, wouldn’t be prominent in his father’s very basic tactics. But seeing as he couldn’t talk, all this came out as a drooly ‘ahhhh’, and was lost forever to posterity on the shoulder of his mother’s shirt.

Two Apples On A Tree by Luke Kenyon There were two apples on a tree, in an orchard in a small town in the west of England. One was pale green, and small - about the size of a golf ball. The second was bright green with a gentle wash of pink on one side, and the size and shape you would expect of such an apple. They were friends, and the only two apples left on the tree. One summer morning they were talking, and as is often the case with apple conversations, the mood deepened and there was a tangible sadness in the air. ‘I know that I shouldn’t be sad,’ the smaller apple said quietly, ‘but I can’t help it.’ ‘If you are sad for me,’ the larger apple replied, ‘then you shouldn’t be.’ The small apple thought of a dozen things to say, but they remained as thoughts and died quietly in the warmth of the morning. The small apple knew that his companion would soon be picked and eaten, and this touched him sharply. What use is there in being big and beautiful if it means you will die sooner? The day passed, and the next, and soon the summer had gone. Through the long months of the autumn, alone and unchanged, the smaller apple hung to its branchlet and thought about how transient and maudlin life was for the choicest apples. But in all that time, the small apple never considered that the sadness, the transience and the pain was all its own.

Luke studied Creative Writing at The Bolton Institute (as it was then), and now resides in Kurume, Southern Japan, teaching English to people from 3 to 83. He does all of his writing whilst commuting, loves the way that the gloved hand admonishes the snake in the Blackadder 2 credits, and is currently growing a ridiculous moustache.

I was very excited to visit the Turner Prize exhibition last week. It had been a while since I visited Tate Britain and I got in the mood for the show by reading some reviews of the Turner Prize on the train from Manchester to London. All thanks to Blank Media as I was a lucky winner of a ticket to the Prize Exhibition! There is always a huge media circus surrounding the Turner Prize and more around the Prize itself then the artists or even their art, which should be the focus. The nominees for the Turner Prize are announced early in the year when the public can cast their votes, the chosen four are then shown in the exhibition in Tate Britain and the winner announced early December (7 December this year, broadcast live on Channel 4). The artists are chosen on the basis of their work in the preceding year and the prize is awarded in this way too, although I cannot help but feel that the show must have some impact on the result as well. It is only when the works of art go on show that the general public gets a whiff of what is going on and often controversy starts. I remember sitting in a taxi a number of years ago on my way to work having a heated discussion with the driver about Tracey Emin’s unmade bed. Everyone knew about that work and not many people had something good to say about it. I thought it was genius. I didn’t find it shocking, perhaps a little provoking, it certainly had everyone talking about it and I think that is one of my marks of good art, in that it engages. With many of the works nominated for the Turner Prize the question is often asked “Is it Art?” - I will not go into this. I will also not point out the whole political circus surrounding the Prize and the Tate Gallery but hope that you will see and judge the works of art for yourself. I suppose that the few works of art on show do not entirely reflect the artists’ oeuvre and the onus is therefore on the public to do their research and make up their mind. However not everyone will undertake this and the show is often taken at face value. Crudely spoken it has a bit of an X Factor factor (you either love it or hate it) for many members of the general public.

feature - The Turner Prize By Petra Hoschtitzky 6 October – 3 January 2010 Tate Britain

Anyway, here is my humble opinion. I had an interesting experience whilst viewing the show in that I had two little monkeys with me; a five and a seven year old, who were supposed to be looked after elsewhere but somehow this didn’t work out.

Enrico David, A Theatre of the Tolerated 2007 Courtesy the artists, Cabinet, London and Galerie Daniel Buchholz, Cologne / Berlin © Enrico David

It made for different ways of viewing. I remember discussing a soldier’s spear in a Klimt painting with my little boy last year in the Tate Liverpool. He was fascinated by the work for entirely different reasons but nonetheless appreciated the art and that’s how it was at the Turner Prize. In fact I was quite pleased that my girl monkey was there; she never misses a beat and will point out things that I would have overlooked otherwise such as a work above the doorway by Richard Wright. Back to the art though. The four artists nominated for this year’s £25,000 prize were Enrico David, Roger Hiorns, Lucy Skaer and Richard Wright. On the basis of what I have seen at the Tate I would find it hard to make a decision. I was impressed with the mosaic style spiral drawings on a life size photograph of a whale skeleton by Lucy Skaer however I found the other works on show not that impressive and not that original. The installation of a skull of a sperm whale behind a partitioned screen was interesting to look at, especially for the little ones, but it didn’t top a Damien Hirst and as for the other works, I felt that I had seen it all before. I did like the large gold leaf wall marking by Richard Wright; apparently this was his largest and most intricate work to date. I really do like his work but if I had seen this particular work perhaps ten years ago I would have been more impressed. With the current trend for a similar style of ‘baroque yet minimal’ patterned wallpaper, now even available at B&Q, I judged it more as decoration rather than a work of art. I narrowly missed his second work on display (I believe they were a matching pair of marks) but thankfully my little girl pointed it out to me. It wasn’t in an obvious place, which is often the case with his wall drawings; only noticeable when looking back, like Lot’s wife. This is something I rarely do and having seen the large one on the opposite wall, the smaller work appeared almost as an afterthought. If there were any other works, they would have been too slight for the two of us to notice. Enrico David’s papier mache rocking egg-men were quite stunning. I did find his works slightly harder to explain to the little ones, as he uses gay pornography as a reference, and although not that obvious to the untrained eye, it didn’t escape mine. I can’t remember what I made up for the little ones; they seemed to like it though. I probably have a soft spot for David’s works because he uses textiles and the works often put a smile on my face.

Roger Hiorns, Untitled 2008 courtesy the artist and Corvi-Mora, London © Roger Hiorns Photo: Marcus Leith, London

Roger Hiorns failed to impress me, I have to say. He was nominated on the basis of Seizure, his transformation of a dilapidated South London council flat. He flooded this with 90,000 litres of copper sulphate solution, allowing blue crystals to form on the surfaces, thus pulling in science into his art. Clever and pretty, I have to admit. However, I wasn’t altogether bowled over on the day. The dust heap of the jet engine may have been skilfully achieved; I only noticed the dusty footprints next to it, wondering if the public had been allowed to walk through it or not. Also I am not disturbed by the fact that a sturdy plane can end up cremated like humans, although absolutely dreadful I think we all know what can happen to these flying birds in the sky; it wasn’t a new bit of information for me. I felt that I needed to have a lot more background about the artist and what he was trying to achieve and not base my opinion on what I saw. However when the information isn’t on hand it is hard to understand what you are looking at. Now, you might say I should have done my homework but I really wanted to view the show with an open eye; making my mind up from what I had seen, as I know the majority of the public were. Judging this way, again I felt there wasn’t anything new as such. I remember seeing Joseph Beuys’ work for the first time in the Eighties in Germany and at the end of the day that mainly consisted of materials like the works of Hiorns but somehow Beuys’ work was new, original, and I really wanted to find out where he was coming from. I didn’t get that at Tate Britain.

Lucy Skaer, Black Alphabet part of The Siege commissioned by Chisenhale Gallery London 2008 © Courtesy of the artist and doggerfisher, Edinburgh

I have had many favourite Turner Prize winners and nominees in the past: Gilbert & George, Richard Long, Anish Kapoor, Antony Gormley, Damien Hirst, Gillian Wearing, Chris Ofili, Wolfgang Tillmans and the Chapman brothers. In recent years one of my favourite artists to have won the prize is Grayson Perry. I find his works truly original, very clever with a lot of history behind them and pleasing to the eye (even combining art and craft!) and engaging. For me, that sums up a great work of art. And by pleasing to the eye I do not mean pretty; it has to have some form of aesthetic. I do not wish to get bored when viewing a work of art. I didn’t like to make a statement as to whom I would or would not have chosen for this year’s Turner Prize so I left it to my monkeys. Thankfully art is debatable, and what impresses and pleases one can shock someone else. I cannot explain what does it for me, as someone bordering on becoming an animal rights activist, I have to admit that Merit Oppenheim’s furry cup and saucer in the Metropolitan in New York is amongst my favourite works of art. Having worked in the art auction world I seem to

pick out the ones that are commercial for various reasons. So I asked my little monkeys what they thought of the Turner Prize nominees and they put Lucy Skaer on top of the list with Enrico David in second place. Opinions from the next generation of art patrons; telling or what? And so it was with great interest that I watched Channel 4 news to await the announcement of the Turner Prize Winner 2009. This year attendance of the show had been up, as is common in an economic crisis I have been told. Apparently the world turns to art to give us an insight into ourselves when things are hard, according to Sir Nicholas Serrota. I’m not sure if the community in the East End of London or Moss Side would agree with this. Carol Ann Duffy was thrilled to make the announcement of the prize that celebrates the best of contemporary art each year. She went on to say that the Turner Prize exhibition challenges environmental issues and the changing universe, and questions society; and then announced that Richard Wright was this year’s winner. I was a little taken aback. Partly because I think it is a waste that the work gets destroyed after the show. It took the artist and four assistants four weeks to install this immense work, starting with an elementary drawing and meticulously adding in the gold leaf. I hope that Carol Ann Duffy remembers what she said when the work gets painted over and I would hope that for next year the panel will also consider the question of waste: waste of time, waste of materials and waste of money. It was interesting that when asked, the artist couldn’t quite explain how he makes his money. I couldn’t answer this either. Although beautifully executed, I wish a work had been made to liven up a children’s home or hospital ward. In my opinion it would then fulfil a number of requirements of a work of art. It could lead to contemplation and it would certainly not be a waste. I am not indicating that a work of art should last forever and many simply don’t, performance art or temporary installations spring to mind but I would hope that art will become more accessible to the general public and I am not sure that the comments made at the press announcement and the money handed over to an artist whose work will be destroyed will find favour amongst the public in times of economic crisis.

Richard Wright, Untitled 2009 Private Collection, California © Richard Wright. Courtesy of Gagosian Gallery, London/New York, The Modern Institute/Toby Webster Ltd, Glasgow, and BQ, Berlin

blank media presents...

Nadia Lowe

The concert opens with a performance from Manchester-based singer-songwriter Nadia Lowe and tonight she is playing what she describes as her winter set. The songs are slow, icy, pop numbers which she delivers solo, accompanied by a CD of computerised backing tracks. It’s all rather nice, inoffensive stuff, but I can’t help feeling there needs to be more for the audience to get their teeth into. Nadia obviously has bags of talent but she looks slightly intimidated, alone on stage. I would much prefer to see her play her songs with a great band behind her in order to realise their full potential, of which there is plenty with that warm, soulful voice and sweet melody. Unfortunately, the set is also marred by the constant chatter of a group of rowdy punters, seemingly oblivious to the music. Maybe with a few extra musicians on the stage, and a bit more volume, she would be able to engage them a little more successfully. The Bear Around Your Neck

Nadia is followed on stage by The Bear Around Your Neck, who is your typical harmonica/guitar/vocals, folk-singer. And he does a fine job of it too. He resembles a young Bob Dylan, and not just because of the harmonica, he also has the big hair and flair for a great tune. Other influences are implied, like the vaguely Morrissey-ish melody in the closing number and an ever-present vibe of something that would fit on the ‘Juno’ soundtrack. The lyrics are interesting tales and while they are occasionally mumbled into indecipherability, it is at no cost to the quality of the performance. The vocal lines and guitar parts are very nicely melodic all the way through, with thorough attention to detail having been paid to the effective song-structures. The Bear Around Your Neck has plenty of stuff available on the internet so go and find it.

Nadia Lowe The Bear Around Your Neck Janx: The Gathering words by Dan Bridgwood-Hill photographs courtesy of Gareth Hacking

Tonight’s third and final act is something of a curveball considering the previous two song-singing types, and it comes in the form of psyche-funk-noise quartet Janx: The Gathering. Blank Media Presents regulars would have recognised half of the band as members of Id Of Mobius who played the show in September. The cosmic drones they were emitting that night are back again, but this time with the addition of drums and guitar. The drummer is an incredibly skilful musician and spends most of his time kicking out ridiculously funky grooves, a perfect backbone for the others to improvise over. It brings to mind bands like Battles or Manchester’s own A Middle Sex, who manage to combine dance rhythms with all sorts of weird and wonderful electronics. At times it would be nice if there was a bass guitar, duelling with the drummer, and at times the set wanders dangerously close to loosing direction, a common pitfall that successful improvisers are able to avoid. But sure enough, the drummer and guitarist seem to know exactly when to throw a new riff in. Despite there not being any dancing, the Janx party was a fitting end to another fine Saturday night at Fuel. Janx: The Gathering

Reflective Landscapes 1

Spotlight Peter Hiett

Reflective Landscapes 2

I’m a Cheshire based artist who has been mainly working in and around Manchester. I studied fine art sculpture at Leeds University where I became fascinated with minimalist art, geometric patterns and producing system based art works. After leaving Leeds and moving back to Cheshire I became interested in exploring my rural environment and how I could make work which would compliment the already beautiful landscapes.

Dream 1

Dream 2

I have all ways had a fascination with exploring light and space, an ongoing need to look at how they relate to one another. This project consists of a set of striking and surreal images, which explore how landscapes can be manipulated through the use of photography. All the pictures are genuine photographs and revolve around reflections and how they can be used to visually move parts of the landscape into areas where they don’t belong. The reflections I have worked with range from soft dream like images caught as sunlight bounces of a murky pool, to a hard edged mirror projecting blue skies into the dark shadow cast by the trunk of a large old oak tree.

blank media recommends...

sixty_six_events Thursday 21st January, 0:00 - Thursday 21st January, 23:59

Worldwide in january 2008 six_events was performed over 6 days in 29 countries. on january 21st 2010, anyone, anywhere in the world can take part in sixty_six_events, a 24-hour performance, starting at 00:00 and ending at 23:59 any of the 66 instructions/events are to be interpreted however you wish and can be documented freely r e a d. r e s p o n d. r e l a x. r e p e a t. for more information and links to myspace/facebook/ youtube/twitter, please go to: for a reminder closer to the event send an email with REMIND in the subject to:

credits Blank Media Collective Team: Director: Mark Devereux Financial Administrator: Martin Dale Development: Dwight Clarke Information Manager: Sylvia Coates Web Manager: Simon Mills Exhibitions Coordinators: Jamie Hyde, Marcelle Holt & Claire Curtin Special Projects Coordinator: Petra Hoschtitzky Official Photographer: Gareth Hacking Blank Media Presents... Manager: Iain Goodyear Blank Media Presents...: Steve Goossens Blank Media Collective Intern: Victoria Jones

blankpages Team: Editor: John Leyland Fiction Editor: Phil Craggs Poetry Editor: Baiba Auria Music Editor: Dan Bridgwood-Hill Guest Visual Designer: Michael Thorp

blankpages Issue 18  

Andy Glinka / John Maher / Karen Lavin / Samuel Sharp / Luke Kenyon / Petra Hoschtitzky / Peter Hiett / Michael Thorp Welcome to a new deca...

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