When I saw the Soho Theatre was staging a piece of new writing about queer love, I jumped at the chance to attend. My expectations going in were a little guarded; I’m a keen advocate of promoting up-and-coming theatre, but the calibre of writing can differ wildly. That said, the show matched the tone of its blurb: it was fun, energetic, at moments tender, and within the burgeoning canon of queer writing, unfortunately quite clichèd.

The premise is this: Juniper is an out-and-proud lesbian, with a reputation for turning the pretty heads of bicurious women. Meanwhile, Jules has never been with a girl before. They meet at a club and fall madly in love. At the centre of the piece is the question of monogamy: Juniper, who sources comfort in order and routine, isn’t naturally drawn to the unpredictability of opening up her relationship. Jules, the more outgoing and sparky of the two, doesn’t want to limit herself. When the couple starts experimenting with non-monogamy, they are forced to confront the issues in their relationship both inside and outside the bedroom.

The performance of a play about lesbian desire at an established venue in Soho is a phenomenon belonging very much to the contemporary moment. The directorial vision of Bethany Pitts echoed the modernity of the production by making ample use of imaginative physical theatre and non-traditional staging. The audience sat on chairs on both sides of the auditorium, with Juniper (Stella Taylor) and Jules (Gabriella Schmidt) constantly changing orientation so to engage all. The only stage-piece was an oval platform, which often represented the couple’s shared bed. When physically separated and forced to communicate over text, Juniper and Jules stand at opposite ends of the stage, each facing a different part of the audience, so as to enact their distance.

Much of the play illustrates the physical interactions of the two young lovers, with copious use of sexual imagery. The effect was often comedic, but the staging was often so graphic that it verged on gratuitous. Taylor and Schmidt had great chemistry, but I do wonder if we needed to see quite so much. It felt like Pitts was making a spectacle of two women being intimate, so unabashed was the choreography. This felt like a politicised choice, inviting shock for the apparent radicality of watching lesbians have sex on stage. Although the choreography was realistic and avoided the sorts of representation aimed at the male gaze, I still found that amidst a mixed-gender audience the viewing experience was uncomfortable.

Thankfully, the play also captured the gentle affection shared by the couple, as well as the inevitable bickering and eruptions of frustration that come with the territory of living with your partner. What undermined my enjoyment of these scenes is that a lot of the dialogue was cringe-worthy. In fact, it smelled suspiciously of a middle-aged playwright attempting to invoke the cadences of dating in your twenties. Taylor dealt with the tonal woodenness of the script better than Schmidt, whose intonation was irritatingly repetitive. Nevertheless, the physical chemistry of the two actors carried the show forward, even when the writing let them down.

Beyond my issues with the script and staging, I found the central premise of ‘Juniper and Jules’ somewhat problematic. I conjecture that the play relied far too much on the theme of lesbian love for commercial success as its advertising was heavily reliant on queerness. Honestly, I’m not convinced that it really is all that new and radical for an edgy theatre in liberal London to put on a show about two white lesbians, with no apparent money concerns or class conflict. Juniper does briefly allude to past experiences of homophobic violence, at which Jules is shocked and upset. No real-life woman in a queer relationship is shocked to hear those sorts of stories. Juniper and Jules seem to have no awareness of their privilege: their main problem is whether their relationship can sustain the sexual inclusion of others, which is a terribly white and middle-class problem to have.

Perhaps to a more mainstream audience less sensitive to the emerging clichés that dominate representations of queerness, such issues would be less offensive. Perhaps, also, the play simply doesn’t aim to navigate intersectional oppressions, simply finding joy in one instance of lesbian love. To the play’s credit, it was very successful in invoking delight, even if it was at the expense of realism. Despite its reliance on tropes in need of further investigation, ‘Juniper and Jules’ was an undeniably exciting watch.

Juniper and Jules was on at the Soho Theatre from 3 May – 14 May 2022. You can visit the theatre’s website here to see what’s on next: https://sohotheatre.com

Jules and Juniper production image by Photographer Ali Wright.

Sophia Sheera is a writer interested in migration, cultural citizenship, displacement and queerness with a focus on Central Asia and Northern India. Sophia is inspired by talking to the people whose stories are sidetracked by sensationalist headlines, and as such aspires to share those counter-narratives through political journalism.

If. Destroyed. Still. True. tells the epic story of modern everyday lives and asks what happens when the place you were born can no longer be called home. James (Theo Ancient) is home from University with his new girlfriend Charlotte (Whitney Kehinde) and they can’t wait to reunite with John (Jack Condon), James’ best friend. But things have changed since they last met and none of them know yet how significant this day will be for the rest of their lives.

The play is intended to spring an emotional response to the topic of migration in general and makes the point that it is very much a current issue. It’s about displacement, people moving from one place to another; but also about stagnation, which is convincingly illustrated by the character of John, whose words and actions often don’t fit his thoughts and feelings.

Set atop an Essex coastline cliff, this is a three-part play that covers three visits James makes back home to Essex over the course of eight years.  The first time shows him bringing his new girlfriend Charlotte- an utterly classist, metropolitan elitist, and pretentious young black girl to meet his family. She is introduced to his best mate John- a full-blown Essex boy who likes to feed stray cats behind Morrisons and has adopted a hedgehog. The second visit is after Charlotte and James are married, where they check in on John, after a drink driving accident, which left him limping. The third and last visit is with a heavily pregnant Charlotte where James tries to come to terms with what has happened to John. This is for the audience to discover as the story draws to a close.

With the audience on three sides of a runway-style stage (designed by Anna Kelsey), there’s a closeness and intimacy that is impossible to escape from. The play covers a spectrum of difficult topics like mental health and social alienation that lend themselves well to cliché dialogues that dominate the script. James addresses John in the first act, inviting him to walk out of the “shit hole” he’s trapped in just as he has done. As if John could.

After this, John and Charlotte no longer speak. This means that Kehinde is absent from part two where we see the boys’ struggle to reconcile with one another, and the difficulties they face trying to understand who they were once, and to accept who they are now.

As life pulls childhood best mates apart, we bear witness to a dramatic ending and we realize what we stand to lose when we cannot truly communicate. Finding peace and quiet sometimes is farfetched. Jack Condon gives an altogether heartfelt and thoughtful performance as John. We are inclined to empathize with him as he is the character that faces challenges both visible and invisible. His presence is engrossing as he bludgeons his way through nuances of chronic vulnerability and with the false confidence of a man who is fundamentally unsure and in need of help. Theon Ancient portrays a more materially successful but similarly unsure James.  His character lacks depth and is devoid of any light or shade, partly due to the constraints of the cliché-ridden dialogues. They make a sad pair that simultaneously connect us to people who may not be on the same path.

The character of Charlotte gets a chance to redeem herself in the latter half of the performance. Now pregnant, we see a rich and tender woman who has been woven into the two men’s unhealthy web. It’s a renewed portrayal of Charlotte charged with stereotyped feminity. Had she tried harder in having a relationship with her husband’s best friend and soulmate, could things between John and James, as well as between her and James gone differently?

As we come to know the characters in different stages of their lives, we see that underneath the mask and layers there’s a fundamental question of what is left when apologies, justifications, goodwill, reasoning, courtesy and forbearance wear thin.

Jack Condon, Whitney Kehinde, Theo Ancient / Photography by Alex Brenner, Jawbones Theatre – If Destroyed Still True at Hope Theatre

Check out behind the scenes footage of the play here – www.thehopetheatre.com

Reviewed by Rachele Nizi- After completing her MA in Reception of the Classical World at UCL, Rachele joined Abundant Art as a creative writer. Her British and Italian origins have inspired her to want to study Art History and European Literature, with an interest in the afterlife of antiquity in the Western tradition.

Tradition and modernity are two concepts that have always been intertwined in the arts. Many artists through the ages have struggled with their relationship with new and old, with canon and creativity. Mark Ravenhill’s reinvention of Puccini’s “La Bohème” plays with this notion by transposing a 19th Century Italian Opera piece to a much more modern stage, for the much more modern small audience of social drinkers of the King’s Head Pub. Queerness, dating apps and modernised dialogue brilliantly mix with the much more atemporal themes of tormented love, loneliness and the difficulties of young adult life.

The story starts with the introduction of the writer Robin (Daniel Koek), who is stuck writing cheap erotica while his sculptor friend Marcus (Matt Kellett) complains about not being able to sell any of his ridiculously ugly artworks. The two friends are heading to a Christmas Eve pub party, but Robin stays behind to meet his Grindr hookup “Mimi”, aka Lucas (Philip Lee). Their palpable awkwardness turns into sparkling chemistry as they duet a reprise of “Che gelida manina” (”What a cold little hand”), and Robin invites Mimi to the pub. At the party, we are introduced to Marcus’s flamboyant ex Marissa (Grace Nyandoro), and similarly to Mimi and Robin, the two ex-lovers get back together by the end of the song. But as foreshadowed by the many flashing scenes where we randomly see Mimi in a hospital surrounded by nurses, tragedy will soon strike the group of friends. The financial struggles, Marissa’s cheating, Mimi’s HIV and alcoholism and Robin’s overprotectiveness all collide in a dramatic turmoil, and yet love and relationships always come out triumphant.

If I were to define the production in a few keywords, it would be as a game of contrasts. Tragedy is paired with comedy; the epic flirts with the mundane; past mixes with present; lyricism encounters vulgarity and the grandiosity of Opera is transposed to the more intimate space of a small pub theatre. Overall, everything was married together with brio, as weird as it may be at first to hear an opera singer vocalise about how they almost “swiped left” on their Grindr match.

The set and costume design were a curious aspect of the story: the setting was a hospital ward and all the characters except Mimi were dressed as nurses, although almost none of the scenes are set in a hospital and the characters aren’t nurses. This stylistic choice was a bit confusing plot-wise, but it cleverly foreshadows the story’s tragic finale in a hospital, which the play hints at multiple times. The public starts to get the uneasy feeling that it will probably not end well for their protagonists. The central aspect of the performance, however, was the vocal prowesses of the actors. The score (David Eaton) is a simplified piano version of Puccini’s original orchestra and chorus, which creates a purer version of the harmony, leaving space for the vocal performances to shine. Philip Lee beautifully expressed the pathetic and tragedy of his character, and his singing performance incorporated all of Mimi’s vulnerability while still delivering some impressively strong notes. Grace Nyandoro’s character was truly a breath of fresh air, both due to her dynamic, more cheerful singing and the fact that she was the only female soprano. Matt Kellet was also given a more lighthearted role and delivered comedy with perfect rhythm and vocal range. Daniel Koek filled the shoes of the main character perfectly, and the fervour and technicality of his performance carried most of the emotional weight of the scenes.

Overall, the play definitely stands out from the many other representations of “La Bohème”. It manages to transpose a story that has still much to communicate to modern audiences and “dust it off” in order to make it more accessible, relatable and inclusive. Tickets are available at https://kingsheadtheatre.com/whats-on/la-bohme.

Photo / Brittain Photography

Reviewed by Céline Galletti- Celine is a volunteer writer for Abundant Art. Originally from France and Italy, she follows her passion for writing and art by studying Comparative Literature at UCL, London. As an international student living in London, she is determined to fully experience and understand the city’s vibrant arts scene, and be a part of its creative storm.

As suggested by the title “The Misfortune of the English” written by Pamela Carter is a true story of misfortune, unfortunate tragedy and catastrophic disaster. In 1936, 27 English schoolboys embarked on a school trip through the Black Forest in prewar Nazi Germany led by their teacher Mr Keast. The story is told through the eyes of three young boys,  Lyons (played by Matthew Tennyson), Eaton (played by Vinnie Heaven)  and Harrison (played by Hubert Burton); they begin the journey full of the youthfulness, mischief and naivety typical of teenage boys. However, as the boys trudge through the black forest, the winds become stronger and the group becomes engulfed by the icy cold – warned by German locals that the path they walked upon was too dangerous and they should turn back, Mr Keasts ignores these warnings. Blinded by stubborn patriotism and ideas of masculinity, Mr Keasts is determined to continue along this path with the naive boys who follow him eagerly, guiding them upon the mulish premise that the supremacy of the English means they are powerful enough able to push through even the most deadly situation. However, these foolish notions of English exceptionalism are not enough to prevent the death and catastrophe that lies ahead.

The first half of the play is full of the vibrant, and playful energies of our three protagonists, fooling around and joking with one another, and proudly expressing their excitement to be representing their school and their country in the “foreign air” of Germany. By the second half of the play, this energy begins to fade from innocent and playful and turns to grave and solemn, at one point the boys sing “I’ll Stand by You” in an attempt to keep up spirits. However, pride, passion and patriotism are not enough to push through such a situation.   Pamela Carter makes evident the political connotations of the play, through the snide remarks towards Lyons, who is Jewish,  the passionate nature of the boys towards their school and country and the English exceptionalism that Mr Keats uses to encourage his boys. On the surface, the story seems to be merely about young innocent boys who looked up to a foolish and irresponsible teacher who led them towards their deaths, but more than that it is a story about imperialism and the faults of arrogant patriotism.

The set, score lighting for the play remains rather simple. Most of the play takes place on the plain stage, with the lighting dimming during the intervals where tourist information about the Black Forest plays. The focus is mainly on the performance and personalities of the three boys and how they develop throughout the events.

Pamela Carter was inspired to write the play through a Guardian article about the research of  Bernd Hainmuller, a historian who has written about the event. Carter has managed to create a play that greatly showcases the political implications of the event as well as the unfortunate and avoidable nature of the tragedy.

The Misfortune of the English is playing at Orange Tree Theatre until May 28. Tickets are available here: https://orangetreetheatre.co.uk/whats-on/the-misfortune-of-the-english/

Photo by Ellie Kurttz

Reviewed by Lian Lakhope. Lian is a MA Global Media and Communications student at SOAS and a volunteer writer for Abundant Art. Lian has written for a number of different publications, mostly about music, culture and film and she is enthusiastic about expressing her passion for creating art and media.

‘My Two Voices’ is a documentary film reflecting on identity fluidity. It focuses on three Latin American women, Ana, Claudia and Marinella who share their intimate experiences of moving to Canada. When exploring the deeper reason for migration, the script focuses on their daily domestic lives, forming a fragmented picture of their exterior and interior lives.

Even though the three women are drawn from different backgrounds they have much in common. All three emphasise recurring elements of violence, belonging, motherhood and reconciliation in their lives. Filmmaker Lina Rodriguez named the film ‘My Two Voices’ because she highlights the links between identity and language in the narrative. The two voices in the title refer to their Spanish mother tongue and the newly adapted English language they learned in Canada. As it progresses, ‘My Two Voices’ reveals more of the women’s lives and personalities, gradually forming intimate family portraits in the closing moments.

The film combines carefully composed close-ups of hands and faces alongside contemplative imagery of private and public spaces. These take us deeper into the story with layers of subtle angles instead of merely presenting a linear perspective. With these detailed shots, we get the finer nuances of the actors’ facial expressions. This complements the subtle layers that Rodriguez conveys to her audience through ‘My Two Voices’. This prompts the audience into their own interpretation of the storyline.

The film does not express sympathy for the protagonists’ experiences to a great extent.  Rodriguez plays with the angles of the camera to narrate a calm story. However, behind the calm, the unsettled experiences of the protagonists can be felt. The women are tenacious and that filters through the projected calm.

Rodriguez is a Colombian-Canadian filmmaker and has directed six short films and three features, which have been showcased in festivals and cultural venues including the Berlin International Film Festival, Toronto International Film Festival and the New York Film Festival. Rodriguez fully and deeply tells the story of complex identity crisis and feminist issues in a brilliant cinematic language and is undoubtedly worthy of praise. However lengthy dialogues interspersed with voiceovers slow down the film. A special mention goes to the film’s critical thinking and thoughtful visual arts and that is the greatest takeaway from the film.

For more information and to watch the trailer of ‘My Two Voices’ click here: www.ica.art/films/my-two-voices

Reviewed by Jiajing Yang. Yang is a MA Documentary-Fiction student at UCL and a volunteer writer for Abundant Art. Yang has written several different articles on the WeChat platform and Zhihu website, mostly about film and literature, and she has published a romantic novel based on ancient China. 

Sarah Ruhl’s adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s Orlando is joyfully brought to life under the creative direction of Stella Powell-Jones at the Jermyn Street Theatre. Woolf’s lyricism is preserved through the sprightly dialogue of the chorus, whilst Taylor McClaine’s Orlando is gallant and charming. The chorus deftly switches roles and infuses life into small props cleverly hidden in costumes or hung on the stage wall. The actors moved with synchronicity and speed, making for a spell-bound audience.

The play began as does Woolf’s original text: with a sixteen-year-old Orlando in a noble duel with an imaginary foe. The first half of the show chronicles Orlando’s ascent to court under the adoration of the Queen; his unrealized poetic ambitions; his love for, and betrayal by Sasha. Tigger Blaize is a gloriously crusty Elizabeth I, whilst Skye Hallam’s Sasha is pantomimically conniving. Rushed off to Constantinople to escape the affections of a Romanian nobleman, Orlando wakes up one day transformed into a woman; just as we are to see the lady herself, as of yet concealed in shadow by a sheet-turned-curtain, the lights dim for the interval. Orlando’s sex change is the central conceit of Woolf’s novel; the timing of the interval neatly captures the immensity of Orlando’s transformation. When the second half of the play begins, our protagonist’s metamorphosis is complete, and the cast’s assumption of female pronouns as they guide Orlando’s story is seamless.

The second half lagged a little where the first brilliantly kept its momentum. Here, the plot skipped over various parts of Woolf’s novel: this Orlando returns quite simply to British high society, without her further adventures chronicled in the original. Orlando’s marriage to Stanton Wright’s deliciously effeminate Marmaduke also feels somewhat rushed in comparison with the attention lavished upon the earlier affair with Sasha. McClaine’s Lady Orlando doesn’t quite conjure the same affection as does the boyish charm of Orlando the nobleman. It would have added to the play if McClaine had done more with the female Orlando; as it was, she stood a little insipid in comparison to her former brilliance.

Although Orlando is the hero(ine) of the play, the chorus deserves huge credit. Rosalind Lailey, Stanton Wright and Tigger Blaize jumped between characters and speakers with infectious energy. Their performances were much more varied than McClaine’s, which speaks mostly to the difference between the chorus and protagonist. However, at times it was obvious that McClaine is a less experienced actor; indeed, the play marks their professional debut. That said, McClaine brought a youthfulness and charm to Orlando quite true to Woolf’s original. The casting of a young, non-binary actor at the beginning of their career very much fits the role: no doubt, Taylor McClaine is destined for great things.

The beauty of this production lies for me, in the vivacity of the actors’ performances, aided by dialogue that was lyrical without being pretentious, comedic, if at times overly camp. The Jermyn Street Theatre made for an intimate viewing experience, although I found that the actors might have enjoyed a bigger stage. Ruhl’s adaptation foregoes some of the more serious tenors of Woolf’s novel, prizing the theatrical over the reflective; but under the guidance of Powell-Jones, tonight’s performance of Orlando made for a mesmerising watch.

Orlando is on at the Jermyn Street Theatre in Soho from 28 April – 28 May 2022. Ticket info here: www.jermynstreettheatre.co.uk 

Rosalind Lailey, Taylor McClaine & Stanton Wright in Orlando at Jermyn Street Theatre – photography by Steve Gregson.

Sophia Sheera is a writer interested in migration, cultural citizenship, displacement and queerness with a focus on Central Asia and Northern India. Sophia is inspired by talking to the people whose stories are sidetracked by sensationalist headlines, and as such aspire to share those counter-narratives through political journalism.

The first work catches your eye as you ascend the stairs to the gallery. Just outside the exhibition, you are met with a wall covered in fluorescent pastel flowers, a bright orange chair sitting to one side and a note, hand-written on the wall saying ‘Thanks’. ‘Thank You Darling’ sees Camden Art Centre present one of the Netherlands’ most celebrated contemporary artist, Lily Van der Stokker, for the first time in a London institution. 

The exhibition brings together works made by Van der Stokker over the last 35 years exploring society, home, caregiving, families, friendships and work. Often tiny preliminary sketches and plans are shown alongside final works painted directly on the wall. This exchange between the small and large is delightfully playful – causing you to peer in or step back to take in the works. In the final space, one wall painting covers the entire double-height wall, engulfing the viewer as they gaze up. On the other side of the space, a small piece of text is written above an object suspended halfway up the wall – almost impossible to view unless on tip-toes. 

Despite this seemingly-spirited approach, once up close, the works often feel melancholic. They talk of stifling expectations, strained families and in the more recent works, the global pandemic. Van der Stokker resists these dark feelings with brightly coloured motifs; flowers, clouds, spots and stripes. The artist utilises items from the everyday; washing machines, pots and pans, and cupboards, to explore the personal and the often-overlooked domestic spaces. Doing so with over-exaggerated sweetness, Van der Stokker exhibits a radical feminist artistic practice unlike no other. 

With no interpretation of texts and only a short opening paragraph about the artist, the exhibition may be difficult for those who prefer to be guided. At times the works feel a little confusing – short pieces of text throwing you off even further ‘Not itchy’, ‘childcare’, ‘bi-ba-ba by boomer’. However, if you are able to stop attempting to unravel meaning, you’re better placed to fully experience the works. ‘Thank You Darling’ is an assault on the senses – in a good way.

‘Lily van der Stokker – Thank You Darling’ is showing at Camden Art Centre until 18 September 2022. Tickets are free and are available to book here.

‘Lily van der Stokker – Thank You Darling’ is supported by Mondriaan Fonds, Cockayne Grants for the Arts and the London Community Foundation, the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands and Thomas and Sabine Casparie.

The kitchen photo was taken by Amy Melling (see her biog below)

Reviewed by Amy Melling – Amy is a Curator and Creative Producer whose practice is centred around community-led arts projects. Her current research is focused on curatorial methods for exhibiting artworks outside. Amy has a keen interest in the arts and recently completed an MA in Curating and Collections at Chelsea College of Arts, UAL.

I first discovered Real Lies via a Spotify suggestion during the latter days of November 2016, drawn in by a well-executed album cover and the cheapness of their name – a well-known clown from my hometown once posted to Facebook, ‘Real Eyes Realise Real Lies’, and the silent ‘lol’ I did to myself as I recalled this convinced me to try them. Over the preceding six months I had finished my A Levels, celebrated my eighteenth birthday, celebrated my results, moved away for university, and discovered the hours between 0300 and 0600 (but not how to cook, clean, or generally manage my life) in that order. And so it was that my wide eyed and rewired brain was magnetised towards the locomotive ‘Dab Housing’ and the metropolitan braggadocio of ‘One Club Town’. ‘I was destined to leave that one club town’, I thought to myself, not aware that avocados and anchovies are not the same thing. Their debut album, Real Life, had been released in 2015, and I waited eagerly in the wings for more music or a tour.

…And I continued to wait until 2018, when they reappeared with ‘The Checks’ to mark the resignation of Arsène Wenger as Arsenal’s manager, and then with a steady but uneventful stream of singles and features, of which some eventually resurfaced on the sophomore Lad Ash this year. Perhaps (read: without a doubt) the inertia of these releases was on account of the pandemic: Real Lies is not club music, but afters music, and without the befores, there can be no afters. And just as the city’s buzz was reduced to a gentle hum, the rush hour immediacy of Real Lies felt incongruous.

Their sold-out show at The Pickle Factory in Cambridge Heath did not come as a surprise, however. As metropolitan life picked up once again, the presence of Real Lies was re-electrified more or less in sync with how the night tube was supposed to. The gig in the cramped space came in a UK tour sandwiched between a headline at The Garage, Islington and Heaven this coming October – both of which are much larger capacity. And as the first homecoming slot less than a week after the release of Lad Ash, optimism and intimacy slithered between the gaps in the crowd. It was a curious bunch of arty types, house-heads, and terrace boys, with little crossover, but frontman Kev Kharas’s cheeky lyricism and DJ Patrick King’s mixing clicked in a natural way.

In the seven-year gap between Real Life and Lad Ash a lot has changed. Most noticeably, third member Tom Watson has departed the band. While Kharas’s narratives and perspectives are no less male, and still grounded in nightlife, there is certainly much less boyishness, which is supplanted by a more mature reflectiveness; the night-time must be respected and approached with caution. At the same time, the sound of Lad Ash and the way it is reproduced live leans much further into rave culture than their debut. The songs aren’t quite as instantly catchy, but guitars and conventional structures have been abandoned in favour of clubby ecstasy in standout tunes such as the dark and bassy ‘Since I’ and stomping ‘Your Guiding Hand’.

Some things do not change, though – Kharas remarked that many of the faces in the crowd are the same ones he saw seven years ago. I certainly felt like I had earnt my place in a small crowd I’d waited so long for, and it seemed like everyone else had, too. Some things, like ageing, band members leaving, and pandemics, are out of our control. But the biggest maturation in Real Lies is that they have figured out how to do something great with what we can control, and to let the rest just happen.

For more live dates go to: www.reallies.co.uk

Real Lies / Photography Will Gundy