• Liquid is a captivating material, like language, it holds its content in suspension, creating an atmosphere of its own, while reflecting that which surrounds it. In de Miguel’s film, light flares from beneath the surface of the river water, revealing slowly floating pinpricks, the amoeba-like outline of shoal debris. Viscid, flossy strands of algae lengthen along the textured basin. Simultaneously, the river carries its stories at a scale which is both controlled and chaotic in a confluence of the overwhelmingly small and the unimaginably big: individual lives, collective struggles, those who are in ditches, and the gradient rush of the colour of dissolved sediment.

    Mirror Lamp Press, Issue 9, June 2024

  • If I write to you directly, in lines that pick up threads of thinking, sometimes carrying a subject across several sections before dropping it again, will you let me be?

    ​I misread ‘rationalist grafting’ printed across the top of a page for ‘nationalist graffiti.’ Both sounded (in)appropriate. Dancing Queen was playing loudly in the bar I was in. There was a feeling of being overwhelmed. Frustration, the kind that could be accompanied by a few hot, quick tears.

    Vest Tops, Decisive Gestures attempts to capture the ambition and confusion of an art writing practice. Instants, anecdotes and interactions emerge through the gaps between wanting to write, writing and being ‘a writer’.

    Pamphlet published by The Yellow Paper, 2023

    Copies available at the Contemporary Art Derry-Londonderry,Good Press, Glasgow.

  • Suppose A Collapse,JOAN publishing, 2021​

    Suppose A Collapse arranges moments between two cities, each viewed through the lens of the other, intimately mapping the interiors of a fourth floor flat in Madrid and the childhood bedroom of a three-bed semi in Belfast. Memoir, poem and essay combine to form a collection of experiences based on the author’s changing relationship with her absent father, extended ‘(non)family’ and mother, while film and art inform the movement between lucidity and a fracturing present. How many times can we fold up our lives into smaller and smaller shapes until there’s no room anymore, only the one that we’re in? 

    Stocked at Donlon Books, London, Good Press, Glasgow, CCA Derry~Londonderry and Desperate Literature, Madrid.

    Review by Enxhi Mandija in SPAM Plaza.

  • The things that you carry. Drops of rain on a car in the sun. The vertical flush of a brick wall. The dull bloom of a river. The bookmark that fell into the bathwater. The squeak of a polystyrene cup as it’s pierced through with a pencil tip. A dog padding about. The wobble of a cheap wardrobe. Gravelly footsteps. Square bowls for soup. The street after a big rain. The soft percussive clacking of a plastic scooter on waxy tarmac. Canned cocktails. A bench at the top of the park. Both the smooth and tacky sides of plasters. The dark outlines of trees in light night skies. The soft hair that doesn’t  stay in ponytails, coming to rest behind the ears for what’s left of the day.

  • REHEARSING BODIES, 05 Oct 24—05 Nov 24, with Francis Whorrall-Campbell and Ebun Sodipo, CCA Derry~Londonderry, Guest Curated by Lucy Grubb

    quite distant, flat, but surging combines fragments of text and drawing gathered in response to exhibitions visited during one calendar month. Exploring the atmosphere of art spaces and the resonances felt when encountering art, the work questions what comes to the surface during the performance of ‘looking’. Amplifying a sense of observation, lines of writing contribute to the unfolding sounds, dissonances and silences reciprocated between viewer, art, and the site in which they are found.

  • Imagine yourself here, the night all scattered around you.

    A Line of Tiny Soaps was commissioned by Catalyst Arts Belfast for release in December 2021.

    Click here to listen to Part 2  

    Click here to listen to Part 1

    A Line of Tiny Soaps is an audio work built from text, field recording and found sound. Listening lands on indeterminacy and the night, in time for the winter solstice, asking what would it be like to live inside one type of sound for a whole life?

  • Clickety-Clack is a triptych of experimental sound work; a mix of field recording and constructed narrative sequences that include the sounds of a printer dancing, music leaked through walls, the quiet rabble of voices outside a pub and the purr of a washing machine. Listen on the CCA website at the link above.

  • ‘Manifest as half of a shared conversation, writing moves its materials, whilst its interlocutor—sources—are cast in pixelated catalyst, nebulous memory. Climb inside, through the arm holes of a couple of warm coats, chewing on quotes.’

    The publication, which includes a collectively written Note to the reader, features writing about visual art, films and objects experienced online by GSA Art Writing students Alex Bottomley, Misa Brzezicki, Donald Butler, Rachel Harris-Huffman, Enxhi Mandija, Jen Martin, Lucie Mclaughlin, Caitlin Merrett King, Siuán Ní Dhochartaigh, Sara O’Brien, Molly O’Leary, Clara Raillard, Ben Redhead, Megan Rudden, Rodrigo Vaiapraia and Morgan Williams. 


    It's A Material World: Writing About Art was an edition of 100, risograph printed at Sunday's, Glasgow, and funded by the Glasgow School of Art Student's Association.

    In the page on view Lucie responds to ‘Barbed Wire Love’ strand of Glasgow Short Film Festival, 2021, curated by Myrid Carten and Peter Taylor