We’re pleased to host a series of informal talks that celebrate photobooks, zines, and independent publishing. We welcome individuals to join us on select Monday evenings. These sessions offer a relaxed and engaging space for creators to share the stories, processes, and ideas behind their work. This will be an opportunity to share knowledge and build relationships with those interested in publishing.
Talks take place on select Monday evenings between 18:00–21:00.
Guests can RSVP. Please also note that our basement gallery does not have step-free access and involves 25 steps.
Talks begin at 18:30, with an opportunity to meet the photographer and view their publication during the event. There will also be time to ask the photographer questions during the second half of the Talk.
Kaleidoscope by Kate Carpenter
Kate’s photographer parents brought her up to love photography. She studied Languages, and has taught in schools and colleges in the UK, Germany and Belgium. Kate has an MA in Education, a Law degree, and an MA in Photography. She has worked in an advice centre, and run private and pro-bono photography workshops.
Kate uses her photography to tell stories about memory and forgetting, family, love, and grief.
About 'Kaleidoscope'
The old red family album is falling to pieces - pages empty, gaps and glue marks on the thick black paper. Prints are dispersed around the house, the museum of our lives randomly curated and re-curated on the mantelpiece like the shuffling and muddling of memories. Objects, photographs, articles and other mementos appear, sit together for a while and then disappear as we shake the kaleidoscope and the story’s emphasis shifts. The clock stopped some time ago at five past two, but mantelpiece-time does not stand still. It’s all snapshots and vignettes and fragments from up and down the decades.
Something about middle age, something about the shock of sudden losses and the slow creep of anticipatory grief, something about the thread of dementia that winds its way down the generations - something about all this compels me to set a narrative down, to fix the past, and the present too, before it all slips from my grasp forever, before I too forget.
But each time I shake the kaleidoscope, a different picture forms.
This is one of those pictures.