As commuters woke to a capital coated in a deadly layer of black ice, reports flooded in of drivers skidding off roads, multi-car pile-ups, and pavements transformed into lethal skating rinks. The Met Office has slapped yellow weather warnings for snow and ice across London, southern England, the Midlands, Wales, and beyond, with savage northerly winds dragging temperatures down to a bone-chilling -10C in rural spots – and the brutal chill is set to linger, refusing to thaw anytime soon.

In the heart of the capital, iconic landmarks like Big Ben and Tower Bridge stood eerily silent under a dusting of white, but the picturesque scenes masked a dangerous reality: slippery conditions sparking delays on roads, railways, and even flights at Heathrow and Gatwick. One horrified witness in south-east London described watching a van spin out of control on an untreated road in Beckenham, smashing into parked cars as snow flurries reduced visibility to near zero.

‘It was absolute chaos – cars sliding everywhere, people slipping on the pavements,’ said local resident Emma Thompson, 42, from her home in Croydon. ‘I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never seen the capital grind to a halt like this so early in the year. It’s like the Beast from the East has returned with a vengeance.’

Forecast: A Week of Wintry Hell

The Met Office predicts up to 5cm of snow could settle on higher ground in the Midlands and North West today, while Londoners brace for ongoing slippery chaos that could wreak havoc on transport networks. ‘Arctic air and brisk northerly winds are gripping the UK as we kick off the new year,’ warned Met Office chief meteorologist Rebekah Hicks in a stark update. ‘Snow and ice warnings remain in force for many areas, with bitterly cold conditions persisting through the weekend and into next week. More warnings are likely as the cold digs in.’

Further north, the situation turns apocalyptic: amber warnings in Scotland signal blizzards, with drifting snow piling up to 40cm on high ground, threatening power cuts, stranded vehicles, and isolated rural communities. Thundersnow – dramatic lightning strikes amid heavy snowfall – has already been reported in the Highlands, adding to the eerie drama of this killer cold snap.

Experts are drawing chilling comparisons to infamous past freezes, like the 2018 Beast from the East, which brought the UK to its knees with record lows and widespread disruption. ‘This prolonged freeze echoes those beasts from the past,’ added Met Office deputy chief Mark Sidaway. ‘Arctic air is locked in place by a stubborn weather pattern, meaning we’re in for a proper taste of winter – and it could last well beyond the weekend.’

Health Crisis: Amber Alert Triggers Fears of Deadly Spike

The savage snap has triggered a rare amber cold health alert across the whole of England until January 6, with the UK Health Security Agency (UKHSA) fearing a deadly spike in fatalities among the elderly and vulnerable from heart attacks, strokes, chest infections, and hypothermia.

Health bosses have issued urgent pleas for Brits to check on neighbours as indoor temperatures plummet below recommended levels, even in hospitals and care homes. ‘Low temperatures like these can have serious impacts on health, particularly for older people and those with pre-existing conditions,’ said Dr Paul Coleman from UKHSA. ‘We’re expecting substantial pressure on the NHS, with increased admissions and potential for excess deaths.’

In London, where overnight lows are dipping well below zero, Mayor Sadiq Khan has activated emergency shelters for the homeless, urging rough sleepers to seek refuge amid fears of fatalities on the frozen streets. Charities like Shelter have reported a surge in calls from vulnerable families struggling with soaring heating bills – a bitter blow as energy prices rose on January 1, just as the freeze hit.

‘This cold snap couldn’t have come at a worse time,’ said Polly Neate, chief executive of Shelter. ‘With energy costs up and temperatures down, thousands are at risk of fuel poverty, forced to choose between heating and eating. We’re seeing more people turning to us for help, and it’s heartbreaking.’

Transport Mayhem: Roads, Rails, and Skies in Turmoil

Transport chiefs are on high alert for widespread mayhem, with the AA predicting a staggering 20.7 million car journeys today alone as post-New Year travellers brave the roads. Black ice has already caused horror crashes in Derbyshire, Leicestershire, and Nottinghamshire, with emergency services scrambling to rescue stranded motorists.

In one terrifying incident captured on dashcam footage, a lorry jackknifed on the M1 near Sheffield, blocking lanes and causing hours-long tailbacks. ‘Drivers need to slow down and stay vigilant – black ice is invisible and deadly,’ warned AA patrol officer Simon Williams. ‘We’re expecting a spike in breakdowns as batteries fail in the cold and tyres lose grip on icy surfaces.’

Rail networks are also reeling: Transport for London (TfL) has warned of delays on the Tube and Overground due to frozen points, while National Rail services across the south-east face cancellations amid staff shortages and weather woes. Airports are monitoring closely, with de-icing teams on standby at Heathrow, where flights to northern Europe have already been disrupted by the pan-continental freeze.

Even buses in the capital are struggling: commuters shared videos of double-deckers gingerly navigating snowy streets in Tring, Hertfordshire, and parts of south London, where flurries turned commutes into endurance tests. ‘I was an hour late for work because the bus couldn’t get up the hill,’ fumed office worker James Patel, 35, from Wimbledon. ‘This is London – we’re not equipped for Siberian conditions!’

Economic Chill: Businesses Brace for Losses

Beyond the human toll, the big freeze is sending shockwaves through the economy. High streets in London are deserted as shoppers hunker down, leading to plummeting footfall for retailers still recovering from the Christmas rush. The British Retail Consortium estimates losses could run into millions if the cold persists, with small businesses particularly hard hit.

Construction sites across the capital have ground to a halt, with workers sent home due to unsafe conditions – delaying projects and costing firms dearly. Farmers in rural areas warn of crop damage from the deep freeze, while energy demand surges, pushing wholesale prices higher and exacerbating the cost-of-living crisis.

‘This weather is a double whammy for the economy,’ said economist Julian Jessop from the Institute of Economic Affairs. ‘Transport disruptions slow supply chains, health issues reduce workforce productivity, and higher energy bills squeeze household budgets. If it lasts a week, the impact could be significant.’

Personal Stories: Tales from the Freeze

Amid the chaos, heartwarming – and heartbreaking – stories are emerging. In north London, a group of neighbours banded together to clear snow from an elderly widow’s driveway, ensuring she could access medical appointments. ‘It’s times like this that bring communities together,’ said volunteer Sarah Lee, 28.

But for others, it’s a struggle: single mum Lisa Hargreaves, 39, from Hackney, told how she’s wrapping her children in blankets to save on heating. ‘The kids are excited about the snow, but I’m worried about the bills. We’ve got no choice but to layer up and hope it passes soon.’

In the suburbs, dog walkers braved the elements for frosty strolls in parks like Hyde Park, where children delighted in rare January sledging sessions – a silver lining amid the gloom. Yet, vets are warning pet owners to protect animals from the cold, with reports of frostbitten paws on the rise.

Historical Context: Echoes of Past Winters

This 2026 freeze harks back to brutal winters of yore. The 1963 Big Freeze saw the Thames ice over, while 2010’s chaos cost the economy £1bn a day. Meteorologists say climate change could make such events more erratic, with warmer oceans fuelling extreme cold snaps via disrupted jet streams.

‘While global warming means milder winters overall, it doesn’t preclude these Arctic outbreaks,’ explained Professor Hannah Cloke from the University of Reading. ‘We need to prepare better – investing in resilient infrastructure and support for the vulnerable.’

Advice: How to Survive the Big Chill

As the freeze bites, experts offer top tips:

• Drive cautiously: Reduce speed, increase following distance, and equip with winter tyres if possible.
• Stay warm: Layer clothing, heat main living areas to at least 18C, and avoid draughts.
• Check on others: Visit elderly relatives and neighbours, ensuring they have food and heat.
• Prepare for power cuts: Stock torches, batteries, and non-perishable food.
• Health first: If feeling unwell, seek medical help promptly – cold exacerbates conditions like asthma.

For the latest updates, visit the Met Office forecast or UKHSA guidance.

Wrap up warm, Britain – this killer cold snap shows no signs of thawing anytime soon. Stay safe out there.

BreathFlow marks a major leap in sleep-tech — a phone-based system trained on 380 nights of sleep-lab data. What gap in awareness or care made you feel this technology was urgently needed?

Many people assume their disrupted sleep and excessive daytime tiredness are just “part of life,” not a potential breathing issue.

Conditions such as obstructive sleep apnea (OSA), in which breathing is reduced or temporarily stops during sleep, are both common and widely underdiagnosed.

We developed BreathFlow to give SnoreLab users a unique measure of breathing stability during sleep that grades periods of instability into two levels of severity that are highly correlated with clinical measures of sleep-disordered breathing.

Whilst BreathFlow is not a medical device or diagnostic tool for sleep apnea, it offers a convenient wellness metric that provides users with detailed insights into their breathing stability and can help them feel empowered about exploring next steps in their sleep journey.

SnoreLab has been downloaded more than 15 million times. What patterns in user behaviour or feedback most pushed you toward creating a breathing-stability metric rather than another snoring feature?

Whilst snoring doesn’t always indicate unstable breathing, both conditions arise from some degree of airway resistance and so they frequently occur together. What is interesting is that as airway blockage increases, snoring can actually decrease, and so snoring measurements alone do not tell the complete picture. BreathFlow helps people connect the dots between their breathing and their snoring.

One of the reasons behind SnoreLab’s success is its ability to provide objective data on something we cannot see or hear, presented intuitively and interactively. Users love being able to play back their snoring and gain real insight into what’s actually happening during sleep. BreathFlow takes this even further, providing granular insights through detailed audio recordings and visualisations that enable users to both see and hear their nocturnal breathing.

You’ve said up to 90% of people with sleep-disordered breathing never get diagnosed. Why is it still so invisible — and how can technology shift that reality?

There is a misconception that sleep apnea only affects “overweight men” and is defined by obvious “gaps in breathing” and “loud snoring”. In reality, there are more subtle manifestations characterised by partial airway obstruction (hypopnea) which do not present as dramatically and can be easily missed.

Women’s symptoms often present differently to men’s, this can include morning headaches, fatigue, insomnia, low mood and frequent nighttime urination. They also tend to snore less loudly due to anatomical differences. Prevalence increases sharply after menopause, when hormonal shifts affect muscle tone and body weight.

Technology can shift this reality by making insights into our sleep more accessible to everyone and providing objective data. SnoreLab is often the first step in people realising the extent of their sleep issues.

Your team’s research shows women experience sleep-breathing issues-far more often than stereotypes suggest, yet are diagnosed later. What did you discover in the data, and how do you hope BreathFlow changes that bias?

Sleep apnea in women can be missed by some trackers that focus on “strong” disruptions more typical in men, rather than the “subtle” ones characteristic of female apnea.

In early model development, we noticed that predictive performance was consistently weaker for females, as stronger disruptions are more distinct than milder ones. By broadening event definitions and designing our model to capture a wider range of disturbances, performance improved considerably and ultimately led to the development of our novel BreathFlow scoring system.

BreathFlow is specifically designed to capture subtle as well as strong disruptions, with a BreathFlow score <90% being correlated with clinical thresholds of sleep apnea, using sensitive, female-friendly protocols favoured by many researchers (3% hypopnea rule).

Our hope is that this helps bring awareness to changes in breathing stability that would otherwise go unnoticed.

BreathFlow runs entirely on-device, using acoustic imaging and machine learning. What were the biggest technical challenges in building accurate sleep-breathing analysis without wearables or cloud processing?

Ultimately our model’s excellent performance is due to careful design, rather than just throwing data into a black box and expecting the computer to figure it all out. Our results are very much derived from “human intelligence” rather than “artificial intelligence”!

It is quite common to see academic research on small datasets demonstrating excellent results on their own dataset, but that performance doesn’t translate into the real world where conditions and subjects are more diverse.

Whilst the foundational datasets we used for model development were lab-based, throughout our process we benchmarked our predictive performance against non-lab recordings using the Apple Watch’s Breathing Disturbance Index as a reference. The Apple Watch is by no means a lab-quality assessment, but that data provide a crucial check that we weren’t overfitting to the lab data.

Many sleep apps focus on sleep “scores” that can feel vague or generic. How did you ensure BreathFlow gives users something actionable — not just another number?

BreathFlow has intentionally been designed as a positive wellness score that aims to empower people rather than discouraging them. A higher BreathFlow value is indicative of better breathing stability as opposed to being a count of distinct events. This metric may motivate users to aim for a score over 90% and ideally close to 100%.

Some sleep apps lack transparency on how their scoring system works. In contrast, we’ve released a detailed white paper explaining our methodology and validation process that was trained on 380 nights of gold-standard sleep lab data and benchmarked against the most reliable clinical measures. This level of openness is important to us at SnoreLab as users deserve to understand the science and research behind the wellness metrics they’re given.

SnoreLab now includes both BreathFlow and a Breathing Disturbance Index (BDI) aligned with Apple Watch data. Why was it important to offer two distinct but related metrics?

We knew that users would compare their SnoreLab results to the Apple Watch BDI, and so it was important to have a directly comparable metric, which is the SnoreLab BDI. Apple’s approach, however, was designed to focus on stronger forms of sleep apnea rather than milder ones. We wanted SnoreLab to cover the full spectrum of breathing conditions, and so we created a novel measure optimised for milder disturbances as well, which is BreathFlow.

SnoreLab’s two different but related metrics, BreathFlow and BDI, are not diagnostic measures of sleep-disordered breathing. However, these convenient scores provide signals that are highly correlated with clinical measures and empower users to track nightly variations in breathing stability using only a smartphone.

BreathFlow provides granular estimates of breathing stability throughout the night, graded into three levels: ‘Normal’, ‘Reduced’ or ‘Low’. These granular levels are then aggregated into a single wellness score for the night, with values above 90% labelled as ‘Stable’ and lower values as ‘Unstable’.

In addition to the sensitive BreathFlow measure, we’ve also developed a Breathing Disturbance Index (BDI) that is designed to estimate the occurrence of breathing disturbance events, comparable to the scale used by the Apple Watch BDI. SnoreLab’s BDI is based on acoustic analysis, in contrast to the Apple Watch BDI, which is based on wrist movements. Our validation study found a strong correlation of 0.92 with the Apple Watch, although individual results may vary.

Offering both gives users an in-depth picture of their breathing patterns during sleep and helps them contextualise our metrics to those from the devices they may already use.

Looking at the wider future of sleep health, do you see SnoreLab evolving into a full preventive-care ecosystem — or will the biggest impact still come from simple, accessible tools like this?

Diagnosing sleep disorders to a clinical standard requires equipment that is beyond the scope of a smartphone app. We are not looking to replace clinical pathways, but rather to complement them with high quality wellness scores that are convenient for home use and enable longitudinal monitoring. SnoreLab is widely recommended by clinicians in the sleep space, and we see them as our partners.

The potential impact of accessible tools like SnoreLab is immense, as they spread awareness about breathing quality and encourage users to seek out solutions to improve their sleep.

Lisa Ramey first caught national attention as a finalist on NBC’s hit music competition show, The Voice, where she performed on Team Legend, stepping further into the spotlight earlier this year as one of two vocalists on tour in the USA with Zayn Malik’s all-female seven-woman band, which was featured on Daily Mail, Yahoo News, Buzzfeed, TheNews, NewsBreak, and others. After headlining alongside Ms. Lauryn Hill, she took her soulful rock artistry to the limit with her debut album Surrender (2020), which made it to #34 on Good Morning America’s Top 50 Albums of 2020. Being included alongside artists like John Legend, Camilla Cabello and Common as part of the Global Citizen “Together at Home” concert series were some highlights of her prestigious career. 

‘Better Than That’ is taken off Lisa’s 2024 EP Foretaste, which has gained over 665,000 streams on Spotify alone. This release was produced by Joe Capo Kent, a three-time GRAMMY-nominated producer, with mixing by Sam Maul of Shock City Studios and mastering by Glenn Schick, all contributing their extensive experience to the project.

‘Better Than That’ is a stick of soul-pop dynamite, blending cinematic production, lush instrumentation, and intricate percussion beneath Lisa Ramey’s soaring vocals as she passionately laments a relationship’s downfall. Black Motion’s treatment of the track, sure to ensnare fans of Shimza, Black Coffee, and Culoe De Song, alchemises it into a dancefloor-ready groove while retaining the original’s soulful potency, with a percussive-focused instrumental carrying Lisa’s powerful vocals – spliced, delayed, and soaked in reverb; kinetic and hypnotic.

This identity for a Chekhov-inspired theater institution begins by returning to that original attentiveness. Rather than approaching Chekhov as distant or monumental, the branding frames his work as intimate and present, grounded in everyday emotion and observation. This shift in perspective establishes the foundation for a visual language that values calm, openness, and restraint over theatrical display.

Nature plays a subtle but essential role in Chekhov’s writing, where landscapes, seasons, and physical environments quietly mirror inner states. Responding to this, the visual system introduces organic references such as branch-like forms and imagery that feels weathered and alive rather than polished. A restrained, calm color palette reinforces this atmosphere, echoing the quiet emotional temperature of the plays and encouraging a slower, more reflective mode of engagement.

Chekhov’s relationship to language offers another point of transition. His writing is precise and economical, shaped by the limitations and material conditions of its time. The typography reflects this lineage through references to old typewriter forms, grounding the identity in literary history. At the same time, these forms are refined and rebalanced to avoid nostalgia, allowing the system to feel revived rather than archival. The result mirrors Chekhov’s enduring relevance, rooted in the past yet fully capable of speaking to the present.

Perhaps most telling is Chekhov’s tendency to let emotion spill beyond structure, allowing meaning to surface outside of conventional narrative frames. This sensibility is echoed in the treatment of imagery, where photographs are permitted to break beyond paper-like boundaries instead of remaining neatly contained. The gesture is restrained rather than dramatic, but it introduces a sense of risk and openness that aligns with Chekhov’s refusal to fully contain human experience.

Taken together, these choices position the identity as a considered response to Chekhov’s worldview rather than a stylistic exercise. Visual decisions emerge from literary values, reinforcing themes of presence, fragility, and human connection. Rather than offering a single interpretation, the branding creates space for ambiguity and renewal, framing the theater as a living institution where Chekhov’s work continues to unfold in dialogue with contemporary life.

7 Wonders arrives in the capital following the massive success of Van Gogh: The Immersive Experience. What drew you back to this specific pocket of East London for the debut — and what makes Shoreditch the right setting for a story about human ingenuity?

Shoreditch has become a real hub for creativity, innovation, and cultural discovery, which makes it the perfect home for a project like 7 Wonders of the World. This experience is all about reconnecting people with humanity’s most extraordinary achievements, and there’s something fitting about launching it in a neighbourhood known for pushing boundaries. After the success of Van Gogh: The Immersive Experience, we knew London audiences were hungry for bold storytelling and immersive design. Shoreditch, with its blend of history, culture, and curious crowds, felt like the ideal backdrop for a journey that spans civilisations and millennia.

The Seven Wonders are iconic, yet most ancient sites are long gone. As executive producer, how did you approach reimagining these lost structures to ensure they feel physically monumental, while keeping the historical interpretation grounded for a London audience?

Our process always starts with academic research. Exhibition Hub’s creative team drew on extensive studies, architectural analysis, and cultural consultation to make sure every visual element had a solid factual foundation. From there, we layer in immersive technology, like the 360° projections, interactive installations, and VR moments. All of this to restore a sense of physical presence. The goal was to let visitors feel the scale of these Wonders without straying from historic events. To achieve that, authenticity was essential.

This exhibition blends education with high-end entertainment, highlighting how civilisations pushed beyond the ordinary. How did you navigate the balance between the spectacle of 360-degree projection and the rigour required to authentically honour these cultures?

We were very intentional about balancing visual impact and historical accuracy. The two-storey projections, the custom soundscapes, and the interactive zones are all designed to highlight the stories, not overshadow them. Ultimately, we wanted visitors to learn through immersion and to step into history in a way that’s engaging, but grounded in truth. It bridges the gap between traditional museums and the future of digital art.

You have spent over 25 years working across museums, theme parks, and immersive design. How has that diverse background shaped your specific approach to 7 Wonders, particularly in shifting visitors from passive observation to active participation?

Having worked across a wide range of cultural and entertainment projects, I’ve learned that the most memorable experiences are the ones people participate in. That perspective really shaped 7 Wonders of the World. Instead of simply presenting information, we invite guests to create, explore, and interact. From activities like “Build Your Own Pyramid” to hands-on digital installations, it’s all about transforming a visit from something you watch into something you do.

The experience features an original score developed to complement the visuals. How did the music influence the way you shaped the exhibition’s pacing, emotional resonance, and the transition between the Ancient and Modern worlds?

Each part of this exhibition has a distinct atmosphere, and the music helps visitors feel the shift as they move between worlds. Because the soundscape is integrated from the beginning, it supports the pacing and narrative arc, creating a unified multisensory journey that bridges both ancient history and technology.

You were instrumental in the success of the Van Gogh exhibition, which focused on a single artist’s internal world. Does the creative approach for 7 Wonders — spanning global eras — require a completely different storytelling architecture?

Absolutely, this project required a different narrative structure. Van Gogh: The Immersive Experience invites audiences into the mind of one artist. 7 Wonders of the World, by contrast, spans multiple civilisations and thousands of years, so the storytelling is different For 7 Wonders of the World, we focused on humanity’s drive to create the extraordinary as our anchor, which allowed us to create a coherent experience while honouring the individuality of each Wonder and the culture behind it.

The show explores not just how monuments were built, but why they mattered to the societies that created them. What conversations do you want Londoners to have about legacy and creation as they leave the venue today?

We hope that Londoners walk out with a renewed appreciation for human ingenuity, not just the technical achievements, but the imagination, collaboration, and ambition behind them. Each Wonder reflects what a society valued most, from a devotion to gods to scientific curiosity. We imagine visitors leaving 7 Wonders of the World asking themselves what we are building today that will inspire future generations.

After producing multiple acclaimed global experiences, what continues to surprise you about how audiences engage with immersive tech? And what new creative layers are you excited for visitors to discover in this specific iteration?

What continually surprises me is how deeply people connect with immersive storytelling. Audiences embrace technology as a bridge to understanding foreign places, people, and culture. In this experience, I’m especially excited for guests to explore the VR journeys, the interactive workshops, and the AI-powered memory station. These layers don’t just show the Wonders, but they let visitors become part of the story.

Comedy of Errors Remixed takes on themes of identity, immigration and displacement — issues shaping London right now. What made this the Shakespeare story you wanted to retell for 2024?

From since I have known we have been battling with racist attitudes in this country. In the last few years there seems to have been a bigger push to challenge these behaviours and things are slowly beginning to shift. Our Youth Theatre plays always tries to hold the mirror up to nature in an attempt to educate, provoke and hopefully create change for the better. We felt we could do this with the Comedy of Errors, Shakespeare’s play explores the issue of immigration, “the other”, something we as a nation are (unfortunately) all too familiar with. There was an opportunity to shed some light on the topic in a joyful way and remind people how better we can be if we learn to be at one with each other instead of against each other. It was an opportunity we had to seize.

Intermission Youth Theatre is known for using Shakespeare as a mirror for contemporary life. What conversations or emotions from your young cast pushed this remix in the direction it ultimately took?

In our workshops, the young people responded to Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors from their own perspective. We encouraged them to connect with their own experiences, to tell their own stories. With 40 young people, many of whom are from the African and Caribbean diaspora, recounting moments in their lives of identity struggles, feelings of isolation from Britishness and no sense of belonging. It was tough to hear this from our younger generation – they connected so well to the story.

You’ve worked with young people across London for over 15 years. How did the personal histories and lived experiences of this cohort shape the emotional truth of the production?

The work we do within Intermission Youth is always shaped by the young people. It’s always been about handing the ownership over to them and allowing them to shape the work that makes sense to their present and future. It’s the same with this production, we brought Shakespeare to their world not the other way around, we are active with the work and encourage them to find their voices in the world. It’s the only way to bring today’s truth to this classical work – in my opinion.

This year’s show marks a milestone — your graduate Stephanie Badaru stepping into the director’s seat. What does it mean to see former IY members taking ownership of the creative process?

It means everything – it gives me confidence that this work will be here for many more years – beyond me – continuing to shape the future for our young people, changing lives for the better.

Language becomes a central device in the production, with the twins speaking Shakespearean and their London counterparts speaking Street. How did you approach using language to explore belonging and exclusion?

Language is a big part of identity. Here in London, we are blessed to have many different languages spoken. Take a trip on the London Underground and listen – you will hear a concoction of sounds, it’s beautiful. There’s a line in our play “just because you don’t understand it, doesn’t mean it makes no sense”. This extends beyond just words – if we learn this we will go some way to being better at being together.

Immigration and identity are politically charged topics. How do you balance comedy and social commentary without diluting either?

It’s hard – but I think we have achieved it – the best way I can describe it is that the laughter allows me (as a writer) to slip in the social commentary without it feeling too heavy.

Intermission Youth is as much a social initiative-as it is a theatre company. How does a production like Comedy of Errors Remixed contribute to your wider mission of supporting young people’s mental health, confidence and sense of place?

Really great question!
This work is about empowering young people and helping them to become the best versions of themselves. The process is more important than anything else. On this journey to self-discovery, our young people have had access to amazing mentors, therapists and community. All this support has helped them in areas of their lives in which they have previously struggled, including confidence, mental health and given them a strong sense of belonging, identity and renewed purpose. It’s one thing hearing it from me, but if you come along to see the work, you will witness it for yourself. It’s incredible.

Looking ahead, what stories or themes do you feel most urgent to explore next — and how do you see IY’s work evolving as London continues to change?

Mental Health!

Your journey began with a passion for Saigon’s street food and frequent trips back to Hanoi. How do you translate the specific, complex energy and authentic flavours of Vietnam’s two major cities into the environment and menu of a London restaurant?

As a restaurateur, I’m always looking for inspiration wherever I go, whether it’s a small spot in Soho or the buzzing Tsukiji Outer Market in Tokyo. I also make sure to return to Saigon and Hanoi twice a year to see friends and family. Those trips are really important, as they give me the chance to share my Vietnamese roots with my two children, Anne and Long.

Every cuisine brings its own food culture to life, and in Vietnam, climate and colonisation played a huge role. We instinctively eat nose-to-tail, making the most of every ingredient because the hot weather spoiled produce. Over time, we leaned into fermenting, stewing, and preserving to make ingredients last longer and to deepen their flavours.

Much of the energy in our food comes from the wide range of cooking techniques we use in the kitchen. We turn the dial up and down: wok-frying and grilling to create charred, smoky meats and vegetables, while gentle steaming brings out the delicate flavours in fish, chicken, and greens. The action is not just on the stove but in the chatter of the busy kitchen, the steam rising from every pot, and the sweat dripping from our brows. That energy is amplified by the vibrant mix of herbs, spices, and fresh ingredients we use, each adding its own aroma, colour, and depth to every dish.

Restaurants are a core part of everyday life in Vietnam, likely because they’re far more affordable than in London. Most meals happen out at street food kiosks or small restaurants, while family feasts are celebrated at home. It’s a different way of life.

When you first arrived in the UK, you noted a lack of authenticity in Vietnamese menus. As a pioneer in the London scene, how did you balance the need to introduce uncompromisingly authentic Vietnamese flavours while building a commercially successful restaurant group in Shoreditch?

When I arrived in London, I noticed a growing wave of Vietnamese restaurants, particularly in places like Shoreditch and Deptford. These early spots played a pivotal role in introducing our cuisine to the city, but many didn’t fully capture the deeper, time-honoured traditions you would find in Vietnam.

After opening Cây Tre in 2002, I became friends with chef Mark Hix, who was one of our regulars. He gave me a piece of advice that stayed with me: invest in the best fresh produce Britain has to offer, and complement it with the flavours of Vietnam. I’ve always believed that the combination of genuine recipes and exceptional ingredients is what has shaped our journey and brought us to where we are today.

The Kingsland Road ‘pho mile’ is now synonymous with Vietnamese cuisine in London. Having worked there as a student and later opened Viet Grill on the same street, how important was it to you to contribute to and define this specific cultural quarter of East London?

East London was a completely different world 30 years ago. Hoxton, where I live now, was empty and quiet. Rents were cheap, and the area had a raw, creative energy that spilt into Shoreditch and Brick Lane. Back then, Hoxton didn’t even have a train station, but people soon realised how accessible it was from Liverpool Street.

Vietnamese food was still completely new to most people. Some Asian restaurants would even reward customers with £5 if they could properly eat their meal with chopsticks. Now, everything has transformed with urbanisation and tourism reshaping the area, and Asian cuisine becoming an essential part of East London’s food scene.

I opened Cây Tre on Old Street in 2003. Two years later, a larger space became available on Kingsland Road, which became Viet Grill — a move that felt natural and right. Nearly two decades on, the Pho Mile has become a true hub for Vietnamese food in London, yet the excitement and appetite for it remain as strong as they were when we first opened.

Your commitment to quality involves using the finest British ingredients alongside fresh Vietnamese noodles and herbs. How do you navigate the creative challenge of maintaining traditional Vietnamese cooking methods and seasoning while sourcing locally from UK farms and suppliers?

Honestly, it hasn’t been as difficult as people might think. Our approach has always been about staying true to traditional Vietnamese techniques while making the most of what’s available locally in the UK. When I first opened Cây Tre, tracking down fresh herbs or dried rice and noodles could be a real struggle. Now, I work with four to five trusted suppliers for different ingredients.

Places like Lo’s in Soho made it easier to source high-quality Vietnamese noodles. We buy vegetables from Paul Wheeler at Borough Market, meat from Billfields Butchers, and our chefs regularly visit the Seven Sisters market to find specific ingredients. It’s a creative challenge, but one I enjoy. By sourcing the best produce from the right suppliers, we ensure our dishes remain authentic, fresh, and full of flavour.

The festive menu features dishes like Lamb Red Curry and Steamed Sea Bass with a signature tamarind sauce. Which specific element of the festive feasting menu generates the strongest sense of nostalgia-for-your-time-spent-in-vietnam?

When I think about Vietnam, it’s not just one dish but the flavours and memories that our recipes evoke. Slow-simmered broths, lightly spiced curries, or a tamarind-glazed fish immediately bring me back to family gatherings in Hanoi or meals shared with friends in Saigon. Even with modern or festive twists, the core flavours — aromatic herbs, balanced spices, fresh ingredients — carry the same warmth and vibrancy of Vietnam.

Our festive menu is built around the idea of sharing a feast with friends or family. Dishes like lamb curry are passed around the table, while salt-and-pepper squid is dipped in and enjoyed together. That sense of connection, of home, tradition, and shared experience, is what makes the festive menu feel so special to me. For those looking for more restaurants in Shoreditch, places like Cây Tre offer a genuine taste of this tradition.

Your wine list features bottles from Vietnamese producers, and your cocktails use aromatic gins with heirloom botanicals from the Vietnamese highlands. How does integrating these unique Vietnamese-produced drinks enhance the cultural narrative of the dining experience?

We don’t serve any Viet wine.

Bringing in Vietnamese spirits and garnishes isn’t just about offering something different on the menu; it’s about enriching the story we tell through our food. These drinks showcase Vietnam’s unique ingredients, terroir, and heritage, complementing the dishes and enhancing the sensory experience. When diners sip a cocktail made with heirloom botanicals from the highlands or taste a gin distilled in Vietnam, they’re engaging with the culture in a more immersive way. It reinforces the connection to Vietnam’s history while making the meal a true reflection of our roots and vision.

You’ve expanded your group with KEU Deli, focusing on more casual street food like banh mi and soups. How does the creative strategy for a fast-casual spot like KEU differ from running flagship restaurants like Cây Tre and Viet Grill?

It’s been an exciting journey for us since opening the first Kêu branch. I was born in Hanoi, where life moves at a slower, more traditional rhythm. I then moved to Saigon as a baby, where the pace, the energy, and even the food culture are accelerated. People move quickly, grabbing a steaming bowl of phở or tearing into a freshly made bánh mì while on the go, finishing it between one stop and the next. It’s fast, vibrant, and the flavours are bolder, spicier, more alive.

Kêu has given us a way to bring that spirit of Saigon to London. Our delis reflect that same sense of hustle and bustle, using the best British produce alongside the vibrancy of Vietnam, very much in the Vietnamese Kitchen tradition. Meanwhile, Viet Grill and Cây Tre carry a different kind of energy: slower, more thoughtful, more like eating in your grandparents’ kitchen, surrounded by friends and family.

You mentioned that bringing the energy of Hanoi and Saigon to London’s hotspots has been a pleasure. As the founder of a successful family business, what advice would you offer to London’s new generation of creative food entrepreneurs focused on cultural authenticity?

London’s dining scene is fast-paced and full of energy, and it has always inspired me. When I first arrived, I threw myself in completely by working in a restaurant on Kingsland Road and spending my days off exploring new places to eat. I became fully immersed in the industry long before opening my first restaurant.

Since then, hospitality has grown more challenging. Rents, food costs, and labour have all risen, while disposable income has fallen. Being born and raised in Vietnam gives me a unique advantage: I can embrace my roots and bring that authenticity to my food. That’s not something every Asian restaurant in London can do.

For anyone thinking of opening their own restaurant, my advice is simple: own your upbringing. Let it guide you, help you cut through the noise, and create something distinctive. But also take the time to learn by researching your culture and history, and speaking to your elders. Vietnam, in particular, has a rich heritage that stretches far beyond my generation. Our menus are inspired by that history, blending time-honoured traditions with contemporary ways of cooking and eating.

The upcoming Catherine Opie exhibition, titled To Be Seen, runs from 5 March to 31 May 2026. It promises to bring the margins to the centre. Opie has spent 30 years documenting communities often ignored by mainstream institutions. Now, her lens turns toward the very concept of the National Portrait Gallery itself.

For London creatives, this is essential viewing. It bridges the gap between documentary grit and high-art formalism. It asks difficult questions about power, visibility, and the spaces we inhabit.

Reframing the Narrative of Identity

Identity is fluid, complex, and often messy. Opie captures this perfectly. The exhibition brings together over 80 photographs from her pioneering career. It includes her seminal 1991 work, Being and Having. These portraits ennoble LGBTQ+ friends, referencing classical painting while subverting gender expectations.

Opie draws inspiration from court painter Hans Holbein. She mixes Baroque aesthetics with the raw reality of queer subcultures. The result is visceral. It forces a dialogue between the history of art and the reality of modern life. This Catherine Opie exhibition does not ask for permission. It demands presence.

The show covers a vast range of subjects. You will see documentation of Queer communities in Los Angeles. You will see analyses of the Catholic Church. You will see abstract landscapes that challenge our perception of space. Opie continually questions the evolving ideas of community and belonging.

For her, portraiture is a radical act. It is a desire to make the invisible visible. It is a gesture of resistance. This resonates deeply with the artistic energy found in East London. If you are looking for similar inspiration closer to home, check out our guide to the best art galleries in Shoreditch. You will find that same spirit of disruption alive and well in our local spaces.

Inside the Catherine Opie Exhibition Architecture

The physical experience of art is crucial. This exhibition understands that. Designed by architect Katy Barkan, the space consists of three distinct rooms. Each creates a specific dialogue with the permanent galleries. The layout is intentional. It guides the viewer through a journey of confrontation and reflection.

The first room is a perfect square. It holds the first exhibited portraits by and of the artist. This includes the Being and Having series. Here, Opie and her community enact moustachioed masculine alter-egos. It is playful yet profound.

The second room purposefully collides with the existing Gallery wall. It narrates a series of portraits and landscapes inspired by art history. The architecture mirrors the disruption of the art itself. It breaks the flow. It forces you to stop and reconsider your surroundings.

The third space frames figures from Opie’s High School Football and Surfers series. These works crowd the back of the gallery space. They explore constructed community and masculinity. It is a masterclass in curation. The design amplifies the themes of the Catherine Opie exhibition, making the space an active participant.

This thoughtful approach to space reminds us of the importance of environment for creators. London is full of such spots. If you need your own space to create, explore London’s best creative hubs for artists and entrepreneurs. Finding the right environment is key to unlocking your best work.

Interventions in the Collection

The exhibition is not contained within its own walls. It spills out. Alongside the main show, there are decisive interventions within seven Collection galleries. Opie’s work sits alongside historical portraits. It challenges the traditional narratives of the NPG.

This is where the magic happens. Opie’s photographs collapse divisions between the personal and the political. You see portraits of fellow artists and protestors. You see tender family moments and vulnerable self-portraits. Placed next to historical figures, they create a new context.

Opie captures the ebb and flow of human culture. She documents Barack Obama’s Inauguration and Tea Party rallies. She captures LGBTQ+ rights protests. Her work is a chronicle of our time. By placing these images in the NPG, she elevates them. She insists that these stories are part of the national history.

The Power of Being Seen

Why does this matter now? We live in a culture of celebrity and curated images. Opie offers something different. She offers truth. “My hope is that the audience will leave the exhibition with a broader understanding of what portraiture can achieve,” Opie states.

She argues that everyone begins to understand identity through being seen. It is a simple concept with radical implications. The NPG has committed to this vision for the past four years. It is a profound relationship. It links the history of the institution to the urgency of the present moment.

Clare Freestone, the Photographs Curator, notes Opie’s “meticulous and conceptual approach.” It originates from a deep sense of care for her community. This is art with a heartbeat. It is observant, dynamic, and socially aware.

A Must-See for London Creatives

London’s cultural calendar is packed. However, this Catherine Opie exhibition stands out. It is a rare opportunity to see such a comprehensive survey of a vital artist. It challenges us to reflect on who goes unseen in our society.

Victoria Siddall, Director of the NPG, calls the portraits a “timely reflection on the power of representation.” We agree. In a city as diverse as London, representation is everything. Seeing Opie’s work in London is a privilege. It connects the West Coast queer aesthetic with the history of British portraiture.

The exhibition opens just as spring hits the capital. It is the perfect time to explore the city. After visiting the gallery, why not head East? You can plan the rest of your day with our guide on things to do in Shoreditch. From markets to bars, keep the creative energy flowing.

xxx

Catherine Opie: To Be Seen runs from 5 March – 31 May 2026. Do not miss it. It is a lesson in humanity, craft, and the enduring power of the image. It is art that looks you in the eye.

You founded the Crick Crack Club back in 1987 and have been at the forefront of reviving storytelling as a contemporary art form. Looking back, what first compelled you to launch a storytelling movement in the UK — and what continues to drive it today?

It starts with my love of the stories. Specifically traditional narratives – folktales, fairytales, epics and myths (as opposed to personal and original tales.) Traditional tales have existed for far longer than written narratives. They have been shaped by countless millions of anonymous mouths and ears and thus contain concentrated distillations of common ancestral experience. As a corpus of work, they directly address every conceivable question concerning human nature, from our greed and violence to our joy and compassion, because, as my colleague Hugh Lupton asks, ‘What contemporary issue has not always been a contemporary issue?’ In addition, a huge percentage of these stories– similar in plot and motif yet clothed in varying forms – are spread across the globe, speaking to a commonality of human experience.

These stories use an archetypal language of metaphorical images and scenarios… In certain genres – especially fairytale, epic and myth – this is very vivid, akin to the language of dream and is often shockingly extreme. The material penetrates. This language spoke to me as a child and continued to speak to me as I became an adult. I realised that only the exceptional ‘high artificiality’ of East European fairy tale films, some puppetry and the extraordinary theatre of Peter Brook’s Paris research centre (Ubu, The Conference of the Birds, The Bone, and finally the Mahabharata) could deliver these stories in any external form better than my own imagination. But theatre and film are excluding media, costly and complex and requiring rare genius to deliver well… Yet this repertoire is at the heart of ‘folk culture’ and folk culture belongs to us – all of us – and who are we but ‘the folk’? The folk are the rich AND the poor, the wise AND the foolish, the men AND the women, the young AND the old, etc. How could we reclaim it? One day in 1978 someone gave me a book with descriptions of storytellers telling stories in yards and porches in Haiti – and I realised that the power, accessibility and magic of storytelling lay in something that was materially much simpler than theatre or film – the spoken word.

In 1981 – relishing the DIY punk ethos – I set out with colleagues (including TUUP from Transglobal Underground) to rediscover how professional storytelling might work – particularly in multicultural Urban settings. And that fabulous journey is still ongoing.

Your background spans mime, image-making, directing and mythology. How have these disciplines shaped your approach to storytelling as both a craft and a-live-performance experience?

I left school aged 17 and did a mime course, explored puppetry and mask making and then spent a year in Burnley as an apprentice Image maker with the late, great, John Fox and the rest of the Welfare State International theatre company. This placed me in the world of community arts and street theatre. It awakened a real interest in speaking to audiences – particularly socially diverse audiences. How to find something truly popular? Storytelling requires no material support (no props or costumes) and can happen almost anywhere there are people – from the street, to a retirement home, to a 14,000-seater stadium. Most people have an imagination and as long as there is a common language, and provided you have the skill set, you can catch it, and set it gloriously on fire!

The Crick Crack Club has a long history in East London, particularly at Rich Mix and now at Folklore in Hoxton. How has the East London audience influenced the spirit, energy and evolution of your shows?

As young storytellers we were working on the streets in the very early City of London Festivals, and the Crick Crack Club moved from the Candid Café at the Angel Islington to the Spitz in Spitalfields Market in the early 1990s, so it is a very long relationship.

Around 2009 the then artistic director of Rich Mix, the fabulous Oliver Curruthers, sought us out and asked us to bring our shows to them. We started creating shows on themes – the Charity Shop show, Mad March Hares, Downright Rude… and many more. Our Day of the Dead show became an annual ritual, as did our Grand Annual Lying Contest (sort of). We miss Rich Mix and its audience, but Covid and the continued underfunding of Arts has changed so much.

We’re still very much in the East End. We programme monthly Fairytales for Grown-ups shows at the glorious (if bonkers) Folklore in Hoxton, and we put on ‘bigger’ shows at the stunning Hoxton Hall who are doing amazing work creating arts venue that both serves, and is in service to a community.

We’ve watched the social demographic of East London change and change again. I dislike the restrictive signalling of the corporate vibe and have always enjoyed rough and ready venues (as long as they are acoustically viable!) and the sort of audiences who don’t mind that. These are the folk who are not too materially concerned… Who want to live for the experience of NOW.

This year’s Crick Crack Club Christmas Carols Show brings together storytellers, musicians and a riot of festive mischief. What makes this event different from a traditional Christmas show — and what do you hope audiences feel as they step into this world?

Magic and Festivity!
We are singing carols because they are the one form of communal song very many people know, so they can be joined in with – irrespective of religious beliefs (and people can always la la la the lyrics!). Ours is not a Christian event rather it is a mid-winter celebration of life, community and coming together. The stories are from different parts of the world addressing themes of wonder and joy. And with Sheema Mukherjee and Raoul Nuemann as our band, the music has a transglobal touch…

You’re known for performing everywhere from caves to Carnegie Hall, with stories ranging from Gilgamesh to Frankenstein. What draws you to such a wide spectrum of mythologies, and what makes a story feel “alive” on a modern stage?

The paradigm of contemporary performance storytelling is the same as the historic paradigm of wandering bards, griots, troubadours and epic singers, the world over (and in many cases it is still so today). The specific paradigm is a solo artist on a stage (though often accompanied by a musician) holding the attention of a large audience of strangers for two hours. When put like that you begin to appreciate the skill sets involved: because there is no author and no director, the performer has to do it all – and ‘it’ is not the recitation of a fixed script! The oral storyteller is not making the story up as they go along – but they are improvising the language that communicates it, finding it in the moment. If the story has been told many times its linguistic form may become settled by repetition – but only to a degree: there is always a freedom to respond to each audience in a slightly – sometimes majorly – different way!

This requires an immense amount of focus and energy over a sustained time and the resulting internal biochemistry of the performer can become heightened. This in turn sometimes allows what could be called ‘mantic flow’ to appear and when you are telling stories which require giving voice to various anthropomorphic ‘Gods,’ this can become deeply surprising. Much insight about many things can be gained.

Your work with the Silk Road Ensemble, creating epic narratives for large-scale concerts across Europe and America, must have been extraordinary. How did those collaborations change the way you think about global storytelling and cross-cultural-myth?

I spent 10 years with YoYo Ma and the incredible musicians he gathered around him. It transformed my understanding about both the diversity AND the commonality of myth, folklore and in fact all creative endeavour. Humans have been exchanging all manner of material and intangible cultural artifacts for a very long time – generally, by peaceful and joyous means, but sometimes, of course, less so… Everything real has a shadow. We need to understand our global history much better and the long-term deep time migrations of people and cultures. It should be an encouraging rather than fearful experience. This is one world. There is one humanity facing a climate crisis that threatens us all. We need to work as one and those who have good fortune need to sacrifice and share with those who have less. This is one of the recurring messages in the stories.

Storytelling is often seen as ancient or nostalgic, yet your work proves it is anything but. What do you think people misunderstand most about contemporary storytelling — and why do you think audiences are craving it now more than ever?

As I quoted before, ‘what contemporary issue has not always been a contemporary issue?’ This repertoire of commonly owned tales, this global human heritage, is an ancestral gift passed on with generosity to help each generation as it arises. Our work uses the unfamiliarity of extraordinary visualisation to blast the imagination into activity – to help people appreciate that it is there… something powerful, mysterious and underexplored. Storytelling’s improvisatory paradigm allows audiences to feel – to know – that their presence is actively contributing to the event – there is an archaic rawness and vitality that nourishes the soul in a way that digital experiences cannot.

We want to nourish the subconscious and plant seeds which will germinate as future wondering – and we want people to feel they have shared something alive in the physical co-presence of their neighbours. A meal of dreaming if you like. We are not alone and, strangely, the ancestral voice can still be heard. It is benign, full of encouragement and love.

The Crick Crack Club has nurtured an entire generation of storytellers. As Artistic Director, what excites you most about the future — both for the art form and for the next 30 years of Crick Crack Club?

We are thrilled to watch several small groups of artists whose potentials were noted long ago and were nurtured for many years, bloom, blossom and set their own seeds. The training of the Irish Bards lasted for 12 years and the compositional and performance skill sets required for in this professional artistic paradigm are long to acquire. The generation of UK artists now reaching maturity that includes the likes of Sarah Liisa Wilkinson, Emily Hennessey and Steph Brittain excites me, as well as a generation of artists abroad such as Mikke Oberg in Sweden and Martina Pisciali in Italy.

The British storytelling revival of the 80s was made possible by a government lead commitment to multiculturalism – particularly by establishing an economy of work in primary and secondary schools. This was severely damaged by a change of school funding arrangements in 1992. There are signs that the current government is realising what a catastrophe the loss of enrichment through visiting artists to school premises has been, so maybe this will help a new generation make a viable living through this profoundly essential art. More generally, the current interest in folklore and mythology is largely the direct result of the labour of my colleagues and I over the past 40 years. I hope that as people learn more and more about global and comparative folk cultures and history, there will be a lessening of fantasies about ‘national’ identities and a more celebratory approach to commonality, directing effort towards the common human cause of saving a beautiful planet threatened by our greed and excess.

With the right steps, anyone can turn a group of photos into something that feels artistic and meaningful.

Pick a Theme That Guides the Whole Book

A strong photobook begins with a simple theme. This theme guides the entire project and helps decide which photos belong. It may be centred on a trip, a family event, daily life, or a creative idea. Some people choose themes based on emotions or visual styles, like shadows or soft colours.

If the goal is to make something that feels polished and purposeful, consider exploring photo books that follow strong themes. They show how clear direction can shape a memorable final product and inspire your own creative choices.

Once the theme is clear, it becomes easier to choose layouts, cover materials, and even the type of soft cover photo book or hard cover you want.

Choose Photos That Support the Story

A meaningful photobook doesn’t include every picture. Instead, it includes photos that support the theme and add depth. Each image should contribute something, whether it’s expression, detail, or atmosphere. Some pictures look great alone, but don’t blend well with the rest. Those can be set aside.

It also helps to consider variety. A mix of wide images, close-ups, and small details gives rhythm and movement. This is especially useful when building something like a wedding album, where a single event has many angles and emotions. Removing duplicates or repetitive shots also makes the final book easier to enjoy.

Arrange Photos in a Way That Feels Natural

The order of the photos shapes the viewer’s experience. A smooth flow can turn simple images into a story that’s easy to follow. Arranging them in a gentle sequence helps the viewer move through the book without confusion.

Some people build the flow by matching colours or textures. Others create contrast by placing a calm moment next to a lively scene. It’s also helpful to place simpler images between strong ones so the viewer has space to pause. A clean photo layout makes each page feel intentional.

When arranging photos, think of the experience as a visual walk. Each turn of the page should feel steady and natural.

Use Layout and White Space to Shape the Mood

Layout choices play a big role in shaping the mood of a photobook. White space, margins, and photo placement influence how the viewer reads each page. White space isn’t empty space. It gives photos room and draws attention to the right spots.

A single large image can feel very strong on a page with generous space around it. A grid layout works well for showing related moments, especially in books built from design templates. Choosing a few simple page layouts and repeating them helps the book stay consistent and calm.

Premium papers also make a difference. Options like semi-gloss paper can bring out vibrant colours, while matte finishes can create a soft, elegant tone.

Pick Colours, Fonts, and Materials That Match the Style

Design elements should match the mood of the book. This includes fonts, colours, and cover materials. A soft cover photo book can feel casual and warm. A hard cover option often feels more formal and suits books created for gifts or major life events.

Fonts should stay simple and readable so they don’t distract from the images. Captions can explain a date or place without taking attention away from the photos. Colours also matter. Soft backgrounds keep a calm mood, and neutral tones help bold photos stand out.

If you’re using a photo editor, it helps to adjust brightness and contrast in a consistent way before placing images in the book. This creates a cleaner and more balanced look.

Add Text Only When It Helps

Text can help tell the story, but too much can interrupt the visual flow. Short captions work well. They can describe a location, a feeling, or a moment. A simple phrase can guide the viewer through a section without overwhelming the page.

Text should support the photos, not compete with them. Keeping it brief makes the book easier to read.

Choose Printing Options That Bring Out the Book’s Beauty

Printing choices shape the final look of the photobook. Paper types, binding styles, and book size all matter. Premium papers can make colours look richer and details clearer. Semi-gloss paper is great for sharp images, while matte papers work well for softer styles.

Binding also affects the viewing experience. Seamless binding allows photos to stretch across two pages without losing details near the fold. This works well for landscapes and wide shots. Size also plays a part. Large books have visual impact, while smaller books feel personal and easy to hold.

Take Time to Review and Adjust

It’s helpful to review every page before printing. Some photos might feel slightly out of place once everything is assembled. Some transitions may feel too sudden. Rearranging photos or adjusting spacing can improve the final result.

Taking a short break and returning later can make it easier to notice what needs fine-tuning. Small adjustments often make the book feel more complete and artistic.

Conclusion

A photobook feels like art when every choice supports the story or mood. Clear themes, careful photo selection, steady flow, and thoughtful design decisions all work together. When the photos, layouts, and materials fit well, the viewer sees more than a simple collection of images. They follow a journey that feels smooth and meaningful. Anyone can create a photobook with an artistic touch by focusing on clarity, emotion, and strong visual choices.

COBRA marks a major departure from your known painterly language into a fully immersive world of projection, sound, and sculptural objects. What pushed you toward this expanded form of storytelling at this moment in your practice?

I approached my research in whatever way felt natural for what I was thinking about. I think painting is a powerful medium, but it’s also limited in some ways. I wanted this show to feel like stepping into a portal where time and images warp and distort linearity and expectation. Sound is a very powerful way to evoke emotion, and the low quality of sound I extracted from the found footage feels haunting in its noise and texture. The footage itself is the centre of the show, which I took and reduced into shadows and light, silhouettes moving and merging. I projected the footage onto two layers of fabric suspended from the ceiling. I wanted this footage to be the anchor for everything else around it. The paintings in this show draw from themes of image, violence and intimacy and are more reflective, whereas the sculptural works pull elements out from the footage, an almost resurrection of a time and place that doesn’t exist.

The exhibition draws from digital archives of queer men and transfeminine people dancing in Saudi Arabia—acts of joy, defiance, and community. What was your emotional experience in returning to these fragile online memories and reworking them into a new visual language?

I encountered these videos at various points in my life. I realised I was only seeing them. When I found them again, I decided to look and then to witness and then to honour. The emotional journey of sitting on my desk or bed, watching the same videos over and over, always on YouTube and never in my folders where I have them saved, has been quite intense. I felt a personal inner transformation in processing my own grief. I also felt joy at times, that these memories exist and that a fragile digital platform, one that constantly censors and hides videos like that, had become a graveyard for people to visit and pay their respects (and contempt at times) and to remember their friends. It compelled something in me. A sense of urgency to remember and make others remember as well.

The title “COBRA” comes from the online alias of someone featured in the footage who has since passed away. How did the weight of this discovery shape the tone, intention, or responsibility you felt while creating the exhibition?

Cobra is the name given to one of the people in these videos. Their name kept recurring in a few videos, especially in the title. From the comments I gathered that this person was quite well-known and popular in that particular scene. They left a big mark on people. They were influential. I also learnt from the comments that they had passed away. As you can imagine, this gave the responsibility so much more weight. I was now considering someone’s agency without being able to speak to them directly. I was also engaging with my own curiosity about a person I didn’t know. There were so many emotional layers to this, and they formed the emotional tone of the exhibition. I wanted to compress all of those emotions of discomfort, joy, grief, adoration, fear, etc. into one space.

Your figures often-exist in states of transformation—genderless, fragmented, unbound. How did this fluidity evolve when working with moving images and suspended projections rather than static canvases?

This fluidity is present in the footage. It has been edited heavily to keep people anonymous, but also it mirrors my interest in shadows and light, what they reveal and conceal. The figures in my work are genderless because I like to play with ambiguity and what happens when you add or remove identity markers. When you play with ambiguity and expectation, the viewer becomes the work in a way. Their assumptions and conclusions become an extension of it. It reveals all the personal, political, social and emotional construction of our thoughts and ways of seeing and understanding. When things move, there might be less room for ambiguity, because movement reveals. I have less control in a way, so I played around with placement and space to create that sense of illegibility.

COBRA navigates a space between resurrection and haunting. How do you approach the ethics of bringing lost queer images into a contemporary gallery context, especially when many of these lives existed in secrecy or precarity?

This has been the most complex part for me. I had these questions before I even began conceptualising the show. These questions kept me up at night and I ended up writing out a whole list of unanswered questions. I think ethically, I had to weigh out what I was attempting to do with the show. I asked myself, do these people want to be remembered in this way? This is a question I can only assume the answer to. Their image is out there anyway, on YouTube, titled with a slur. Their image exists despite many of the comments asking the uploader to take them down. Now that I have found this image– which isn’t violent in itself but violent in the way it was publicly shared– I had to ask: what do I do? I let these videos sit in a folder for years. Only going back to remember I had them. I realised, this is the only history we have. The only evidence of trans people existing at that time and place, and feeling joy and freedom to be. If this image must exist publicly, then I wanted it to exist under new terms, by a person that has a personal connection to that narrative. If I had access to a space for people to gather then I wanted it to be a place for people to gather and remember. Under better circumstances, this work wouldn’t be here, but there. I wanted this footage to be held differently, with care and reverence within a contemporary gallery context.

The sculptural elements—a stiffened thobe glowing from-within, folded garments, a balloon machine against a drum—interrupt the space with uncanny familiarity. How did these physical objects emerge in dialogue with the video work?

The objects came to be because I wanted to evoke the feeling of absence. There were objects that didn’t make it to the final install of the show, like the balloon machine sculpture for example. I decided to have the chair with folded garments as the central object of the show. One of the chair’s legs is balanced on a broken piece of concrete, and on top of it, found garments: shirts, jeans, hats, belts stacked on top and leaning, with a smaller piece of concrete balancing on top. I wanted it to feel precarious and delicate. It’s unsettling to see clothes without people, it encapsulates the feeling of something missing, but so much life is to be told in clothing that was once worn. I pulled those colours and textures directly from the footage, which is colourless in the projections. The thobe is frozen in time, in a subtle movement, towering above the viewer. I wanted it to be slightly hidden, to catch you off guard maybe. Those clothes are one of the most interesting elements of the footage, but their textures and colours aren’t visible there. The way masculine traditional clothes were feminised and given new life. I didn’t want to lose that as it was the heart of everything.

Much of your work sits between personal and political, intimate and confrontational. How do you hope audiences in London—many far removed from queer life in Saudi Arabia—experience or relate to this world you’ve built?

I conceptualised this show in response to this question. This is not a show necessarily about queer life in Saudi Arabia, although the footage depicts and memorialises those lives. This is a show about looking and what happens when two things meet and look at each other. The power dynamics and intimacy that looking reveals is the interesting part. This is work I’m well aware can never be shown there with this type of discussion, not yet at least. I’m also very aware of this voyeuristic lens at a life that is never imagined as probable, and in my discussions with all types of people here, that are detached from what that life is like, there is always this misunderstanding and intrigue, but most importantly, a resistance to believe. I didn’t want this work to make anyone believe or understand; I just needed it to be misunderstood enough to now have the power to look back at the viewer. In this confusion, the work is now haunted and alive. I want this world that I built to reflect back to the viewer their own beliefs and in the best case scenario, get them to question all the ways they look and consume and project onto images. I see that as universal.

Looking ahead, does COBRA signal a long-term shift in your practice toward more immersive installation and world-building, or is this moment a specific response to the stories and ghosts you’re engaging with now?

This moment, I hope, marks a real shift in my practice. The last few years have been particularly difficult for me personally and they have pushed me towards transformation in every direction. I’m approaching my practice in a different way, that feels more natural to how my mind works and I’m being truer to myself and my interests. I feel like my research and my studio practice have finally met up and are growing together. It’s a very exciting time for me creatively, despite all of life’s challenges.

Labour and Wait has spent 25 years quietly rebelling against disposability. When you founded the shop in 2000, what gap in London’s retail landscape were you trying to fill — and at what moment did you realise your philosophy had struck a cultural nerve?

At the time, there was so much overdesigned product in the marketplace. It seemed that everything had to have a ‘Designer’ name attached to it, or it wasn’t considered to be of any worth. In our opinion there was too much novelty in design, which we felt would make the products date very quickly.

Your new Covent Garden location carries the patina of labour — a chapel, warehouse and seed merchant. How did the building’s history influence the way you imagined the space and the experience you want people to have when they walk in?

The feel of the building was key in our decision making. We had viewed other properties, but they didn’t excite us. If we were to open another shop, we wanted the customer to have a different experience, so that each shop would have its own personality. We have always harbored the idea of a shop which is a bit like a warehouse, where you feel you are getting a glimpse behind the scenes.

You often speak about permanence as something radical. In an age of fast retail and constant novelty, how do you resist the pressure to expand, modernise or ‘refresh’ for the sake of commercial expectation?

We still firmly believe in what you might call ‘Lifetime products’. Many items we sell have been stocked since day one. Our mission is to bring these products to our customer’s attention. We are still discovering great items, which we add to our assortment as and when. We don’t work to strict seasons as most retailers do.

Your backgrounds are rooted in design and menswear. At what point did your frustrations with seasonal churn turn into the conviction that timeless, utilitarian products could become a business — and a countercultural statement?

I think it was a gradual realisation. We both appreciated classic, anonymous design. As menswear designers, we were often referencing archetypal garments, but we knew we would rather have the real thing – the true classic item rather than a ‘version of’. Our appreciation of functional design applies equally to household goods as it does to clothing. We judge the merits of a sweater in the same way as we do a dustpan & brush, which is possibly unusual!

Labour and Wait’s aesthetic feels both local and global: Shoreditch pub-turned-flagship, Tokyo shop, Korean concession, Covent Garden warehouse. How do you maintain the brand’s character while adapting to very different cultural contexts?

It’s all about the product. We have always believed that true classics have a place in any environment. The goods that we sell can fit in a period setting, or a very modern one. Sometimes people perceive our aesthetic as nostalgic, but we appreciate history and modernity in equal measure. Timelessness is our goal. You can find our aesthetic reflected in our Shoreditch pub-turned-flagship and beyond.

You’ve championed traditional makers long before ‘heritage’ became a trend. How do you discover craftspeople and manufacturers who align with your ethos, and what does a partnership need to look like for it to endure?

We have always appreciated the handmade, not just craft objets to be admired on a shelf, but items to be used in daily life. Sometimes we are given a lead about individual makers, and sometimes they find us. We are very adaptable, some makers can only make limited numbers, whereas others are able to scale up production. We feel it is very important to support these makers, they are passionate about what they do. Handmade products are life enhancing.

The new shop allows customers to see the workroom in action — a rare level of transparency in retail. Why was it important for you to bring the behind-the-scenes process into the public eye?

People are fascinated to see the workings of the business. Customers have been known to ask if we make everything downstairs! Whilst we don’t do that, there is quite a bit of processing that goes on behind the scenes. In addition, we now have the ability to fulfil online orders from the shops, and spend our lives surrounded by mountains of cardboard and brown paper!

As you mark 25 years and enter a new chapter, what questions are you asking yourselves now about the future of Labour and Wait, and what does longevity mean to you today as designers, retailers and custodians of everyday classics?

We will simply continue on our path. Our aims and objectives are the same now as they were when we first opened. We hope to provide timeless products which people can enjoy using in their daily lives, and hope that more people will appreciate what already exists, rather than constantly looking for ‘the next thing’.