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Kevin Brazil
Kevin Brazil is a writer and critic who lives in London. His writing has appeared in Granta, The White Review, the London Review of Books, the Times Literary Supplement, Art Review, art-agenda, Studio International, and elsewhere. He is writing a book about queer happiness.

Articles Available Online


Alvaro Barrington, Garvey: Sex Love Nurturing Famalay

Art Review

October 2019

Kevin Brazil

Art Review

October 2019

The unofficial anthem of this year’s London Carnival was ‘Famalay’, a bouyon-influenced soca song that won the Road March in Trinidad & Tobago’s Carnival...

Essay

October 2018

The Uses of Queer Art

Kevin Brazil

Essay

October 2018

In June 2018 a crowd assembled in Tate Britain to ask: ‘What does a queer museum look like?’ Surrounded...

Owen’s room was clean and his laugh genuine and he’d roll you a smoke He was thirty-three, and had a broken wind chime spelling LOVE hanging from his wardrobe door   We lived in a shared house in London that was cheap because it was sinking You couldn’t tell from the inside, but looking out of the window told a different story The plastic flamingos staked in the garden soil were slanted, as if one of their pink legs was shorter than the other The house had been a funeral parlour, and retained its Victorian shop-front covered in yellowing newspaper You could read about the millennium bug in screaming black capitals; or peruse adverts for purebred puppies that had long since been put to sleep     I was the last to move in and got the smallest room The man-and-van man solemnly carried my life upstairs in boxes, avoiding the eyes of passing residents I followed him in and did the same I was twenty-six, jobless, with mildly webbed toes I listed these ailments aloud and let them hang in the air above my single bed At night, I listened to my neighbours shagging then arguing – make-up sexing in reverse   I’d moved to London a year earlier, assuming I’d quickly become a successful model I knew deep down I was too old, but I’d read in a dentist’s sticky waiting room magazine that Isabella Rossellini didn’t start her modelling career until she was twenty-eight With two new silver fillings and a still-numb mouth, I cut and dyed my mousy hair into an orange bob and shaved my eyebrows off I hoped my newfound edginess would hide my heart face, my five feet and seven inches   I fucked creeps with homemade tattoos who never texted back I bought shit coke and befriended posh girls with

Contributor

July 2018

Kevin Brazil

Contributor

July 2018

Kevin Brazil is a writer and critic who lives in London. His writing has appeared in Granta, The White Review, the London...

Nora Ikstena's ‘Soviet Milk’

Book Review

August 2018

Kevin Brazil

Book Review

August 2018

Soviet Milk by Nora Ikstena opens with two women who cannot remember. ‘I don’t remember 15 October 1969,’ says the first. ‘I don’t remember...

READ NEXT

Essay

Issue No. 20

Notes on the history of a detention centre

Felix Bazalgette

Essay

Issue No. 20

Looking back at Harmondsworth as he left, after 52 days inside, Amir was struck by how isolated the detention...

feature

May 2013

Haneke's Lessons

Ricky D'Ambrose

feature

May 2013

‘Art is there to have a stimulating effect, if it earns its name. You have to be honest, that’s...

Prize Entry

April 2017

The Bad Thing

Annie Julia Wyman

Prize Entry

April 2017

1.   It must have been around the same time she decided that she really was using all the...

 

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