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Claire-Louise Bennett
Claire-Louise Bennett grew up in Wiltshire and studied literature and drama at the University of Roehampton, before settling in Galway. Her short fiction and essays have been published in The Stinging Fly, The Penny Dreadful, The Moth, Colony, The Irish Times, The White Review and gorse. She was awarded the inaugural White Review Short Story Prize in 2013 and has received bursaries from the Arts Council and Galway City Council. Her debut novel, Pondwas published by Fitzcarraldo Editions in 2015 and shortlisted for the Dylan Thomas Prize in 2016. Her second novel, Checkout 19, is published by Jonathan Cape in August 2021.

Articles Available Online


The Russian Man

Fiction

Issue No. 27

Claire-Louise Bennett

Fiction

Issue No. 27

Many years ago a large Russian man with the longest tendrils of the softest white hair came to live in the fastest growing town...

poetry

Issue No. 13

Morning, Noon & Night

Claire-Louise Bennett

poetry

Issue No. 13

Sometimes a banana with coffee is nice. It ought not to be too ripe – in fact there should...

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, Bound Over To Keep The Peace, 2012, commissioned by Chisenhale Gallery, London Photo: Marcus Leith *   A person is represented, sitting in what appears to be the banal and conventional pose of a high street studio portrait photographer: a torso, half-twisted towards you, a hand is placed on a leg, another holds up to the face a pendant, dangling on a long, thin chain which dips down and reaches up around the neck   The person’s head and face are covered in brushstrokes which appear as crude as those which describe the dark space behind, a failure to discriminate between the subject and background which feels like an aggression against the person The face is so dis-affected that the author of this subject seems disinterested – almost uncannily so – in representing the body as human The eyes are intense dashes of white, as are the teeth, bared in a smile, and the paint here, applied with more care, is thick, cartoonish This smiling face appears charged with some satirical intent by the invisible hand of the artist, whose biography the gallery hand-out has summarised for our reassurance The subject is not given a name, nor is the viewer given any context for what, for want of a better word, I have described as satire On closer attention to the painting, any cheerfulness coaxed out of the subject by the studio photographer (who is, after all, probably only doing his job) appears forced to the point of a violent ambivalence The person’s left hand, resting on the left leg, is outlined by spaces of white canvas with an apparent lack of care, and the person seems to be digging the nails of their hand into their own leg, as if fighting to contain the desire to break out of the painting   Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, the maker of these paintings, born in London in 1977, is among the first generation of artists to reach maturity in the twenty-first century Her inclusion in The Ungovernables, the triennial exhibition at the New

Contributor

August 2014

Claire-Louise Bennett

Contributor

August 2014

Claire-Louise Bennett grew up in Wiltshire and studied literature and drama at the University of Roehampton, before settling in...

The Lady of the House

fiction

Issue No. 8

Claire-Louise Bennett

fiction

Issue No. 8

Wow it’s so still. Isn’t it eerie. Oh yes. So calm. Everything’s still. That’s right. Look at the rowers – look at how fast...

READ NEXT

Art

March 2011

Gabriel Orozco: Cosmic Matter and Other Leftovers

Rye Dag Holmboe

Art

March 2011

‘To live,’ writes Walter Benjamin, ‘means to leave traces’. As one might expect, Benjamin’s observation is not without a...

poetry

January 2012

Tynemouth Lodge

W. N. Herbert

poetry

January 2012

‘Sometimes I go to the tavern and get drunk.          What of it?’                                 Nesimi 1 Bars tend us...

Interview

October 2014

Interview with Otobong Nkanga

Louisa Elderton

Interview

October 2014

Some things are meant to be lost. You can’t collect emotions. As the artist Otobong Nkanga tells me this,...

 

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