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Helen Charman
Helen Charman is a writer and academic based in Glasgow. Her first book, Mother State – a political history of motherhood — is forthcoming from Allen Lane in 2024. She teaches in the English Studies department at Durham University.

Articles Available Online


Attachment Barbies: On Watching Grey’s Anatomy

Essay

March 2023

Helen Charman

Essay

March 2023

In August 2022, ABC announced that Ellen Pompeo, currently the highest-paid actress on American network television, was leaving Grey’s Anatomy, the show on which...

Book Review

May 2021

HOLDING THE ROOM: ON HOLLY PESTER’S ‘COMIC TIMING’

Helen Charman

Book Review

May 2021

The last poem in Holly Pester’s first collection COMIC TIMING (Granta, 2021) is called ‘Villette’; it shares its title...

Some things are meant to be lost You can’t collect emotions As the artist Otobong Nkanga tells me this, I imagine an elaborate array of emotions, all bottled up, lining a shelf: anger, love, confusion, happiness, hatred   Nkanga’s practice is expansive and multifaceted, encompassing performance, painting, drawing, sculpture and installation It is characterised by the artist’s will to explore and understand stories, narratives and histories—of landscape, nature and place—as mediated by the body A complex web of information, action and conversation inspires diverse accounts and memories in the audience    On my first experience of her work I entered Diaspore (2014) to encounter two women, plainly clothed, standing poised with a plant, Queen of the Night, tentatively balanced upon their heads Navigating a drawing underfoot that resembled a map, the women’s movements were slow and considered, the rhythms of their bodies effected in the swaying of the plants above Viewers mingled, sat, stood around the space, marking out their territory I felt like an observer, absorbing the scene, but a friend described holding eye contact with one of the women for over half an hour: a battle of wills, a silent understanding?   Another earlier work, Face Me, I Face You (2013) sees three people standing closely together, physically connected by six pointed black wooden sticks These crisscross between them, a layered zigzag suspended in space and held in place only by the tension between two bodies – audience participants then begin to expand this network of connectivity Contained Measures of Shifting States (2012), conceived and commissioned by The Tanks, Tate Modern, also sought audience participation Four separate round tables were placed in a darkened, spotlit room, each displaying four elements: liquid, ice, smoke and heat in a state of movement and shift On a hollowed out table, 100 printed images showed ‘inspiration’ from the Tate’s own collection as well as pictures of landscapes, maps and scientific diagrams – in the table’s central orifice, the artist remained for nine hours without a break, engaging in discussions with the participants   Born in Nigeria and now working in Antwerp, the artist, who studied at the Rijksakademie in

Contributor

November 2017

Helen Charman

Contributor

November 2017

Helen Charman is a writer and academic based in Glasgow. Her first book, Mother State – a political history...

Essay

May 2020

Where do I put myself, if public life’s destroyed? On reading Denise Riley

Helen Charman

Essay

May 2020

How do you read someone who doesn’t always want to be read? This is a question I used to...

Sally Rooney’s ‘Normal People’

Book Review

October 2018

Helen Charman

Book Review

October 2018

Reading Sally Rooney’s second novel Normal People is a compulsive experience. After the navy blue Faber & Faber proofs were sent out in early...
Rendering intimacy impossible, deploy lifeboats (mark yourself safe) Not listening as such, more waiting to speak, above all mark yourself, it’s so important to be safe Carry on, they demand, we’re not reeling / we are reeling Is this the place for a fountain reference? Probably ‘What first attracted you to your wife, sir?’ ‘Her delicacy / her ankles / her hatred of the Tories’                  Alive twice over but that’s a whole life gone too                you know I’m sorry, he holds his hands up, I’m                sorry, he backs away: my conscience couldn’t                keep company with your body I say, your body?                it just made me think: it’s only a nine month stay   The next time you lay a hand on me, I’ll make a perfect gleaming dive into the Thames Aren’t you glad / to be here? I am
Electioneering

Prize Entry

November 2017

Helen Charman


READ NEXT

Prize Entry

April 2016

DATE NIGHT

Chris Newlove Horton

Prize Entry

April 2016

He said, ‘Tell me about yourself.’ He said, ‘Tell me about you.’ He said, ‘Tell me everything. I’m interested.’...

fiction

June 2015

Hollow Heart

Viola Di Grado

TR. Antony Shugaar

fiction

June 2015

2011   I. In 2011 the world ended: I killed myself.   On July 23, at 3:29 in the...

poetry

Issue No. 2

Letter to Jim Jarmusch [Broken Flowers]

Jon Thompson

poetry

Issue No. 2

What they’ll know of us in future years: the large interiors of our suburban homes were designed by others...

 

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