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Philippa Snow
Philippa Snow is a critic and essayist. Her work has appeared in publications including ArtforumThe Los Angeles Review of BooksArtReviewFriezeVogueThe NationThe New Statesman, and The New Republic. Her first book, Which As You Know Means Violence, is out now with Repeater, and she is currently working on an essay collection about famous women.  

Articles Available Online


You Don’t Think God Is Sexy?

Film Review

January 2023

Philippa Snow

Film Review

January 2023

On the most literal level, Pier Paolo Pasolini’s elliptical, spiritual-cum-sensual movie Teorema (1968) is about an entire family being driven to distraction by their...

Essay

Issue No. 31

It's Terrible The Things I Have To Do To Be Me

Philippa Snow

Essay

Issue No. 31

Here was a woman who had modelled her life so closely on Marilyn Monroe’s that doing so eventually helped...

At that time our experience with death was very limited Sometimes someone’s grandfather or grandmother would die, like a domino falling when its turn comes at last, but still we all had at least two or three grandparents living Some grandparents – in particular, some grandmothers – threw themselves off their balconies This happened with a certain frequency; I have since asked myself if it was something peculiar to that neighbourhood or period in time, a coincidence, or else some fault in my memory Whatever it was, it happened, or at least I remember that it happened We would be playing peacefully in the street when first the rumours and then, later, the cries reached us: the grandmother of we-didn’t-know-who had thrown herself from a fourth, a fifth, a tenth floor, always from enough of a height to kill her The apartments – council blocks of exposed brick – were high and had narrow balconies cluttered with junk: cleaning supplies, birdless birdcages, plantless plant pots, and old, dirty mattresses were visible Some were enclosed by a barrier of green glass, but this, evidently, didn’t stop the old women perching on the edge and throwing themselves off into the void It was like a plague Five or six flung themselves off in the space of just a couple of years; once we even saw, from afar, a body crumpled on the pavement, light as a rag, through the police cordon and the neighbours surrounding it There was nothing to stop us getting nearer, except perhaps fear and revulsion; nothing prevented us, either, from inventing perverse fantasies about the possibility of a murder – someone pushed her, said one; they did it to get the inheritance, another added, repeating ideas from TV movies; us, children of a neighbourhood where the grandmothers did not have nor ever had an inheritance   The grandparents died, but for us life had no limit What concept could a child have, after all, of death? Or, rather, what concept could a child have of death in a country free of war or conflict, in an average city in

Contributor

November 2018

Philippa Snow

Contributor

November 2018

Philippa Snow is a critic and essayist. Her work has appeared in publications including Artforum, The Los Angeles Review of Books, ArtReview, Frieze, Vogue, The...

Essay

January 2021

An Uneasy Girl

Philippa Snow

Essay

January 2021

Even before Lucie arrives holding a shotgun, we know that the perfect family in this huge suburban house are...

Brilliant Muscles

Essay

December 2019

Philippa Snow

Essay

December 2019

‘Lindsay Lohan’s new film,’ I told almost everyone I spoke to for about two months earlier this year, ‘is about werewolf detectives.’ Nobody seemed...
Evita Vasiljeva, POSTCRETE

Art Review

February 2019

Philippa Snow

Art Review

February 2019

Lower.Green is situated in the unlikely surroundings of a near-dead mall in Norwich. It is not just any mall, but Anglia Square Shopping Centre:...
Gabriele Beveridge, Live Dead World

Art Review

November 2018

Philippa Snow

Art Review

November 2018

Several months ago, I went to a salon so small and so identikit that I do not recall the name, and against every sane...

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feature

February 2014

Another Way of Thinking

Scott Esposito

feature

February 2014

I. There is no substitute for that moment when a book places into our mind thoughts we recognise as our...

poetry

December 2011

Return After Earthquake

Jeffrey Angles

poetry

December 2011

although left for months my house is still standing here on terra firma branches broken by snow fallen into...

fiction

November 2016

The Miserablist

Anne Boyer

fiction

November 2016

This vision was strongly nebulous, an indeterminate but bold reaction only because it was so much like one of...

 

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