Arts from the Front


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Our Wor(l)d” is an artistic outreach community in North Islington. Our stated aim is to help our community integrate better in to the New Britain, a country of anti-racism, anti-imperialism and no man spreading at all. We are a creative co-operative that is opposed to white (male) privilege and climate change and stand for a country that is united behind the leadership of a truly progressive Party. We are also pro-democracy and want to give everybody a fair share in our country, provided they share our political ideals and support our fight. Therefore, we are particularly proud to help the marginalised victims of institutionalised racism, xenophobia and post-Brexit hate crime this country is rife with. To overcome the small minded bigotries of our Little-English country men and women, we have taken on the artistic struggle. Our artists’ collective has taken up creative writing to help us all integrate better in zhe Britain to be, through sharing of our personal and political experience in an inclusive, not-for-profit format (with generous funding from the EU, the BBC and an unnamed philanthropist). We are therefore very proud to present the results of our creative endeavour in our annual exhibition.

Our first exhibit is a work by M’bombo Naggene, a twelvish Syrian refugee boy from Aleppo. In a poem entitled “bushmeat”, M’bombo reflects on the experience of a young child discovering his body in the context of war, political persecution and poverty caused by capitalist exploitation and latter day imperialism: 

Schlong schlong schlong
schlong schlong schlong
Schlong schlong schlong
schlong schlong schlong
My bushmeat is so long
We were quite taken in by the simplistic beauty stemming from word repetition and immediately realised that we would like M’bombo to provide us with a bit of a background. And provide us he did. Well even after many years, life can still surprise you, can’t it? Exceedingly well developed for a child of such tender age, too.
Next we have a text from one of the long-established members of our collective. It’s Catherine from across the herbalists (not the one from above the butchers). Catherine entered a piece that is very mature and thought provoking: 
They fmafed colonialifm on my lipf
And avenged imperialifm on my hipf. 
Needf muft, I reckon.
This little poetic gem captures the modern experience from a woman’s perspective: it reflects on Catherine’s moment of joining forces with the oppressed and marginalised victims of capitalifm. Sorry: capitalism. But this text also means much more to us as it marks a watershed moment for our artists’ community. Whereas in former years, we would have refused this entry because it could have fostered the far-right narrative, we now see it as a prime example of what could have been avoided if we all integrated better. Because like it or not: we are all refugees now. I think Catherine will join me in celebrating this idea once she gets released from hospital.   
Now we have an entry from our dear old Jeremy. Well, not that dear old Jeremy obviously, but the other one, the one that lives around the corner from Catherine who lives across the herbalists (and not above the butchers). His work has taken two months in the making and when he finally had it “right” (still a bit normative, our Jeremy, despite his many years in the collective, hahaha) he titled it “Teach me how to fly”. Well here it is.
High rises and ghastly concrete garage roofs
Anonymous walks through parks 
Around cottages leading 
In and out of nothingness.
Put them to use, my dear friends:
Teach me how to fly. 
Here’s what an old acquaintance of mine who works at the BBC had to say about Jeremy’s work: “This magnificent text marks the meeting point of two only superficially opposing aspirations and dissects the false dichotomy imposed by the capitalist means of production in a stroke of genius when the lyrical ego understands how easy it would be to have his ambition realised at the hands of his new friends.” Well done, Jeremy. Red star!
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Yay! (Never mind why).
Now, I could of course go on all evening about us but I would also like the opening of our annual exhibition to be about you. So, without further ado we from “Our Wor(l)d” would like to welcome you, comrades and refugees, to explore our artistic product on your own creative terms. 
Oh, there’s one last thing I almost forgot to mention: our trip to Paris! Oh làlà! Oui oui chéri! Well we’re going to Paris next Sunday to meet with refugee groups evicted from Calais and currently made to squat under appalling conditions beneath some viaducts, Rosie has all the details. I would just like to remind you that we start at nine o’clock in the morning (that’s before it gets dark) and board our coach at Clapham Junction (don’t ask me why but the driver strictly refused to come to Islington). Now, the thing I’d like you to remember is to bring cash. There will be time for shopping in Paris but I must remind you that refugee shops and cafes still don’t accept credit cards.
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Eins, zwei, drei, vier: credit cards are welcome here!