In 1958, when he was nineteen, my father, Kevin O’Neill, got a job with Chicago Bridge & Iron, an American corporation active worldwide in the construction of industrial plants, at Whitegate refinery in Cork, which is my father’s hometown.[1] His subsequent career, mainly in hard-hat managerial …
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‘The anglophone world, we have to infer, has run out of words for its own feelings.’
Daisy Hildyard on the wisdom of scarecrows.
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Lillian Fishman on texting, power and the ethics of leaving a friend on read.
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‘I have a pathological addiction to the internet, which I indulge with the excuse of making art. It rarely translates to anything good and mostly leaves me overstimulated and afraid.’
Paul Dalla Rosa on excess and the internet.
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Two poems by Sylvia Legris.
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Xiao Hai on coming of age in the factories of Shenzhen, translated by Tony Hao.
‘The Eilat–Ashkelon pipeline went into operation in 1969, on the eve of the nationalisation of oil.’
Laleh Khalili on energy politics and the ‘secret’ pipeline transporting crude oil across southern Israel.
‘At the start of this pandemic, I had three living grandparents, and now I have one.’
Colin Herd introduces the photography of Robbie Lawrence.
