The experience of Video Jam is as compelling as its premise: “an experimental night of short films with a variety of live musical accompaniment”. Filmmakers of any ilk submit silent short films to which a musician, band or poet provides a live audio accompaniment. The filmmakers have no say over what kind of score their pieces get and the films were chosen for the musicians, largely at random.

Sarah Hill is one of four organisers of Video Jam, a graduate from the University of Manchester and now an art foundation student at Manchester Metropolitan University. The original idea came to her from an opening she went to at the Whitworth Gallery, where an animation was scored live by two musicians. She told me how she had explained to another Video Jam organiser: “I know I want to do something with film and music, but I’m not sure what. I’m a filmmaker and he’s a musician, I thought ‘we can do something together’.”

The event was held at Antwerp Mansions, a large building just behind Rusholme’s curry mile. Originally a Belgian consulate, the imposing Victorian structure became a Conservative club in 1924, before being abandoned and then squatted. It’s now a licensed venue and a hangout for artists, musicians and others. Unlike the squat-inspired faux-eclectic aesthetic of commercially successful chains like Trof, Antwerp Mansions seems the real deal. Grand Victorian architecture and original mouldings – the period features remain largely intact – are now home to a mad mix of paintings, pornography, murals and a flea market-esque collection of furniture; the stage itself is made out of vast antique pool tables pushed together.

The team behind Video Jam had laid out tables and chairs with dark red table cloths and tea lights in jam jars were dotted across the room, giving the feeling of a speakeasy during prohibition, or the hideout of a revolutionary fraternity. I half expected maps detailing an upcoming siege to be projected onto the large white sheet that hung on one wall.

The night began with two short films by lecturer Dave Griffiths, the first a cigarette in black and white burning to the filter and the second a collection of white dots and scratches taken from the controversial 1915 film The Birth of a Nation and accompanied by sparse, atonal scratching on an electric guitar by Anton Hunter. From its highly experimental beginnings, the night unfolded as an exploration of film and music without restraint. There were highly abstract and graphically driven pieces, films with a narrative, featuring actors and there were films using found footage, spliced and edited to create new art.

The music was an energetic mix of instruments; guitars, wind, brass, strings, piano and instruments neither I, nor the music buffs I was sat with, could even name. While the majority of the scores worked well, I wished some had been a little more adventurous. In some cases it seemed as though the musicians were content to recreate the films in musical terms, rather than trying to add their own commentary or counterpoint.

The most successful collaborations were always when the music brought something unexpected, challenging and wonderful to the film. Anne Lister’s film The View From Jupiter accompanied by Sophie James was one such success. Although the film itself was beautiful – a series of orbs travelling across the screen – the musical accompaniment added a dimension, which was at once elaborate and captivating and gave the illusion of visual complexity.

Musician Adam Hart, who performed a rich electronic score for a short film of a car journey at night, explained that “when film and music mix together and the result is more than the sum of their parts, it creates an extra dimension. Music and moving image should complement each other”. He conceded that “it’s easier if [the film is] abstract- there’s less of a demand for synchronicity”.

Sarah Hill, whose own film Funes, the Memorious, scored by Michael Seal was another highlight, said “I have a particular interest in filmmakers and musicians who are working in a genuinely experimental way, who don’t worry about convention, and value improvisation; the idea of chance or happy accidents”.

Indeed, what gave the night its feeling of freshness and scope, was the sense of experimentation. When Helen Knowles’ submission was aired – found footage of an unassisted childbirth – it was played twice, once without music as “an experiment”.

The night was not without its hitches; technical errors interrupted a few of the screenings and at one stage, while I spoke to enthusiastic organisers Sarah and Sam Hughes they had to run off to replace the screen, which had been pulled down. But again, the crowd was supportive and their teething issues will no doubt be smoothed during Video Jam’s future at the mansions.

Lucy Allan

First published in 1914, the production of Tressell’s work provides a picture of social, political, economic and cultural life in Britain prior to the First World War and advocates a socialist society through scenes depicting social injustice and the failures of capitalism.

Howard Brenton’s adaptation premiered at the Liverpool Everyman in 2010 and returns to the stage as part of the Pandora’s Box Festival. Aspects Theatre Company, the group behind the production, is part of The School of Media, Music and Performance at the University of Salford, which gives a staggering 300 public performances each year at venues locally and across the country.

The company is using Brechtian techniques, including mask work and song, for this performance, which relates closely to the themes of the original novel. Brecht was a committed Marxist who explored the idea of theatre as a forum for political ideas. Rather than cause audiences to experience emotional connection or identification with characters, Brecht wanted his audiences to view works of theatre with a critical mind, open to recognising social injustice and be persuaded to leave the performance space and affect political change in the world outside.

By using unfamiliar or surreal elements – such as bare lighting, masks or speech directed at the audience, Brecht aimed to communicate the idea that the audience’s reality outside the theatre was equally constructed and therefore just as open to change.

These techniques relate interestingly to a novel which, at points, heavily criticises the working classes for being unable to perceive the possibility of change, and should make for an insightful piece of theatre.

Lucy Allan

The performances are at 7.30pm on Thursday 19th and Friday 20th January, with a matinee at 2.30pm on Friday at The University of Salford, Allerton Building, Frederick Road Campus, Salford, M6 6PU.

Tickets: £4 (£3 concessions). Tel 0161 295 6120 for ticket reservations.

So how did the collaboration between you and Skeptical come about?

We’ve worked together for a little while now. We’ve done a few things on Ingredients, we did a “12 on dispatch and we did some stuff on Critical. So we’ve probably worked together for nearly 2 years: Skeptical is my partner in crime though we’ve only actually been in the studio together once – we’ve made about 20 tunes together – but we’ve only actually sat together once.

What we usually do is one of us will start a tune and send the other the parts. So he might send me five folders and I’ll send him five with the beginnings of a tune – a bit of bass, a bit of drums etc – and it’ll go from there. We’ll take the parts we like, change a few parts, and it progresses like that.

With this tune he sent me a file and it sat there for a bit. Then one night I was in the studio with Johnni and we started working on it. He put the bar on and it was about a four-hour session in the end.  The thing I’ve always liked about working with Skeptical is that if I send him any of my parts, I know the tune is going to come back better than I sent it. He’s gonna add bits, change bits around and all that and it will always improve it. It’s nice working with someone who inspires you and you can trust 100 per cent to make it better.

What inspired Marka?

Nothing specific. On my part, it was just listening to the parts Ash [Skeptical] sent me – the half speed part and the ragga clap – Johnni had the bar and we went from there. We’ve always had one eye on doing something different, but without being too contrived about it. At that point, we thought “this hasn’t been done so let’s try that.” Obviously the lyrics are clash talk so there’s the inspiration for that.

People often make links between your music and film soundtracks. What do you think about the comparison?

Yeah, you’re trying to paint a picture with the music. Not consciously, but, I watch a lot of films and film music is sometimes the best music. It’s not trying to be cool or anything but is purely there to set a mood, and that’s the best kind of music, where you’re trying to generate some kind of feeling, or set a tone. Sometimes it comes from the oddest shit. There’s actually some atmospheric sounds from Marka that come from a weird old Polish film called Seven Days of Night.  I got about half way through and thought, “This is weird but the soundtrack is great!” So I recorded the whole thing in.

What do you think about the reception to Marka?

It’s been mad. It’s more than we could ever imagine could happen. Obviously it’s been great and we’re absolutely over the moon. When we finished it we thought it was just weird and some people might like but a lot of people would probably hate it. The response has been absolutely overwhelming though. We didn’t think you could make a tune with that kind of reach anymore. In a sea of mass promotion where anyone can make something it’s so hard to get noticed so for a tune to take over social media for a day like it did was just mental. It’s all a bit odd because you think that if and when it happens it’ll never happen to you.

It’s like when you talk to older people about how they got their job – they just turned up and asked for it – and it seems like that with some older bands: they just play a couple of shows and they get signed. It seems like a lot more work today.

I used to read that kind of stuff – ‘cause I’ve been doing this 11 years – so I used to think, “How have you done that?” To me that doesn’t seem possible. I’ve been in the same places where you said you’ve been and got a job and I didn’t get a job…am I just shit? But I guess you’ve got to just live with that. I’m quite proud of the fact that I stuck to my guns, I’ve been here all this time, doing it, and finally gotten somewhere.

What do you think about the scene in Manchester?

For me, Manchester is the most inspiring place in the world to be.  We’ve got everything here from musicians, producers, DJs, MCs, graphic designers, great clubs, video people, web designers, press people, PR people, clothes designers. You name it, we’ve got it. The problem is, at least not since the days of Madchester, has the whole of Manchester come together and said “right, let’s get together and do this” probably.

We’re outside of London where all the industry has traditionally been, and being a little city in the North it’s very hard for us to be on that circuit. The only way we’re going to get anywhere is by having our own circuit. Obviously there are some great things up here but now we’re all working together and it’s starting to be a bit more conducive. We’ve got the Estate UK thing, originally Broke N’English’s label, but now it’s a group thing with Skittles, Chimpo and Fox, T man, Sparks, Ellis Meade, myself and James from Example Media at the helm– there’s a really strong little unit there where it’ll be a great thing if we do it properly. At the moment it’s just a bunch of mates trying to support each other but hopefully it could be something bigger if we work hard enough.

What was interesting was that the last mixmag had myself, Skittles, DRS, Strategy, Hit and Run and a few other bits. Someone tweeted something about how strong Manchester was looking at the moment. It’s great that people are saying that but we were thinking “wait ‘til they realise that we’re all the same crew”.

What is it about the city that inspires that sort of thing?

It’s the size partly. Everyone knows everyone. But it’s got a strong musical identity and a rich heritage. The people, the place, the rain, everything – it’s an inspiring place to be. We’ve got so many people as well, so many creeds and cultures, it’s so culturally rich.

Is there much conflict between staying independent versus going with big labels?

I don’t think major labels are something you can turn down because at the end of the day we’ve all got to put food on the table and they can guarantee that. But there’s a certain romance to staying independent. With Marka we didn’t use any of the usual channels. We just put it up on YouTube. I’m quite proud of the fact we didn’t get a remix of a big name, we didn’t go to a massive PR company, didn’t pay tonnes of people to push it in all these different places. It was just a natural thing.

What do you think of the Warehouse Project?

It’s cool for what it is and it puts the city on the map. Some of the acts they have I think are wicked but it’s not totally my kind of thing. I’ve only been there once – make of that what you will…

What should we expecting from you this year?

I’m all over this year. Pretty much every city in the UK, quite a few European dates, festivals over the summer. Check out the fanpage for all the listings. Release-wise is a “12 on Critical Music called Codec with Never beenft Fox on the other side. After that there’s a “12 on Samurai which is a collab’ with Skeptical. One side featuring T Man, the other featuring Sparks. There’s also a number of remixes due and some stuff at different tempos. Again, check the fanpage for details on those as and when.

So who haven’t you mentioned that we should be keeping a look out for at the moment?

For me, Chimpo and Fox are two of the most underrated musicians about. Do yourself a favour and check them out.

Joseph Ritchie

Michael Schmidt at the October 2011 Manchester Literature Festival

Michael Schmidt, a witty and quietly eccentric man and founder of the poetry publishers Carcanet Press, gave an excellent reading which chronologically traced his poetry from boyhood. Schmidt is a central figure in contemporary poetry and usually appears at readings in his capacity as director of Carcanet, so it was a delight to see him behind a podium as a poet. He delivered his work gently, in a way that allowed the poems to stand alone, free of any kind of insistent inflection.

A poem about showing Robert Burns around his school in Pennsylvania and one about a young boy catching a Scoprion were notable for their touching clarity and complexity disguised as simplicity. This was a theme that continued through his reading, with even poetry concerned with celestial and theological discussions shot through with fragmented images such as a monk talking to his cat.

Chris McCully, who towered over the podium in a three-piece suit and thick-rimmed glasses, delivered his poetry with more of a leaning to theatrics. These ranged from the wonderful, with a poem about assembling through a process of fragmentation his relationship with his house, to the inanely nostalgic (“once there was gravy, now there is jus…”).

After the reading, true to form, the audience was given the opportunity to ask questions. Unusually, this segment of the evening was enjoyable, with questions ranging from the intuitive and erudite with the poet Grevel Lindop sparking a rewarding discussion about place and belonging, to explicit declarations of ignorance when a suited man who identified himself as a literary novice asked the question: “why poetry?”

The familiarity of the two men with one another allowed for a candid and absorbing discussion, and Schmidt’s dry and slightly cutting – dare I say flirtatious? – comments to McCully went some way to breaking down the stilted formality which often prevents live literary events from becoming the kind of free-flowing and open discussions they ought to be.

Indeed, Schmidt’s answer to the ‘why poetry’ question that poetry is valuable and necessary because it is interactive both called to mind and refuted the great shame that literary events and indeed poetry are seen by so many as stuffy and out of reach. Catch him at his next reading if you can.

Lucy Allan

The last time the Conservatives were in power the ‘left’ – in the form of trade unions, the socialist wing of Labour Party and leftist community groups – responded to their agenda of destroying unions, local authorities and the welfare state. This time round, instead of opposing Tory cuts to local government services, Labour councils are laying off thousands of public sector workers.

Opposition from public sector unions has been muted up till now and largely confined to symbolic mass marches with no follow-up. There are vigorous local campaigns but no popular national campaign against the undermining of the welfare state, and most of the imaginative actions against the government have come through non-aligned groups such as Occupy and UKUncut, both organised on an ostensibly non-hierarchical basis and with little formal structure.

You could not get much further from the more traditional trade union organisation. But recently things have started to change. Len McCluskey, head of the Unite trade union, addressed Occupy London while, more significantly, Occupy Bristol protestors moved their camp to the picket line of PCS civil servants outside the Capita site in Bristol. Two very different groups in terms of their organisation and structure, but with a common aim of opposing large corporations which are making vast profits while cutting the wages of their workers.

Tim Gee’s new book Counterpower was written to educate and inform activists in these campaigns about how to challenge the power of elites and to show how change can be affected. Tim himself is probably fairly typical of some of the activists that are involved in Occupy and the climate movement before that. He comes from a middle-class family, studied political science at Edinburgh University and now works for an international development organisation: “I came from a family that discussed political ideas at the dinner table. I got involved with the Section 28 campaign and met up with Peter Tatchell. We won the campaign and it showed me how campaigns can be successful.”

Unlike most historians Tim happily lines up with the oppressed in society. He raided the archives of Salford’s Working Class Movement Library in researching Counterpower, and says he “sees things in class terms….the struggle between the haves and have-nots”, believing the “anti-cuts campaign” to be “already more widespread and more militant than any campaign of the recent past”.

For Tim, his political education can about through involvement with a variety of campaigns, from opposition to the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq to resisting the evictions at Dale Farm. As he explained, his experiences taught him not only how the state uses its force to take on opposition, but also the need for activists to understand this and constantly change their tactics, pursue new actions and work together. He wrote Counterpower “to get to the root of how change happens, with the intention of providing a way for campaigners today to learn from the movements that constitute our heritage.”

To undermine and even overthrow the state’s control of “mind, money and muscle” Tim argues “ideas counterpower”, “economic counterpower” and “physical counterpower” can develop alternative ideas of how society can be run and challenge the state’s wealth and physical power. In exploring this idea Tim’s book covers a wide variety of movements from the liberation struggles in India and Vietnam to the anti-poll tax campaign.

For the latter, Tim argues “the central tactic was economic counterpower [in terms of] refusing to pay – but this was only effective alongside the ideas counterpower of building public support and the physical counterpower to repel bailiffs.” Unfortunately however, this treatment often leads to the dilution of these histories and to some unproven conclusions.

By way of example, his short chapter on the Vietnam War focuses on the anti-war movement of the US. Clearly when the conscripted soldiers refused to fight and even left the country this was a blow to the United States government. But many other people, largely working-class and often black or Hispanic, did support the war and fight in the army, and the anti-war movement did not bring an end to the war on its own. Counterpower would have benefitted from a more thorough treatment of the complex economic and political movements of the era of which the anti-war movement was only a part.

Tim concludes by reflecting on the growing anti-cuts movement, particularly the TUC March for the Alternative in London last spring, which he does not see as an end in itself. “They are better seen as a demonstration of intent – a warning that if the powers that be do not cede power, the people will claim it for themselves with every form of counterpower available to them.”

Maybe so, but a major issue for all left wing activists and trade unionists remains how people can become active in these campaigns. Unlike Tim and myself most do not come from a political family. If young people are not getting jobs then they are unlikely to stand much chance of being a union member. Over the last few years it has been students and to a lesser extent graduates who have been at the forefront of campaigns – student fees, UK Uncut and so on. The riots over the summer across the cities of England were an outburst by largely unemployed young men without any distinct political message or organisation.

As the global crisis deepens activists, whether from non-hierarchical organisations such as Tim or from the trade union movement such as myself are going to have to engage which each other and perhaps forge a new language to listen to and reflect the needs of the growing dispossessed of this country.

Tim has written an interesting and insightful book about how and why some campaigns can be and are successful. But it is written for a specific group of people who are not irritated by the constant use of “Counterpower” terminology and are familiar with political authors such as Gene Sharp, Naomi Klein and George Monbiot. It is important to understand theory but we all need to relate to those who are not already engaged in any movement.

As a trade unionist representative and political campaigner I would have preferred more personal histories of political activists and campaigns which would be useful in encouraging some of the younger people I come across to join a union or campaign. And in focusing on simply countering power, Tim isn’t the only activist who seems to be lacking in ideas of what kind of society we are all campaigning for and it is always easier to know what we are against rather than analyse what we want. Cooperation between Occupy Bristol and the local unions may be the beginning of that dialogue – but only history will show this.

Bernadette Hyland

Counterpower: making change happen is published by New Internationalist and is available for £9.99

Part of the Future Fires scheme at Manchester’s Contact Theatre, which supports emerging young artists, the project is asking volunteers to take part in filmed interviews for a video exhibition held in the city next February. If participants are willing they can also have the chance to take part in filming workshops where a cross section of stories and their tellers will be explored in greater depth.

Project Organiser Tania Mahmoud, who herself was born in Manchester but spent twelve years of her life abroad in Pakistan and Malaysia, said she was inspired by her own feelings of being “all over the place” upon her return to the city, something she attributes to “culture shock”.

Born in Manchester, but having spent twelve years of her life abroad in Pakistan and Malaysia, she returned to Manchester six years ago but found that four of these went by before she fully acclimatized and felt comfortable again.

Culture shock

Mahmoud says she is now investigating this phenomenon that has shaped her own social identity in order create an artistic impression of its impact on “those struggling to reintegrate into the Manchester community by allowing them to explore the surrounding issues of cultural and social identity”.

She hopes to collect as wide a response as possible and gather stories spanning gender, generation and community. Mahmoud’s own family are originally Pakistani and she acknowledges the large Mancunian-Pakistani community as something that made her path to reintegration easier. As part of her project she wants to explore how people returning to other communities found the same process; in particular she is interested in people that may not fit any community at all, already having interviewed a number of asylum seekers.

Mahmoud also hopes that it will help “those struggling to reintegrate into the Manchester community by allowing them to explore the surrounding issues of cultural and social identity.” It will be up to those who view the final exhibition to decide the answer to her question of  whether “the subjects of the project still belong? Did they reintegrate?”

Edward Collins

If you want to contribute your experiences or if you wish to know more details contact Tania Mahmoud through t.mahmoud@hotmail.co.uk  prior to the end of December. The final exhibition will be displayed early next year.

Lowkey. Photograph via Rasha Entertainment

Lowkey is a rising star in UK hip-hop, an achievement all the more remarkable due to his refusal to pander and the lack of mainstream support. He rejects the label ‘conscious hip-hop’, but whatever you want to call it his rhymes confront political issues and dismiss the music industry.

His audience is large and still growing, with YouTube videos that clock in over one million hits and a top five debut in iTunes hip-hop album chart in the UK, US and Canada for Soundtrack, despite no backing from any major label. This pays homage not only to years of relentless touring and sheer word of mouth, but the hunger for serious content among hip-hop fans.

Opening “Voice of the Voiceless”, his recent collaboration with Immortal Technique, he writes: “From West End to the West Bank, I write righteous rhymes with my right hand and battle the devil with my left hand. Never worked for a Zionist, never been a yes man, my art is like Rembrandt painting pictures of death camps.” The appeal isn’t just the effortless flow or the lyrical ability, but also the global focus, the sense of justice and personal struggle.

In addition to his musical output, Lowkey has been very active in a number of causes. In 2010 he joined Jody McIntyre and Norman Finkelstein on a speaking tour and donated the profits from the single ‘Long Live Palestine’ – which debuted at no.1 in the Amazon and iTunes hip-hop download charts – to aid victims of the Israeli bombardment of Gaza. In 2009 and 2010 he travelled to the occupied territories to perform benefit concerts, being detained briefly by Israeli authorities on both trips. In 2008, he and Logic helped publicise the NSPCC’s Don’t Hide It campaign and donated a song to raise awareness.

Uncompromising

His lyrics are raw and uncompromising, whether it’s about the Obama administration and US Foreign Policy (“America has inflicted a million ground zeros”) the Israeli occupation of Palestine (“How many more Resolutions have to be violated/ How many more children have to be annihilated?”) or the state of British politics (“Never will there be a day when the cameras are turned off/ Who runs this country, Cameron or Murdoch?”).

It’s not just big, BBC Newsnight-style headline issues either: Soundtrack features a reflective, moving feminist track called “Something Wonderful” (“Some things are too deep to put into verse/ I want to apologise to every Women I’ve hurt.”) and a tearful, impassioned reflection on his older brother who committed suicide in “Haunted”. Similar issues inform the work of tour-mates Logic and Crazy Haze, MCs who, alongside Lowkey, are members of the People’s Army, a group of politically minded artists.

And it’s not just the message: dub poet Benjamin Zephaniah calls him “one of the best lyricists in the western hemisphere”. Whether it’s the high-octane lyricism of “Who Said I Can’t Do Grime?” or the masterful “Alphabet Assasion”, his style is eloquent, immaculate and 100 per cent his own. Similarly, Logic has a deep, rhythmic flow that informs and intrigues and Crazy Haze can’t help but impress with frenetic, intense and militant delivery.

Whether you’re a die-hard hip-hop fan, politically engaged or simply a connoisseur of good music, you should not miss this opportunity to hear one of Britain’s most interesting artists live on stage.

Joseph Ritchie

You can catch the gig at the Manchester Academy 2, Monday 21 September 8pm – midnight. Tickets cost £10 and you can get them here or at HMV or Pan Rythm. The event has been organised by the University of Manchester Hip-Hop Society

How did you get into stand-up comedy in the first place?

I started by hosting my own small club north London, introducing people who were later to become household names like Ben Elton, Jo Brand and Eddie Izzard. Decided I enjoyed the performing as much as the organising and wrote a club act of my own. It wasn’t very good!

In what way was your material influenced by your experiences in the West Bank?

By the time I visited Israel and the West Bank I’d moved on from club comedy to doing solo shows. I was much more successful in the solo arena and discovered that most of my best comedy was connected to being Jewish. I’m immensely proud of that heritage, but I’ve always had deep seated political interests too. Hence my interest in the Middle East conflict and I wanted to express my reaction to express my feelings to Israel’s diabolical behaviour in the region in the best way I could, through being funny.

Tell us a little about the new show you’re doing here, what should people expect and what you hope people will take away from it?

In Manchester I’ll be performing an adaptation of the show I performed in Edinburgh 2011. Its a compilation of my favourite Jewish material that I’ve come up with over the years including not just issue stuff like Israel and anti-Semitism, but personal stuff too on subjects like family and relationships. What I do is use the traditional flavour of great Jewish humour to talk about anything that concerns me and I think will interest whoever comes along to see me. Everyone is welcome and everyone will get it.

Obviously bits of your comedy cover some very sensitive issues, what sort of reactions have you had from it during your career, positive and negative?

Some Jewish people say they don’t like my comedy because they find it too critical of Israel.  But it’s difficult to laugh at jokes when your hands are over your ears. Others love it. They sidle up to you afterwards and quietly tell you in hushed tones that its exactly what they think, but they can’t speak out because they’re afraid of ‘upsetting the community’.

You did a show in the House of Commons once, how did that come about?

I was invited by an MP who’d been to Gaza and seen the carnage on the ground to bring the show in. It was an opportunity for his fellow Parliamentarians to see that not all Jewish people slavishly follow the propaganda they’re fed by their own community’s establishment.

What role do you think stand-up comedy can play in such huge and polarising issues as the Israel-Palestine conflict, and why do you think it’s effective?

People laugh when they hear true things, and the best stand-up comedy deals in truth and little else. Its as simple as that. I understand the people who dislike my comedy, because when I was young I used to think exactly the same as them, but as I got older I got a bit naughty, and started to think for myself.

Ivor Dembina’s show, Stand-Up Jewish Comedy, is on at Apotheca Restaurant and Cocktail Bar in the Northern Quarter on Sunday 30 October. There will be two performances, one starting at 5pm and the other at 8.15pm. Tickets are £7 and can be purchased through the Manchester Comedy Festival website.

Upper space as a whole consists of academics, activists and community organisers. Their projects and artistic interventions focus on “promoting alternative ideas about public space” and fighting for “social and environmental justice.”  As of 2011 they have turned this focus upon the governments’ “devastating public spending cuts”, working with young homeless people from the city of Manchester.  Upper Space feels that it is unacceptable for a government to bail out those responsible for the economic crisis whilst making life harder and harder for everyone else. The inspiration for their new project, ‘Home’, are the disturbing social housing and housing benefit fund cuts and their effects on Britain’s most vulnerable.

The scale of work for this project is impressive, from screen-prints for sale in support for Upper Spaces’ partner charity the Limes Hostel for the Homeless, to providing banners for people to display at anti-cuts marches. The main body and power of this project however comes in the form of street art and the exhibits the artists have placed on our streets.

Public spaces are often a battlefield for our attentions and as is the nature of this art, the galleries that host it are the streets themselves. When I first saw the bird homes attached to lampposts and road signs around the city I didn’t feel the immediate buzz I had come to expect from street art. It took me a little while to realize what I was looking at before the beauty of them struck me and it became apparent how they conveyed their message. The decorated birdhouses, of which the most powerful had one large eye painted on the front, had an eerie grip on the streets.

As I looked at them I became conscious of the eyes becoming more and more visible in their settings before they actually seemed to become the street’s own. It is then when I noticed the emotions buried within them: some of fear, some of anger and some of shock. The empathy the eye induced was felt for the street itself.  The bird homes beckon you to come and look inside them, where the artists have contained more explicit messages about these emotions and the problems of homelessness in Manchester.

This art is incredibly beautiful as well as clever, avoiding being obvious or clichéd. Most notably, however, it is powerfully emotive.  Having seen this art that can compete for our attentions on the street, it is difficult for me to disagree with the artists that the question is not “can we change things” but “how far can we go?”

Edward Collins

Made by and featuring young people from the Wilbraham Estate together with Whalley Range filmmakers REELmcr, the film follows the adventures of a group of modern-day kids transported back in time to August 25 1923, the date of Manchester City’s first match at Maine Road.

Along their journey into the past they meet a range of the first residents of the estate, built as part of Lloyd George’s “Homes Fit for Heroes” programme to provide decent housing for working people in the aftermath of the First World War.

REELmcr director Jacquie Carroll spoke of how the young people who created the film had gained “such a sense of pride at where they’re from” through researching the past history of their estate and interviewing many older residents, some of whom had lived there all their lives. Carroll explained how the estate was “the jewel in the crown” of post-war housing schemes which replaced pre-war slums, one which is “still going strong” 90 years on.

The 20^th Century saw a massive expansion of council house building after the first and second world wars, reaching a peak in the mid-1970s and providing homes for over a third of Britain. Although much of that stock has since been privatised by successive Labour and Conservative governments 18 per cent of the UK’s population still lives in social housing.

Over 50 young people living in the area aged from 13 to 21 worked on the film and an accompanying documentary, In Search of the Great Estate, researching their past with the aid of Salford’s Working Class Movement Library and the People’s History Museum in Manchester. “Most of the group who star in the film had no idea about the heritage of their estate and how important it is”, said Carroll. “But as part of the creation of the film, they’ve been researching the Wilbraham Estate’s past, including interviewing older residents, and I think it’s really opened their eyes.”

“We need to celebrate working class people” she argued, denouncing the “patronising ” and “appalling” ways in which she said many are still portrayed and noting how “the riots seemed to be blamed on people in council housing” in reference to the much-publicised threats to evict social housing tenants convicted in August’s disturbances and their families from their homes.

“The word ‘chav’ really annoys me”, Carroll added, noting how “working people fought for health and education” in battles she believed are often forgotten. “You learn about Kings and Queens but you’re not taught about your social history.”

Richard Goulding

The Great Estate will premiere on 20 October, 7pm at the Whitworth Art Gallery and is sponsored by South Manchester Housing Trust and the Heritage Lottery fund.

Email info@reelmcr.co.uk or call 0161 882 2226 to book your free tickets!