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Amber Husain

Amber Husain is a writer, academic and publisher. She is currently a managing editor and research fellow at Afterall, Central Saint Martins. Her essays and criticism appear or are forthcoming in 3AM, The Believer, London Review of Books, LA Review of Books, Radical Philosophy and elsewhere. She is the author of Replace Me, to be published by Peninsula Press in November 2021.



Articles Available Online


Slouching Towards Death

Book Review

July 2021

Amber Husain

Book Review

July 2021

In January, a preview excerpt in The New Yorker of Rachel Kushner’s essay collection The Hard Crowd (2021) warned us that this might turn...

Book Review

August 2020

Natasha Stagg’s ‘Sleeveless’

Amber Husain

Book Review

August 2020

‘The thong is centimetres closer to areas of arousal,’ writes Natasha Stagg in Sleeveless: Fashion, Image, Media, New York,...

If you don’t want to lose your eyes, grab them by the veins sticking out of their behinds and wind those together into a bunch (They’re as pliable as pipe cleaners They stay put)   As for milk teeth, keep those with spare buttons in a Fosters Mints tin Shake them when you feel cranky See how their little lives rattling about in there can calm you so much better than any shop-bought stress-ball   When it comes to hair bands, keep one on each door handle, in case   With needles, stick them into the kitchen notice board   And as for tampons and shotgun cartridges, keep them in the sewing box with the Fosters Mints tin That way you’ll always be sure of finding one when you’re desperate   By eyes, I mean glass ones They’re sold like that, by the dozen, in a bouquet Ours came from a shop in Chester Rows, not far from Lowe’s, where all the family’s engagement rings came from Green eyes with a devil-red spark in the pupils We had ten eyes left after someone in the family made Foxy   All families have secret boxes, right? For things you’re not quite ready to throw out but can’t bear to have around you either And an odd uncle who causes embarrassment in back bars and midnight masses And unwanted, scary heirlooms It’s part of being in a family, isn’t it? Clutter accumulates   We had Mam’s sewing box It was meant to be a tool box, metal blue, cold, and it folded out like an upside-down iron bridge with gaps and nooks and slots for bits and bobs and a huge space at the bottom Magic Mam hadn’t done any sewing since the summer we came back from Normandy and she tried making a section of the Bayeux Tapestry by hand A yard of sea crossing Her fingertips and her patience wore away by the time she got to the decorative shields along the side of the ship, so the box became a resting place for odds and ends   There was a scrap of paper with hooks in it: I never knew for sure if they

Contributor

November 2018

Amber Husain

Contributor

November 2018

Amber Husain is a writer, academic and publisher. She is currently a managing editor and research fellow at Afterall,...

On Having No Skin: Nan Goldin’s Sirens

Art Review

January 2020

Amber Husain

Art Review

January 2020

The feeling of drug-induced euphoria could be strips of gauze between beautiful fingers. Or a silver slinky sent down a torso by its own...
In Defence of Dead Women

Essay

November 2018

Amber Husain

Essay

November 2018

The memorial for the artist was as inconclusive as her work, or anybody’s life. Organised haphazardly on Facebook by one of her old friends,...

READ NEXT

Art

December 2011

James Richards: Not Blacking Out...

Chris Newlove Horton

Art

December 2011

Artist James Richards appropriates audio-visual material gathered from a range of sources, which he then edits into elaborate, fragmented...

Interview

November 2016

Interview with Njideka Akunyili Crosby

Cassie Davies

Interview

November 2016

Njideka Akunyili Crosby first encountered Mary Louise Pratt’s ‘Arts of the Contact Zone’ (1991), which identifies ‘social spaces where cultures meet,...

Interview

December 2016

Interview with Caragh Thuring

Harry Thorne

Interview

December 2016

When I first visited Caragh Thuring in her east London studio, there was an old man lurking in the...

 

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