Southbank Centre’s Book Podcast: Angie Thomas On the Come Up

Angie Thomas: On the Come Up by Southbank Centre's Book Podcast

In March 2019 we were lucky enough to welcome bestselling author of The Hate U Give, Angie Thomas, to our Queen Elizabeth Hall. Thomas joined award-winning writer and deputy editor at Galdem, Charlie Brinkhurst-Cuff for a discussion about her second novel On the Come Up, the power of storytelling and a homage to hip-hop.

On the Come Up – the story of fighting for your dreams, even as the odds are stacked against you; of the struggle to become who you are and not who everyone expects you to be – firmly positions Thomas as a writer of compelling novels with audacious characters that offer a prism through which we can view contemporary culture, politics and the black American experience.

 

 

Here I am as a black woman author in children’s literature, my counterparts are not threats, they’re my inspiration, they’re my motivation, we’re all doing this and we’re doing it for a greater good so why not support and celebrate one another?
Angie Thomas

 

Southbank Centre is the home of literature and spoken word events in the UK, and the venue for London Literature Festival and Poetry International. Throughout the year we host talks, discussions, readings and more featuring bestselling authors, award-winning poets and inspirational writers.

see upcoming events

 

Subscribe to Southbank Centre's Book Podcast via your preferred podcast provider to enjoy more interviews and insights from well-known names, including Roxane Gay, Anna Burns, Khaled Hosseini and Salman Rushdie.

Kader Attia discusses his photographic series The Landing Strip (2000–02)

Kader Attia discusses his photographic series The Landing Strip (2000–02) with Ralph Rugoff, Hayward Gallery Director. A special publication devoted to the series will be launched at Hayward Gallery on Wednesday 20 March. 

Ralph Rugoff: Did you start out taking pictures in and around the neighbourhood where you grew up? 

Kader Attia: Yes, I was always taking pictures there. I grew up in a neighbourhood of concrete buildings – but behind these towers there was a huge area of forest and a farm. I remember how much time I spent there when I was a kid, looking at the landscape, drawing it. It was just a small piece of land, but in this very rough, poor, concrete place, it probably helped to create my desire for dreaming. I used to run alone in that forest, and I think my teenage years were made bearable because of the presence of nature. I don’t know if I would have been the same if I had grown up totally surrounded by concrete architecture.

 

When did you realise that making pictures was something you wanted to pursue more seriously?

I think my first photographs were of architecture, taken in Mexico when I was travelling. I was 19 or 20 at the time and I was fascinated by the Spanish colonial architecture there. But I have to say that even though I was interested in the texture of walls and the shapes of buildings, I’ve always been taking pictures of people. I’m definitely a humanist photographer. When you photograph people – whether the person is posing for you or not – there are so many things going on: your curiosity for other cultures, other generations, other types of people; you are also trying to understand how they think. 

After Mexico I went to Algeria many times, and also to the Congo, where I took portraits of people in Brazzaville. When I was back in Paris after more than two years travelling, it happened that I was crossing the street one very sunny afternoon and I heard behind me, in the middle of this crowd in the street, two men talking like women in Arabic. I turned around and discovered the two men were dressed as women, wearing skirts and stilettos. People were staring at them but they didn’t care. They were just so free and brave that I decided to follow them. After walking for half an hour we ended up in a small, very bizarre cafe, full of transgender people from Algeria, which was for me, like, ‘Wow!’ I didn’t know that this world existed.

 

I’m definitely a humanist photographer. When you photograph people – whether the person is posing for you or not – there are so many things going on: your curiosity for other cultures, other generations, other types of people; you are also trying to understand how they think.

You had never noticed any transgender people when you visited Algeria?

At that time – this was 1998 – Algeria was in the middle of a civil war between the Islamists and the army. And to be someone who looked different could mean death. Many of the transgender people that I met were in Paris to escape from the risk of being killed in Algeria. So that was how it came about that I started to photograph this group of transgender immigrants – completely by chance, but also through curiosity. In addition, I felt there was something important to do, and that I needed to do something because I was lucky enough to be there. 

I think this notion of curiosity is very important in my practice, because I really like to share not only my experiences but also a non-objectified view of people who are unknown to the mainstream. When I was working on these photographs over a two-year period, my aim was to show the viewer something they had no idea about.

 

Violet Nights: La Colonie
This image: Kader Attia, La Piste d'atterissage (The Landing Strip), 2000-02. Courtesy of the artist.

 

Why did you call this series of photographs The Landing Strip?

‘The landing strip’ is the slang way that they referred to where they were working as prostitutes in the outskirts of Paris, along these avenues that are so big and so flat that they look like landing strips. They used to say, ‘I arrived here directly.’ It was a very tough area. 

 

Were they comfortable with you taking pictures of them? I can imagine that if you are an illegal immigrant and working as a transgender prostitute, you are probably worried about getting the wrong kind of attention.

I think it was more difficult for me at first to gain their confidence because I was Algerian, and they were all worried I would send images to their families. It took about six months of building up trust before I could make the first pictures. I started out by trying to assist them with their legal efforts to stay in France, because they were all illegal immigrants. You can imagine the danger they faced: if they were arrested by the police and sent back to Algeria dressed as women, they might have been murdered on arrival. These Algerian transgender people are very strong. Few of them have pimps. 

They also have different ways to enjoy life – one of them is to have a nice big party for their birthday, but the birthday is like a ritual, either for presenting a new boyfriend or to entertain the audience with the love story that they are living with the boyfriend. As we became friends, they asked me to become the photographer of their parties and fake weddings. I know how to do wedding photographs, of course, with a flash and a nice camera. I did this because it helped me become part of the whole family. And for me it was a way to illustrate the good moments in their lives, because I was also shooting scenes of prostitution and their difficult day-to-day existence. 

I wanted to represent the whole picture of their lives, to show that even illegal migrants working as transgender prostitutes have moments of joy, of happiness. For me, this is about being respectful. When we represent minority communities like this one, we need to include images that do not show them as victims. 

 

Many of your pictures portray very intimate scenes, and almost feel like they were taken by a member of the family. How did you manage to create this sense of closeness with your subjects?

Since I was a kid I’ve always had a sort of empathy with the pain of others. It’s in my nature. And I really do think that this empathy is often expressed in my work. With The Landing Strip photographs, it’s the only explanation for why I was so interested: I was never intrigued by the glamour – though they are glamorous of course – but to be honest, they really touched me. Some of them have very tough stories. Especially in Muslim societies, they are often the perfect scapegoat. So when I talk about making humanist photographs, it means creating pictures that convey a certain respect for someone and trying to do as much as I can to retain the dignity of that person.

 


 

The full-length interview between Kader Attia and Ralph Rugoff can be found in Kader Attia: The Museum of Emotion, the catalogue accompanying the Hayward Gallery exhibition.

buy the catalogue

A new publication devoted to The Landing Strip, featuring over 140 images and an essay by Tarek el-Ariss, Associate Professor and Chair of Middle Eastern Studies at Dartmouth College, New Hampshire, will be launched at an event at Hayward Gallery on Wednesday 20 March. 

buy the publication

 


 

Kader Attia: The Museum of Emotion at Hayward Gallery runs 13 February – 6 May 2019

book tickets   find out more

 

 

Header image: Installation view of Kader Attia: The Museum of Emotion, Hayward Gallery, 2019. Photo: Thierry Bal

 

Valeria Luiselli on giving life to the stories of the US-Mexico border

Valeria Luiselli is an award-winning Mexican author who, at 35 years old, has already experienced more of the modern world than most of us will cram into a lifetime. Luiselli has lived on four continents, and has worked as a teacher, a librettist, and as an interpreter.

It is the last of these roles, volunteering for young Central American migrants seeking legal status in the United States, that led Luiselli to write the critically acclaimed Tell Me How It Ends: An Essay in 40 Questions, in 2017. Her experiences on the US-Mexico border continue to influence Luiselli’s work, and in February this year she published Lost Children Archive, which brings the border crisis to light through a reimagining of the American road novel.

In March we welcomed Valeria Luiselli to Southbank Centre to present and discuss her novel in person, but ahead of her appearance we spoke to the author about the inspiration and the development of Lost Children Archive.

Was there a particular event or idea that proved the genesis for Lost Children Archive?

Yes, there was something very concrete. It was the 2014 crisis at the US-Mexico border, when there was a surge of arrivals of unaccompanied children, who were fleeing Central America and coming to the US to seek asylum. Tens of thousands of children were arriving, after fleeing unspeakable horrors, after crossing the hell that Mexico offers them, and were being locked up in detention centres, and receiving deportation orders. 

I wanted to explore how humanitarian crises of that nature and those dimensions might touch and transform the psyche of people whose lives appear to be distant in circumstance from those suffering it directly – but who also realise that their private world is not at all disconnected from the public world they are witnessing. That, in fact, the line that divides passive witnessing from active participation is only a matter of choice. And, moreover, that witnessing does not have to be a passive consumption of headlines and ‘feeds’, but can become an active form of participation – through documenting and storytelling, for example. 

 

How do you begin distilling such a broad topic into a novel?

When I began writing the novel, I was spurred on by a single question – which of course later branched into many other questions. That initial question was about the place of storytelling across generations, about how fathers and mothers tell their children stories, and how children learn to piece the world together that way, and how they, eventually, will retell the story to their elders and also, eventually, to their own children, casting a different light on them. 

In a larger plane, perhaps, the question is not so much about storytelling between parents and their children, but about the way that we read and write history, and the extent to which we are able to perform the difficult, almost impossible, but always indispensable art of reckoning. 

 

Witnessing does not have to be a passive consumption of headlines and ‘feeds’, but can become an active form of participation – through documenting and storytelling

Did you always know you were going to tell this family’s narrative through the voices of the mother and the son? 

No, I never know what is going to happen when I start writing a book. There is never a plot, or pre-figured characters, or a form. Definitely never a teaching or a moral of the story. There isn’t even a theme. There’s never anything, really. I didn’t even know, in this case, whether the novel had to be written in Spanish or in English. 

The only thing I have when I begin a new project is a bundle of questions I want to explore, and a force that some people call inspiration, but that I prefer to call intuition. This drives me forward and sits me down every day, for many hours, in front of my notebooks or my computer. 

 

At what point in the writing process did you decide to embed a combination of collected texts and images into the novel, and how do these elements become integral to the telling of the story?

This novel is, among other things, a kind of essay on documenting. That is, on what we document, on how we document it, and on how documenting changes the way we see, the way we listen, and the way we feel the world around us. 

There were many types of documents that needed to be collected before the documentary process of this novel. Collecting those early documents did not amount to research, but it fixed together a kind of scaffolding that enabled a first entry into – or contact – with the process and its matter. Collecting didn't imply or necessarily lead to a thorough study of the collected documents, but it allowed a materialisation of early intuitions – some of which were followed, some of which were abandoned; all of which led nowhere in particular, nowhere certain, but which eventually led somewhere. 

Collecting documents was similar to digging holes in the ground, hoping to find significant traces, evidence, remains of something that would later on be studied, pondered, and embraced. Collecting was a form of fruitful procrastination, of inactivity pregnant with possibility.

Ultimately, the collected texts and images in the novel are simply part of my own process of documentation as I was writing it – and the novel exposes them, just like an archive exposes the documents that integrate it. 

This is a novel that is its own archive. I think of it as a box that someone has left out on a kerbside, a box full of pieces and traces of their life – a life they no longer have, but that someone might be able re-piece together as they explore its components. 

 

I never know what is going to happen when I start writing a book. There is never a plot, or pre-figured characters, or a form… the only thing I have when I begin a new project is a bundle of questions I want to explore, and intuition.

Woven throughout the novel are a number of elegies, what prompted their inclusion in the text?

I started writing the elegies in the early morning of New Year’s Day, in 2016, in the Mexican Pacific coast. For more than a year I had been trying to find a tone and a viewpoint that could do justice to the story of the children who migrate to the US, alone and undocumented, in search of safety. Nothing was working. During the last days of 2015, I had been reading a book called The Gates of Paradise, by the Polish writer Jerzy Andrzejewski, about the Children’s Crusade in the 13th century. It was thanks to that book, and perhaps thanks to the particular rhythm and brutal intensity of the waves of Mexican Pacific that that first morning of the year 2016 – which would later reveal itself to us as a year of sharp turns and terrifying changes around the world, especially but not exclusively in what concerns migration – I was able to take a deep breath and take a step back from the immediacy of the story I wanted to tell, and think of it in wider historical and geographic terms. 

I had found the exact narrative distance. I began writing the elegies, then, in the third person, in English and not Spanish, without giving names to the seven children, without aspiring to impersonate their voices or appropriate their stories. And as soon as I wrote the first few lines, I knew: this is it, this is the heart that has been palpitating, invisibly but powerfully, irrigating every sentence I wrote until now; this is the reason why I needed to write this novel.

 

In addition to the images you’ve included in the book, the concept of sound surfaces a lot—sound, and even echoes. Why did you want to explore this?

I think sound – in a world increasingly flooded by instant images of everything – has become the most powerful means of documentation. Did you listen to the sound footage this past summer of children being separated from their parents at the border? If so – that is exactly what I mean.

 

This novel is, among other things, a kind of essay on documenting… on how we document, and on how documenting changes the way we see, listen, and feel the world around us.

A lot of your work – both fiction and nonfiction – humanizes topics like migration and displacement, and you’ve also dedicated a lot of your time to helping refugee children. What is it like to write fiction about such a timely and pressing issue, especially one that you are personally connected to?

For those of us who have the privilege of not having been born into war, into poverty, into abandonment and systemic abuse, there might have been a time when crises like the one I explore in the novel seemed to belong only in the public realm, and only tangentially touch our private sphere. 

But something changed, not too long ago. The line that divided the public and the private has blurred completely –in many ways for the better– and we can no longer live on, pretending that this world, here, now, is something that exists ‘outside’ of us, pretending that we are not the ones who are responsible for it. I write from the space of that blurred line.

 


 

Valeria Luiselli joined us at Southbank Centre to read from and discuss her novel Lost Children Archive in Purcell Room on Tuesday 19 March.

The venue for London Literature Festival and Poetry International, Southbank Centre is the home of literature and spoken word events in the UK. Throughout the year we host talks, discussions, readings and more featuring bestselling authors, award-winning poets and inspirational writers.

upcoming literature events

Think Aloud podcast series

Think Aloud is where you will hear some of the biggest and most influential names in modern literature, art, music and performance share their stories, thoughts and ideas. Each month presenter Harriet Fitch Little is joined in conversation by the people shaping arts and culture today.

Southbank Centre's Book Podcast

Presented by Ted Hodgkinson, Southbank Centre’s Book Podcast goes deeper into literature, critically and culturally. With a different theme each month the podcast celebrates new and global voices, explores the motivations and machinations of literary greats, and champions award-winning, contemporary poetry and prose.

SoundState: Oliver Christophe Leith playlist

Taking place later this month, our SoundState festival celebrates exciting new classical music from all over the world – including London-based composer Oliver Christophe Leith.

Leith has been commissioned by the likes of the London Sinfonietta, Festival Aix-en-Provence, the London Symphony Orchestra and the Tanglewood Music Festival, among numerous others. At SoundState he presents a currently untitled new work, played by the London Sinfonietta and conducted by Jonathan Berman. Ahead of that performance, we asked the composer if he could tell us about five pieces of music that he considers influential.

Oliver Christophe Leith at Southbank Centre


 

Prayer o doctor Jesus: Miles Davis - Gil Evans

I was so obsessed with this growing up that I have an edited version of this that loops from 3.11-4.00. I think that 3.25 is the best moment ever in all music.


 

Les Fleurs: Minnie Ripperton

Another great build, the swooping lines and glissando, I could also make a nice loop out of this, also so fantastic that I’ve sung this without knowing a shred of the lyrics for years.


 

Yèkèrmo Sèw: Mulatu Astatke

The whole of this album is great, Ethiopiques vol.4, something about the out of tune horns I’m into. It sounds sunny.


 

Ima read: Zebra Katz

I haven’t listened to it in ages but when I first did it made me think about repetition and minimal lyrics etc, I like it.


 

Fall: Micachu & The Shapes

I accidentally listened to this bringing to life an old computer yesterday and I had forgotten how absolutely loose and beautiful it is.


 

Southbank Centre’s SoundState took place Wednesday 16 – Sunday 20 January, 2019

find out more

Southbank Centre’s 2018/19 series includes 200 incredible classical concerts that look to the future of what music can be and who it is for. Discover some of the most exciting artists, conductors, orchestras and ensembles the world over with us.

upcoming concerts

Five minutes with Roxane Gay

Celebrated cultural critic and novelist Roxane Gay comes to Southbank Centre in December, taking to our Royal Festival Hall stage for her first ever UK in conversation event.

An associate professor of English at Purdue University, and a contributing writer for The New York Times, Gay released Bad Feminist in 2014, a collection of essays which merged pop culture with her own experience to explore the complexities of being a feminist in modern America.

Gay has become renowned for her humour, honesty and sensitivity; all of which are in evidence in her latest book, the New York Times best-seller Hunger (2017).  Drawing on her own experience once again, with startling intimacy, Gay looks at sensitivity about food and bodies to explore our shared anxieties over pleasure, consumption, appearance and health.

Earlier this year we grabbed five minutes with the best-selling writer and essayist to discuss finding her place in feminism, intersectionality and grappling with pop culture.

One of the things I like about The Bad Feminist, is your acknowledgment of a position on a spectrum of feminism. Is this a position you consciously sought to place yourself, or is it more a case of realising and embracing your place, rather than trying to force yourself to meet an expectation?

It's both, really. We have to make space for ourselves in the movements that matter most to us. But I was able to make space for myself within feminism by recognizing and embracing the ways in which I live my feminist ideals and the ways in which I fall short.

You’ve previously suggested too many women are afraid to be labelled as feminists; do you think this still the case? Or has it perhaps been lessened by prominent social movements such as #MeToo and #TimesUp?

This is absolutely still the case. There are so many women who are reluctant or afraid or unwilling to be labeled as feminists, for a range of reasons. But mostly, they shy away from the label because they know there is a social cost, despite the prominence of MeToo or TimesUp.

 

So many women shy away from the label of feminist, because they know there is a social cost, despite the prominence of MeToo or TimesUp
Roxane Gay

Your forthcoming book, Not That Bad looks at rape culture. Do you think it is time that we shifted the language and focus on this, and begin calling it ‘rapist culture’?

‘Rape culture’ is an appropriate name for what rape culture is and it includes looking at rapist culture, but to only call it rapist culture leaves out some critical issues regarding rape culture, how people are conditioned to see sexual violence, how popular culture reinforces certain ideas about sexual violence, etc.

I’ve seen you described as a representative of intersectional feminism - how far do you think we still have to go before intersectionality ceases to be seen as an offshoot of feminism?

We're still defining what intersectional means, which is a pretty damning measure of how far we have to go. I do hope for a day when feminism simply stands for intersectional feminism, as it should, but first people have to understand that women inhabit multiple identities that must be considered when discussing matters of equity and equality.

Lastly, is it still possible for someone to be a feminist, and yet crank up the volume on rap tracks featuring misogynistic and degrading lyrics?

I wrote a whole book about this. Yes, it is possible to be a feminist and listen to misogynistic music. That said, at some point we have to hold ourselves accountable for the pop culture we consume. The more we demand such music, the less incentive musicians have to change what they supply.

 


 

 

The venue for London Literature Festival and Poetry International, Southbank Centre is the home of literature and spoken word events in the UK. Throughout the year we host talks, discussions, readings and more featuring bestselling authors, award-winning poets and inspirational writers.

upcoming literature events

 

SoundState: who are the composers? A second look

SoundState is a new Southbank Centre festival which lets you see live performances of some of best contemporary classical music, including world premieres, intriguing collaborations and incredible musicians.

In the second in a series of two blog posts, we’re giving you a chance to get to know more about some of the composers whose work is featured – read this short series of biographies, which could help you decide which of the SoundState concerts is is most relevant to your interests. The festival takes place in January 2019.

Helen Grime

Colour photo portrait of composer Helen Grime

Helen Grime was born in York in 1981 and studied oboe and composition at the Royal Academy of Music. The list of organisations to have commissioned her is like a who’s who of classical music – the Proms, Tanglewood Music Centre, the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra, Wigmore Hall and countless others.

She also composed a piece to celebrate the 60th birthday of the much-missed conductor and composer Oliver Knussen.

Helen is familiar to Southbank Centre audiences from her involvement in the Philharmonia Orchestra’s Music of Today series and we’re thrilled that she’s giving the world premiere of her percussion orchestra at SoundState – with Colin Currie performing and Marin Alsop conducting.

event details


 



Erkki-Sven Tüür

Colour photo portrait of composer Erkki-Sven Tüür by Ave Maria Mõistlik

Estonian composer Erkki-Sven Tüür has had a long and varied career in music, and is one of the most original contemporary composers. In 1979 he founded the rock group ‘In spe’, functioning as composer, flautist, keyboard player and singer until 1983.

He has studied at the Tallinn Music School and the Estonian Academy of Music and has composed nine symphonies, a number of works for symphony and string orchestra, nine instrumental concertos, a wide variety of chamber music and an opera.

Erkki-Sven says he hopes his music raises existential questions and reaches the creative energy of every listener. At SoundState you can find out if he achieves this with the UK premiere of Erkki-Sven’s Piccolo Concerto (Solastalgia), performed by Stewart McIlwham and the London Philharmonic Orchestra.

event details

 


 

Southbank Centre’s SoundState took place Wednesday 16 – Sunday 20 January, 2019.

find out more

Southbank Centre’s 2018/19 series includes 200 incredible classical concerts that look to the future of what music can be and who it is for. Discover some of the most exciting artists, conductors, orchestras and ensembles the world over with us.

upcoming concerts

Podcast: An Evening with Sally Field

An Evening with Sally Field by Southbank Centre's Book Podcast

One of the most highly anticipated events at the 2018 London Literature Festival was an appearance by the beloved actress Sally Field.

In a conversation with Elizabeth Day to mark the release of her memoir In Pieces, Field talked about her life, career and becoming herself. The audience were in awe of her honesty and openness, tweeting about how emotional and inspiring the event was. Now you can hear highlights of the evening in our podcast.


 

Southbank Centre is the home of literature and spoken word events in the UK, and the venue for London Literature Festival and Poetry International. Throughout the year we host talks, discussions, readings and more featuring bestselling authors, award-winning poets and inspirational writers.

discover upcoming events

SoundState: who are the composers?

SoundState is a new Southbank Centre festival which lets you see live performances of some of best contemporary classical music, including world premieres, intriguing collaborations and incredible musicians.

Ahead of the festival in January 2019, we’re giving you a chance to get to know more about some of the composers whose work is featured – read this short series of biographies, which could help you decide which of the SoundState concerts is is most relevant to your interests.

Dai Fujikura

Photo of composer Dai Fujikura

Dai Fujikura was born in 1977 in Osaka, Japan. His work includes operas, orchestral pieces, ensemble works, chamber music, and film scores, but he also also has strong connections to the experimental pop/jazz/improvisation world, collaborating with Ryuichi Sakamoto, David Sylvian and Jan Bang, among others.

He moved to the UK on his own aged just 15, studying at Trinity College of Music, King’s College London and the Royal College of Music, where Dai is now Professor of Composition. At SoundState you can hear the UK premiere of his Dai Fujikura Concerto for flute & ensemble, performed by the incredible Claire Chase and musicians from the Philharmonia Orchestra.

event details

 



Vito Žuraj

Black and white portrait of Vito Žuraj, who appears at Southbank Centre's SoundState festival

Vito Žuraj is a Slovenian composer who was born in 1979. He is classically trained, earning a degree in composition and music theory from the Ljubljana Academy of Music and winning the Claudio Abbado Prize for composition in 2016, but he is also very interested in the technology and aesthetics of electronic sound generation.

The Philharmonia Orchestra, Resident at Southbank Centre, dedicated its April 2018 Music of Today concert entirely to Vito’s work. At SoundState you can hear the UK premiere of his piece Runaround, performed by brass quartet and Vito’s long-term collaborators the International Ensemble Modern Academy – with Zimbabwean-American Vimbayi Kaziboni conducting.

event details

 



Oliver Christophe Leith

 

Black and white photo of composer Oliver Christophe Leith

Oliver was born in 1990 and is a London-based composer who makes acoustic music, electronic music and video. His work focuses on text, image, video, theatre and tangible human themes and he describes himself as a fan of ‘scientific illustrations, gardening, film, tapestry, reality television, wobbly sounds and the visceral’.

He was the recipient of a British Composer Award in 2016 and of the Royal Philharmonic Composition prize in 2014, and has collaborated with an eclectic group of artists including Apartment House, Matthew Herbert, Ives Ensemble, Exaudi, Plus Minus and the London Sinfonietta, who perform a world premiere of Oliver’s at SoundState conducted by Jonathan Berman.

event details

 


 

Southbank Centre’s SoundState took place Wednesday 16 – Sunday 20 January, 2019.

find out more

Southbank Centre’s 2018/19 series includes 200 incredible classical concerts that look to the future of what music can be and who it is for. Discover some of the most exciting artists, conductors, orchestras and ensembles the world over with us.

upcoming concerts

 

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