Not a Rothko
Not a Rothko uses shapes, colours & textures from the streets to interrogate the weave of the human experience. It reframes dirty walls and pavements, largely taken around East London, to celebrate the small details in what may usually go unnoticed or be condemned as ugly. These photos are then used to inspire writing around memory, intimacy, trauma and healing.
Here are some sample of photos, accompanying poetry from the collection, and examples of how it exists out in the world - from magazines to postcards:
Here are some sample of photos, accompanying poetry from the collection, and examples of how it exists out in the world - from magazines to postcards:
“God of every beautiful thing, make us people of wonder. Show us how to hold onto nuance and vision when our souls become addicted to pain, to the unlovely [...] Grant us habits of sacred pause [...] Let the mundane swell with mystery that makes us breathe deeper still.”
- Cole Arthur Riley
- Cole Arthur Riley
Not A Rothko postcards to raise money for The Student Grief Network (2024) and open book design for ‘seeking grace in fag ends and crumpled roses’.
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womb space
a baby in a cosmic web
waiting for the world to spin itself
alive once more _
ancient but appearing new
like animal tracks just seconds old
in fresh December snow
a baby in a cosmic web
waiting for the world to spin itself
alive once more _
ancient but appearing new
like animal tracks just seconds old
in fresh December snow

tide rising
watching the tide close in / gold of the sand rising / gold of the sand disappearing / salt spray and grit /
watching the tide close in / blues closing in / ocean noise closing in / horizon sinking / gold of the sand closing in /
blue and gold / salt water / grit
watching the tide close in / gold of the sand rising / gold of the sand disappearing / salt spray and grit /
watching the tide close in / blues closing in / ocean noise closing in / horizon sinking / gold of the sand closing in /
blue and gold / salt water / grit
all the places i have been
a memory scattered
like the feathers of a bird
in a soft open sky
precious and fatal
asking for witness:
this is where I've gone
this is who I've been
a memory scattered
like the feathers of a bird
in a soft open sky
precious and fatal
asking for witness:
this is where I've gone
this is who I've been

how soft can a hard thing be
the sunlight runs
away with its shadow again
around and around
making a game of itself
befriending the morning dew
to tease the moon
and round again
and round
chasing the tail of the clock
and turning barbed wire soft
the sunlight runs
away with its shadow again
around and around
making a game of itself
befriending the morning dew
to tease the moon
and round again
and round
chasing the tail of the clock
and turning barbed wire soft


