Stereoscope: MACHINA and Monochrome

‘Deux ex machina,’ meaning ‘god from the machine,’ is an Ancient Greek theatrical practice and, more recently, the theme for the latest issue of St Andrews’ own Stereoscope magazine. For the uninitiated, Stereoscope is an annual arts magazine produced in collaboration with the University Library’s Special Collection, named after the revolutionary invention of Sir David Brewster. Released at the launch event on 13 February, this issue blends student-submitted poetry and photography with images from the University archive and aims to answer the following questions: how are you wired, where does pulse end and engine start, what are your mechanics of desire, your circuitry of grief, what program are you running on, and what code do you follow? Featuring readings, a talk from featured artist Graeme Hutton, and complimentary beer courtesy of Futtle Brewery, the event promised insight into the creative process and a chance to hear featured work directly from the contributors.

The night opened with a foreword from head editor Matilda Kay, who mentioned the recent change of location from an array of student flats to Topping & Company booksellers — an upgrade in venue that reflected the quality of the work featured in the magazine. Settling into seats stuffed haphazardly between bookshelves, armed with an unexpectedly sturdy copy of MACHINA, and a friend who knew as little about photography as I did, I was prepared for the entire thing to fly straight over my head. As a complete newcomer to both the magazine and its biannual launch events, I was pleasantly surprised by the respectful, near reverential attitude towards the art and poetry being shared on the night. In a town which can, at times, feel shallow and superficial, to spend two hours surrounded by people wholly and completely committed to creating, sharing, and understanding art was a much-welcomed change. A high point for me was the reading of Best Worst Thing by Wallis Brune, an evocative piece which left lines rattling around my head for the rest of the evening.

As Graeme Hutton began his talk, the staff conducted a much-needed lowering of the lights, and the chatter started to die down. The hush that fell over the room as he spoke was immediate, and the anticipation palpable as the audience hung onto his every word. Hutton discussed three distinct human emotions — loss, honesty, and hope — in relation to his art and his experience with Multiple Sclerosis (MS). Each concept was accompanied by an analysis of a photograph he’d taken, generally of himself and exclusively black and white, projected onto a screen at the back of the room.

Starting with his depiction and discussion of loss, Hutton discussed the way in which his MS affects his interactions with others — no longer able to walk and talk alongside someone, he must either self-propel or be pushed and the easy rhythm of a casual conversation is lost. As the topic shifted to honesty, he spoke candidly about both his experiences in society as a disabled person and the relationship between the photographer, his wheelchair and the camera. In an interview published as part of MACHINA, he reflects, “The interesting thing about having a camera in a wheelchair is that in the public realm, you can feel quite vulnerable in a wheelchair, particularly in a busy city […] when you have a camera, curiously, you somehow have a purpose, and people treat you slightly differently.” Instead of being limited by public perception, Hutton uses society’s unwillingness to look towards someone in a wheelchair to his advantage. For the third photograph in this series, representing hope, he was able to covertly capture a subject in public in a way that would otherwise have been impossible. After this, Hutton took questions from the floor. Upon being asked about the camera as an extension of himself, he said, “My mind’s eye now looks compositionally — I think in black and white.”

By 8pm, the event had formally ended, the lights had been restored, and the conversation and free drinks were flowing. Despite an undeniable lack of photography expertise, a lot of the art shared really resonated with me, and I was struck by the necessity of a publication like this, tapping into the wealth of skill and creativity present in St Andrews. Pushing my way through the throngs of people out onto Greyfriars Garden, I was left with the sense of a Friday evening well spent, and an eager anticipation of whatever else Stereoscope has to offer.

Photo: Wikimedia Commons