Furtherfield Time Capsules and the Feral Class Book Launch

Woah! I’m still catching my breath after a whirlwind few days that felt like a physical and emotional marathon. It was years of profound closure and bright new beginnings, all packed into a handful of days. Involving clearing out the Furtherfield Gallery and the Commons, and the Feral Class Book launch at Housmans, London.

Clearing Out Furtherfield Gallery and the Commons

The process commenced on Tuesday, with Ruth and me, and Ale working alongside us as we undertook the substantial task of clearing the Furtherfield Gallery. It was not merely a matter of sorting through clutter, but an act of archaeological retrieval that reconnects us with our shared grassroots art practice and community roots, fostering a sense of belonging for the audience. The sheer volume of accumulated history was staggering.

Below is an image of Ale Scapin, who was Furtherfield’s art producer and project manager until about 5 years ago, and who has worked with us since we had a warehouse in Haringey. Recently, Ale has been helping us with admin and organisational matters. Thankfully, she came over briefly from Italy and helped us clear the two spaces. This image features one of many exhibitions that we have shown, exploring art, technology, social change and ecology. If you wish to see more images of past exhibitions, events and projects by Furtherfield, visit our Flickr page.

We filled five carloads for disposal, yet the more meaningful task was finding new homes for the objects that still held purpose. A significant cache of viable materials, including drills, tools, and equipment, was allocated to the local park keepers. Alex, who now stewards the commons for community music alongside Rachel Jacobs and The Future Machine, collected screens and electronics, ensuring the creative spirit of the space will endure in new forms.

The above image is just a small example of the objects that needed to be extricated from the two spaces. This departure from our long-time art venue in London’s Finsbury Park marks a deeply felt conclusion to a significant chapter. It is impossible not to be moved by the memory of countless projects, exhibitions, and the vibrant community of friends and collaborators, mutually built. Yet this transition is balanced by Furtherfield’s new life in Suffolk. Here, we are already engaging with new artists and exploring fresh creative avenues.

I am also immersed in the work of archiving and authoring ‘30 Years of Furtherfield: Art, Technology and Eco-Social Change’, in collaboration with co-editors Regine DeBatty and Martin Zellinger (scheduled for Autumn 2026). Grounded in recently catalogued physical archives and recovered digital histories, this publication embodies a collective effort that invites respondents to co-create chapters, inspiring the audience to see their role in shaping social change through art and community engagement.

The physical labour at the spaces in Finsbury Park culminated in a fitting, albeit exhausting, contrast on Wednesday evening: the book launch for my new work, Feral Class, at Housmans Bookshop. After two gruelling days of packing away the past, standing to share words about the future marked a surreal and powerful transition. Beforehand, I urgently required a reset, finding a necessary hour of repose at my Manor House hotel to collect my thoughts before the event. 

The Book Launch

The Feral Class Book Launch at Housmans Bookshop [3] on November 19th, 2025, was well-attended despite the inclement weather, and the audience comprised a compelling mix of familiar faces and new contacts. It was profoundly encouraging to witness a clear engagement with the themes of Feral Class, drawing connections to their own situations, ideas, and critical contexts. 

Cassie Thornton delivered excerpts from her foreword and discussed how, since 2011, she has staged “public breakdowns” by hiring actors to perform emotional outbursts in institutional settings. These interruptions aim to expose unspoken absurdities, such as the debt crisis in art education or problematic economic theories in business schools. By having performers cry or throw tantrums, the work creates a space for complicated feelings that are typically excluded from these environments. Thornton spoke about how her staged, public breakdowns were closely related to my own experience in the book. 

“In more than one scenario, Marc got sick when witnessing unchecked class privilege as well as the absurdity of the art market. When he first went to NYC in 1991, a smug curator invited him to an auction at Christie’s or Sotheby’s (it doesn’t matter which; they are all the same in this context). Seeing his art heroes’ work was valued at thousands of pounds, he “turned green, ran out, and threw up on the steps outside the building, and couldn’t go back in.” He told me he felt too ill, ill in a way that continues to affect him when he witnesses the worst, most extractive and ironic parts of the way culture cuddles up to toxic industries through getting involved with stuff like crypto, AI and the elite art market.” [4] (Thornton, 2025)

Thornton also said that the feral class reveals that our bodies are intrinsically connected to a planet destroyed by careless, corporate, inhumane action. The constant feeling of nausea is a rational response to these circumstances, yet it is often suppressed. This disconnection from the body’s signals leads to further sickness. And, the book serves as a passport to embrace this feral class identity, empowering one to disrupt society’s most stagnant narratives. 

For thirty-five minutes, I lost myself in the text, reading excerpts that charted my personal history. I found a natural rhythm, pacing myself not to rush, but to let the narrative unfold. The audience was thankfully intrigued and listened in silence, which felt amazing. As I read, I could see people’s expressions change as the book’s elements unfolded. At one point, as the chapter ‘Head Through the Window’ was read, different faces contorted, and some of the visitors’ eyes welled with tears. I could see that the content was causing distress, even though I was exhibiting a raw and personal vulnerability. I could also feel other people’s.

After my talk, it was Graham Burnett’s turn to come up and do a Q&A. He was perfect because he also lived in Southend-on-Sea and went to the same school as me, Cecil Jones High, and was a year above me. However, we didn’t become friends until we had both left school in the early 1980s. We were involved in local punk bands, clubs, punk zines, and activist events. We were both in many local bands, and the first one I saw him play live with was an anarcho-punk group called Autumn Poison (originally Enola Death). I remember seeing him and the core members, Sheena Fulton and Paul Brown, at Focus in 1980. Anarchist fanzines provided a direct outlet for local anarchists to support grassroots culture, offer discussion forums, and share news about ongoing events. I edited, illustrated, and published a few, but Graham was more prolific and also published booklets on anarchism, activism, and veganism. 

I have a strong memory of meeting Graham on the street near the Civic Centre, where he used to work as a council administrator, clutching carrier bags full of pamphlets, leaflets, and booklets. He regularly used the council’s photocopying machines, staples, and printers.

Graham Burnett is a key architect of social permaculture. Building on the work of Mollison and Holmgren, he shifted the focus from agricultural techniques to applying nature’s patterns to social structures, making permaculture relevant to modern urban and suburban life. Projects like The Hologram exemplify this approach, providing a grounded framework for collaborative community building.[5] 

My book represents a forty-year vision finally brought to life—a milestone that mirrors the three decades I’ve spent with Ruth Catlow building Furtherfield. We’ve forged a special place on the edges of different worlds, championing art, technology, and eco-social change. Our journey has been one of countless adventures, defined not only by navigating the struggle but by wholeheartedly embracing the dream of defining ourselves, on our own terms, outside the confines of the establishment.

Now, emerging from a period of cancer remission, I am channelling this convergence of experiences. My current work is a deliberate fusion: the raw inquiry of The Feral Class meets the critical and collaborative practice of Furtherfield. It’s going to be interesting next year. I will be visiting various venues to present the book, in towns and cities such as Brighton, Glasgow, Margate, Bristol, and others.

This is a chance to connect with people in my community, both those who have lived through similar struggles and those who respect my perspective as a cultural outsider. I won’t be arriving with answers, but with a desire to forge meaningful connections. It’s about finding a sense of solidarity with peers, whether they are engaged in art, activism, or simply navigating life.

References:

[1] UKI – Viral Love by Shu Lea Cheang. Part of Shu Lea Cheang & Mark Amerika exhibition at Furtherfield Gallery. August 31, 2013.
https://www.furtherfield.org/shu-lea-cheang-and-mark-amerika/

[2] Playbour: Work, Pleasure, Survival. Furtherfield, Finsbury Park, 2018. Curated by Dani Admiss. 14 July – 19 Aug 2018. Photo by Pau Ros. https://www.furtherfield.org/playbour-work-pleasure-survival/

[3] Housmans Bookshop. London. 5 Caledonian Rd, London N1 9DX. https://housmans.com/event/book-launch-feral-class-with-mark-garrett/

[4] I’m not a terrorist, I’m feral class: An invitation to some kind of collective unsafe space for the disobedient and unhappy: a foreword to a new book by Marc Garrett. https://feministecondept.substack.com/p/im-not-a-terrorist-im-feral-class

[4]Permaculture: Ethical Design for Living. Graham Burnett.
https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/graham-burnett-permaculture-ethical-design-for-living

Order the Feral Class book here:
https://www.minorcompositions.info/?p=1561