Culture

We The Bathers is an intimate film that uncovers our inherent connection to water. This fly-on-the-wall documentary invites you to step inside bathrooms across the globe to observe how bathing rituals shape identity. Director Phoebe Arnstein speaks about the making of the film and the emotions water can unlock in us all.

As humans we’re dependent on water, but our gravitation towards it moves beyond survival. Water serves many purposes; it offers space to renew and relax, and is home to ceremonies and contemplation. In this documentary commissioned by Lush, Phoebe Arnstein uses water as a portal through which we’re privy to people’s interior narratives. Crossing cultures and continents, We The Bathers zooms in on stories in Japan, Italy, the U.K. and the U.S.

Drawn to the project through her own affinity with water as a way to interact with local culture, Phoebe was keen to dive into the project. She reflects: “My mind started racing around the globe, dreaming up different circumstances in which bathing could be poignant.”

Phoebe worked with cinematographer Amelia Hazlerigg and the rest of the team to create a camera system that allowed the crew to work quietly, helping individuals to open up about the role water plays in their lives. Shot with a skeleton crew in order to capture people in their most natural state, the team couldn’t have predicted just how delicate and stirring some of the stories would be.

Opening with a touching narrative about two elderly friends who use their local steam baths to cope with their mutual grief, it’s clear the role bathrooms play in the rumination of love and loss, struggle and freedom. Phoebe says:

“It wasn’t until shooting my second story at the steam baths in Canning Town that I realised the film could retain an emotional capacity that was far bigger than I had originally envisaged. It was startling to observe two elderly heterosexual men so at ease in their tenderness for one another.

“I talked to Ronnie right at the end of the day after we had finished shooting and learnt how the steam bath community was helping to fill an emotional and physical void after he helplessly watched his wife pass away. After meeting Ronnie, I realised that water had the power to unlock something potent.”

We The Bathers examines water as both a privilege and a luxury, acknowledging that, for many, access to clean running water isn’t always easy. A mother from Navajo speaks about the struggles of bathing her young daughter without running water (following contamination of water sources through uranium mining), while Laura, a woman from Skid Row, talks of the peace she finds in the ReFresh Spot, a hygiene centre for the homeless. Phoebe says:

“Bathing is a privilege and Tina, the young woman from Navajo Nation whose life is dominated by water scarcity, quietly reminds us of that. The film brushes gently against many other social issues such as racism, depression, homelessness, immigration and prostitution. For those challenged by their circumstances, bathing appeared to be an integral part of emotional management. Making this film opened my eyes to the depth of our connection with water and its role in our lives.”

From a new mother talking about how the Margate tidal pools helped her grapple with antenatal depression, to Jayson, who bathes in the hot springs outside of LA as an act of mindfulness - the film reveals water’s powerful ability to heal. Captured through curious yet compassionate eyes, some of the stories were more difficult to film however. Phoebe recounts:

“The afternoon I spent with Oki, the Nigerian migrant residing in an immigration centre in Sicily, was particularly difficult. After bearing audible witness to Oki’s traumatic past it suddenly made my questions regarding his connection to water seem futile and gratuitous. His voice was faint and trembling and mine felt intrusive and unwelcome.

“Our interview was unexpectedly stopped short by the start of evening service booming loudly from the church next door. As the sombre chanting flooded the room it felt, in some way, like it was helping to close the wounds I had opened. I realised then that I hadn’t made a mistake. Opening this man’s bathroom door had allowed me to step inside and listen to his story.”

We The Bathers will take you on a cinematic journey where you’ll traverse an emotive landscape, listening to the ways water can cleanse, comfort and connect.

The documentary premiers at Beak Street, Soho, on the 20th June, where you can enjoy a film screening and photography exhibition with refreshments. Alternatively, if you’re unable to attend, you can catch the film here once it’s premiered. What’s your bathtime story? Share the film and your story using #WeTheBathers.

Viewers are advised that We The Bathers joins people in their most private moments and therefore contains scenes of partial to full nudity

A melody can evoke powerful emotions and has the strength to resonate with us both physically and mentally, often giving people a shiver down their spine and sometimes even reducing people to tears. So why do we experience such sentimental responses to certain songs, and can we use our playlists to communicate emotions to others or alter our moods?

That tingly goosebump feeling you may have felt while listening to a pleasingly put together composition is often referred to as a ‘frisson’ or ‘aesthetic chill.’ Music psychologists have been exploring this phenomenon and the emotional effects of music for years, however the subject is largely unsettled. We do know, however, that some songs can trigger a release of dopamine. A spike in this chemical is usually associated with pleasure, perhaps explaining why our favourite songs can help to make us feel good.

Music can affect us in lots of different ways, communal singing has even been proven to reduce stress, while the release of oxytocin, otherwise known as the cuddle hormone, helps us to connect with each other (no wonder we seem to bond with strangers while screaming Mr. Brightside at the end of a big night.)

For many of us, music is used as a tool to enhance our experience of the everyday. From listening to a motivational playlist on the commute to work, to cooking dinner to a newly discovered band, listening to our favourite songs can help make mundane tasks a little more interesting. Even when we’re not actively choosing to listen to music, we’re often surrounded by small symphonies - bird song, radio jingles, movie soundtracks, we’re rarely away from it.

Whether it’s the thrill of an unexpected chord change or the uncomfortable feeling we get when a melody is unresolved, there’s no doubt music can have an impact on how we feel. We spoke with Mira Manga, musician, writer and label manager for ECC Records, to hear her thoughts.

Mira explains: “When you’re watching movies or reality T.V shows there’s a few tracks they’ll often play to accent emotions. If you watch the same scenes with the mute button on, they seem quite pedestrian, but add a swell of strings to that same moment and it will create more feeling.” This technique is used frequently by composers and the music helps to underscore what is happening. While the narrative and action of the film may tell us what characters are doing, the soundtrack tells us what they are feeling.

Mira laughs, commenting on a well known T.V talent show she says: “Whenever they start playing Coldplay you know that a contestant is either going home or is going to achieve greatness.” The Sound Before Picture rule gives us an idea of what is going to happen next.

Playlists are the perfect example of how we can create an atmosphere through certain songs, and music streaming services have made it easier than ever for us to choose a ‘mood’. Want some belters for in the shower? There’s a playlist for that. Learning to walk like a badass? Granted it’s obscure, but there’s one for that too.

We plug in, select a ‘mood’ and get an instant hit of musical medication. Mira describes our use of music as a “life supplement”: “If you’re in a moment, be that relaxing, or you need to feel energised, music is like another layer of reality that you can bring in to extend that mood.”

Social situations like dinner parties are often made more comfortable by background music, and let’s face it, nothing is more awkward than trying to crunch a crisp quietly in the deafening silence. Music is an extremely effective method of communication. It moves beyond language barriers, connecting people through emotion and shared experience. Sharing your favourite musicians is an intimate act, and it’s rare that we share those guilty pleasure songs with people we barely know. Our taste in music is personal to us, but it can also bring people together and prompt conversation. In Mira’s words it is “one of the colours in our personalities and makeup.”

Whether it’s for inspiration, nostalgia or you simply want to listen to a super emo song and have a good cry, music can be an incredible tool for our wellbeing. It can transport us to places that no other medium can, and even has the power to dull pain by triggering the release of natural painkillers in the brain - suddenly Bob Marley’s lyric: “One good thing about music is when it hits you, you feel no pain” means so much more.

Music is ingrained in our very souls and some evidence even suggests that humans used it to communicate before the invention of language. So no matter what genre or artists we’re into, our connection to it is indisputable.

If you’re looking for some album inspo, you’ll find loads of fresh picks on the Lush website, from Lush Spa music for chill times, to music from around the world.

There’s no denying that technology can be a powerful force in the activist’s toolkit. From keeping women on banknotes, to putting FGM on the Department for Education’s agenda - online petitions can gain incredible traction through social media. But while clicktivism can make a difference, Craftivism offers a more tactile approach to activism. We decided to find out how we can create change with our own two hands, and not just our two thumbs.  

Craftivism is when craft and activism collide - a quieter type of activism that encourages people to use creativity as a form of strategic and mindful protest. This could be a hand sewn banner, or a piece of cross stitch that functions as a political statement. Founder of Craftivist Collective and author of How to be a Craftivist: The Art of Gentle Protest Sarah Corbett explains more:

“We are making objects to spark conversation. Using your hands and physically making something is actually very empowering, it gives you that space to actually ask the questions we might find uncomfortable. One of the main benefits of Craftivism is to be offline and use the process of craft to slow down and think deeply.”

Perhaps hand embroidering a hanky with a compelling message and gifting it to a power holder isn’t the first thing you associate with instigating political change, but Craftivism can really work (you only have to look at Lorna Rees’ Pants of Protest campaign to see the movement’s force.)

Originally coined by Betsy Greer, Sarah stumbled across Craftivism on a long train journey to Glasgow: “I was travelling all over the country telling people how to be effective activists and mobilise themselves on international issues and I was burning out. I had joined lots of activist groups at the time because I’d moved to London, but I didn’t feel like I fitted in.”

Doubting whether she could be an activist without burning out, Sarah picked up a teddy and began cross stitching it with messages, experimenting with a different kind of activism. But why is “logging off” from technology such an important part of the process?

According to the report by A Decade of Digital Dependency we check our smartphones, on average, every twelve minutes of the waking day. It’s one of the first things we look at when we wake up and one of the last things we look at before we go to bed. From working at computers to balancing Netflix with checking social media, we’re surrounded by screens.

Craftivism requires our attention to be torn from technology, naturally slowing us down and pushing us into a state of contemplation. Our busy hands can no longer tap away at keyboards or apps, and instead are creating something physical. Of course, artists and psychologists have long been telling us the positive effects of the arts on mental health.

From encouraging a dialogue with our deeper self and increasing control over life circumstances to inspiring change and a sense of belonging, The Arts for Health and Wellbeing state that there are many proven benefits to getting creative. Something which Sarah utilises during Craftivist workshops:

“My Craftivism is very much about repetitive actions. We don’t use machine embroidery because it’s about using tactile, soft materials, and not looking at a blue screen. I have been able to work with neuroscientists and I read a lot about psychology and how craft helps with critical thinking. We’re doing something with our hands and using textiles that can naturally help calm us down when we’re in an anxious state. Repetitive actions also slow down and regulate our breathing.”

Of course technology has played a big part in Sarah’s success as a Craftivist. It’s helped her to build the huge global community she has today, spreading awareness of campaigns and even inspiring other Craftivist groups to pop up organically across the world. But she is quick to stress that the cause should come first, and social media second, warning that it can be “a distraction and not always useful”.

While some of the creations made by Craftivists are shared online, Sarah is also mindful that activists can overshare. Much of the Craftivist Collective’s work is about building up trust with decision makers, leading with compassion and understanding the point of view you are in opposition to. Sarah remarks:

“With anything, we have to make sure that our motives are clear. We’re targeting people who disagree with us and we are trying to change something that's currently in place and is unjust, so we need to be really careful not to look like we're doing stuff just to blame or bully people.”

Sarah believes Craftivism needn’t be a replacement for activism, it’s just another thing you can do to make a difference, which just so happens to also be great for your mental wellbeing. A form of activism you can physically feel making a difference. In Sarah’s words:

“Craftivism is a really useful tool in the activists toolkit but it should be used for certain causes and not others. We should absolutely still go on lots of marches and sign lots of petitions. But I think Craftivism has strengths that can complement other techniques and campaigns.”

So why not give it a go? Log off, pick up a sewing needle and master the art of gentle protest. You can get started with your very own Craftivist kit, or if you’d like to read more about Sarah’s work, you find out more here.

Photos by Craftivist Collective

Jeff Osment, lifelong friend of Lush co founder Mark Constantine, makes his literary debut with Dear John: The Road to Pelindaba, a biography that weaves together Mark’s family history and the serendipitous events that helped to shape his path, career and identity.

It all began with a birthday present. For his 60th birthday, Jeff presented Mark with a poignant gift that would alter everything. The release of the 1911 census gave Jeff the perfect opening to find Mark’s long-lost father and uncover a bloodline shrouded in mystery.

Five years and some careful detective work later, Jeff presented Mark with the first draft of Dear John: The Road to Pelindaba. We met with Jeff to hear about the events that led him to tell this story, and why he felt he was the right person to narrate it.

We arrive at Poole Harbour to find Jeff tinkering with his sailboat. Jumping aboard, he tells us his memories of Mark, their childhood together and their strong companionship. Their camaraderie is clear and Jeff takes great delight in poking fun at Mark’s eccentricities, explaining why a journalist may have struggled to capture his complex life in the same way:

“Mark isn’t easy to interview, because after five minutes he’s already looking out the window and talking about some species of bird. He’s a notorious rambler, so it would have taken an awful lot for a journalist to gather the same information.”

Jeff describes himself as a “witness to Mark’s life”, explaining how throughout their lives they have always gravitated back to one another: “We’ve been close for a very long time - we went to school together, journeyed to london and shared a flat together and met our girlfriends at the same time, who then became our wives. Even when we moved back to Dorset we ended up in the same town, in the same block of flats.”

Of course, writing your best friend’s biography doesn’t come without anxieties. Jeff explains that there were aspects of Mark’s life that he had to treat with sensitivity, such as relatives who were still alive, abandonment issues, and a difficult relationship with his stepfather.

Their friendship is touching, and when describing the moment he presented Mark with photographs and detailed information about his family, Jeff does so with a sense of responsibility: “I knew it would be an emotional experience for him and I deliberately wanted him to have plenty of time. We started at eight o’clock and it was midnight before we got to the final question. The final question didn’t even need asking, Mark knew that if I found all these photographs then I must know something about his father.”

A combination of Jeff’s “photographic memory”, his meticulous collection of records, marriage certificates and photographs helps to bring to life this moving story. Much of which was only revealed to Mark six years ago. Jeff explains that Mark didn’t own many photographs from his childhood, remarking: “When I handed Mark a photo of him as a seven year old boy standing to attention in his school uniform, the colour drained from his face. It isn’t easy to render Mark speechless, but he was.”

Jeff diligently draws parallels between the sliding doors moments in the book and how these events have shaped Mark’s identity. Despite their close bond, even Jeff admits that he learnt a lot about Mark while writing this story: “I started the book as a search for Mark’s father, but realised part way through that much of the book was about his relationship with his grandmother. He was brought up by her almost exclusively for ten years and was this angelic choir boy who would do anything for his grandmother and she would do anything for him. I realised that when that all changed it was a major catalyst in his life.”

You don’t need to know Mark in order to enjoy this book - Jeff describes it as a ”biography wrapped in a detective story.” It unfolds a little like an episode of Who Do You Think You Are, but Jeff’s honest accounts give it depth and humour. The book takes readers on a journey, showing Mark’s roots, connections and motivations. And although we’re given an insight into how Mark shaped his career in cosmetics, Jeff does not sugar coat the efforts it has taken him to get there:

“I didn’t want to show a perfect person. He has his flaws like the rest of us and his business has had its ups and downs. But I wanted to show people that he’s not just someone who got rich and decided to campaign for different things, he’s always done it. He was a hippy tree hugger back in the 70s, we went on marches together and in the 80s he was helping develop tests to stop animal testing.”

Not only is this emotionally charged story a testament to Jeff and Mark’s long lasting friendship, it explores the importance of family and what these connections mean. Above all, it questions how much power we have to shape our own destinies. One thing is for sure, this compelling account will make you look at your own path very differently.

Dear John: The Road to Pelindaba will be exclusively launching at the Lush Showcase on 23rd September and will be available to purchase online, and in stores, from the 24th September 2018.