Disappearing Images

The Horse Hospital, London, 6-12 July 2026

A visit to The Horse Hospital is always unique; even the journey is a distinct experience. You walk from St. Pancras station, taking in the redbrick houses, or exit from Russell Square station and then turn the corner into Colonnade before making your way through the venue’s red door and down its iconic ramp. The building, constructed in 1797 as stabling for sick horses, has been a home for alternative and countercultural art since 1993. The only surviving venue of its kind in central London, it was founded by Roger K. Burton and is now run by a collective of artists whose mission is to assist in the production and dissemination of artforms outside the mainstream. One of the venue’s most recent offerings was Disappearing Images, a week-long festival held between the 6th and 12th of July 2026. Artists were invited to respond to the notion of the ‘disappearing image’, an idea that begins with the making of ephemeral art but extends into the impermanence of our current world. I watched a range of the festival’s events that included improv nights, live music, theatre performances, talks, and more.

‘Mirror Stage’ by Joe Davies

My first visit is on a hot Wednesday evening to attend a night of film screenings and talks. As I enter the space, I notice the purpose-built installation above our heads. ‘Mirror Stage’, created by Joe Davies, consists of two projection screens made of tracing paper suspended between the venue’s pillars. The images showcased on them are of readymade and found objects, elements that are central to Davies’s sculptural practice. They float above the conversations, music, improvisation, films, and performances every night of the festival, always shifting beautifully to suit the work on show.

 54 The Gate and RIP Germaine

The night kicks off with a series by 54 The Gate, a collective who belong to an arts centre for individuals with learning disabilities. Each episode they present is a situational comedy in which characters set off on a simple mission, e.g. deciphering a note, and others appear to help them along the way. They all involve slapstick entrances, use of varied objects, and then cut to an on-screen narrator who adds to the charm and comedy by introducing each new plot point. They are joyous, playful, and effective in their DIY execution.

The next short film of the night, by black artist and archivist R.I.P. Germain, is a stark contrast; composed of drill music videos that have been taken offline. The images of rappers, notes, products, cars, and dancing women are edited together against a relentless score. Each new image attacks its viewer as they increase in speed and intensity, culminating in visuals of cemeteries and untimely departures from those involved in this music scene. These images have now been erased and appear to us for this night alone: a powerful take on the festival’s theme of disappearing images.

History of counterculture 

My second visit of the week is to partake in a live discussion of the chronology of counterculture. The programme describes Jeremy Gilbert, a professor at East London University, as ‘a weathervane for what we can do with cultural politics.’ Stephen Coates is a cultural curator whose podcast Bureau of Lost Culture tracks the history and impact of countercultural movements. The two sit in the middle of the space with a small group of us on either side. They talk about countercultural movements beginning in the 1950s and going into the ‘70s. They define those movements as collectives who believed their actions would change life for the better. The speakers describe how so many groups have been crushed and then their emblematic symbols have been commodified over time. The conversation flows freely between the speakers and audience, though those unfamiliar with the subject, like me, take time to feel immersed in what’s discussed. I am left wondering what is countercultural today. The feeling that current generations view the future as a strange, hopeless thing grows within me. This space and talk, however, are uplifting. They present alternative ways in which sections of society have dared to live. After having truly stimulating conversations with those around me, I decide I will tune into Coates’ podcast. I may find more hope in counterculture than I expected.

KEEP by Capital City

The festival closes with a live performance by the collective Capital City. ‘If you were a city, you’d be a city I could see,’ one of the performers, Hannah Taverner, says after walking into the dark space with a torch in her hand. The audience has placed themselves wherever they see fit and Hannah responds by moving around to connect with as many of us as possible. Her monologue transforms as she makes shadow shapes in the torch’s glow. Members of the collective add layers to it, taking it to new places; live music, projections by Joe Davies, and screaming vocals. The performance alludes to the unreachable, be that love, place, or need we know we cannot live without, but is impossible to find. Though more deliberate staging, stillness, and space to breathe would allow the piece’s crescendo to have more power, it is a fitting end to the week of performances. It takes me to a place of desire and loss.

With Hannah’s final exit, a week of magical and varied live art came to a close. I was reminded of the wondrous magic of live performance. They exist wholly then and there within the venue’s walls and in front of that evening’s audience, no two performances are ever alike. Like so many of the things across the week, the closing was fleeting and hard to define. It combined live improvised music with a script that moved between poetry and prose. The effects of its urban imagery, moveable staging, and changeable music is hard to capture; you had to be there and that makes the whole thing more magical. Stephen Coates quoted Alan Moore’s definition of counterculture as ‘people getting together and doing things.’ I witnessed this across my week at The Horse Hospital. Artists across forms bravely tried to make captivating work and the festival gave them a safe space to explore. Venues like The Horse Hospital are invaluable. I invite you to check out their programming: it will most certainly challenge you. No need to worry though, any challenge will be accompanied by friendly staff, cheap drinks, and a unique space.

The Horse Hospital: Disappearing Images

Amanda Vilanova

Amanda Vilanova is a Puerto Rican writer, actor and translator based in London.