The ethics of ‘pixie sex’

Looney_Toons_23637Last week our local media in New Zealand published an item under the banner, “Man sent to jail for watching ‘pixie sex’.” Friends made jokes about how this story might impact our local pixies, and yes, some stated quite simply, “Have the New Zealand police and our court system gone crazy?” Even Roger Bowden, the man’s lawyer, said the conviction for possessing objectionable material was “the law gone mad.”

If this wasn’t about real people, I too would laugh. But it is not the pixies who are at the centre of this story. Very serious events have unfolded for “an Auckland man“ – and it’s not over yet. Having been convicted of a crime, he has served his time in a New Zealand prison and has now been released, under the supervision of the Probation Service. Usually after such a supervision period ends the ex-inmate is expected to fit back into society – find a job, get himself a place to live. It is my expectation that this man’s future prospects look nothing like that.

What assumptions can we make regarding the man? On a personal level his psychological state/mood would be moving ever closer to snapping point. The public media tell him who and what he is – social messages that are reinforced in his interactions with others. Inside these images, narratives and exchanges, the social identity of the ‘pedophile’/sex abuser is constructed.

Not only do these imposed narratives make it virtually impossible for an individual to maintain an integrated sense of self, but they block all attempts at resistance, be it political struggle or romantic heroism. The very idea of ‘legitimate’ resistance for a sex offender is a no-no.

One form of resistance is available for the sex offender –  it has two modalities, and both involve lies and deceit. First, the sex offender is expected to tell lies: he’s a liar before he opens his mouth. But there is also the potential for such a person to tell themselves it is in their best interests to avoid telling the truth. Prisoners will often disclose, after their release, how crucial telling lies was to their survival. Sadly, this is likely to include the inmate failing to take responsibility for what they have done.

There is something profoundly ironic happening here. Sex abuse narratives have truth telling as a central issue, but that process is a bit more complex than may at first appear. It is my belief the stigma of the sex offender and the pedophile is so powerful it feeds invitations to tell lies and do whatever it takes to keep out of harm’s way.

Telling the truth seems almost foreign for modern-day narratives of the sex offender – most see the offender as the one who misleads; I would argue speaking the truth is indeed a great need inside this situation, but lying is endemic, and the act of truth telling far from straightforward.

What sex offenders tell others, and what they tell themselves, constitutes a very deep problem. My decision to write seems infected by this problem of speaking the truth – how will my writing impact others?

In a fundamental sense, each of us owns our own story. That ‘truth’ is as valid for members of sexual minorities as it is for the rest of us. When writing any piece for this blog the author is challenged to take into account how the person or group being discussed might be impacted by what is offered. Anyone who has studied in the area of the social sciences will be aware that ethics and methodology are crucial aspects of how serious research ought to be undertaken these days.

Recent posts on this site can be lensed through such questions. The piece about prisons, for example: How might that piece impact on inmates, their friends and families, the victims of the crimes linked to why a person is in prison?

The more recent post –  which discussed children in art –  considered how those children would be impacted by public discussion of Graham Ovenden’s work? At first, British society viewed his works as positive, placing them in such prestigious art spaces as The Tate Gallery. When those images were recently taken down, and this move written about in the public media, how were the children in those art works impacted?

A number of items on this website have discussed the social profile of the pedophile. The intent of these texts was to urge the reader to consider the profile of ‘the pedophile’ and ‘the sex offender’ in terms of how they are currently positioned in New Zealand society and culture. How would minor attracted people (a term I use in place of pedophile and sex abuser) view my text? How does the talk I invite impact on them?

A pattern is emerging in New Zealand: men socially profiled as sex abusers and pedophiles are increasingly placed under extended supervision for periods of up to ten years, with a range of special conditions imposed. I know of a person who has been through this situation; his experience gave me a window into how this works. In such a situation as this the probation service will make specific recommendations. The person will often be blocked from owning or having access to any device that links to the internet. Ask people these days to do without such items as our computers, tablet devices or smart-phones for a week and watch panic set in.

I argue that when a person is ‘managed’ by the state it is difficult for them to be open about how that process happens. What choices do they have when telling the story? The biblical account of David and Goliath is not usually applied to the situation of a pedophile facing a courtroom. Perhaps that is the point: culture restricts the narratives we can choose when creating our personal stories – and not every story is offered to every person.

The David and Goliath image is something I have used; I argue the sex offender is prevented from doing so – his every attempt to characterise himself as another David battling Goliath is blocked and discounted.

There is the issue of power here – how can the story be told, and by whom? We are not him; what questions are we free to ask? Is it okay for us to focus on the process unfolding for the man in Auckland, and not limit our questions to issues of guilt or innocence?

Is the Probation Service being over-zealous? Is the state exercising ‘prosecutorial overreach’? Returning to our earlier question, how do our comments impact on this man? If we inquire into what the authorities are doing, the man is likely to become concerned about how they are going to react, and more to the point, what they will do to him.

There is a lobby group in New Zealand that seeks ever increased punishment of those who come before our courts. One can also speculate government staff who see themselves as ‘doing a job’ can become nervous – they fear being viewed as sloppy or lax. Another group in play here are professionals called on by courts to offer opinions – psychologists for example. They are not exempt from these power dynamics. If a psych report is asked for, and I dare say it already has been, how will it be written? It will take up a position, and it will be very likely ideologically driven.

My prediction: an escalation of this case is likely.

As things currently stand this man’s life is in public space, albeit a highly stigmatized version of his life. Media items that point to the pixie story extend beyond New Zealand. Having been to court and spent time in prison, he is already a person deeply affected by what has unfolded. I argue he continues to be at risk.

For some, this pixie story seems like a joke. It is far from funny. In addition to having served a prison term, the man may well have to endure extended supervision for as many as ten years.

Early on, this post pointed out each person owns the narrative that is their life story. Again I feel compelled to stress not only that this matters, but also for some, it is very difficult and complex.

Some are arguing this is a reasoned accusation and a punitive response with a feel-good factor. The view being put forward is this man’s sexual orientation – that of being a pedophile – means that having viewed this pixie material he may then go on to carry out acts that harm children.

It is an argument that turns on the notion of child protection. What it fails to show is any in-depth understanding of what having a sexual orientation means. Even if we have an adult who is not a pedophile, sexual assault of a child, I argue, demonstrates the sexuality of the person acting requires analysis. It is my intention to write on both sexual orientation and the presence of adults inside that group who sexually abuse children and are not pedophiles.

Related articles

  •  Cohen, S. (1972). Folk Devils and Moral Panics (Third Edition). London and New York: Routledge.
  • Farrar, D. (2013, 21/04). A yucky but interesting issue [Blogsite]. In Kiwiblog (Blogrole). Retrieved 28 April, 2013, from
  • Foucault, M. (2001). Fearless Speech. Los Angeles: Semiotext(e), Distributed by MIT Press.
  • Goffman, E. (1986). Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity.
  • Steward, I. (2013, 21/04). Man sent to jail for watching ‘pixie sex’ [Newspaper] [Electronic version]. In (National). Story).

Viruses feel like unwelcome visitors, but sometimes they are much more.

Director of Strategy and Policy for the Dawkins Foundation for Reason and Science

Sean Faircloth, Director of Strategy and Policy for the Dawkins Foundation for Reason and Science

I am a twin so you might have thought that what life is teaching me now is a lesson I should already know – two things that look the same may be quite different from each other. This week I have viewed a video clip that could be described as New Age in style and a group of talks which had as their goal the promotion of secular society in New Zealand. The common thread, the thing that made these items initially appear the same, was science. Both were proud to lay claim to scientific word-views. Both claimed scientific methodology sits at the core of what they are about. None the less, there were differences, quite significant ones, and I argue in this blog-piece that they provide a similarity that is worth taking note of.

The video clip was titled, “What the bleep do we know!?” In it the film’s main fictional character, a female photographer, faces personal life questions that allow the issues of ideas about quantum physics and human consciousness to be highlighted and explored. The film incorporates documentary styled interviews with individuals involved in the fields of quantum physics, psychology and spirituality.

The evening of talks, titled “Moving Toward a Secular Society”, had as its guest speaker Sean Faircloth of the Dawkins Foundation for Reason and Science. The evening was sponsored by the New Zealand Society of Humanists and Rationalists, and held at the Pipitea Campus of Victoria University, Wellington.

The first step for this blog-piece is to see how these ‘scientific’ based presentations were in fact very different from each other.

“What the bleep do we know!?” has as its thesis the view that there is a connection between quantum physics and human consciousness. The film does have a background and seeks to promote a message. Its authors are students of Ramtha’s School of Enlightenment. John Gorenfeld, writing in Salon – “‘Bleep’ of faith”, stresses this point because he sees this group as a cult. There are voices who express strong  caution when assessing this film. “What the bleep we know!?” according to these voices is pure junk, pseudo-science and new age psycho-babble.

I am going to make a move that I will call bracketing – put the issue of truth-claims on hold while I focus on other points. It is not about ignoring what is true; sometimes in order to see something we can choose to suspend doubt in order to let an idea be explored. It allows for that idea to be discussed, an idea we might otherwise never allow ourselves to consider.

What the film points to – a shift in how we understand the real – is an observation I can nod my head to. The older view that defines what is real says what sits outside of us is solid, substantial and entirely independent of us – the buildings that surround us, the chair we sit in, the cup of coffee we hold in our hands. The other world, the one we experience as internal, made of perceptions, is fleeting and insubstantial. The new view, the one the film explores, argues how we see and experience things is the really real. It is the contribution the viewer makes that is highly significant. For this perspective the world we see as outside us is linked to our being there in ways that are complex and noteworthy. The makers of “What the bleep do we know!?” argue this marks out and defines the gaze of quantum physics. I nod my head regarding the film’s claims because the older models of the real are limping – they fail to satisfy – there is evidence people are looking for other ways of seeing things.

Schrödinger's cat

Schrödinger’s cat: a cat, a flask of poison, and a radioactive source are placed in a sealed box. If an internal monitor detects radioactivity (i.e. a single atom decaying), the flask is shattered, releasing the poison that kills the cat. The Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics implies that after a while, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead. Yet, when one looks in the box, one sees the cat either alive or dead, not both alive and dead. This poses the question of when exactly quantum superposition ends and reality collapses into one possibility or the other. (Sourced from Wikipedia.)

Years ago, as a young man, I was introduced to the paradoxical thought experiment of Schrödinger’s cat (devised by Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger in 1935). I found it a stimulating riddle. Quantum mechanics has this notion of simultaneously occurring events that collapse into one outcome at the point where an observer looks or views how things are. “What the bleep do we know!?” communicates this message,  using the image of simultaneously bouncing basket balls that become one ball at the point when the ball is observed. The riddle or thought experiment’s significance rests for me in how it impacts on how one understands the real. I now see that neither Bohr’s model of the atom nor Newton’s notion of matter satisfies the question “How do things work?” Via the perspectives of quantum physics I am willing to consider as valid models of the real that are experienced by me as counter-intuitive.

“What the bleep do we know!?” does have this interesting turn, it asserts a new and important place for religion and spirituality. The film is not saying traditional science is wrong because of quantum physics – rather it argues the models for science have shifted. The film also argues this is true for religion.  The model for spirituality the film offers is seen as an update, guided by what is said in modern day discussions of quantum physics.

Religion and science are no longer at odds with each other, in a discussion of what we see as real. If a reader wants to follow their nose regarding this question of bringing the worlds of science and religion into one unified space I suggest the philosophical writings of Alfred North Whitehead. His book Process and Reality is a good start. I have read a few of his books and sat in post-graduate classes discussing his ideas. It is a rabbit hole worth going down, if the interest takes you.

The significant difference between this film – “What the bleep do we know!?” and the talk offered by the speakers at the talks “Moving Toward a Secular Society” rests with how religion is viewed. The speakers were not anti-religion; what concerned them were the dangers of indoctrination. The film promoted the message spirituality should be viewed as positive, that it is part of a new way of seeing what is real; the talks “Moving Toward a Secular Society” were a lot less buoyant about the on-going role of religion in society.

It is at this point that my bracketing may need to close, the talkers promoting the move towards a secular society saw ‘being right’ as central, they were very sure they understand sound methodology. They held the view the social and political moves of some religious groups are not just wrong, they are dangerous. They expressed concern at how talks in state schools, promoted and guided by religious groups under the heading of ‘values programs’, are being held after hours when the final bell has gone at the close of a school day. Concern was also expressed about the current New Zealand government’s proposed model for charter schools. Both these examples were presented as threats to a well-functioning secular society.

It is at this point I wish to discuss step two, that is how the film “What the bleep do we know!?” and the talks “Moving Toward a Secular Society” are the same.

The view I offer here owes its epistemological base to sociology. We live inside a post-enlightenment world. Sociology is very much a discipline or body of knowledge that exists because of this feature of modern Western societies and cultures. Capitalism and fundamentalism are both symptoms and defining features of our social fabric. I think, at least for now, we can’t imagine ourselves living inside a social and political space that is not informed by capitalism. Non-capitalist economies are seen as failures. There was a time before capitalism; now that past seems deeply foreign. In a similar way I argue that fundamentalism can’t be banished either, it has become part of who we are as post-enlightenment societies.

We criticize fundamentalism and those who promote it, we plan for its banishment, secular theorists view fundamentalism as a throw-back, a lingering pre-enlightenment world-view, and yet I think these theorists may suffer from a blind-spot.  At this point in time I can’t imagine being in a non-capitalist society, not because I love and support capitalism (it is for me a virus), I just can’t imagine what a society organized differently would look like. In a similar way I think fundamentalism in all sorts of areas of life is very much with us, again not because I support its style and outlook (as with capitalism, for me it is a virus), but I just don’t easily see how it can be banished.

What forms the basis for my claim? Why do I think it has begun to infect the secular movement? Being right, or absolutism, is for me the tell-tale sign one stands before fundamentalism. When we encounter it, that is when a part of who we are is looking back at us.

At the talks “Moving Toward a Secular Society” I asked the question – “I know, in the world of politics, what fundamentalist politics looks like; I know, in the world of religion, what fundamentalist religion looks like; so, if I am to see fundamentalist secularism, what would it look like? Sean Faircloth answered the question saying fundamentalist secularism is an oxymoron – it just can’t happen.

I am not firmly wedded to my current view, but Sean Faircloth’s answer, and indeed the Richard Dawkins Foundation, points to how fundamentalist secularism is not an oxymoron nor is it an impossibility. It is not about who is right; rather it is about watching, listening, paying attention to what is said and done.

Political groups and religious movements see fundamentalism as a threat. They tell themselves, inside their localized discourses, fundamentalism can be resisted and removed. I speculate they are puzzled as why this approach to life – fundamentalism, ever arrived inside our modernity anyway. Fundamentalism does seem to be new and not the continuation of an older view. This bewilderment about fundamentalism’s arrival is a clue to why it has been able to expand. Confusion and the belief this is about them and not about us has allowed this outlook to grow.  Fundamentalism is a window into us, our philosophies, our world views, and our arguments. I am not saying fundamentalism is right; I am saying to gaze into what it claims is to experience ourselves looking back at ourselves.

Fundamentalism has the feature of being confident in its core beliefs: it ‘knows it is right’. Dogma is central to the ‘style’ that is fundamentalism. The speakers at the talks on “Moving Toward a Secular Society” were very concerned about the indoctrination of the young, as well as the way religion and religious groups promote this ‘being sure we are right’. What I did not hear was the insight that such certitude inside the ranks of the secular movement should ring warning bells for those interested in the promotion of secular thought.

I choose to be very careful in what is being claimed here, I am not antisecular, far from it. I value a great deal what it offers, but recent modelling of secular debate suggests fundamentalist secularism is operating. The talks offered by Sean Faircloth and others are worth thinking about.


Arntz, W., Chasse, B., & Vicente, M. (2004). What the Bleep Do We Know!? [Marlee Matlin as Amanda; Elaine Hendrix as Jennifer; Barry Newman as Frank; Robert Bailey, Jr. as Reggie; John Ross Bowie as Elliot; Armin Shimerman as Man; Robert Blanche as Bob]. Roadside Attractions (109 minutes).

Faircloth, S., Harrison, P., & Armstrong, D. (2013, 12/04). Moving Toward a Secular Society. In Sean Faircloth Tour [Guest speaker: Sean Faircloth, Director of Strategy for the Richard Dawkins Foundation for Reason and Science]. Government Building Lecture Theatre, Pipitea Campus, Victoria University of Wellington: New Zealand Association of Rationalists and Humanists.

Gorenfeld, J. (2004, 17/09). “Bleep” of faith [Film review]. In Salon(Online Story). Retrieved 13 April, 2013, from

Whitehead, A. N. (1929). Process and reality: An essay in cosmology [A revision of the Gifford Lectures he gave in 1927-28.]. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Children in art, have they become one of today’s problems?

ovenden paintingThree pieces from the Guardian caught my eye this week. All were about Graham Ovenden.  Jonathan Jones fronts the Guardian’s view with theory, we are then offered an update by Charlotte Higgins letting us know the Tate Gallery was removing some of Ovenden’s work from public view and adding that his conviction involving  underage girls cast his work in a new light. A couple of days later the Guardian asked us to vote.

On the 2nd of April Jonathan Jones (writes on art for the Guardian) discussed how the Ovenden case related to art – “Graham Ovenden: artist thrived among 1970s self-conscious decadence.” A day later Charlotte Higgins (chief arts writer for the Guardian) notified readers that the Tate had removed a number of Ovenden’s pieces from public view – “Tate removes Graham Ovenden prints after indecency conviction offering as an explanation.” Higgins’ text offered up the following comment: Ovenden’s conviction  “‘shone a new light’ on his work.” On the 5th of April the Guardian invited readers to vote  – “Should the Tate have removed Graham Ovenden’s prints?” At the time this page was viewed the vote had just closed (11.00am, Monday 8 April, 2013). Reader opinion had the spread, 55% (yes) and 45% (no). This outcome offers up the view the Tate’s decision to remove Ovenden’s work is a highly contested move.

As a New Zealander, reading these pieces has been to experience déjà vu. In July 2012 a local artist, Brendan Nolan, with a profile considerably smaller than that of Ovenden, had his work treated the same way by the authorities – three artworks ‘taken down’. One was a set of gates he made for Paekakariki School; the second was a tui sculpture at Paraparaumu Beach (a tui is a species of bird native to New Zealand); the third was a painting on public display at the local library. It is unclear whether the painting was removed by the council, or by the library. The  New Zealand Herald did not make this clear. The news story does state the school gates and the scupture were removed by the Kapiti Coast District Council.

Both in the Ovenden case and the Nolan case, explanations were given why their art was taken out of public spaces. In New Zealand Councilor Tony Lester said, “The decision to take the sculpture down was not a hard one to make.” Since the art items Nolan had created were not of children I read Lester’s message as ‘this action to remove this man’s art from a position of social prominence is because he is a sex offender/pedophile. That point of view deserves critical thought.

There is a point of difference between the New Zealand case and Ovenden’s. Higgins’ Guardian piece refers of images of children – artworks removed from public view included “a screen-print that features an image of a young naked child.” She argues Ovenden is positioned differently because of how he exploited the girls whom he had made of his work. I am not blocking the idea that Ovenden will move to the position Nolan finds himself in, that his social stigma as a pedophile will finally be the explanation offered for why his art is no longer of value.  At this point in time The Guardian pieces seem to offer a message slightly different from the one that lives inside media reports of the New Zealand case of Brendan Nolan.

Jonathan Jones’ Guardian story was the first comment on the Ovenden case that caught my eye. It appeared to be talking about art, but my view is this is illusory. What is offered is a view that attempts to say we are modern and new in our views; older views are suspect. What Jones does in how he writes is to allow morality to be central to his view without acknowledging that this is the case.

Jonathan Jones is attempting to do something very much in step with our time – he wants to stand just outside the modern, that period in our recent past that is in his words “dead”. Philosophical commentary refers to that earlier way of thinking as a ‘grand narrative’ style. An important issue here is how modernism offers up its notion of authority. Its narrative was more than just any old story, it offered up an account that was used as a benchmark. The school of thought next to emerge in Western thought takes issue precisely with this point of authority. This ‘post-modern’ view is not a single view, it is more a collection of views which together question issues like those of authority and explain why we are comfortable with changes in opinion and fashion. Ideas now can come and go, be different from each other, and that mix is not necessarily a problem for us.

Jones further points to this past dead item as the artistic perspective of the Victorian era. He links the term ‘Victorian’ to the notion of decadence (a term he no doubt sees as negative for both him and his reader). He makes these moves in his opening sentences  – “Tastes change. In art as in clothes, the cool new thing of today may look repellent and absurd in the future.” Right from the start Jones positions us, with himself, as inside the post-modern. Our cultures and our views (including those of art) are fluid and changeable; they are not the grand narrative of the past, which saw itself as stable and unchanging.

It is here that I suggest caution – there is a twist.  Jones is saying, to be us is to have a ‘more advanced sensibility’. But here is his twist: our ability to see the dark side. Jones suggests, but does not state openly, for him there is a moral absolute. It is hinted at, its existence disclosed, via child nudity and the pedophile (the term pedophile is not stated, none the lesss it is an identity offered up as Ovenden’s real self that Jones’ text depends on). It is this philosophical position that images are not dark in and of themselves. It is in  the linkage between an image and its viewer that this darkness becomes palpable. I do not see Jones arguing here that Ovenden alone is his concern. For Jones the concern is that linkage of Ovenden to his images of girls. Jonathan Jones’ article is not, in my view, merely about Ovenden’s identity and profile. No it’s about a perspective, a way of seeing.

In addition to how Jones wants to position Ovenden’s art, he also offers an unacknowledged blending of the post-modern and the modern. He wants a dollar each way. Why, you might ask. My guess is he wants to lay claim to that quality of authority – this view is more than mere opinion, this is the view, this is how it is, this is how it is for all of us, this is how it is for all time. It is this situation where an argument appears to offer up openness, an acknowledgement that past claims of authority are now invalid, to suggest we are more open, and less controlled by others … And yet  that new argument shuts the door to future debate.

Notice, I am not swayed by the inclusion of a simple yes/no vote that has been offered by the Guardian.  If anything that kind of vote is more an invitation for prejudice and emotion to control debate, rather than some idea of democracy. What I look for is the exposure of the structure of people’s thinking, to lay it bare and then reflect.

The structure of Jones’ thinking can also be read in his links to other texts. He does not say why Charles Dodgson, author of Alice in Wonderland; Nabokov, author of the novel Lolita; and select characters in Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange, are scary and dark. No, he anticipates the reader will nod in agreement that these figures are scary and dark. And leaves it there – they are for him his fixed points – they are not free to be moved or viewed differently by some future age or from within the diversity of a post-modern universe. It is significant he argues simply that they are dark and scary. It is just an act of pointing, and a seeking support from the reader.

Ovenden, we learn from Higgins’ piece in the Guardian, will be treated in the same way as his images. Both will not to be before our eyes and amongst us – Ovenden’s art has been taken down; he will disappear into prison spaces. One notes the images taken down by the Tate played no role in Ovenden’s conviction.

No doubt other people too are uneasy about the Tate’s decision to take down some of Ovenden’s work. Some, like me, will have questions both about what is art and what is just. Jones rather cleverly acknowledges this by using the term hero when referring to Ovenden. Inside the art community, Jones tells us Ovenden is “a star of the dawning post-modern age”, but  he immediately knocks this down because he tells his readers Ovenden is also a person who takes pictures of naked girls, a man whose internal life is “deeply worrying and bizarre”.

I am not convinced by the contributions of Jones or Higgins, nor do I trust the Guardian’s yes/no vote will put my sceptical soul to sleep. I live in New Zealand. The morality of our culture and the stigma of pedophilia are in some sense closer to the surface. Councilor Tony Lester’s words can be paraphrased this way, “The decision to take down artwork of a sex offender/pedophile is not a hard one to make.” That is most definitely a cultural perspective – a deeply felt one for some – but remember we have come to see the post-modern perspective may indeed be right – nothing is absolute, authority is more complex than the words “I told you so, therefore it must be true.”


Blundell, K. (2012, 27/06). School gates created by sex offender removed [Newspaper]. In (News/Kapiti). The Dominion Post(Online Story). Retrieved 7 April, 2013, from

Higgins, C. (2013, 03/04). Tate removes Graham Ovenden prints after indecency conviction. In (Tate Britain). The Guardian(Online Story). Retrieved 3 April, 2013, from

Jones, J. (2013, 2/04). Graham Ovenden: Artist thrived among 1970s self-conscious decadence [Newspaper]. In (Crime). The Guardian(Online Story). Retrieved 2 April, 2013, from

Communities tear down sex offender’s artwork [Newspaper]. (2012, 02/07). In (National). The New Zealand Herald(Online Story). Retrieved 05/04, from

Should the Tate have removed Graham Ovenden’s prints? [Online Newspaper]. (2013, 05/04). In (Comment is free). The Guardian(Online Story). Retrieved 7 April, 2013, from