Director
Tommy Rowlands
Tommy Rowlands FRSA, writes and makes across fiction, essay, autotheory, and material practice. His work has won a London Writers Award for Literary Fiction and been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He is represented by OWN IT! Literary Agency and serves as associate editor at Poetries in English Magazine.
He is a practice-led PhD researcher at the Royal College of Art, where he uses autotheory to interrogate abjection, embodiment, and self-construction— treating memory and narrative not as things to stabilise, but as unstable material to build with. Negative space runs through the work as method: what's withheld, redacted, or left unbuilt carries as much weight as what's made.
His practice returns again and again to the same question: what does form do when language reaches its limit? Studio is directed from inside that question, not above it.
This is not a course in technique. It is a sustained confrontation with the material conditions of writing—what a piece is made of, what it's avoiding, and what it becomes under real pressure.
Writers who join Studio work alongside a director whose own practice is live, institutionally grounded, and never finished. That proximity—to work still becoming, not work resolved—is what Studio offers.
Studio is not a programme. It is a change in practice.
Director
Tommy Rowlands
Tommy Rowlands FRSA, writes and makes across fiction, essay, autotheory, and material practice. His work has won a London Writers Award for Literary Fiction and been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He is represented by OWN IT! Literary Agency and serves as associate editor at Poetries in English Magazine.
He is a practice-led PhD researcher at the Royal College of Art, where he uses autotheory to interrogate abjection, embodiment, and self-construction— treating memory and narrative not as things to stabilise, but as unstable material to build with. Negative space runs through the work as method: what's withheld, redacted, or left unbuilt carries as much weight as what's made.
His practice returns again and again to the same question: what does form do when language reaches its limit? Studio is directed from inside that question, not above it.
This is not a course in technique. It is a sustained confrontation with the material conditions of writing—what a piece is made of, what it's avoiding, and what it becomes under real pressure.
Writers who come to Studio work alongside a director whose own practice is live, institutionally grounded, and in continuous development.
That proximity—to a working practice, not a completed one—is what Studio offers.
Studio is not a programme. It is a change in practice.