A review of DEPOT ‘25
‘Fusion Arts connects artists with communities promoting dynamic creative projects that drive social justice and celebrate diversity. Fusion Arts is a catalyst for creativity in Oxford and beyond.’ – The Fusion Arts brochure I’m no stranger to the pretensions of the Art World. My
Greetings from Texas
America, the first postcolonial nation, is made of squares. It’s among the angular continents, with fake borders, straight lines, someone else’s perfect shapes. And every postcolonial state from Kenya to Kansas must question: what is our culture? We have a name, a group of people, some lines on
The Isis MT25 Pitch Prompts – Juvenilia Issue
Write a visual poem that looks like its subject. Invent a language. Use it to write a story. Is it gross to call your significant other ‘baby’? Is nostalgia the root of all evil? Do you still believe in magic? Write us a closet drama. Would your younger self be proud of the person [&helli
Promised Lands
I saw you last on Hestia’s hill head high, solemn and waxed in weightpaste, holding the Olympic flare defiantly over the valley— its firelight, bright in marble-star night, falling softly on matted grass, its kindling sparks like flies in measle-blotch blisters and hives upon the scarfaced sca
Greetings from Depoe Bay
To my retroactive dismay, I believe I’ve had a nihilistic summer. With what felt like endless time spent languishing in my own solitude, spinning out over the impossible quagmires of love, career, and selfhood, I managed to whittle my beliefs to a single point. The Answer, if you will. The intangi
Greetings from Cairo
After about a week in Cairo, my host, and by that point friend, Walid, asked me if the city matched my expectations. ‘It’s hard to say,’ I replied. ‘I didn’t really have a clear picture in my head before I arrived.’ Yes, I had skimmed through a travel book and looked a few things up, [&h
family curses
after clytemnestra’s husband returns from the ten-year war, she hacks him to death with an axe. she says a curse made her do it. her son kills her in revenge. all the while — birdsong. i. the first year // petrification we were happy until the summer i turned ten. i hadn’t lear
Greetings from Woking
Greetings from Woking! Whilst some students sunbathe in far-off lands and others spend eight weeks completing gruelling internships, I spend my nights under strobing lights, shoes sticky with beer, with shrieks, music and laughter ringing in my ears. It could almost be mistaken for Ibiza. Almost. &n
