archive - issue 1

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  • /

    By MJ Turpin
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  • Apartment / Containers

    By Vincent Bezuidenhout
    These diptychs are the start of a series of images I have been working on regarding the visual landscape we choose to surround ourselves
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  • Collage

    By Claudio Parentela
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  • Drag and Snap

    By Leigh-Anne Niehaus
    This series is inspired by the childhood game of "snapdragon", which allows for simplistic and delightful decision-making through random selections of colour and number.
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  • Human/Nature

    By Lydia Anne McCarthy
    This series explores moments between nature and human beings that are at once idealistic and unsettling. Each picture is an independent narrative, but placed
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  • p u n c t u a t i o n

    By Ula Einstein
    Einstein works with a diverse range of media, including drawings and installation with fire, thread, and blades. The series of drawings and installations with
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  • Pretty Babies

    By Peregrine Honig
    With the premise that "/ " presents what is IN and what is OUT, the "Pretty Babies" series explores the fashion industry's well-published and syndicated DOs
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  • River Bank

    By Mario Sughi
    The symbol / is intended initially as a symbol of division. A real or unreal line divides the girl from the water, the girl from
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  • Seasaw

    By Sol Kjøk
    Here, the motif is conceived of as a seesaw (the typo in the title is intended, as this drawing is part of a series
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  • Series Seven Up

    By Noel Fignier
    Text by João Branco Kyron, HipnóticaThe collision is imminent and in the fraction of time left, the eyes shut and the vision is superbly
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  • A battle over samoosas between the snobbish Cinderella and a homeless electrician is mediated by Cinderella's boyfriend JJ. The samoosa battle is conflated with
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  • Untitled

    By Wilhelm Saayman
    This series of images, made using pen and ink, photographs and Photoshop, explore alternate/dream realities.
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  • Let's go there

    By Leigh Le Roux
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  • The space between.

    By Mehita Iqani
    It's a handy little line, the one that we use to make our options known. Either/Or. Paper and ink or binary code? Its clichéd,
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  • /

    By Ruth Barker
    On the QWERTY layout of my computer keyboard, the symbol / appears beside the questioning symbol ?. They are represented together on the same key, and
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  • I returned home after my first year in college to discover my younger sister had turned gorgeous. This was a disappointment, but not an
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  • Forward! Slash!

    By Travis Lyle
    You think you're a forward-thinking kinda person, do you? Lemme be the one to break it to you, sunshine – you're as lame as the
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  • Letter to the Editor

    By Elan Gamaker
    Dear Sir/Madam I should like strenuously to object to the subject matter ("/") of your current issue. It must first be mentioned, however, that it
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  • Butterfly

    By Adriana de Barros
    The pupa, a silk wrap of emotionsIsolated, within breathing, wanting to bethe intense pronoun of selfIt is silly to be one's own pronounShe giggles
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  • Evidence of Life

    By Tamlyn Martin
    Below is an extract from a series of 11 poems created in parallel with visual artworks. 5. Memories laced with visceral realityFlooding herThe gentle
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  • Immigrants

    By Stanley Onjezani Kenani
    you want to livenothing leaveto liveyou swimor like fresh sardinesyou are packedin boatsyou leaveto live.  you leavegold in the belly of Africaoil in
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  • In Between

    By Tania van Schalkwyk
    Raised in an Arabian land of heat, fire and temper,sometimes the calm of England clamps downlike damp in a bathroom with no windowand a
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  • Or: a line drawing

    By Gabeba Baderoon
    Pencil and nothing. Her face turned almost entirely away. Forehead, cheekbone,jaw,the bun low in her neck,shoulderand down,the long linejust enoughthen left alone.
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  • Scissor

    By Charlotte Gait
    There was a time when you and I were connected by iron, acid, vitamin and blood. Where every mouthful I took was with the
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  • Un Hombre Fuerte

    By Tamo Vonarim Written these words are, at times of a subconscious flow – whether they are mine, I don't know. All I know is that I
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  • Unbroken Awareness

    My life is now a floating shellI am a vessel on that river.The storm, the ship, the sea,Whose shores we lost in crossing.  I
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  • Untitled

    By Aryan Kaganof
    /At R550 rand I thought I'd rather die/ My mother: can I trust this woman?/ I thought the Romans were coming, dinkum/ …and always
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    By Sean Hampton-Cole
    Keys. John speaking. 'Lo?Good morning. May I speak to Bob Mitchell please?Bob in Bonds?I'm not really sure. I'm trying to...You want extension 125. This
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  • Wayne Porter, freelance journalist, donned his anthropologist's birthday suit and hit the bowling alley. Bar the bowlers hat tipped gently off centre, the man
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  • The Incised Wound

    By Joanne Hichens
    "Please, for me, Dave," I placed my hand on his, and really, no begging, just asked him nicely, "Lay off the booze tonight." Whether
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  • He had been driving for hours through that unstable, somnambulist night when he fell asleep at the wheel. He awoke with a start and
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Kyle Allan

Kyle Allan

Kyle Allan is a 29 year old poet, recording artist and events organiser. He has published a book of poetry, " House without walls" in 2016 and in 2013 released an album titled " Influences". He has organised numerous events including most recently the UHAF ( Underberg Himeville Arts Festival) fest in 2016 in the southern Drakensberg.

Wednesday, 22 March 2017 17:11

Some things about this year.


Charity remains the most violent

And lasting

Form of colonialism.



No gift comes without

A future request.



When people say, it is

From the Lord, know that

They will be asking something

Of you soon.



The people that hated Fidel

While he was alive

Will still hate him

When he is dead.



There will always be

One impimpi

One Judas

One family member

One flesh and blood

Like you



Newspapers say state capture

Began under Zuma.

History shows state capture

Began in 1652

When van Riebeeck arrived.

It’s also known

As colonialism.



People are braver in crowds.

At home they can change

The channels

To soap operas

And sport.



The Nobel Prize for literature

And the literary system

Of awards

And hierarchies

Does not affect

The quality of your writing

Nor the essence of what

You say

Nor is it strictly useful

To your content

Or even your readers'


You will miss

The fact of your




Still so many crave for it

And the violent gaze

Of recognition


Do we want a knighthood




For every poem / poetic line

There will be ten

Exaggerated hashtags



For every original hashtag

There will be one hundred commercial




People still think sport

Is the greatest nation builder

In our spectator democracy

Followed of course

By special holidays



Before the revolution gets underway

The powers that be

Have already changed their outfits

And are leading

The revolution

Against themselves


A surprisingly peaceful





People do not have fun

In learning.

Things that are not fun

Become violent

Starting with

The heated words

Of our egos



Learning should be free. 

Data should be free, as it is

Another gateway to the book

Of the world.

Even the instagram pics

Have their own

Reality conveyed

The sharp points

Of captured light

And delineations of form

And the passing colour of

Being alive

Which can’t be summarised

In theses

But are found

With other realisations

The almost mundane

Beautiful insights

In the fourth dimension

Of all things

Suspended in the seemingly





Most importantly, living itself

Should be free 

Followed immediately

By a permanent home

With a name suggesting

We are here to stay        


And at times  

In love.



While modern art

Discusses the theory

And pictures are based

On a theory instead of

A theory based

On what is actuality

People take selfies

In varying perspectives

Of the miracle

Of light

Not thinking of the

Overused words

Truth and beauty

Or worse




Hatred will continue

In new forms

Long after the flashy

Takeover of all old


And the rebranding

Of the dictatorship.



Be here

Look out the window


Get out the house

Be on the street

Walk from place to place

An exile from every

Complacent truth

Awareness of your


Has its rewards

When you get back

Eat your phutu and black tea

Use words that describe

This actuality


Than start using your friends




A house without walls


Is still the only place

I can stay in you

And not have to

Pay rent

Or dictate

Our lives

Or be

Dictated too.



Write about

Things you know

Know about

Things you write.




Language itself never does anything bad

To anyone.

We do it

With our open mouths



The trends will come and go

But the washing never ends.
Friday, 07 October 2016 13:51

It is

It is.


It is a ball surrounded by lightning

and the mercy of cosmic rays

being hurled through space,

again and again finding itself

in the same place.


It is a ball made of razors

and childrens legs and bar parties

toasting another days defeat

and its return in hot drums

confessing night

beyond all referendum

and cooking naive rhetoric




insanity goes through us

like a train, a drill

coming in both sides

of the room,

both sides of a nameless


like two ears

blinded by sulphurous words.




it is not peace. it is

not death. it is something

else, this pure violence

where i come from.


it is not peace. it is

not death. it is something

else, this void where

it all starts again.




the preacher is preaching infinity again

and again. I know I will not leave

the room alive.