“The Women’s Equality Party needs you. But probably not as much as you need the Women’s Equality Party” was the title of the WE’s first meeting in March 2015, a slogan that made the British public (myself included) sit up and take notice.
Apathetic Journal describes itself as ‘a thematic, biannual arts and design exhibition and publication, aimed at disproving the fallacy that youth is characterised by apathy.’ It was cofounded in Australia by Anador Walsh and Morgan Brennan, in 2015, and it’s first two issues focussed solely on Australian creatives, though its third issue, to be themed Log Off, will branch out internationally. I chatted, over email, to Anador about the Australian scene and the future of print media.
In our first issue we published excerpts from an upcoming fiction project by Shanghai based author and journalist Jacob Dreyer, which explore – as all writing must, in some way – lust within the setting of the ever changing new China
A silvery garden, with all of the ingredients of languor at one’s disposal: idle talk, a cool breeze, endless leaves and stone chairs. Inside an ancient temple, drinking champagne. In the non-serious territory of summer, where one’s mind dissolves, where the question of Future ceases to exist, and the heat melts one’s body into pure presence. How delicious – it was in this time that one felt overwhelmingly animal, snarling, covered in hair. Prepared to transform at midnight, in this sacrificial space.
For our first issue we asked the young designer Felix Conran to name an object of desire – he chose
Tools, wonders that speak the languages of stone, wood, cotton, glass, metal and many others, that allow our flesh and bones to summon fruits we have only theorised. Take a stone-chisel: it is brutal, heavy – suitable for bludgeoning a man. Yet, in the right hands, with the right mentality, it can summon the organic curves of a Henry Moore or the delicate features of Michelangelo’s David. It is the space between violence and beauty that design sits: a place, so tiny, where destruction is called creation, where materials are stripped of their raw attributes to become whole. This is only possible from touch, it is the ultimate iteration of touch – the hand that moves nature toward beauty, and toward money too.
It was so sunny yesterday that we decided to take LYRA on a walk around Camden. We went to a coffee shop and read under the sunbeams, chatting with locals about the beautiful afternoon and, of course, LYRA. Everyone wanted to touch it, and were drawn to its beautiful design, relevant topics and, perhaps, the nostalgia they felt toward print magazines.
We finished our stroll at the news stand, really touched by the warm welcome Londoners had given us. It was a beautiful afternoon indeed.
Subscribe to the magazine, support our Kickstarter & buy tickets to our launch party here.
Text and photos by Luisa Fernanda.
In the first of our series on how much has changed since the ground-breaking feminist magazine Spare Rib’s 1970s heyday, we look at the female orgasm and ask: is the orgasm still a feminist issue? Discussing this, Clare Lydon quotes a ’70s doctor saying
“The toughest problem to treat is frigidity, some say because a woman’s response is so subjective, varied and vulnerable to so many outside factors. In any case, success depends upon the goals of the patient. Some are happy to be having sex at all. Some want the moon.”
Jimmy Dabbagh is, in his own words, a third generation kid: someone from many places. A true modern. His photographs of Lebanon appear in LYRA’s first issue, here he talks to us about identity and his upcoming project, Transparent which he describes as a ‘collaborative project with members from the Lebanese LGBTQ community’.
We were casting around for a classic (a Linda Snell-esque word) poet to use in our first issue. It’s always difficult, though – the past. After deliberation, we chose Sappho: the foremost erotic poet of antiquity (imagine how Ovid’d shudder if her work was more than fragment!) We asked Jessica Worden to write about her for us, and she delivered more than the scholarly summing up we’d half-expected and not, really, wanted. Her essay begins
I think of Sappho by the sea. She sings against the noise of the wind and waves crashing, standing on the sand of Lesbos. She knew many forms of love.
She acknowledges the bitterness of absence in this fragment but pairs it with the perpetuation of desire through the corporeal traces within memory. I think of Sappho by the sea. She sings against the noise of the wind and waves crashing, standing on the sand of Lesbos. She knew many forms of love.
Jessica’s is a beautiful piece, gently lyrical, humble even. She does not force the poet into this or that corner, does not decide what Sappho meant, but shows her to the reader in the palm on her hand: a flower, a weed, a gorgeous blade of grass. By the sea.
– Jago Rackham
Read Jessica’s full article in issue 1: subscribe and support our Kickstarter here.