Scran. Grub. Mess.

Nosh. Chow. Munch.Scran is fast.

Choke it down. Gobble it up. Gorge yourself.Under the table, grasping at Gram’s crumbs,

Do you remember when you loved that stuff? Second servings without shame?

and “did you know you can squeeze an egg without breaking it?”

Can you capture memories like strawberry preserves? Or do they spoil in the ice box?

Can you photograph feast? Does a sandwich have staccato?

Can you alliterate American pie? What is the language of the larder? Wash your hands and set the table with a pen and paper.We know you want cheesy chips

No, you need them.

You’re stopped in your tracks. You know that smell-

It’s one of the trillion the human nose can detect.

Give us your famous midnight recipe, stained and smudged.

Tell us your secret ingredient,

We’re hungry.

A glance caught in one flash of a strobe light, Stripping you naked. And what’s left? Standing on the precipice. A stifled scream! The infinite second before the leap - The burn, the bee sting of red hot shame. Prick! Lusting for the high, fighting the come-down. Next up. Break a leg. On deck. And the curtains open : Tip toe around the corner, slither out the window. They must be asleep. Reaching for their hotel card, the knock of another lover. You should know better. The hide, the seek, the whisper. Loud hearts and thump- ing footsteps. Inching, trembling, building. The roller coaster drop. Chemicals rushing in. Again, again, again! Can you thrill us? Shoot.

Trash.

Give us your trash. Doggy bags, broken bottles and shattered dreams. Torn letters and frayed photographs. Space debris and falling ruins. Baseball cards, fishing nets. Forgotten film reels and orange peels. Rotten, reeking. Carnival winnings, too-big sweatshirts from past summer loves, and other discarded memories.

While piles collect dust in your junk drawers, notes apps, camera rolls, and voice memos, landfills grow into grotesque reproductions of the landscapes they threaten. Scattered newspapers pulled out of gutters. Yesterday’s headlines repurposed for warmth.

Who decides what is trash and what isn’t? When does old and tattered become retro and vintage? On who? At what age should old school books be thrown away? And where is away? Is trashing an end or a beginning? So many stories in a rubbish heap…

How can photography and poetry help to address, to grasp the act (or the art) of trashing? ………………………………………………………Can words and images recover the forgotten?

the body’s largest organ. a representation of our lived experiences. our truths taut over bone. the dust on your windowsill. the leather on your school shoes. the peel of an orange. the act of grazing your knee. the birthmark on your lower back. the tattoo you got when you were eighteen. the scar from that carpet burn at a kid’s party. the crawling of one’s skin from a haunting reverie. heavy moonlight reflecting against skin in ethereal sheens of blue. the back of your hand (how well do you know it?). the intimate friction of skin against skin. discordant realities giving way to the fracturing of our collective skin. how much do you cover, what do you hide? in your clothes, with your hair, by a mask. who do you show it to (and why)?

how can we explore the significance of skin in literary and photographic contexts? what is a characteristic function of skin? a border? a container? a protector? how do we portray the phenomenon of contact? can we capture the essence of skin? skin maps memories and vast individual histories – it carries identity. how do we approach this with the written word and image? how do words depict wounds and scars?

The word ‘Obscure’ connotes both the uncertainty of the future and the shadow of the past; that which is undiscovered, uncertain and which is not easily understood. It evokes ideas of the occult, that which is specialised and outside of common-knowledge. How can we explore this in photography or through words? What does it mean to conceal something? To screen singular elements, or to eclipse what we originally saw entirely? How does photography, in its very nature, function as a process of obscuring and revealing that which the photographer intends? As a subtractive process, photographs obscure everything which is not within the frame. Similarly, when writing we often obscure thoughts behind metaphors, or use language to discuss ideas in such detail that they become obscure in their wider context. Our plans and preparations can become lost or changed beyond recognition in a matter of moments and, try as we might, the future will always remain at least partially, obscured. This edition of Stereoscope endeavours to embrace obscurity: to throw ourselves into an appreciation of the unknown.

Description text goes herewe have decided to compile a Lockdown edition of Stereoscope.

After having received a number of unsolicited submissions, proposals and project ideas from students over the lockdown period we felt that this creativity should be celebrated in some way.

SO: please send your photography, poetry, artwork, love letters, thoughts and well wishes from the lockdown months to us so that we can include them in our next mini-issue!! stereoscopemagazine@gmail.com

Halcyon denotes a time in the past that was happy and peaceful. An idyllic time, calm and carefree. When you think of the past, do you idealize it? When you recall a memory, do you accidentally change the details? Is a memory something you have or something you’ve lost? Is it a truth or a fiction? A fantasy?

In our 2019 main issue, we are seeking to show moments of halcyon. How subtle moments of joy upon recalling the past can be captured in words and by photographs. Equally, we are examining how these joys shape our ideas of the future.

HYPONSIS /hɪpˈnəʊsɪs/

the induction of a state of consciousness in which a person apparently loses the power of voluntary action and is highly responsive to suggestion or direction.

hypnosis is a process whereby we lose ourselves momentarily within another state of being. how can hypnosis be induced by photography? images which transfix our attention so intensely that we lose ourselves within them; briefly slipping into the timeless reality held within the photograph. an act of transfixion, the hypnotic pattern of waves against sand, trance-like movements of dancers lit by the camera’s flash: hypnosis can be captured as part of our everyday or extraordinary experiences. how can we conjure moments of hypnosis in words, or capture it with a camera?

“What is Real? Does it hurt?” (The Velveteen Rabbit)

Heat rises from a desert road, blurring the space between air and ground, softening the horizon. The distortion is a marked pause, a reconsideration of reality. You can take a picture of it, capture it. Light rays bend to produce a displaced image. A mirage is a real phenomenon, but what it represents is determined by the human mind. It shifts and changes through our eyes – do we create the mirage? How can we have confidence in its reality?

Our everyday is full of mirages: the natural phenomenon of optics, the unreal ones, our projected and posted facades, our dystopias, mirrors, illusions, delusions. Misconceptions about people, places, memories. Somewhere between dream and reality, vision and sight. Send us mirages – the mirages you see and observe, the real and unreal ones, the ones you create.

THE MONSTER ISSUE

“Kindly consider the next question: what would your good do if evil did not exist, and what would the earth look like if shadows disappeared from it? Shadows are cast by objects and people…Do you want to skin the whole earth, tearing all the trees and living things off of it, because of your fantasy of enjoying bare light?”

Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita

What would the world be without Monsters?

The word derives from the root monstrum, an aberrant occurrence, usually biological, that was taken as a sign that something was wrong within the natural order. Concerning monere, meaning “warn”, St. Augustine concluded monsters were part of the world’s design, neither inherently wicked nor base.

A hall of mirrors can produce a self portrait, or warp an individual into several versions of themselves.

Distinct colours and forms: a metamorphosis. Gothic beasts of myth that hang on the walls of your mind. There! A giant eye in your bedroom window—a warning. Political behemoths of consumption and power. When does the monstrous become mundane?

How do you resist a monster?

When sight falters, how does the instinct of touch, or the familiarity of sound reestablish solid ground?

In certain moments, we can believe that the understanding of a particular can be sufficient for the understanding of all things. Perhaps these points in time are our luckiest hours: sheltered under an avenue of trees or enveloped by the sensation of an idea. The mind experiences itself— limning errors in our ‘tunnel visions.’ In this our minds are afforded a pleasure, that of determining a mirror world: an infinite loop of visualising one notion or person; an anxiety or source of joy. Perceiving ourselves, we delight in a sense of rightness. In this we may travel at our own pace, wherein certainty of motion supersedes a certain destination.

THE SYNTHETIC ISSUE

Photography is a chemical process. It is in the toxic baths of darkrooms where images are revealed. The chains of elements soak gelatin-coated filmstrips, processing the sun-soaked rooms and soft knees of intimacy.

Synthetic rebels against the natural and revels in the manmade. It is stimulated by the manufactured image and is aware of its artificiality. Excite the microscopic silver halide crystals on the plastic film and capitalize on the hi-fi world of precision.

The result is closer to an effect than to reality. Synthetic encompasses the purposefully fabricated and playfully insincere. Intimidate the organic and enjoy the inauthentic. Take pleasure in plasticity! Entertain a manipulated reality. Curate what should be real; we welcome digital images, glossy finishes and post-production.

Put natural things together to concoct something new, something synthetic.

Intimacy is emotive proximity. It can be suggested, expressed, or elided in moments, touchstones, and failures.

Ephemeral intimacy is desire and fear coalescing in the brush of a fingertip, or the catching of a breath. Photographs can intrude into and share such intimacy; muscular preambles ripple forever within the frame.

Closer intimacy is comfort found in silence, and belonging without the need for verbal expression. It is trust in the privacy of peculiar knowledge gleaned, or the creation of a shared emotional bedrock.

Intimacy is sought but not always found. Often pushed aside, unwanted and feared, intimacy is a fantasy that attracts insecurities.

Spatially, intimacy is cosy and secluded, open and private.

Intimacy can be an issue.

THE CHANCE mini-ISSUE

Chance is a serendipitous encounter with the unexpected. It is probability, uncertainty, the ratio between known and unknown factors. Photographically, chance resides outside the intentions of the camera's operator and therefore cannot be willed into existence. Chance is punctum- the element in a photo that leaps forth and pricks the viewer.

It's surprise. It's whimsical. It's minute. It's imposing. It's the photo you did not know you took. It's the image from the mutilated negative or the mistakenly washed roll. It's the transient expression of a head floating in a crowd. It's the moment you stumbled upon. It's an exchange you captured.