NONSENSE

Deadline: 9 FEBRUARY 2014

Mad Hatter: “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”

“Have you guessed the riddle yet?” the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.

“No, I give it up,” Alice replied: “What’s the answer?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said the Hatter.

We want to start 2014 a little feverishly, like a carnival ride, with our hats on sideways and a wink on our grins, paying tribute to one of our favourite writers and illustrators: Lewis Carroll.

We’re inviting you all to put your top hats on, dine with candelabras, sing with mice and grin at Cheshire cats. Maybe even indulge in a pen name. Perhaps invest in a feather pen and tip the clock hands back, stand on your head with your hands in your shoes – tell us something silly.

But, remember – there’s logic in nonsense, you just have to know where to look.

Lewis Carroll

Yes, we’re paying tribute to Alice in Wonderland's creator, but we’re also remembering the nonsensical wonderers who came before and after ­– Edward Lear, Roald Dahl, Dr Seuss, Edward Gorey, Ivor Cutler. Take the eccentricity from each of these writers and artists, and through thick, blurry specs, you’ll see the logic and the dots the lines, the clever craft of painstakingly intelligent and illogical penmanship. 

Sometimes though, you won’t see it. Sometimes it’s just nonsense. But it’s always fun – it’s illogical logic. Are we making sense? No? Good.

Rhymes & riddles

Lewis Carroll is the pen name of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, but you all knew that. Make your own pen name. Dodgson was a tremendous mathematician, professor and photographer, there was always more than meets the eye.

Carroll also had a habit of making up words and making them stick, making them memorable and fun to roll around in our mouths – uffish, mimsy, galumphing – even more than 100 years later. He was a neologistic wizard. Try it yourself – see if it sticks. Become a portmanteau connoisseur.

Or give us riddles, puzzles, acrostics, rhymes that we can remember and say over and over again, just because it sounds nice, beats like a drum and has a steady, galloping rhythm.

Fairy tales

Of course we want fairy tales – à la Alice in Wonderland - but we don’t want the sickly, happy ever after, cupcake sort of stuff. No Once Upon a Time. Nor do we want Brothers Grimm (we’ll save that for a different theme), we want weird worlds full of characters that fizz, hiccup and chortle - the Mad Hatter, the Mock Turtle, the Dodo, the rabbit.

Become a child again. Carroll, Dahl and Lear were writers that seemed to understand how to talk to children. If you've forgotten, you might need to look through the looking glass again.

Taboo

Don’t be afraid to go a little outside the box, here – we welcome this with wide, Cheshire grins. Carroll was never afraid of taking Wordsworth’s words, sticking them on the wall and playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey with them. Bend the rules, we’ll let you.

Better yet, have a nosey on Carroll's lesson on how to apologise to someone for standing them up. It's brilliant.

Read our submission guidelines for full details on where, what and how to submit. Read a list of our favourite things to see the sort of things we love. Even better, unlock our archive and get a taste for our style - it'll only help you in the long run. After all, we might not be your cup of tea, and we'd like to be. Like a tea tray in the sky...

We're looking for the very best illustrators, photographers, designers and artists to work with. If you think you've got what it takes, get in touch with us at synaesthesiamagazine@gmail.com.

The madder, the better. And please don’t be late, we simply can’t accept your submission otherwise. Plus, you’ll upset the rabbit.

Source: Vintage Winnie

Editors' Note - SCIENCE & NUMBERS

Like language, science and numbers bind us together. They’re the reason we're able to open our mouths and say hello and tell each other stories. They’re the reason we're able to open our eyes in the morning, to listen to jumbled scores of the world daily, and close our eyes again at night. They’re the light behind our computer screens and the way our muscles arch and expand after a good stretch.

From changing gear in your car, to the mechanics behind the wheel, to the glossy interior and leather seats and the winding country lanes, science and numbers work in harmony and are an integral part of what makes our globe so fascinatingly beautiful. Science and numbers are everywhere, no matter how much you try to avoid them.

So often, we see this division between those who are ‘artsy’ and those who are ‘scientifically minded’ - this month’s theme aims to unite the two. We wanted 9 and nine to meet, shake hands, maybe throw an arm around each other. We wanted to pit words and numbers together and watch as they come together through osmosis.

We were extremely lucky to interview award-winning short story writer Adam Marek, to find out his thoughts on synaesthesia, science and technology, and how he integrates these in his short stories.

This issue sees the futuristic lust in short story, 'David', collide with the overwhelming explosion of numbers at a social function in Xavier Wright's account. It marries fractals with honey bees, and all the while, the clock keeps ticking in John Rutter's 'Two Twenty-Two.'

'Science and Numbers' has been incredible to design, read, explore and inhale, and thanks to everyone who submitted. We'll leave you to immerse yourself in a fraction of what the world is made of.

Annabelle and Carlotta
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Editors' Note - CITIES

Ah, cities: home to beach fronts and boardwalks, multi-storey car parks and huge, huge green parks. There’s something about cities that we like... no, we need, to write about. There’s something about being able to turn onto a street corner and flit between art galleries and bookshops and cinemas and banks. There’s something about lairy pubs and the people that go into them, and there’s something about walking onto a train platform and meeting a loved one in between crowds of others that is so very, very powerful.

Some of the stories in this issue have cracks in the pavement, others are noisy and bustley and a few are like quiet, abandoned streets that just need another soul to love them. Our Venetian short story, ‘Volare’ by Amanda Oosthuizen, on page 93, is a trickling, smokey canal, with cats sidling along the walls and water slapping against stone: “And then, blood orange accordion music bounces between the buildings...” that's sure to sail you along with it.

Some of our poems are sky-high complexes that try not to look down, and some are busy jazz cafes that clap and sing. Robert Klein Engler leaves trails of broken city scenes throughout the magazine, each one reaching the edge of the universe and turning left back down Anonymous Avenue and taking another look around. Julie Kim Shavin’s poems dance between urban worlds and Jo Davey’s ‘Atlas’ flashes blue, blue, blue.

But we don’t ever just hand you words, and then leave. This issue is one big neon sign, demanding your attention with mind-blowing photography from an abandoned island in the Nagasaki Prefecture to sepia-toned markets in Vietnam. 

And for the first time ever, we’re introducing music. Whenever you see a ‘play’ button, hit it. The page will come alive with glittering piano notes or ghostly voices  - and if you’ve had enough, just press ‘stop’. But we’re pretty sure you’ll want to hear it out.

It’s our biggest issue yet, and we’re so excited to present you treats for the eyes and the ears. We wouldn’t exist without our contributors though, so we’re dedicating this issue to each and every one of our writers and artists who were willing to share their creativity with us. And, of course, to our readers. You’re all the best.

Annabelle and Carlotta
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