iiii Magazine is an independent arts and culture publication, based in London and Manchester. We talk about culture in the sense suggested by Francis Bacon, when he said of intellectual enrichment: 'the culture and manurance of minds’. Our approach to culture is the same: that something bright and engaging may be derived from detritus. We love cultural ephemera in particular, and despite Bacon’s near-perfect turn of phrase, it is the position of the magazine that it is not sufficient. We publish articles that stretch our assumptions of what culture can be, so long as they are forged with originality.
We place no limits on subject matter or form — we have published incisive criticism, personal essays and memoirs, humour pieces and odes to oddities — but we take as a guiding principle this from Flann O’Brien’s The Third Policeman (1967):
‘Always ask any questions that are to be asked […] Turn everything you hear to your own advantage. Always carry a repair outfit. Take left turns as much as possible. Never apply your front brake first’.
¶ Visit Our Shop
Support the magazine by visiting our SHOP.
~ With the help of Studio Hyte, we created a football (scarf) with no crest, no local, nor national allegiance — a garment that challenges the ugly attitudes that alienate so many from the beautiful game.
~ As well as looking fresh, your (scarf) is also doing its bit to address the aforementioned issues, with 10% of all profits raised donated to LGBT charity Stonewall (Charity number: 1101255)
¶ Work With Us
iiii Magazine is a non-profit organisation, and our modest team of editors, reporters, and social scribes work on a voluntary basis. We do have plans to address this in the future. As it is we are looking for a creative, driven individual to join the team, to help shape future editions. If you would like to work for iiii Magazine, do send a CV and a cover letter outlining the sort of role you would like to take to email@example.com. We will do our best to get back to you quickly.
¶ Forthcoming Editions
A Publication by iiii Magazine: A look at football culture through twenty classic kits
(crest) is a book that entwines history, design, and football culture to enliven debate about belonging — both local and national — in a fractious British and European moment. Classic football kits are artefacts highly sought after by collectors and fans alike. Is this a question of design, of a club’s success, or of nostalgia? Can it be all or none of these things? In twenty short essays by twenty writers, (crest) charts the peculiar histories of each of the 2018/19 Premier League football clubs through the lens of a prized classic kit from the past decades. The book takes football seriously at its root, and looks at how larger forces drive the sense of allegiance of football-loving individuals — what hidden personal stories make the Beautiful Game beautiful when it can seem so ugly?
Produced by iiii Magazine, (crest) will feature quality photography and minimalist design. iiii encourages deep and engaged archival research, as well as idiosyncratic and strange personal stories. Whatever the mode or the form, iiii Magazine is committed to providing generous editorial support to writers.
The online publication continues all year round, and publishes articles in three broad categories:
- Esoterica and funny writing [the stranger, more parochial, the better]
- Long-form interviews and features
- The 500 [react, respond in 500 words to an artefact, a lyric, a piece of punctuation, anything]
If your text does not fit into one of the above categories, don't fret, we just need a pitch. Please send a query or an extract from your text to firstname.lastname@example.org with SUBMISSION in the subject line. Work should be previously unpublished; but we will consider work under consideration elsewhere if you let us know. We are run by a team of volunteers, and thus we are unfortunately not yet in a position to offer a fee.
Please provide a short author’s bio-line which will be published under your piece. 'Algenon Overling is a fictional writer based in 12th Century Denmark. He likes to relax with his kestrel and his crossbow. Good with kids’.
Please defer to the short style guide. It not only saves on editorial nit-picking, but illustrates commitment to the publication.
- Oxford commas, yes. In lists of three or more things, include a comma between the final two, before the ‘and’ (Manchester, Leeds, and London).
- Titles of books, films, exhibitions italicised. Titles of artworks ‘Like This’ (2018).
- One space after full-stops. Always.
- ‘Use single quotation marks “except for quotes within quotes” at all times’.
- Include spaces before and after em-dashes. (I wouldn’t — but for in unlikely circumstances — consider a teacake).
- Dates: 5 May 2016 / Decades: 1980s.
- Special formatting requirements are difficult to manage on an optimised website, but we will always try to meet a writer’s needs.
Dear Son, I Cannot Seem to Change My Background
from a Photograph of Neil Morrissey's Head
I am, as ever, sorry to bother you at university. But I cannot seem to change my background from a photograph of Neil Morrissey’s head. I would ask your father — great as he is with technology — but he has many commitments, and never seems to find the time to leave the workshop. He’s building a motorcycle, did you know?
I hope you have resolved the issue with your roommate. It was cruel of them to force-feed you all of Gareth's raita. Mr. Pollitt was around again today, without his wife. I like her, theoretically — she runs a charity for abandoned farm animals you know — though of course we shall never meet. She is a rather impressive woman, not brilliant, I grant you, but certainly unusually good. Your father says she is too intellectual for Mr. Pollitt, but I think he might be jealous. Mr. Pollitt seems perfectly nice to me. Besides, I never thought I should see male fingernails without motor oil beneath them.
I know you are a busybody, and emails tend to plummet down lists of priorities, but I would appreciate it if you could reply with a method for changing my background from a picture of Neil Morrissey’s head.
When you return over the winter holidays, we should go fishing in the creek. Your father went on a trip to the store to buy a new ratchet or a lathe or something, but he insisted I go as reconnaissance so we don’t waste time in dead waters this Christmas. Mr. Pollitt had to unhook the difficult clasps on my jumpsuit when I fell into a rockpool — can you believe that? I was mightily embarrassed, but fortunately, there was nobody around to see. You would like it there. It is nothing like those billiards places your father frequents, with the sad men and the one who dislocates his shoulderblade; no, it is exceptionally natural. We ate watermelon and Serrano ham, and Mr. Pollitt brought some Chianti in a flask. He asked about you and how big you have become.
The musculature of the bream we caught... It was unlike any fish I have seen. It had this iridescent skin, plump lips, bulbous, pleading eyes which glazed as it struggled to draw breath. It looked at me as if to say, we are one, you and I, the same flesh, a hybrid slush, the same fight, the same impetus. Hold me, control me, release me. Impart me with freedom. Then Mr. Pollitt returned it to the water, the great brute, and it darted away, filled with vigour and a new sense of life.
As it swam, I tried to take a picture of it to send over to you, but the settings on my phone are a labyrinth, and I noticed that my background was a photograph of Neil Morrissey’s head. I don’t know how to change it. Please could you give me a call to help me out?
I think your father is close to completing his motorcycle. He tells me it will be very impressive once the finishing touches are in place. It has two mirrors and a leather seat.
Let me know about the Neil Morrissey thing.
Your loving mother