EDITORIAL W
hat to say about this month’s issue? First of all, we have decided to use the fact that we live in different countries to our advantage. Even though we are forced to keep breaking our beautiful Scandestonian ideals by speaking of the exotic Slavic country of Poland, we like to think we give it a Nordic twist. What that twist is, well, you decide.
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o let’s talk about this month’s issue. We have reportage from Sodankylä film festival, which was covered last month in a brilliant article which you should go and check out if you haven’t already. This time we are treated to a serial story about a man’s journey to the heart of darkness. Will he survive in a world that seems to have given into barbarism? On another side, the Polish side, we have a celebration of Jewish culture in a festival filled with music, dance, laughter and beer. Not to say that Finland can be depressing, but GOD it can be depressing.
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omics and video games have every right to be included in a culture magazine and in this issue we are tackling both. The angles are different so see which you prefer.
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he summer is officially drawing to a close with August gradually giving way to September. We at Godartet wish you have all had a nice summer, no matter you spent it and how warm it was. With the coming of the fall we hope to give you more interesting stories from around the world. Who knows where we’ll end up and what kinds of happenings we’ll be covering next. All we can hope to do is to make one issue at a time and hope you’ll enjoy what we have created. Give us feedback if there is something you would like us to do differently and once more, send us anything you would like us to publish. All the best from a summery Godartet crew! Enjoy the last days of summer!
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AUGUST
EDITORIAL 2 COLUMN 4 AMBIENT TEMPERATURE 6 FANNY GRAZZO 8 5 NIGHTS UNDER THE MIDNIGHT SUN 9 ESSAY 11 COMICS 13 BATHROOM STALL WALL 14 LAST PAGE 15
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COLUMN
Juha Heikkinen ABOUT COMIC BOOKS, WITH LOVE JUHA HEIKKINEN
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s many kids, I grew up consuming comic books. What interested me the most were the larger than life adventures of superheroes who were going on a new adventure to save the universe every day, but of course the likes of Donald Duck and Garfield were a regular part of my reading as well. A particularly bright spot in my childhood memories is a second hand bookshop just by the river in my hometown where my mom would take me now and then. I would collect the comics I had already read and didn’t feel like keeping. I would then put them in the bag to take to the book shop to be exchanged for credit that I could use to get new ones. I would browse around for what must have been ages for my mom and try to get the ones that I really wanted. This was a serious matter, not something you hurry through, regretting your decisions afterwards (like your studies, for example). You had to weigh your options, keeping in mind the credit you had so that you didn’t go under or too much over (It could be that I didn’t even count anything and just assume I was being smart and methodical). Surely mom would pay for any small amount that was due but to go under the amount you had a right to, well that would just have been an amateurish thing to do. Having got the best deal possible, I could go back home with a pile of new old comics, happy with the knowledge that after these were carefully read, I could arrange another appointment with the owner of that particular establishment to go strike a bargain once more.
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went back to that shop years later as a fully grown, beer drinking adult with my girlfriend to see if the place had changed. Luckily, it had not. The same owner was at the counter, playing Magic the Gathering with a group of boys. The comic book section was at the front and it maybe wasn’t as big as I recalled. The one part of the shop that I wasnt’ particularly interested as a kid was the one with the grown up books. It was in the back of the shop and to me it was just a boring place I had no interest in visiting. Why would I? The good stuff was in the front.
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ven though comic books have such a strong place in my childhood memories, comics are by no means only children’s literature. They may have started off as pulp but with such classics as V for Vendetta, Watchmen and Sin City, it’s impossible to argue that comic books don’t have a potential for mature content. On the contrary, the images can carry sexual and/or violent imagery without need the need for a single spoken word. I have to give special attention to Chicken with Plums by Marjane Satrapi. This book is still one of the greatest comic books I have ever read. No superheroes, just a story that links the modern history of Iran with the personal story of one musician and his family. Another mature series of comics I love is by the Frech Canadian Guy Delisle. His autobiographical books about his experience while living abroad are slow paced, silently fun-
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ny and true. Every book is focused on one country (Israel, Burma, North Korea) and there is no sense of urgency but rather a series of observations about things that annoy, amuse and interest the author during his everyday life. Living in Poland would definitely prove an interesting case study, if Delisle were ever to visit. I would read what ever he had to say.
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or the purpose of this column, I won’t go into too much detail about the body image that certain comic books, especially those with superheroes promote, but I would like to address the issue briefly. The superheroes that we see on the pages are specimens of physical perfection, at least if that kind of an ideal is your thing. The men are at times ridiculously muscular and still lean, which, I would assume, would make them clumsy and slow to say the least. The women, on the other hand, make Barbie look like your everyday cleaning lady. No hips, just chest and, well, you know. There is some claim in questioning how ideal this kind of imagery is to the young mind and what it does to the self esteem of girls and boys who for some reason don’t quite fill the mold of those freaks of nature on the pages. But then again, surely the photoshopped picture of a real-life model that lets you think you are dealing with the real thing, is worse. At least in the case of comics, you are often dealing with the supernatural, something that isn’t even supposed to be real and as for the freaks of nature, they mostly are exactly that, whether it be steroids that gave you your powers (Captain America, ironically) or maybe they were just born that way (Wolwerine, with a few man-made improvements, but enough about that). The point I am trying to make here is that superheroes are supposed to look freakish because they are freakish and therefore to argue that they promote a certain type of body image is not worth listening to. I rest my well-built case.
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hen you comic books down to their components, they are simply image and written word working together to create the illusion of speech and other sounds. A classic example of this cooperation is the KAPOWs and KABOOOMs that were even transferred to the old Batman series. As a literary form of narration, comic books are usually rather light with the word count compared to the average novel, simply because the image supports the narration in such a strong way that there is no need for only words to take on too heavy a role. In fact, the entire narration of a comic book or a graphic novel can be through images. This not only provides a nice change of pace for traditional literature, but it also leaves the reader, or viewer, with the same challenge: You yourself must fill in the blanks and make the story whole. In image, as well as in words, it is what you leave out that catches the reader’s eye. A fine Finnish example of a graphic novel that uses almost no words at all is Pikku Närhi (Little Jay), where a anthromorphic bird is stuck in a old mansion with his old mother. He is stuck, because he is terrified of the world outside and whatever lurks behind the corner. The book offers a story that is built heavily around the bird’s expressions and point of view. As the bird is shaking with its eyes closed, the image is zoomed right into its face to create a feeling of anxiety, not that the book itself is particularly scary. It just brings the bird’s fright accross nicely.
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o what should I say to bring this thing together? Go read a comic book! They are quite nice.
Juha thinks that KAPOW is one of the most beautiful words in the English language.
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AMBIENT TEMPERATURE Juha Heikkinen
JEWISH CULTURE FESTIVAL JUHA HEIKKINEN
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ust a short walk south of the Krakow city center, the idyllic old town, is the old Jewish quarter of Kazimierz. This charmingly worn out part of the city used to be a town of its own but now it is a famous part of the city, a bohemian place filled with bars and restaurants where one can spend the day and night all in one go. In this old town, in the central square, we had the good fortune of being able to go see a festival dedicated to Israeli culture. The festival was quite a long one, as it was held from June 25th through July 5th. As I already said, the festival was held in the central square of Kazimierz. The festival featured different artists of different middle eastern nationalities and we got to see Shai Tsabari & The Middle-East Groove All-Stars. This group was an ethnic mix with their type of music ranging from psychedelic rock and soul to many more. Even though we only went on the last night and got to see only this one concert, the performance was simply brilliant and people were enjoying themselves without a thought for Finnish shyness, something that yours truly is a victim of himself. In front of the old synagogue that stands at the edge of the square was the stage and people were watching either just in front of it or then they had managed to get a table in one of the restaurants that are placed on the edges of the square. One observer who caught my eye was an older man, perhaps in his sixties or seventies, who stood in a second floor window and waved his hands and clapped excitedly with the music. And what was the band like? The singer, a big, burly guy, sang with a strong voice and the band that accompanied him was not just a backup band but a strong body of performers as a whole. The saxophone player, with his dreadlocks and an appearance re-
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sembling a lighter toned Damian Marley, was the embodiment of cool. I had to settle to just enjoying the show. Some people just have more swag.
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e spent about a half hour watching the entire show before we felt it was time to go have dinner. Not to make this into a food blog, we had burgers. Krakow has brilliant burger places. Come try them out. But anyways, after dinner we went back to the festival area where they were having what seemed like the final thank yous before the whole thing ends and goes dark. We listened to them name names one after the other until after a while we just decided that we weren’t going to be hearing anymore music. So we left the festival area again to grab a beer before heading home. We sat on the roof of the bar, watching the beam of light from the festival area move from side to side and to our annoyance, we realized we could hear music. From the festival area. They were doing some sort of an encore thingy! And here
we were, sipping our beers, trying to fool ourselves into thinking that the beer was worth missing the end. Let’s be honest, it wasn’t. We listened to the distant sounds while slowly sipping our drinks. Once we were done, we couldn’t hear the sounds anymore so we decided to head home. Even though it stung a bit to miss the last moments of the festival, we were glad to have been able to witness at least a part of it. Maybe next year, when we’re aware of this festival before it starts, we could go and see more of what this festival has to offer.
Juha doesn’t plan or do research, he just happens to hear about something from somebody and if he decides to check it out, he might find something cool. Like this festival.
Photos: www.jewishfestival.pl 7
COLUMN
We.... we really don’t even know anymore... Whatever this is, it sure isn’t going stop, apparantely. We are so, so sorry.
Fanny Grazzo
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h, God, yes! Keep that up, babe, you sure are doing fine! And I am talking to you, my dear old reader, and complimenting you to the point of amazement as I, the glorious Grazzo, have just read a curious piece of information about spiritual well-being! And boy, that was something! It claims that the universe doesn’t punish or embrace you, but just resonates with your actions. My mind was blown like in the backroom of that sleazy ballroom in New York in the 70s; I felt I got a message from the universe. Me, humble little Fanny Grazzo, can resonate the universe with a blink of a colon. Imagine the responsibility! If I only could, I would only have safe sex from now on.
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nyhow, dear sncheutzers! Old Fanny has also been relatively active during these pleasing summer months. One of the most thrilling moments, which although wasn’t as thrilling as the opening night of King Louis the Third’s colonoscopy movie, back in 1954 or 1955 if I remember correctly; back then we had tigers and snakes and all; nowadays you’ll be happy if you get some midgets to bodypaint you and call it a day. Stupid laws, you know, if I, the fabulous Fanny Grazzo, were a lawmaker, which I would never-ever do because I once tried being a lawnmaker and that turns your fingers all green while I like to keep them… well, I leave that to your imagination my little piglet. So, I go in and say, but there is only 6 balloons left, and he’s like “uh-uh” and I just wave my hand as the Greeks stumbled in. And I had to pay the bill for the chair and three, can you believe it, three baboons! Madness, I tell you, madness. It was 2 baboons and a cat at most.
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nd after a few days it turned all red and pimpled, so what should I do? Is it serious or just something like in Mexico back in the day? Oh, my apologies, I got mixed with my letters, whoopsy me! Anyhow, we were quite good friends before the occupation, but the Germans gave me good money for turning him in and champagne isn’t free you know. So in the end, I would say go for the Bahamas, but stay for the cruise, because the chips are nice. So much blood everywhere, still haunts me. But, like the saying goes, you can’t eat the rabbit and lose them both.
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o where was I? Oh yes, the very reason modern economy is in a turmoil can be lead to the reduced ability of purchase of the masses, which leads into lack of value-added tax income of the government and causes short-term budget deficit that should never be reacted with long-term solutions. I told this to Steve, but he insisted that first time doesn’t count and now he’s been pregnant for 3 years now. Man, such tragedy. But anyhow, now I have to keep going, the thursday-night bridge-club doesn’t cause scandals without me! Hepatitis C you later, losers!
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5 NIGHTS UNDER THE MIDNIGHT SUN A series depicting the heroic odyssey Godartet Magazine survived at the Midnight Sun Film Festival 2015 and has mostly nothing to do with anything.
PART I: TIME STARTS WHERE THE SUNSETS STOP.
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uesday. The whole chain of events we call investigative journalism started on Monday evening, when the northbound night train was set to start its journey with us on board. The gods of faith tried to tip us off already at the station, as we almost missed our train and had to run with our backpacks to the train in the very last minutes and as we finally managed to get on board all sweaty and our hearts beating like the drummer of a fusion jazz-band, the wheels of the train immediately took their first rolls and we were moving. We should’ve known that it was Lady Luck trying to keep us out of the train, but we didn’t understand. We were just happy because we made it to this ghost train.
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he ghost trains that are due north tend to have some dark magic within them that nobody can truly understand and so it did with us. Juha and I started this journey as a duo, but while we slept in the cabin something happened during the night. I remember waking up to screeching sounds of laughter, screams and ravens and as my eyes slowly got used to the darkness, fog and dead reindeers that filled the cabin, I saw that Juha had disappeared and a small snail had appeared in his
bunk. I figured he had gone to the toilet and the snail had just flown in from the air conditioning, so I threw the snail out of the window and went back to bed feeling the stare of the devil in the back of my head. It was the next morning when I noticed Juha missing and realised that the snail was actually him! I had thrown my trusty comrade out of the train and had to continue Godartet’s journey alone, carrying my bags myself like some sort of a plebei. Courageously, I decided to go on.*
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t the train station of Rovaniemi, I immediately bumped into a strange, tall man who introduced himself as someone who works for the festival and offered to give me a ride to Sodankylä. He was accompanied by a bearded, darker fellow, who later would turn out to be the legendary Olof Möller but who I didn’t recognize at the moment. These two were inviting me to their van, with the promise of a ride and some boxed juice and as my parents never said anything about going into cars with strangers, I hopped in. They also caught some other young fools to their van and in deep silence started the car. Luckily, the juice and the trip weren’t a lie and we all made it to Sodankylä in one piece, still capable of sitting. Actually the transportation was 9
only for volunteers of the festival and as the rest of the passengers had their designated sleeping quarters, the ride-hustling asshole that was me started strolling to the other direction.
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set up Godartet’s press base at the local camping site, and looked to the sky. Everything in Sodankylä clearly had decided to be against us. The sky was gray and ready to rain, winds were tough and the air was cold. The tent was also a joke, albeit really cool-looking, letting every bit of warmth out while keeping cold in. The rest of the day I spent wandering around Sodankylä, bracing myself to the upheavals the next four days would bring. In the evening I visited a bar and witnessed something extraordinary; an utterly drunk fellow tried to challenge me to a fight (nothing extraordinary with my face) but stumbled out and fell asleep on the sidewalk for about an hour. Then this strange man woke up, returned to the bar and kept drinking. It is then I should’ve known I had arrived in Babylon. Continues in the next issue of Godartet.
*For those worrying, Juha woke up safe, sound and nude under a bridge in Krakow the next morning and the luggage was relatively light so Ville didn’t suffer much in his courageous efforts.
Or did he?
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ESSAY
Ville Koski UNDERESTIMATING THE SUBJECT
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or the past few weeks I have spent my free hours with the latest addition to the Assassin’s Creed series - Assassin’s Creed: Unity. A beautiful game set in Paris during the revolution, the game is quite okay, not the best in the series or anything landmark-level, but not the worst game I’ve played. The game is an open-world game with a narrative story and dozens of small side-quests to be done all around Paris; the map of the game is literally filled with stuff. As a gamer, I personally prefer games with coherent and interesting storylines and though the plots of Assassin’s Creed -games are duller and duller by the game, they have still managed to keep me interested at least so far. However, I’m also a bit of an perfectionist in games. I don’t move on to the next game until I have finished the current one to the bone. I want to finish the story, go through all the sidequests and gather all the collectibles. And that’s where things get frustrating, fast.
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n Assassin’s Creed Unity, there are three types of collectibles; chests, cockades and artifacts. Cockades are the three-coloured, well, cockades that were popular accessories during the revolution in Paris and are relatively basic gaming collectibles. Collecting all of them within different districts gives you new color options to wear for you character. There is about 10-15 cockades in each district. The artifacts are weirder, shield-like armors hanging from walls and gathering all of them (about 4-5 per district) gives additional weapons and clothing. And then there are chests. Lot of chests. In Assassin’s Creed’s Paris there are 7 districts and each district has about 40 chests in them, each of them containing some cash, but nothing actually valuable. Collecting all the chest gives you a trophy, but no in-game prize, although in some chests you may find some cosmetic objects for your character. Obviously the player doesn’t have to collect all these chests and cockades, but in video games one of the most important characteristic is the replay value and the length of the game. In Assassin’s Creed the story is about 10-hours long and there a dozens of side-quests, and after all these there is still the chests to gather. And for me, they are a cheap, lazy way of prolonging the game-time that underestimates the player: instead of creating something interesting to gather or just trusting the game’s replay value, the designers throw out chests that require absolutely no use brainwork and tell the mindless gamers to fetch. However, the game designers that do this are not alone.
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verywhere from movies to music and even art one is able to find the sin of underestimating the subject. For me underestimating the receiver means that the maker hasn’t got enough trust in his or her audience to fully understand what they mean and therefore doesn’t truly act upon his/her original vision, but dumbs it down to meet the mind of the subject. Not only is this stupid, because one can never truly know how something is received, but it is also extremely pompous. It sends a message of “I, the artist, have such ideas that you fools can never reach, but be glad that I kneel down to your level”. It can also just mean “Fuck you, I have a hangover”. Just recently I visited an art exhibition opening where a young, recently graduated artist had a showing. This was the kind of 1 1
person whose work should definitely be ground-breaking and above all rules and shouldn’t give a shit about the audience or how it could be received, but most of the art was generic graphic forms and especially one piece killed a little piece of the art-lover in me. It was a an ugly poster of a landscape, a bit crumbled on the sides, taped on a wall. It wasn’t the artist’s own photo, he had just found it somewhere and put it on wall, given it a name and asked money for it. I do get the concept of ready-made art and I am aware of the discussion Duchamp started with his Fountain, but this didn’t belong to either of them, this was shit. This was created with the attitude that believes nobody understands his art and that anyone who visits an art gallery is a peanut-brain. He believed he could get away with it.
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n films and music, this attitude is even easier to find. If you go blindly to see any of the top-10 movies these days, it is likely that the filmmakers of the movie have chewed the morale and characters of the story so well that you probably feel more bored than amazed. They don’t even try to give food for thought or challenge you, but merely to entertain. Other chance is also that you’ll get to see another superhero-movie that is a remake of a remake of the same story (we’re looking at you, Spider Man) that you saw last year and the year before that. The story is the same in music: while we can still have great drunken analyzes on what Bohemian Rhapsody is actually about, nobody can really have an intellectual conversation about the deeper meanings of Nicky Minaj’s lyrics (usually, it’s butts, sometimes big butts). The people behind music like this think mostly about money and making un-provocative, safe music is a surer way of turning it into profit that music that could be censored by the MTV or that could stir up controversy.
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he reason this is an important subject to consider is that if and when we accept this tomfoolery of content to exist, it is one step closer of becoming a norm. By watching movies, playing games or listening to music that underestimates its subject, we silently approve this underestimation and send a signal to the creative people that this is what we want and that this is what we expect, which again leads to having only dumbed-down alternatives. If we accept this as subjects of culture, we are also dumbing-down ourselves; I believe we should be constantly challenging ourselves in order to create new and “better” thoughts and to overall improve our being. If the only cultural content we expose ourselves to is a repetitive opening of chests, listening lyrics about baby, baby, baby, oo- oo-oo or watching the bad guy wearing black, our minds are bound for a void of numbness and stupidity. But then again, it’s much easier than having to think, isn’t it?
Ville tries to challenge himself by getting up from the couch and just has to get all the trophies in videogames. He also underestimates your intelligence by assuming you read this.
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COMICS Rufus was sitting on his worn sofa, watching his favourite TVshow, ”The fat television chef goes across the world and criticises people”. He watched the show and said to himself: ”I want to travel and be happy through self-discovery.” The next day, Rufus was talking about his dream with his best friend, Simon the Sassy Salamander, who gave him advice: ”Hey man, you gotta just go, don’t think about ya know. My cousins got like a plane and all man, he can hook you up.” ”Hmm”, Rufus thought. ”Simon is an honest salamander. Surely his cousin is as well.”
And so Rufus went to the airport where Simon’s cousin Simone was waiting for him. ”Get in here”, she said, pointing at a crate inside the cargo hold. ”We gotta hide you so the customs won’t realize we’re smuggling an elephant.” ”Oh, ok...” Rufus whispered and climbed inside the crate. ”Oh yeah, payment in advance”, said Simone. ”Oh, ok... Here...” Rufus looked at his money desperately.
Rufus was trapped in a dark box where he had no way to move around. Soon the plane started shaking, which meant they were moving. It didn’t take long for the plane to take off the ground. Rufus was feeling horrible, as he realized he has a fear of flying and so he could help shifting around in his box. The box moved around from one side to the other until it reached the cargo door. The door was only sealed with ducttape, so poor Rufus fell out and dropped straight into a dump. When he rolled out of the box, he saw in front of him a box set of ” The fat television chef goes across the world and criticises everyone”! ”Travelling isn’t for me,” he sighed. ”I’ll go home and watch these and never come out again.”
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ONE MORE THING, JUST FOR YOU, OUR DEAR
NORWEGIAN/SWEDISH/FINNISH/ESTONIAN/POLISH READER!
ARE YOU AN ARTIST, OR DO YOU KNOW ANY ARTISTS OR THOUGHTFUL PEOPLE IN SOME OTHER FIELDS? YES? WOW, THAT IS SO COOL! IF YOU OR YOUR FRIENDS WISH TO SEE THEIR NAMES IN THIS MAGAZINE, THAT CAN EASILY BE ARRANGED! HERE’S WHAT WE’RE LOOKING FOR: WRITERS!
ARTISTS!
Essays, short stories, poems. You name it, we’ll take it! If you have anything in your drawer just waiting to see the light of day, send it to us and we might just publish it. We’re not telling you how to write your stuff, but in essays we’re looking for something that’s related to Nordic arts or culture. Poems and short stories are of course a free-roam, but local point of view is preferred. We don’t have any word or character limitations like those silly professionals, but we hope that you remain in a maximum of 15 A4 pages with some basic size 12 font. Also, no politics, religion, sports or other unrelated boredom!
This is why we do this, to give visibility to amazing artists. Whatever is your medium, from painting to sculpture and photography to textile design, we’re willing to let you promote yourself. In each number we have room for 5 artists and each artist gets a total of 6 spreads to promote themselves (1 spread is a mandatory cover, so 5 is just for art) that you can use any way you wish. Not all of them have to be used, of course. We’ll take care of the lay-out and the end result will always be approved by you before publishing and all the copyrights remain with you.
TIPS!
READERS!
Do you have local knowledge of the best culture events in your town that nobody else knows? Or maybe you have a great idea for a feature story, Gonzo-concept or otherwise great ideas on how to make Godartet a better magazine? If so, do contact us! We’re eager to know what’s happening out there.
If you don’t have anything to contribute, but just like to read our nifty little paper, do share us with the world! We’re on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Issuu, we have our own webpage and a YouTube channel so there are many ways for spreading the word about Godartet. And for this, we salute you! Sharing is daring... Or something like that.
And just for all to know, we can’t compensate for your writings, as Godartet works purely on voluntary work (this includes Ville and Juha). However, we also won’t be charging you for anything, and we hope to help you in any way we can. Also, don’t worry about your English, because Godartet has a professional proofreader, who makes sure your words are solid. Hope to hear from you soon!
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LEGAL INFORMATION GODARTET IS A NON-COMMERCIAL, NON-PROFIT MAGAZINE AIMING TO SUPPORT, SPREAD AND ANALYSE ART AND CULTURE FROM NORWAY, SWEDEN, FINLAND AND ESTONIA. THE MAGAZINE IS BASED IN HELSINKI, FINLAND. EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: VILLE KOSKI. SENIOR EDITOR: JUHA HEIKKINEN. EVERYTHING PUBLISHED IN GODARTET IS PROTECTED BY COPYRIGHT AND ALL OF THE COPYRIGHTS BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE MAKERS UNLESS SPECIFICALLY MARKED OTHERWISE. DO NOT COPY, ALTER, SHARE OR IN OTHER WAYS USE THE MATERIAL IN GODARTET WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF THE SPECIFIC COPYRIGHT OWNER, WHOM YOU MAY CONTACT DIRECTLY OR THROUGH GODARTET MAGAZINE. ANYONE BREAKING THESE RULES WILL BE CAUGHT, FOUND AND - FOR YOUR INFORMATION - WE THINK LANNISTER IS THE COOLEST HOUSE IN GAME OF THRONES. ANY QUESTIONS OR COMMENTS CAN BE SENT TO GODARTETMAGAZINE@GMAIL.COM. HAPPY READINGS!