The Utopia Project is an art and literature zine, publishing work that uses its creative voice to speak to the political realities that we face, as individuals and communities. We encourage submissions from unpublished/emerging artists and those from under-represented backgrounds in the arts.


We accept submissions of artwork, poetry, and prose. Each issue’s theme is based on a quote (see below). You may use this as a prompt to create new work, or submit work you already have that touches on the same ideas. In your email, please include the name you would like to be published under, a brief author’s bio (100 words max.), and your contact details. Please read through the terms and conditions before submission.

All work should be submitted to

Submissions are now closed whilst we put together issue one


We are open to works of any style, whether structured or free-verse. You may submit up to five poems of no more than 60 lines per poem. Work should be submitted in PDF format. Please include ‘Poetry submission in the subject line. We are open to submissions of poetry that are not in English but we request that you provide an English translation to go alongside.


We accept entries of artwork of any medium. Images of work should be submitted in JPEG or PNG format. Please include ‘Artwork submission’ in the subject line and leave a title for your submitted work and a brief description .


We accept both short stories and creative non-fiction. There is a word limit of 2500 words for prose submissions. Work should be submitted in PDF format. Please include ‘Prose submission’ in the subject line. Submissions for prose must be written in English.

Issue One

The basis for our first issue is this quote taken from the book Smallcreep’s Day by Peter Currell Brown. There are a number of themes that pop up in this quote: confinement, time, work. We want you to interpret this quote as you see fit and send us work that speaks to the themes it puts forward.

‘I have heard that in prisons they have no clocks because time is only a burden. In a factory, however, time is like gold, every gramme of it is weighed and then the floor-sweepings too, and factories bulge with clocks… One minute it’s 3.53 exactly, and then, just as you’ve begun to suspect that all the clocks have stopped, it’s suddenly 3.54 by every single one of them, without so much as a second’s warning, take it or leave it.’

Currell Brown, P. (1973) Smallcreep’s day. London: Picador, p.24.
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