HeyJaredAnita Lester
Anita Lester, a multidisciplinary artist from Melbourne, Australia, navigates the vast landscapes of music, painting, filmmaking, poetry, and illustration with a singular precision that echoes through each of her works.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 4
- Latest publication
- Sep 16, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 13, 2026
Latest issues
Hiss hiss hiss. (opens the original)
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Have you heard of the Ouroboros? I’m sure you’ve seen the image: a snake eating its own tail. In the context of creation and destruction, it’s a symbol of how new life rises from the ashes…that is, if we eat our tail correctly. I fear, however, that some of us are doing it in a slightly more self-destructive way - where self-preservation becomes self-consumption.Perhaps this is what happens when you are in a defensive pose for such a prolonged period - always wearing invisible boxing gloves, wit
Dear Rachel Goldberg-Polin (opens the original)
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Dear Rachel,I’ve wanted to write to you for a long time.Hersh was one of the first faces I saw after October 7th. His image making its way into the relentless digital stream of horror and grief. I noticed him because he reminded me of someone… perhaps a person I could be related to, a brother or cousin. His features so familiar. For that reason, he became my own reluctant symbol.And then there you were too.I’m not sure what we on the outside were looking for, and maybe the helplessness forged re
Beautiful Rebellion (opens the original)
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I’ve always understood the world mostly through pictures. Words too, very much so, but pictures are the language I think in. I’ve been told I have hyperphantasia (which accounts for 3-6% of the population and would explain my insomnia) so I can sort through an image in the way other people sort through a sentence. It’s not always a positive trait, but when it’s good, I can look at a single image and feel like I’ve understood something enormous about how a whole system of belief works, faster and
The gates are almost open (opens the original)
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Ten years ago I sent Leonard Cohen a letter. I never expected a reply, and in some way, it was an attempt to understand the world in that moment.It read:Dear Leonard CohenI want to tell you something.When I was 10, my father passed away very suddenly.Shortly after he died, my mother gave me his favourite book.It was your ‘Beautiful Losers’.Although I didn’t understand what it meant at that young age, after peeling through his records, I found many of yours and devoured them on his dusty player.I
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