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Coming December

The 4words Anthology

ART IS POLITICAL

A multi-media collection of work from our global collective — words, images, sound, and film held together in one place.

What's Inside

Written Word

Poetry, essay, short fiction, and testimony.

Visual Art

Illustration, photography, collage, and mixed media.

Audio

Recorded readings, soundscapes, and song.

Film

Short film and moving-image poems.

How to Submit

Share your work through the form below. We welcome writing, visual art, audio, film, and more.

  • · Opens: October 1st at 12:00 a.m. EDT
  • · Closes: December 1st
  • · Open to contributors worldwide, at any stage of practice

The form opens October 1 at 12:00 a.m. EDT. Come back then to share your work with the 4words team.

Get the launch details first

Join the waitlist for submission calls, contributor news, and the December release.

The Four Chapters

Four Words, Four Chapters

ART IS POLITICAL gathers itself around four words. Each season's word sets the stage — a single idea exemplifying the past quarter, turned into art, poetry, music, and story by the whole community.

Winter 2026

UNREST

Given everything unfolding in the United States, in Venezuela, in Iran, in Palestine, in Ukraine, in Sudan — and in so many places across the globe — the word that has marked this season for so many people, especially marginalized communities, is unrest. Definition wise it means a state of dissatisfaction, disturbance, and agitation in a group of people, typically involving public demonstrations or disorder. It can also mean a state of disturbance and dissatisfaction within yourself. That restless movement, churning in your chest, that things are not right and cannot be allowed to remain as they are. Unrest is destruction and creation. It is rupture, and it is possibility. It is what breaks — and what insists on growing anyway.

Creation has always been political because art tells the truth about the moment. It witnesses. It imagines otherwise. It builds solidarity. And solidarity is not abstract — it is practice. It is showing up. It is mutual aid. It is community. Together, unrest does not have to mean chaos alone — it can mean collective movement toward something better.

Spring 2026

MOMENTUM

This spring, the word we kept returning to was momentum. At first glance, momentum seems simple. It suggests movement, progress, forward motion. But the longer we sat with it, the more we realized that momentum is rarely straightforward. People often imagine time as linear—a neat path stretching endlessly forward—but our lives rarely move that way. Growth is not linear. Healing is not linear. Social change is not linear. Momentum ebbs and flows. It gathers. It pauses. It redirects. Sometimes it rushes forward like a river after a storm, and sometimes it moves quietly beneath the surface, unseen but still carrying us somewhere new.

We see that reality reflected all around us. In movements for justice. In communities organizing for change. In people surviving difficult seasons and finding ways to keep going. In artists who continue creating even when inspiration feels distant. Momentum is not always dramatic. Sometimes momentum is simply choosing to continue. And even when it feels like we are moving backwards we are always moving towards something because step backs are not setbacks. Our path is not linear. Momentum is not just about where we are going. It is also about honoring where we have been.

As creatives, we are all storytellers helping shape what comes next. Every poem, every song, every painting, every photograph carries something and build momentum. Every act of creation leaves an imprint on the future and the past at the same time.

Art helps us recognize that movement is possible even when progress feels slow. And perhaps most importantly, it reminds us that none of us move alone.

Summer 2026

AESTIVATE

Our words about aestivation are still on their way. Check back soon!

Fall 2026

DESAHOGAR

Desahogar (Spanish): to unburden, vent, relieve, or ease; to give expression or an outlet. Its literal English translation is to undrown or unsuffocate.

Desahogar is an invitation to release what has been held too long — to make room through art, poetry, music, movement, and story.