Lullaby Machine

Audio Submissions

Lullaby Machine invites subjective and creative interpretations of "lullaby" from established artists and non-self-proclaimed artists alike. We understand "the lullaby" as a form with an expansive definition and are excited about submissions that span languages, geographies, genres, and production methods. A recorded soundscape, a rendition of a folk song, and an abstract collage of sound, for example, are all equally welcome. As long as your submission aligns with our community guidelines, we'll do our best to get it online as swiftly as possible.

E-Mag Submissions

In addition to our rolling open call for .mp3s, we host regular submission periods, during which we accept written and genre-expansive meditations on "the lullaby," (essay, poetry, film, dance, etc) for consideration in Lullaby Machine's e-magazine.

Written work: We consider poetry, short fiction, and creative nonfiction (including interviews and reviews) that engages, however expansively or experimentally, with the threads connecting lullaby, rest, grief, dream, capitalism, ecology, and the internet. We welcome submissions that range in style and voice to offer creative and unexpected takes on the topics that Lullaby Machine explores. We encourage you to read about the project before submitting, but we hope you'll trust your own voice—we'd be equally excited to receive a poem about the weird dream you had last night as we would be to read an essay exploring barriers to rest amid racial capitalism.

Genre-Expansive work: We welcome genre-expansive submissions to the e-magazine including (but not limited to) film, visual art, and recorded dance work. Please send us your strangest, most dreamlike projects. If you have an unrealized idea for a piece you want to make for Lullaby Machine, feel free to send a pitch to lullabymachine@gmail.com.

Thematic considerations: Lullabies invite the practice of relational presence via rest. Rest invites the possibility of restoration and dream. Dreams remind us that life is liminal, reality bends, and change is possible, inevitable, and necessary.

At a global moment of suffering and restlessness born from the prioritization of capital over care, we're looking for stories that unfold in the dark of dreamtime, in the mundanity of exhaustion, and in the real or imagined rooms where lullabies are sung. We are excited to receive work that considers questions like (but not limited to):

What does it mean to rest in a world that wants us awake, productive, and sellable as much of the time as possible?

What does it feel like to stand on a stage and what does it mean to step off?

What is a liminal place and what happens there?

If you scroll far enough, where do you end up?

What does it mean to sit with grief or death in a capitalist culture sustained by the illusion of its own eternal life?

How do we take care of each other?

What might it mean to sing a lullaby in public?

Check back soon for submission portal.