Conceived by a restless grad in December of 2016, we’re a scrappy publication of little means. An ex-Vice Media freelancer, our founder grew tired of hearing an artist wasn’t worth featuring because they lacked followers. The way we see it, if someone is talented as hell, people oughta know. Unknown or bursting at the seams, it’s our obligation to share the rad, disruptive work we discover.
We don’t have big budgets or investors. For a while our office was a takeout-stained couch.
Foul South Magazine has grown a bit since then, but you won’t find coverage of trust fund kids tripping acid and meeting uncontacted tribes here. If that were the case we might have a TV channel by now.
Eloquently crass, we support slaves to the craft—whatever the medium may be. If you’re a real character up to no good, or a creative bad ass who produces damn good looking work, we’re into you.
Add a tinge of cynicism and call us obsessed.