Dear Reader,

Cavalletto began in 2016 because one photographer remembered how it felt to finally see their work on a gallery wall, and decided no one else should have to wait that long.

We’re Italian for “easel.” Our only job is to hold you up so the right people finally stop and look.

This is for the self-taught, the late-bloomers, the ones who scribble ideas at 3 a.m. and still aren’t sure what they want to be when they grow up. For the travelers, the writers, the bedroom musicians, the photographers who shoot for no one but themselves, the rebels with and without causes, the perpetually late for work but early for life.

We like it a little gritty, rough around the edges, real. We don’t care if you’re undiscovered; we only care that you’re restless.

Here you don’t chase algorithms. No ads screaming in your face, no like-counts, no trending sounds. Just paper (or a PDF that feels like paper) you can hold, fold, spill coffee on, leave on a train for a stranger. A quiet corner where the only thing that matters is the work and the feeling it gives you.

Twelve print issues were built by hand, one person, pure stubborn love. Then the algorithms slammed the door. We’re back now—wiser, quieter, and the easel is wide open again.

If something you made keeps you awake at night, we want to see it. If you’ve lost your reason to create, let us be the reason you find it again.

Send your work. Tell us a story. Say hello. We still put our pants on one leg at a time (when we bother with pants at all).

Live the interesting life, Burtonyin Burton Editor & sole keeper of the easel Cavalletto Magazine