Analog ecstasy
Getting offline and in print
Working with pen and paper provides relief that typing alone does not. The stickiness of matter and limits of three-dimensional text.
Last weekend’s 24-hour zine event was a treat. From 5 p.m. Friday through 5 p.m. Saturday, the Anchorage Museum Seed Lab building filled and emptied like an art-piece lung.
Having no desire to stay up all night, I snuck away for a nap around 3 a.m. as nearly a dozen people worked on their projects. I woke hours later and wandered down the hall to find Simonetta and Joe still there, cutting and pasting and printing and writing, as if I’d never left. My fitful dreams rubbed away by their presence.
Going into the event, I had no plan. I hoped to be inspired even as I was helping to organize and coordinate behind the scenes.
The timing turned out to be ideal. After weeks of navigating difficult interpersonal dynamics, I felt drawn to the abstract. I often prefer to explore sticky or entrenched feelings through metaphor rather than pure exposition.
Something about attempting my first all-nighter since college released my inhibitions in a seemingly healthy way. I was able to put a vision onto paper - cookie cutter human outlines, some whole, some fractured.
Whereas my previous zines have been more playful, this one felt like therapy. Releasing tension I’ve carried for months.
The act of making a zine is demanding. It requires a mindfulness that can be the best distraction from a spiral. First there was drawing. Tracing outlines onto vellum and replicating them in the styles I’d imagined. Next, writing. Separate lines that together comprised a poem.
Then it was time to format the pages. This part always breaks my brain. Thinking in 3D about what needs to be on which side of the paper to make a book. I stood by the copy machine in the early morning and played around with sizing and print density. The noise from the copier a dull comforting ache.
Finally, binding. For a sixteen-page zine such as mine, that meant staples. In this case, pink ones, that added a touch of whimsy to the otherwise grayscale piece.
And there you have it. May I present “codependezine” - the hottest drug that’s been on the relationship market for centuries. If you come across this zine, I hope it treats you well.
You can find it, alongside many other zines made during the event, in the lobby of the Out North Theatre in Anchorage. It also might make its way to New York for the upcoming Art Book Fair, April 25-29! I’ll be volunteering part of the time for our Alaska zine table and hope to see some of you there.
Speaking of print media, I have an article in the April issue of Alaska Magazine. It’s not available online, so you’ll have to track down a physical copy. It was fun to try a slightly different writing style, and I’m grateful to Susan Sommer for the opportunity. Finally, Victoria Petersen wrote a beautiful piece about Alaska’s zine scene that captures some of the magic (including magical people) that went into last week’s event.
Long live analog experiences! A friend brought me to see the film “Perfect Days” this week and it hit hard. It’s about a man who lives a somewhat ascetic life, shooting film photos and listening to cassette tapes while working as a janitor in modern day Tokyo. At the risk of sounding like a trend forecaster along the lines of “there’s a 40% chance it’s already raining,” I dare say there is something in the zeitgeist relating to non-digital media these days.
Lest I start making further forecasts, I’ll sign off here. I could not be more grateful to the friends - and friendly faces - who participated in the zine event. Art-making does not exist in a vacuum. It’s beautiful to be part of such a supportive and invigorating creative community.
With that, I’m spending the next few days in Juneau, our great state capital, for the annual Folk Festival. Nothing like live music and dancing to get one out of one’s head and off of one’s computer.
xx Julia
Are zines having a resurgence? I even saw a small zine making exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum recently. And getting offline anything, yes!!
Between the photos and the visual/tactile imagery of you executing your vision, I felt transported to the event with you. Your passion shines so brightly here. How can I get my hands on a copy of codependezine?