my first quaranzine: Singular Thought

If this time in self-isolation has taught me anything, it’s that life is too short not to make the art you want to make, regardless of skill level and polish, and that you should just put it out there. Put it out there, flaws and all.

What I like about zines is that they embrace the imperfect. They aren’t about polish, and they’re not trying to be an objet d’art, though that is precisely what one might argue it is: a more humble, rudimentary art object. That’s not to say some of them aren’t glossy and high-finish. But for an afternoon to myself, with my scrounged materials laid out across the kitchen table, “humble” is going to have to do.

So, I introduce you to the inaugural edition of “Singular Thought,” volume 1, issue 1. This was a fun exercise for my creativity, which had hit a major wall during quarantine. It was all about the process, making decisions as I go, accepting mistakes and flaws as part of the thing itself. In a way, it feels like zine-making is sort of the antithesis to this hyper-polishes, ultra-filtered influencer images that have the same tones, colors, poses, and product shots. The DIY-ness of zines sort of spits in the face of that, and I have to say — it’s enormously satisfying to see some cut up paper and some tape, some pens and some paper scraps, and know you don’t need much to say what you want to say.

I’m not sure what will become of this zine. Once we are out of quarantine, I’d like to take the master copy to a Kinkos, print off a batch of them, and distribute in my community. It would be cool to know they were out in the world, and that someone might laugh or roll their eyes or even feel really seen after reading a sentence.

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