I finally finished my first ventures into zineland. One is the first part of a long story I have written, the other is a kind of picture and story combined as a poster. Despite all the frustrations of Lusaka, one thing I am able to do is get copying done fairly cheaply – who knew?
So I now have blog where people can buy the zines, here it is with more descriptions of the zines themselves.
My little lovely this time around is this lamp. I got it from a friend who was leaving the country and had to offload some stuff. I had it in my sewing hamper for months because it needed a new bulb, then recently I unearthed it and realised I needed a lamp for my new study. Zambia is not known for its high quality merchandise and it is touch and go whether anything electronic will last, that said I was thrilled to find that after putting in a new bulb, the lamp works fine.
I also love the handy little sections at the base, as you can see there are three each side, perfect for doubling up as a desk tidy. *sigh*
Funny how ideas come about. I have become pretty obsessed with the idea of self-publishing and zines for a while now and consequently mulling over what my first venture will be. I came up with making a fold-out poster zine, that would be an easy and compact intro for me.
I had been doing a lot of thinking and jotting ideas down, but didn't make a venture into the process itself until recently. It just goes to show that sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to find your way. That's how I came up with 'The Breathing Porch.' During my trip to Asheville NC, I learned that the old houses were often used by patients with respiratory illnesses because of the clean mountain air. They would sit on the porch and hence, they were named breathing porches. I loved the name instantly and put it in the back of my brain as a possible title for something.
Then with some sketching I did my idea came together. The picture I ended up with became the shape for the story and thus the first issue of The Breathing Porch was born! I now have a series planned following the rules devised from the first issue. 
Each poster is A3 sized and folded twice into a booklet. They are limited editions.
First issue will be out very soon!
At 16 I would tape pound coins to cardboard and mail them. Soon after would arrive the most exciting thing ever – a DIY zine or comic. At 16 getting stuff in the mail is addictive anyway, it's only when we grow older we associate the mail with junk and bills. But these zines were full of craziness, fascinating and weird stories and pictures. I felt kind of honoured that someone had sat and carefully devised this little book just for me, or for a handful of people like me. The other great thing was that for a teenager they were affordable, a few dollars at most. Sometimes I would get letters thanking me for buying their example of creativity. I devoured them. Then boyfriends, clubs, live music and University came along and I left those zines behind.
And then this spring in Asheville NC I stumbled into and found a little rack of them, unassuming but tempting. I bought a few (was complimented by the bookstore clerk on my selections) out of sentimentality and intrigue and I'm now hooked all over again. The edginess, the imperfections, the doodles and monochrome, people can do whatever they want when they autonomous so you get some really ingenious content. It's good to know that despite the birth and endless upward trajectory of the internet, some people still feel compelled to print their words. This rediscovery of DIY publishing is kind of part of my new intention to get back to my roots, to that time in my past when the creative world was new and fertile.I am now considering doing my own, I am already putting together some ideas as well as trawling sites to inspire me.
Welcome back.
Places to feed the zine greed:
Etsy – there are tons of very cool mags and comics on Etsy for a few dollars each
I finally have a desk, lovingly made locally. I am now settled in the spare bedroom where I hope I finally have some space to work, while my husband can use the table downstairs. Often we find ourselves both working from home so this has been a huge relief. Plus the desk smells really great, I love that new wood smell.
I've tried various set ups and even worked in the gallery for a while, hopefully this will be more permanent, well until we leave anyway!
The film I am currently obsessed with is 'Gentleman Broncos'. It's very, very funny, Sam Rockwell is brilliant, to be honest the whole cast is pretty solid. Jermaine Clement is also wonderful. But there is something else about the film that I loved.
The story follows teenager Benjamin (Jack's son from Will and Grace) who writes kitschy science fiction and has one of his stories 'Yeast Lords' (such genius) plagiarised by washed up sci-fi author Chevalier. The story splits between Benjamin's odd life with his widowed mother (played by the ultimate MILF from American Pie, ) and new found literary friends and the imagined story of Yeast Lords with Sam Rockwell fleshing out Benjamin's father substitute Bronco.
The set pieces are spot on, the weird Barbarella-esque sci-fi world and the oddly dated present day Utah.
I am sure I am one of many once geeky teens with whom the film really struck a chord. In the film Benjamin writes his stories and also designs the covers, one of the first scenes shows his room, his shrine to his dead father and home-made set for his novel complete with dolls. In that short scene director Jared Hess succinctly demonstrated just how much this world meant to Benjamin.
When I was a teenager I spent most of my time in my bedroom reading comic books, writing, make weird models out of wax listening to Tori Amos, Radiohead etc and watching films on my little red TV. My room was my world, and far from missing out on my teen years, I felt they were really import and a time I look back on fondly. Most of all I look back amazed at my ability to immerse myself in my imagination then, my endless creativity. Where did it go? Was it hormonal? When I left university I spent a few months writing my first novel, obviously it was rubbish, but I got up every morning at my parents' place, made myself coffee, went up to the spare room and wrote for two hours on an electronic typewriter. Now I'm in my thirties struggling to get together the motivation and momentum to write regularly, I can't believe that twenty-something was really me. Perhaps I need a room, maybe I need to listen to The Throwing Muses again. My hope is, that if I was like that once, I could be again.
I watched this film with my husband at the weekend and miraculously he stayed awake.I take comfort in the fact that the author Henri-Pierre Roche, who wrote the book on which the film is based (phew how's that for clauses?), was over seventy when his novel was published. Hope for me yet?
Yesterday I made the resolution to finish my novel before anything else 500 - 1000 words a day. Have so far failed, but the day ain't over yet. Dumbfoundland is becoming a long gestation period, elephants are born quicker.
My current little lovelies are my yellow notebooks. They are the perfect size for my hand bag, so I can whip them out at any time and jot something down. I had mini-panic when I looked in my bag on Thursday and found it was missing, thankfully I had only left it at the gallery! When I have used what's written on the pad, I can rip it off. This action serves three purposes. It means I don't carry lots of unnecessary pages around with me, or I can rip important pages of notes and file them for later and I get an immense sense of satisfaction ripping off the pages and seeing the pad get smaller, it makes me feel that I am making progress somehow. Whenever I am stuck I can riffle through my notes and find something to write about.
And look at that lovely sunny colour!
Every gust og wind is memory of another more familiar coast, but with dunes that carry a smell of dill and asparagus and warm, kind sand - this will do fine.
Seai has that ability to make you feel tired, content, as if you've take part in good exertion even if you did nothing.
Whe we were there the sun stripped the land to a keen neon and the water broke into white horses chasing the shoreline until only sparkling foam. And my sunglasses turned everything sepia. The coast has no age, it is full of time and journey.
