Tag Archives: death

Sometimes I’m Shit and Thick

Sometimes I’m Shit and Thick. And Sometimes I’m Just Shit.

No contact details.
I got my copy from Sticky for the super value of $1.

You had me at ‘hello’: I scanned the following paragraph and reached for my wallet knowing I had to buy this zine: “Artists would build brick walls in the middle of the studio, or create puddles of petrol, or make huge metal dandelions, or order funeral wreaths that said ‘FANNY’. I once watched someone have a bath during their crit and it lasted an hour…’ = YES. Shut up and take my money.

Loved it: Reading this zine is the equivalent of sitting in a circle cross-legged, and listening enthralled to a storyteller as they create this world around you with their words and you can’t wait to hear what happens next. That’s how perfectly this zine is written. And yes, it’s full of mad shit (tick) but it’s also earnest and genuine and contains profound wisdom, bet you weren’t expecting that. The zine is actually drilling down to the ultimate legacy of the zinemaker’s time at art school; critical thinking. But specifically how to really evaluate any kind of endeavour; how to think about ‘success’ and ‘failure’ and analysing one’s motivations. This zine actually hits on universal truths as it narrates entertaining accounts of ‘crit’ sessions where students present their work to their class group and listen to their fellow students’ assessment and feedback – and contribute their own personal responses to their classmate’s work.

Rogue Scholar: The zinemaker gets into crits so much? they start sitting in on crits going on in other departments. That’s right, introducing the zinemaker as that mystery student who never has anything to personally present but plenty of opinions to share across all kinds of artistic disciplines. And now you’re part of it as the reader, becoming equally as obsessed with the sculpture department.

Master storyteller: Total anticipation builds with every page. Honest to God, you will seriously read this all in one go, desperate to know what becomes of great personalities and greater ambitions. It also contains the stuff of Art School Legend, retold here for the first time. Everything is so perfectly unfurled, with precision and gusto. I was wetting my pants, I was so into it. You will too. Hashtag: Instant classic.

Aesthetic: Simple sans serif accompanied by occasional photographic evidence, tinted colour paper cover in self depricating green hue.

Crime against humanity: No contact details.



Fifty Eight Thirteen

Fifty eight thirteen
Jo No Mercy
I got my copy for $1 at sticky

Personal writing covering observations and heavy emotional shit

Fragmented: This is one of those kind of zines that begin abruptly and finish in the same sort of manner: you’re dropped in the middle on a seemingly random entry point, swim with the currents, learn about this person, and get washed up on the final page from the zinemaker’s thoughts. Like being allowed into someone’s life for a limited amount of time before your paths no longer cross. It’s a pensive writing style, written from a bit of distance but still arresting and intense.

Aesthetic: That rough and ready cut and paste effort with a mix of patterns and image snippers roughly scissored down, the computer text with the occasional pen correction.

Strong: There are powerful scenes in here. Sadness. Glimpses of sobriety in between the distorted sense of reality of an addict, and glimpses of why the run from reality as well. The zine looks for meaning where there may just be none…being ‘together’ when you need to be falling apart. Being ‘proper’ in the face of rot and decay and disorder. It’s a powerful little unassuming read.