As digital media becomes increasingly prolific, students are rebelling against the mainstream and taking matters into their own hands through self-published work. On the UO campus, fliers for DIY publications and zines dangle from bulletin boards. The school’s library boasts an archive of zines in the “Special Collections” section and professors have integrated zine making and analysis into their curriculums. So, what is a zine?
Short for magazines, zines first came into popularity in the 20th century as a form of counterculture. A zine is typically cheap to make, photocopied, stapled together and characterized by a smattering of mixed media and unconventional page design. Often free or sold at a low price, zines are meant to be accessible. Virtually anyone can make a zine.
Students at UO produce zines highlighting art, political discourse, identity and self-expression. Celeste Griffiths, a women’s, gender and sexuality studies student, launched her own zine last spring. Titled “Raunchy Zine,” Griffiths describes it as a collective project for LGBTQIA2S+ students at UO.
“It’s basically just a collaborative zine for everyone to share their thoughts and experiences about their sexuality, pleasure, desire and the erotic,” Griffiths said. “I feel like those are things that students, but also queer students, don’t talk about all the time.”
Griffiths hopes Raunchy Zine can help to destigmatize and reject cultural taboos, as well as engage and uplift queer students. “I think they’re really cool for the queer community kind of functioning as a communal knowledge source,” Griffiths said. “Especially with sex education. If you can’t find yourself represented in that, I would hope that you could with zines or that type of thing.”
Zines have historically played an important role in representing counterculture and marginalized communities. During the peak of the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s, zines served as informational spaces where people were safe to share their stories and offer advice.
“People seem to be a lot more honest and comfortable sharing about stuff like that in that context or format,” Griffiths said.
Evan Susswood is another UO student involved in DIY publication. Susswood studies journalism and recently self-released a photo book titled “Seen and Not Heard.”
“It’s nice for young, up and coming artists who work in visual mediums to feel like they have an outlet to show their work outside of someone else’s agenda,” Susswood said of why he chose to self-publish. “For there to be this lo-fi, DIY and low budget way for people to get their art and vision out to their peers is such an important thing.”
Susswood’s advice to anyone looking to start their own zine or self-published work is to first break down the fear of showing it to other people, or to “be afraid to show your work and show it anyways.”
In the art department, zines are a way for students to release their work without the pressure of submitting to an established publication.
“It’s really amazing to say that I had my work printed,” Mia Owen, co-creative director for the College of Design magazine “Kitchen Sink,” said. “It just kind of legitimizes all of the work that we do as designers.” Owen added that publishing your work, even on a small scale, is a great portfolio builder for students looking to highlight their creativity.
“Zines aren’t meant to be perfect,” Miles “Momo” Kelley, the second half of “Kitchen Sink”’s creative director role, said. “They’re meant to be glimpses of a process. They are a moment in time and no moment in time will encompass the breadth of everything that you want to say or accomplish. There’s an ephemeral quality that’s beautiful about that.”
Looking to learn more about zines? Check out the archive in the Paulson Reading Room at the Knight Library or visit Lawrence Hall to pick up a copy of student publications such as “Kitchen Sink,” “Oregon Voice” and “Avenue.” Better yet, grab some printer paper and experiment with making your own.
[Editor’s Note: Celeste Griffiths worked on the Daily Emerald’s Arts and Culture desk last year until fall 2022. Griffiths had no role in the writing or editing of this story.]
