Collage zines are satisfying to make for a number of reasons. They can be made quickly, they accommodate accidents and improvisation, they can use text and/or image, they can be launched from found source material.
I usually use one 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper, folded over twice. I keep track of which end is up and which quarter will be the cover, back cover and centre spread. I glue and reglue, spinning the sheet around as I go. Narrative emerges when I'm quick enough to think I've spotted one.
Collage, in general, does away with any kind of blank page syndrome because you can redirect your focus on the found material, such as a few measly pages of a magazine, instead of your lofty art goals. Zines, as opposed to finished frameable art, have an ephemeral quality that is also pressure relieving. You can make 10 photocopies of your zine, leave them in the coffee shop and start working on the next one. The idea that you are making serious art should be left with the snippings you toss in the recycling box. This letting-go gesture just may be what bolsters your sense of actually making meaningful work.
I usually make a few copies of a zine and then tackle my next project.
That's it. Today's blog post, as inconsequential as it is, was sparked by me finding the above image on my desktop and thinking I can write a paragraph or two about it.
Also, try to make collage without scissors, it really brings the beast out and that direct use of hands-on paper is quite emotionally satisfying too. It also does away with preciousness and persnickety scissor habits.
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