All About Zines: February Issue

All About Zines: February Issue by Katia DermottFebruary 16, 2025

© Judith Hornbogen, Hasenbrote, Benschop Books, 2023

Since beginning these monthly features back in October 2024, I’ve received a handful of emails from artists asking if I will share their zine. When I head to Google to search for the name of one of these publications, I’ve repeatedly found publishers, online shops, and even the artists themselves referring to said zines as books, not zines at all. When I asked two of the artists why that is, I was told that it’s out of their hands. After releasing their work, the outlets promoting and selling them make decisions about what it is or is not. This then raised the question for me: is a zine a book? which led to is a magazine a book? which led to is a zine a magazine? Everyone I’ve asked has had a different answer. It reminded me of years ago when I told someone that shorts are pants. To my surprise, they adamantly disagreed, and many people since have had just as strong reactions in both directions. For me, I had always thought of pants as an umbrella term with shorts, capris, leggings, etc. beneath it. This unexpected memory prompted me to wonder if the case of books, magazines, and zines is not similar (and just as polarizing). Is the book the tip of the umbrella with magazines and zines being just two of the many forms stemming from it? In any case, it’s known across mediums that once you release art into the world, every audience may perceive it differently. Power to control the narrative only goes so far. For those artists who submitted for a feature, the intention of their publication to be a zine was lost in the shuffle of others’ perceptions of it. This leads me back to a notion from a previous month’s issue: the zine is in the eye of the beholder.

When I wrote to Lars Brønseth about including his work, Sweet, in an upcoming feature, he wrote back that he doesn’t consider it to be a zine at all. I found his publication on the Hato Press website under Zines. Aha! Another example of an artist releasing something into the world only for it to be understood as something unintended. I asked Brønseth if I could feature it anyway and he agreed. You can read his definition of a zine later in this article.

All this discussion had me right back where I started, wondering, what is a zine? Originally, zines were created as part of a counterculture movement, pushing back against norms of the time. They were made on cheap paper, folded or stapled, and sold for less than a couple of dollars. They were distributed not online, but by word of mouth, hand to hand, and in small independent physical venues (you remember the ones––with doors, not screens). The purpose wasn’t for the artist to make money or for the craftsmanship to be pristine, it was to share work or ideas within a local community in a manner that went against the structures of society.

Today, zines are trendy. Or at least self-identified zines are. Now it’s not uncommon to see a zine cost over $20 and be crafted to near perfection. They can be bought online, reaching thousands of people, procuring a profit, existing as a commodity, another cog in the machine of capitalism, not counterculture. Gentrified? Certainly, definitions can change with time, but what happens when the new definition becomes antithetical to the original one? I’ve been left wondering if perhaps most of what we call zines today aren’t actually zines at all. And if they’re not, what are they?

In this month’s feature you’ll find three beautiful publications that may or may not be a zine depending on who you ask. What do you think? What is the definition of a zine? Do we need a new term for today’s version of the zine? Message your thoughts to the editor here.

Sweet

“A small catalogue of sweet things – seen, eaten and collected during the years between 2019 and 2021.” The first publication where I explored the juxtapositions between subjects, colors and shapes, was a way for me to further explore my visual language. The size, and quality, of the book, is a nod to the volatility of the objects photographed. And it’s a way to explore the beauty in the mundane, the sweet in life.”

Contributing artists: Lars Brønseth

© Lars Brønseth, Sweet, Self-published, 2021

When I asked Lars Brønseth what his definition of a zine is, Brønseth wrote:

My definition of a zine is the same way as it is defined on wiktionary (from https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/fanzine)

fanzine (plural fanzines) A magazine, normally produced by amateurs, intended for people who share a common interest.

For me, this publication is not a zine, it’s simply a finished book in a small size, and soft covers. It’s a reaction to the overly produced books that my peers make; with too many pages, too big of a format and way too expensive cover and paper. If anything, I would think of it as a pamphlet or a catalogue.

pamphlet: a small booklet or leaflet containing information or arguments about a single subject.

Mira Mexico

“Using photographs taken by Louie Palu relating to the Mexican drug war, this project challenges the reader to take apart this newspaper to see the full photographs and view the content. The goal is to force the reader to dismantle the vehicle used to deliver news and facts and thereby empower the reader to begin to think more critically. There are 16 photos in total, eight that do not relate to violence and eight that focus on violence or the drug business.. Each photograph is printed on a single sheet of newsprint, so if you take the newspaper apart each sheet of paper will have only one photograph on each side. Only eight pictures can be viewed at one time. No photo can be entirely seen unless the reader opens and takes the newspaper apart.

Once the newspaper comes apart it can be put back together in any order the reader wishes. The page spreads can also be hung as an exhibition. With violent images on one side and non-violent images on the other, the reader must become editor, curator or even censor, choosing how many violent photos are seen vs. how many non-violent photographs are seen. This forces the reader to face up to the fact that all delivery of news involves choices, of what to show and tell and what not to show and tell. It also forces the reader to face up to the system of institutions that serves as the gatekeepers in journalism and the visual arts. The questions are obvious. Is the editor censoring? Is the edit a true depiction of the news and the issue? Are violent images being used effectively to tell a story, or to sensationalize the story? The actual newspaper as an object forces the reader to engage in a multidimensional exercise in journalism, art, and the politics of representation and message manipulation.”

Contributing artists: Louie Palu

© Louie Palu, Mira Mexico, Louie Palu & New America Foundation, 2013

© Louie Palu, Mira Mexico, Louie Palu & New America Foundation, 2013 "Mira Mexico concept newspaper publication. Using photographs taken by Louie Palu relating to the Mexican drug war, this project challenges the reader to take apart this newspaper to see the full photographs and view the content. The goal is to force the reader to dismantle the vehicle used to deliver news and facts and thereby empower the reader to begin to think more critically. There are 16 photos in total, eight that do not relate to violence and eight that focus on violence or the drug business. Each photograph is printed on a single sheet of newsprint, so if you take the newspaper apart each sheet of paper will have only one photograph on each side. Only eight pictures can be viewed at one time. No photo can be entirely seen unless the reader opens and takes the newspaper apart. (Credit Image: © Louie Palu)

When I asked Louie Palu what his definition of a zine is and how Mira Mexico fits or does not fit that definition, he wrote:

For me a zine is anything that is not a conventional book and almost usually is DIY oriented toward a newspaper or magazine like publication, its slightly punk rock meaning it brushes up against or pushes against the establishment, which sadly sometimes the establishment absorbs the actual rebellion against the establishment. The quality of the paper and printing ranges from good enough to terrible, but never great. It’s not supposed to be precious and imperfection is a good thing. But most of all it’s usually self-produced, forgoing all the gatekeeping and headaches of dealing with a publisher or conventional book production. It’s the anti-coffee table book publication.

When I asked Louie Palu why he chose this form for Mira Mexico, he wrote:

First and foremost, I wanted this publication to be accessible and simple to look through, because it’s on a key topic for Mexico and the United States. I also wanted readers to dismantle the publication and do whatever they wanted with it, including hang it as an exhibition. I wanted to hand the editing, sequencing and curating back to the readers so they could understand in a simple form how visual narratives are constructed. This publication has been used in many classroom settings where I teach narrative and editing. What gave me the most pleasure is after a career of sending out pitches to book publishers in which there was no result, in this case I just partnered with a public policy foundation where I had a fellowship and for under $1000.00 published this. The newspaper itself has been exhibited in museums (note the installation created by guests at The Walters Art Museum), galleries and been reviewed in Aperture’s Book Review. It was never produced for profit, but it’s been one of the most profitable publishing and successful educational ventures I have ever been a part of. Since then, I have produced 4 other editions of this zine based on the same concept.

Exhibition of guest constructed installation collaboration at The Walters Art Museum in Baltimore © Louie Palu, Mira Mexico, Louie Palu & New America Foundation, 2013

Installation on a wall in Rochester, New York, curated by Alysia Kaplan © Alysia Kaplan, Mira Mexico, Louie Palu & New America Foundation, 2013

Hasenbrote (Rabbit Sandwiches)

“Rabbit sandwiches are the uneaten sandwiches that children bring back home after school.

(Legend has it that forest workers used to bring their half-eaten sandwiches home and tell their families that the rabbits had nibbled them. In other regions, sandwiches that are cut into small pieces are called rabbit sandwiches or bunnies.)

Essentially these images are a poetic exploration dealing with physicality, time and space, understanding the place/ landscape one finds oneself in. I focus on fragments and details as I continue to experience the boundaries as fluid (whether they’re dreams or reality), past, present and future boundaries become blurred.

Falling back on memories from childhood, how living with my family has formed my characteristics, neuroses and fears. I contemplate the idea of German Romanticism and its impact on the present age, the dangers of withdrawal to nature and Biedermeier. Sometimes my fear of being influenced and shaped by this era is so strong, I’m hoping to communicate these fears in order to understand and reflect and revolt against predestination. I don’t believe in fate, yet I’m full of doubt and bad conscience.”

Edition of 55
Bound with a 3-hole pamphlet stitch using waxed thread

Contributing artists: Judith Hornbogen

When I asked Judith Hornbogen how she defines a zine, Hornbogen wrote:

I consider a zine to be a printed work that has been hand-made as an edition of under 100 without an ISBN number. It doesn’t have a “proper” book spine. It has been produced by one person or a small number of people. It’s not meant to accumulate a lot of money. To me it is an an object made with passion for a small number of print enthusiasts.