I love that glue sticks and long-reach staplers never falter when the power goes out. I love ambiguity and spaces in between. I love self sustainability, on macro and micro levels. Strong, that.
Most of my zine-ish time is devoted to ArtXX Magazine
, which I like to refer to as a pseudo-zine, as, although it's glossy and full-color, it contains five times the amount of blood, sweat, and tears as any print project I've worked on in the past, is collectively run by me and two others, depends on amazingly brilliant folks around the world to contribute their own blood, sweat, and tears in exchange for undying love, and has had a print run of a whopping 250 copies. Ours is a gendered challenge to white//male//hetero-normativity in the arts.
This is the first issue, published in Fall 2008:
I've been publishing wee one-off zines since 1996ish. More recent ones include:Who, What, Where, When, Why (I Think I Love You)
, an illustrated collection of Missed Connections ads from Craigslist. Utne Reader
says: "In her admirably nonjudgmental zine, Who What When Where Why (I Think I Love You), Lexxx shares her favorite desperate-yet-entertaining 'Missed Connections' ads culled from two months of surfing the Bay Area's Craigslist site. Each post's unique grammatical style is preserved ('Your older, balding and sexy!!'), and Lexxx's illustrations dream up visages of the would-be lovers in question. Some ads seem particularly ripe for romance, like 'Love on the Muni,' in which a San Francisco bus driver seeks 'Oh baby blue babe with your baby blue rain boots and baby blue bike... Next time I see you I am going to swerve that damn bus into the median and confess my loveee.' Other, less suave writers aren't quite as endearing: 'I am looking for the drunk chick that was at the Dragon Lounge last Wednesday night. I really felt a connection while you were rolling around on the pool table naked."
The Laborer and The Nightingale
is a short but sweet and ever-poignant romp through one of Aesop's fables with a collection of cut-paper illustrations. As with all of Aesop's fables, there's an underlying moral to the story, which you'll dissect with your own inclinations and devices.
And, from Utne Reader
again: "Fashioned with an X-Acto knife, some ink washes, and a vintage cookbook, Crumbs on the Cutting Board
waltzes through a rhyming ode to food....the zine features some intricate paper-cuttings of foodstuffs, such as dim sum and quiche, pasted atop dated cooking guides and recipes, along with a singsong poem ('W is for weiners/boiled and slick/X is for xanthan gum/making sauce thick'). Despite her description of Crumbs... as free of 'an overwhelming amount of thought and emotion,' Lexxx succeeds in creating a visually impressive piece of zine-art."