The Museum of Contemporary Art zine fair was on yesterday, and from start to finish I left my table only twice, once to deliver some zines to another table, once to go to the toilet and get a coffee. Sorry, amazing new zinester whose work I missed out on - I was too busy to buy your zine.
In typical Rigozzi fashion, I had drastically underestimated the amount of zines I would need, thinking that their exorbitant price tag would turn people away. So I had to break out the stack of uncollated, unstapled, untrimmed, unstamped zines I had in my suitcase. I then paid the people sharing my stall slave-labour wages to help me finish putting them together. I also flogged off a bunch of old screenprints for $10 each. The end result? A massive blister from clutching a craft cutter all day, and possibly enough cash to cover the bond and two weeks rent when I move house next week. Well, basic survival is all the committed zinester can hope for.