Final Project
Before you read, it is important to note that there are two versions of my final project; the digital and the physical. This zine was originally meant to be completely physical, shared amongst friends, lightly passed around on drunken nights when the street lights have all become stars--and so have you.
In creating this e-portfolio I realized that this may not be the ideal mode of presentation. My solution was to create a digital version of my zine that would better fit with the aesthetic of a website rather than a physical book. There are some differences between the two, but those are detailed later on.
The digital version of my zine, "Who Am I To You? A Collection of Many Words," contains everything that I originally included in my physical zine--and more! Additionally, there are certain instances where the digital modality allowed me to have more creative control and the agency to switch/correct/delete certain words or phrases.
As you will see, this zine is a gateway to my mind, a journey that spans several years and draws from many of my past writings. I hope that reading this zine is as meaningful to you as it was for me to make it.
Below is the physical version of my final project. Before you read, there are a few instances where the digital and physical copies diverge that I would like to point out.
First, the physical copy might have a few typos or errors due to the fact that I went through the process of personally copying everything down with a 50-60-year-old electric typewriter provided to me by the university.
Second, the erasure poem of Judith Butler's commentary on Freud and his work regarding women and gender does not appear in the physical version. This was a piece that I worked on previously, albeit for the same class, but it was not created with the intent to use it in my zine.
There are a few moments where you'll notice a slight difference in word choice or the addition/omission of certain words here or there. This is mainly due to how long it took to typewrite all these pages; by the end, I had gotten a little sloppy, and quite honestly, my forearm and hands had begun to cramp up.
The physical copy itself is bound by two pieces of cardboard covered in a maroon crocheted cover (single crochet, if you're familiar with the terminology). Obviously, you can't experience the full extent of holding the zine in your hands and flipping through the pages I so painstakingly hand-typed, but there is a small peek of what the crochet looks like on the first and last pages.
It isn't perfect, but that's the beauty of something like this. A rip on the second page, a word spelled slightly wrong, these are the things that we'll remember. These are the things that make us human. We've all been through something, and rather it left a rip or resulted in a perpetual lapse in memory regarding the letter "a", that's what makes us unique...and that is how I've chosen to think of my physical zine.
