InDesign mini-zine template

I made my So you want to make a public comment! mini-zine in Adobe InDesign, and I figured I could save someone else a few steps to making a mini-zine by releasing a template based on that work.

Screenshot of my mini-zine template in InDesign

Thank you to Cupcake Ipsum for generating the placeholder text in this zine!

License

This mini-zine template for InDesign is marked CC0 1.0. To view a copy of this mark, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/. I've dedicated the template to the public domain by waiving all of my rights to the work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law, and you can copy, modify, distribute and perform the work, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Go have fun making mini-zines!

Download the mini-zine template for InDesign

Once you print a mini-zine you've made with this template, you'll need to fold it.

You're final mini-zine will look something like this (but with your zine's content, of course!): Fully folded mini-zine

So you want to make a public comment! mini-zine

I've been testifying at local public meetings for safer streets and more housing and affordable housing, and sometimes people ask me how they can do the same and what to expect. I decided to make a mini-zine that tries to demystify speaking up at public meetings:

A handful of So you want to make a public comment! mini-zines

All text in the zine is my own. I want to extend a huge thank you to Courtney Eckhardt for encouraging me to make this mini-zine!

This zine is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License, so you can copy and distribute this zine for noncommercial purposes in unadapted form as long as you give credit to me.

Check out the So you want to make a public comment! zine on the web or download the pdf to print here!

Bike Brooklyn! zine

I've been biking in Brooklyn for a few years now! It's hard for me to believe it, but I'm one of the people other bicyclists ask questions to now. I decided to make a zine that answers the most common of those questions:

A handful of Bike Brooklyn! zines

Bike Brooklyn! is a zine that touches on everything I wish I knew when I started biking in Brooklyn. A lot of this information can be found in other resources, but I wanted to collect it in one place. I hope to update this zine when we get significantly more safe bike infrastructure in Brooklyn and laws change to make streets safer for bicyclists (and everyone) over time, but it's still important to note that each release will reflect a specific snapshot in time of bicycling in Brooklyn.

All text and illustrations in the zine are my own. Thank you to Matt Denys, Geoffrey Thomas, Alex Morano, Saskia Haegens, Vishnu Reddy, Ben Turndorf, Thomas Nayem-Huzij, and Ryan Christman for suggestions for content and help with proofreading.

This zine is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License, so you can copy and distribute this zine for noncommercial purposes in unadapted form as long as you give credit to me.

Check out the Bike Brooklyn! zine on the web or download pdfs to read digitally or print here! Happy Earth Day!

The night sky and finding hope in the dark

I found inspiration for this pitcher's glaze design in the night sky.

This black stoneware pitcher's glaze has a tape-resist starburst design that follows the geometric lines of the form. The glaze is mostly transparent but speckles of blues, both light and navy, float in each section of glaze and echoes a starlit night sky.

Whenever I feel lost, I know I can always look up and be under the same night sky, no matter where I am. Whenever I feel alone, I know I can always look up and feel connected to humanity, everyone else looking up at the same sky. Whenever I feel all is lost, the vast darkness in the night sky reminds me there are so many possibilities out there that I haven't even thought of yet.

The blue glaze speckles within the starburst pattern appear like a cluster of stars in a clear night sky against the black clay.
The inside of the pitcher is glazed solidly in blue starry night glaze.

My studio practice is on a partial pause for an unknown amount of time right now; every piece I make is stuck in the greenware stage as I continue to save up to buy kilns and build out the glaze and kiln area. In some moments, this pause feels like a rare opportunity to take time to make more experimental and labor intensive pieces, but in other moments, I am overwhelmed by the feeling that pieces without a completion timeline on the horizon are just not worth doing.

It's easy to bask in fleeting bursts of inspiration; it's harder to push through the periods where nothing feels worth doing. It's especially when the waves of anxiety about the unknown future of my studio practice and the waves of anxiety about the direction of the US government and the future of my country come at me at the same time.

I try to ground myself, to keep myself from spiraling. I name things I can see, smell, hear.

At night, I look to the dark sky. When I can, I reread Rebecca Solnit's Hope in the Dark:

Hope locates itself in the premises that we don't know what will happen and that in the spaciousness of uncertainty is room to act. When you recognize uncertainty, you recognize that you may be able to influence the outcomes–you alone or you in concert with a few dozen or several million others. Hope is an embrace of the unknown and the unknowable, an alternative to the certainty of both optimists and pessimists. Optimists think it will all be fine without our involvement; pessimists take the opposite position; both excuse themselves from acting. It's the belief that what we do matters even though how and when it may matter, who and what it may impact, are not things we can know beforehand. We may not, in fact, know them afterward either, but they matter all the same, and history is full of people whose influence was most powerful after they were gone.

May we all find hope in the dark and choose to act.

Rising sea levels, eroding beaches, melting ice caps

When I was glazing this v60-style cone, I was thinking of rising sea levels, eroding beaches, and melting ice caps.

Drippy layers of glaze on a pot evoke sea foam hitting the beach - layers of sea foam aquas with white streaks breaking over them against dark tan speckled clay.

Trying to tackle large challenges like climate change is overwhelming in the best of times, and these are not the best of times. There are many things we can personally do to reduce our carbon footprints and fight climate change, but If we want to have any chance to succeed, we need to join together and organize. If you're new to organizing, connect with local groups already doing the work you're interested in, and don't forget to look for groups pushing for change outside of just the national stage.

This glaze design is part of a v60-style coffee cone: the white and sea foam colored design inspired by climate change is on the outside, and the inside is glazed a glossy white.
The drippy layers and lines of unglazed speckled clay are all around the outside and appear as waves crashing on the sand.

Creating more dense walkable, transit-oriented communities is one of our strongest tools for a sustainable, climate friendly future. Generally, the bulk this work in the US happens at the state and local levels. In addition to the climate benefits, it's essential work to keep communities together and fight displacement.

I personally spend a lot of my spare time organizing locally around this issue to help ensure NYC and New York State stay places everyone can thrive. I focus especially on pro-housing policies and improving transportation options and reliability so climate-friendly, less car-dependent lifestyles - and New York's relative safety - can be for everyone.