Every time I gather with a small group to make anything—zines, journals, tokens—I’m reminded of how much transformation can happen in ninety minutes.
It isn’t because of technique or instruction … it’s because people get comfortable to sit with their courage and let creativity take its own course.
Someone always arrives feeling nervous about getting messy—and ends up with color all over their hands. Someone tears their paper accidentally and surprises themselves by treating the rip as an opportunity instead of a mistake. Someone reconnects with a part of themselves they’d quietly set aside.
The real story is rarely what appears on the page.
It’s what unfolds in the pauses, the sighs, the laughter, and the uttered out-loud “what is this even becoming?” moments.
I often say that the messy middle happens every single time. That moment when the work looks confused or ugly—that’s when most of us want to give up. But that ugliness is essential. It’s the doorway to clarity.
And every single time, I watch people move through it … with equal parts anguish and curiosity.
This zine came to be in a live 90-minute workshop … no agenda, no purpose except spending time with colors and creating in community
By the end, there are zines with unexpected pockets, textures, smudges, folds, tiny surprises. But more than that, there’s a subtle shift:
I can do this.
Maybe I want to do this.
Maybe I’ve missed this part of myself.
These gatherings remind me that my job isn’t to teach or prove anything. It’s simply to create space for whatever wants to emerge.
And every time it happens, I’m grateful.
