HURRAY! Two years of the Non-Human Neighbors Zine

Deliver me from Duality is a phrase that has shown up in all editions since volume 2 of Non-Human Neighbors. This is a spiritual phrase in my mind, to see often overlooked living companions as equals or as yourself; to remove them from the barriers of lesser-than which our society tends to treat other-than-humans as.

I often think of this quote;

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

Khalil Gibran (excerpt from The Prophet, 1923)

Bearing witness to the intertwined atrocities committed against humans, other-than-human animals, land, and water is soul-shattering. This is the kind of knowing that can feel hopeless, the kind that makes it hard to get up and go on. While born into and living in the United States, I am constantly navigating a culture that puts profit over people. I often feel surrounded by many who are systemically overwhelmed, complacent and/or indifferent to the oppression that happens around us on a daily basis. Or to take a step further, adamantly invested in their own oppression and the exploitation of others. So, channeling the sorrow that this brings, I began Non-Human Neighbors as a project to highlight the JOY I feel in living with non-human people around me, those who I admire due to their stainless ability to understand the true nature of reality. My hope is to communicate that the beings we share space with are inherently worthy of consideration and respect.

I often contemplate about how to respect the Earth and other inhabitants as interconnected through my work, such as this quarterly mini zine Non-Human Neighbors and the new collaboration zine (launched at 2023 Gluestick Zine Fest!) A More than Human Society.

Shortly after moving to Indianapolis, I was swimming in the White River and realized that there was a blind raccoon struggling to get water on the bank. It was clear that they were in their last living moments so I sang them lullabies while bringing empty river shells of water to them in the blistering heat.

Some family members said that I was misguided to be so close in case the raccoon had rabies. Yet, I could’t help myself when I saw how much suffering they were in. A big storm came through the following day. When the river settled a few days after, I waded back across but they were passed on. Every time I fold one of these volumes, I remember my raccoon friend. The volume also features sassy Kingfishers and an appreciation spread for the Midwestern fruit, PawPaw.

This was the first zine I had printed by the masters at Risolve Studio in PA. Loving the ink colors of this one, violet with neon yellow on a purple leaning white Neenah Stardust, a recycled paper (30% PCR) with flecks of color throughout.

It’s a tough call, but this teal and neon coral color combo on 100% recycled French Paper Co. Speckletone kraft paper may be one of my favorite color combos so far. It came out with great contrast so I’m happy to take the risk using a darker toned paper.

The stars of the Winter ’23 volume are two Pileated Woodpeckers who are either lovers or haters around the little wood patch surrounding my apartment complex, the myriad rollie pollies that have lived for a decade in the hibiscus houseplant and go on winter forays throughout my home and mysterious fungi that grow on the path to the White River.

The spring volume is also one of my favorite color palettes so far. It happened to be subconsciously inspired by a sweater that I wear, that belonged to my Grandma. I didn’t realize until after assembling these mini zines that I used the same colors in the garment: light pink, mint green and lemon yellow.

The contrast of the print is legible while also giving a very misty, soft feeling to the graphics. This is also the first zine to feature cockroaches who were terrifying me in my dreams. I also mis-measured this one, so to fix it, I cut a bleed. Even though unintentional, I enjoyed how the framing worked after trimming the edges down. Printed on French Paper Co.’s strawberry lemonade pop-tone paper.

I was hanging out with river clams during the summer, but I didn’t recognize that at first. I learned that freshwater mussels (the most endangered organism in the United States) puts out pseudo fish lures to attract real fish into touching them. Which I did thinking at the time it was a strange lake weed on a rock, and I’m sorry for spooking that mussel. Other neighbors include Mama raccoon on her scheduled night adventures (before she was abducted by my landlord), and a sparrow who moved in amongst a community of clay swallow nests.

This volume was once again printed on French Paper Co. Duro-tone blue butcher paper. The neon orange over cornflower blue inks creates a purple overprint.