Attic zine issue 01

issue 1

attic zine

ATTICZINE.TUMBLR.COM ATTICZINE@GMAIL.COM @ATTICZINE COVER PHOTO BY PAUL MCLAREN

EDITOR: CAROL LI CONTRIBUITORS: ELVIR ALI GUILLAUME C. ARTIS EMMA BAYNES LILA COHEN SHAO LEI CAROL LI LENA LIKHTINA FAVIOLA LOPEZ DEVON MA PAUL MCLAREN ORIANE MIYASHIRO MIKHAILA NODEL TAY SANDERS HUNTER SUMMERS DANNY POLONSKY

ATTIC ZINE 2016 ISSUE I

attic zine started out as a personal project, but then it grew into something more. i am so grateful that i had the chance to be apart of something special like attic zine.

a publication of beautiful work by talented young creators. that’s what attic zine is.

an attic is where you store your memories, things you don’t want to forget. when you create art, you’re creating a memory, something that leaves your mark in this crazy world. i wanted this publication to be an attic for young creators. an archive of a little part of you.

attic zine features the work of friends, strangers, and everyone in between. you may or may not know the contributors, but you will begin to understand them from each page they’re on. each page displays a snippet of who they are.

i hope you all enjoy this zine as much as i enjoyed compiling it. i am proud of the works displayed, and i am proud to be a witness to these growing artists.

thank you, carol li

mikhaila nodel hunter summers carol li emma baynes lila cohen

@stitchbaby @misandrists @illorac @greenbaynes @squuash

tay sanders

taysanders.com

paul mclaren

paulmclaren.co

shao lei

myspace.com/shaoism

oriane miyashiro

@o_yashi

guillaume c. artis

guillaume-c-artis.tumblr.com

lena likhtina guillaume c. artis danny polonsky elvir ali faviola lopez

@novagorl guillaume-c-artis.tumblr.com dannypolonsky.tumblr.com @_elvir_ youngcollectiveblizzard / urbanrenewal.tumblr.com

mikhaila nodel

hunter summers

Carol Li

emma baynes

Swatches last night I drowned in fabric I am swathed and draped 70% Cotton 25% Polyester 5% Spandex a silk blend the thick twisted fibers of wool sweaty on my elastic skin I sway with the rhythm of the machine do not beckon me with glances and gestures but with uncrisped corners and fraying hems

lila cohen

photographed by tay sanders

Photographed by Paul McLaren

shao lei

Tag Who taught you to tie your shoes like that The way you loop plays back like a trap last Saturday I know it ain’t truer now then it was then But maybe some reflexes can be unlearned.

I’d consider revising Revisiting a flow Like a throw Last Saturday Maybe it’d be colder this winter I heard an episode rewind down to the first clip of a scene of a train lurking behind rows of apartments and billboards.

You lived on Fourth Avenue when the towers came down It was snowing in September but we didn’t know how We watched the marathon every year on Fourth Avenue It’d be a lot longer if we were there now Who taught you to tie your shoes like that A tuck and then over the cuff of your pants.

You’d have to take them off, your shoes, before your pants that way.

But I guess you’d have to anyway.

Who puts on their shoes before their pants.

I’m laughing just thinking about the tread marks on the inside of your pants like someone had walked in them before you.

I think of Michigan when I’m looking at Brooklyn in a blizzard without a coat on.

All the orange of construction sites are bleached out like the tread marks on the inside of your pants.

I think of Michigan like a page of Wikipedia and Mozart in the background and eighth grade boys crying in the foreground.

You were it.

I’m thinking of phrases and phases when I’d follow you walk through your walls and flip through albums of melodies .

I’d have to piece the score together like a trap last Saturday.

You were around for a while but I forgot how you look like now because i had been staring too long.

Oriane

miyashiro

Oriane miyashiro

guillaume c artis

danny polonsky

ma devon

devon

ma

Elvir ALi

things to tell a babyCategory and List faviola lopez

your name in a no. 2 pencil Mocabee Larry horizontallyrubbing your finger over it clogging fleshy ridges, a tinseled stain white framed, a self portrait

lacking frontiers skin leaks raging star quenching pavements endearing reflective storefront lights relentlessly as water penetrating docile ice caps or sobbing sailors on the mainland your milk foaming with tinsel encouraging leaving harsh lines weak will be sold back to you by an amphetamined smile alloyed and costume smelled half priced signed by Miley Cyrus and Kim Kardashian at the self serve coffee station in forced and desperate spirals nothing you have not seen before so retreat into your pastel colored cell a cup of rainwater on the nightstand under infantilized duvets to fall into a three and wake up a six

LENA LIKHTINA