Making Stuff Instead of Breaking Stuff: The Beginners Guide to Failure

transcript

Making stuff instead of breaking stuff presents:

A Beginners Guide

To Failure

THE BEGINNERS GUIDE TO FAILURE

WELCOME TO ISSUE 4

“An expert is a man who has made all the mistakes which can be made, in a narrow field.” -Niels Bohr

We’ve sifted through embarrasing journal entries, self doubt, and projects we’ve cast aside to find the best of the best for our Beginners Guide To Failure.

This issue is a toast to those things you’ve made that you dubbed “not good enough.”

Sometimes the things you think are shit are the most honest. And yes, sometimes shit just sucks.

Don’t be scared of failure, welcome it.

Do stuff.

Make stuff.

Experiment.

-Making Stuff Instead of Breaking Stuff

CONTENTS

PHOTO Rachel SandofskyARTPatrick Perkins

ART Alexander Soj

PHOTO Mica Gaxiola-Flynn

PHOTOS Crystina McKenna

ZINE SHOwCASE The Kid & I

ESSAy Ryan Pangilinan

COLLAGES Ethan Morosoff

COLLAGE Dan Dinsmore

COLLAGE Ethan Morosoff

PHOTOGRAPHy Catilin Brookins

COLLAGE Alexander Soj

LAyOUT Mica Gaxiola-Flynn

COLLAGE Ethan Morosoff

PHOTODan Dinsmore

KNITTING PATTERN Simone Barry

PHOTORachel Sandofsky

COLLAGE Mica Gaxiola-Flynn

COvER & BACK COvER Patrick Perkins

THE KID & I zine spotlight

The Kid and I” is a totallyd.i.y. cut and paste zine made by a mother and her 11 year old daughter. They cover topics like new music, vegan food, animals, helping others, feminism, growing up, museum exhibits, and book/movie reviews.They even have fun crossword puzzles and word searches!

They plan on putting out one issue a month, $1 each for pure quality. They are the writers, creative directors, and editors of The Kid and I, and of course, they are self published.

facebook.com/thekidandi.zinethekidandi.zine@gmail.com

Panels by Ryan Pangilinan

“you really can’t draw.”

Mr. Tolksdorf’s words rang in my 13-year-old head and like broadcast feedback reverberating through space, it cycles its way back to Earth 20 years later.

For years, I wanted to be an illustrator. From the time I got my little brown paws on comics, I had a clear line of what I wanted to do with my life. It was comfort, it was home.

As the son of immigrants, I was isolated from the community around me. Thanks to parents who didn’t speak English very well, comics were a way to communicate and connect with other kids who didn’t eat weird shit like chocolate meat and shrimp spaghetti.

Around the time I discovered comics, my dad split and the constants in my life dwindled down to food stamps, my mom, and X-Men. Escapism through masterful artists such as Jim Lee and John Byrne, I wanted to be like one of them. I traced comics and bought a copy of “How to Draw the Marvel Way” and spent most of my fifth and sixth grade years drawing “concept art” of characters who would fit into Batman and the X-Force universes. I sent poorly typed letters (because a crappy typewriter is what we had, as we weren’t rich enough for a computer) along with my art to DC Comics, Marvel, NOw, and Image. I didn’t hear from any of them, but I didn’t let that deter me.

As I got into middle school, my drawings got better and was developing my own style, by which I mean I was copying a lot of the Image Comics artists who were huge at the time.

And then I stopped.

I was on the receiving end of a critical comment from my eight grade English teacher, Mr. Tolksdorf. I probably deserved it.

Mr. Tolksdorf,was, at one point, in the military. It showed in his demeanor and the way he “taught” the class, inasmuch as each lesson was structured exactly like a drill in which we were to climb over walls or move underneath barbed wires, armed with massive rifles. So why did I deserve it?

For most of my time in English class, I, predictably, spent most of time drawing and paying as much attention as a kid whose free time was devoted to creating elaborate backstories for a werewolf woman who hunted serial killers (yeah, that was a thing).

One day on my way out of class, Mr. Tolksdorf stopped me at the door and bluntly said, “you really can’t draw.”

My heart sank. Here was this authoritative figure who flat out told me that the one thing that I gave a shit about – the one thing that lasted longer than my dad sticking around – I wasn’t really good at.

Then he said, “But you’re a hell of a writer. you should keep at that.” And he went back to his desk.

So while my boyhood dream of drawing covers for X-Men or Gen-13 never quite came into fruition, I’ve had the opportunities to write random stories about Japanese pageants, judges running for office, and interviewed a few of my favorite bands. I traded one dream for another that I didn’t even know that I wanted at the time.

At the very least, I failed and got a happy ending.

RESCAN

CAITLIN BROOKINS

Caitlin has received her BFA from Cornish College of the Arts, in Seattle. As a multi-disciplinary artist, Caitlin creates works of art through photography, printmaking, painting and drawing. Many of her works are created with alternative antique processes. including but not limited to; Van Dykes, Salt Prints, Specialty Toning, Solar Plates,

Intaglio and more. Her works reflect upon relationships through personal narratives and visual poetics, which often include Edwardian and early 19th Century symbols and metaphors.

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Making Stuff Instead of Breaking Stuff: The Beginners Guide to Failure

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