 Slumgullion
Small Press
Fitness Clubs in Missoula
While Missoula’s literati munch brie and
crackers at indoor book signings, the leading ladies of
Slumgullion Press, Debby Florence and Courtney Blazon, are
out on the streets of downtown Missoula, staging sock puppet
poetry readings and drawing crowds toward their book
displays with accordion music. They hock zines from the
sidewalks of Higgins Avenue, literally peddling their wares
on a Bookmobile--a bicycle drawn cart made from found
objects and parts. They’ve even hosted mass outdoor
“type-a-thons” during the Montana Festival of the Book in
which ten or fifteen typewriters were set up for writers and
passing pedestrians to sit down and spontaneously type to
form a collective book while jugglers and magicians
performed in the background.
“We like to rile up the scene here a little bit [by] having
really different events,” says Florence, “because people
think of writing and book making as staunchy and
conservative.” In their rented half of an art studio in
Missoula, hundreds of zines threaten to avalanche down the
salvaged display racks—their “Zine Library” in the making.
This collection is a result of the network they have
fostered among artists, writers, and book-makers from all
over the world.
Never heard of a zine before? Most people haven’t. It’s a
print medium that traces its varied roots all the way back
from Gutenberg, pamphleteering in Europe and the American
Revolutionary War, to the do-it-yourself ethos of 70’s and
80’s punk rock, to the present bloggers on the internet. The
term “zine” stems from the original term “fanzine,” which
refers to various magazines put together by fans or
aficionados of whatever subject matter an individual or
group feels moved to write about and publish, at their own
costs, whether they are fans of Elvis, George Clooney, stamp
collecting, hot rods, skateboarding, or anything else. The
true beauty of zines is their democratic nature. Anybody
with a pen, paper, stapler, and access to a photocopy
machine can produce and publish their own zine. Within ten
minutes, an individual could have 100 copies of their zine
ready to be folded, stapled and sent out into the world.
Slumgullion—a stew made of most anything—offers books
ranging from photocopies stapled together in five minutes to
beautifully hand sewn books with etched velum covers. “We
know how to make the crusty xeroxed punk rock zines,” says
Blazon, a graduate of the Parson’s School of Design, “and we
also know how to make artist books and glossy things.” One
of Florence’s most dramatic books is made from a cast of her
pregnant belly, which opens to a womb filled with pages
visually documenting the pains of post-partum depression.
Herein lies one of the deepest drives behind
self-publishing: it answers the human need to communicate, a
need which is often denied or ignored by the larger profit
driven publishing markets. That is why zines are typically
circulated among friends, pen pals, other zine writers and
readers and complete strangers. Often they are left
anonymously at bus stops, record stores or on the tables or
windowsills of a coffee shop, anywhere a person may find it
and read it. Self-publishing satisfies the inner need to
connect one’s private musings with a communal act, so
sharing the art of bookmaking creates community and links
peoples’ voices, voices that might otherwise never be heard.
When not on the streets selling books, Florence runs zine
workshops for kids in youth homes or at summer camps. She
brings piles of zines for the kids to look at and see the
endless possibilities of self-publishing and bookmaking. She
passes them around and says to them, “There are no rules to
making a zine. There is no right way or wrong way.” In their
hands, the books are strange and funny. Some are
painstakingly written and hand drawn. Others look hastily
thrown together. Some open like an accordion while others
unfold like a strange origami in their fingers. They are
held together by beautiful ribbon or simply hole-punched
with a piece of yarn woven through. There are zines that
have nothing but cats or comics inside, and others that have
words cut out from newspapers and magazines. Their fingers
delicately flip through the pages, and they grow more
excited at the possible books they too can produce. Florence
arms them with glue sticks, scissors, markers and old
magazines. For the next hour they paste in their poems and
the pictures they’ve cut out to make a collage around the
words they have written. When they are finished, Florence
leads them to the photocopy machine and explains a little
about how to make double-sided prints, shrinking and
enlarging, lightening or darkening the tone. One by one,
each kid lines up to place their master copy onto the glass.
One of them hits the copy button, and as the green light
slides past the template of the first book he has ever made,
he says, “This is so cool.”
Look for zines at the Slumgullion Book Mobile at Saturday
Market or at Shakespeare and Company. To make a donation or
to start your own book project go to www.slumgullion.org or
email info@slumgullion.org
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