Making space is what I do. Japan is the next stop for Atelier S P A C E activities; there’s a little bit of the extraordinary in outlining and sharing the details for ‘The Way’ with a handful of people all around the world. People who have worked with me, whom I have worked for. People who I consider friends, others mentors, and some collaborators in making the zines themselves. I’ve been sharing with them about this project, for feedback, for crowdfunding donations, for the wonderful commentary that flows when they know me, know me well, and know what I’m able to deliver on if I say I will.
The remarkable everyday encounter is the magic, over time
The part that’s so remarkable, to me, is the variety of conversations that have happened, thanks to the inquiry and motivation to get going, get going far, and on the road, for the sake of learning what it is that might be out there to find out.
I know this is rather esoteric and hard to come to grips with if someone is in a routine, ordinary pattern of going to work, getting paid, and going home. That is normal. I know that making S P A C E is different, from this, and that it’s tough for some people to make time and want to listen to this other way of doing things. Quite open, intrigued, and ready to try new things and always taking risks to invent, and investigate. Why not?
The affirming of my project concept through emails and the occasional calls, this last few weeks, has been fascinating and surprising, for me.
The further you go, the more you know you don’t know
So much change, since I first began concocting the sketches for Atelier S P A C E, from a small room in Toul Kork, Phnom Penh, with a few confidants near at hand to hear me out, while I worked out the validity of my thoughts. But I knew. This would work. I couldn’t not do it. Go places I didn’t know anyone. Meet people. Get them together in conversation salons. Talk. Learn what they care about together, and write, co-create, and publish a zine.
Here’s what happened. From 2017-2020 I made workshops in Finland, Malaysia, and failed but tried to make them in Phnom Penh. Then I went to Viet Nam for a gig and stayed 20 months. I got invited to festivals in Melbourne (a teammate went to table), San Francisco Zine Festival when it was online (invited a collaborator who is much more comfy on stage than me), and, most recently, the fantastic Portland Zine Symposium asked me to go. Wow. I am happy about that. Plus, I was in the Oulu Arts Festivals making a zine workshop in close artistic collaboration with a lovely venue owner who really ‘got’ what S P A C E could be. We did it. Together. So fun.
Making space to find out who we are, individually, and when we meet together, too
Change, they say, is the only constant. I thought when I started my zine that there would be this thing, that it would ‘scale’ or whatever. It did something else. It became deeper. My original goal was to casually connect ‘new and different others whose paths might not have crossed.’ But it morphed. The reviews I’ve received tell me a different story: making space isn’t just a casual thing for those who opt-in, in fact, it’s vital for recharging. For growth. For developing a capacity to reflect, and to value the S P A C E to do it. I feel like it boils down to this idea that, simply put, the further you go—in conversations with yourself or others, or maybe on a trip—the more you know. About you.
Thinking about this, and reflecting, identity being the key work we spend time discussing for brand identity design clients, see testimonials here, it makes sense that I would want to keep going with making moments happen for others to experience these reveals. I know how to do it. So, with the zines, I can try it in a new way. Connecting the world, 1:N, through the publications. Next, I want to make beautiful photozines. Some people are supporting the effort to make the zines; more space. I feel lucky.