Editor’s Letter

Portrait of Kolton Procter wearing the enamel pin. Photo: Jackson Burzynski.

Dear Reader,

It took years to work through my perfectionism and have this issue settle into a shape that felt right. And when it finally did, I soon found myself fostering a new resistance, this time towards releasing it into the world. Initially this block felt fuelled by financial hurdles but I now realize that the actual wrench was rooted in fear, as the hard stuff often is.

For the countless hours I’d spent pouring my heart into this thing, I wondered if my efforts would show, if it would mean anything to anyone else. It's taken time to work through these feelings and with time and effort and lots of good company I’ve been reminded that almost all barriers are self-imposed. My motto as of late: There is always enough. Thanks Trev.

I know that vulnerability may be the most powerful thing a person can share with the world. That's why I endeavoured to create this project in the first place.

Jack Kenna, Family Portrait, 2020.

There is a range of works in this issue. Some stories are heavy and should be read with care, some are lighthearted and reflective. I like how the titles of the first and last entries tell their own mini story.

The cover story is an essay by Asia Jong accompanied and informed by a series of paintings by Jack Kenna, two close friends of mine who also happened to be my roommates (Jack has since jetted off to the Big Apple). The dog-shaped toothbrush holder is the actual “porcelain doggie” that still sits on the edge of our bathroom sink to this day. The toothbrushes could represent our little house of three. I like to think that the toothpaste cap is a stand-in for our tiny grey house cat, Nina.

Thank you to everyone—friends and family, contributors, subscribers, donors, sponsors—for your patience. I am so grateful for your support. If you’re new around here, the best ways to support this project is to subscribe or donate.

I have a lot of ideas for where this project could go next. The experimenting will continue, the tone changing as needed. I’ve always described this project as a practice to learn more about storytelling and print and to further develop all the skills that come along with releasing a physical object into the world. I hope to keep the heart rooted in the circles that inspired me to make this in the first place and to continue to work with talented and sincere people, like the ones I was lucky enough to have contribute to this issue.

I see a low sloping roof on the edge of a lake (ferns peeking through the mist) made of natural wood and dark materials. The inside is furnished with the furniture I see at Attic Treasures: An invisibly folding credenza and freshly upholstered cushions. Cook surfaces are flush, hiding in plain sight. Large covered wraparound porch with comfortable seating whatever the season.

And who’s around? How was it earned? Is there a cottage on the other side of the lake for my mom? How far away am I from the place that I grew up?

If anything within this issue resonates with you, I’d love to hear about it.

Until the next trust fall into the universe,

-k