A Gift for You (and me)

Birthday Zine Vol.2

The Seven Senses birthday Zine is here – and coming to a mailbox near you. 

A couple weeks ago, I mentioned that I was celebrating 2 years of Seven Senses, and I’ve created a Zine to mark the occasion. Those of you who were here last year may remember the first birthday zine I sent out, and I’ve decided to make this an analog tradition. 

I almost forgot how long these Zines take to create. For last year’s edition, I had spent all summer working on it. This time, I started a bit later and it’s still taken me a few weeks to complete. There’s of course faster ways to create hand-made magazines, but this process reminded me that speed and efficiency is not the point. 

Sure I could have avoided the carefully cut-out silver paper that mimics a mirror, or skipped out on the double-page spread of mini illustrations. My process isn’t geared towards maximizing time and minimizing effort. In fact, the slower, the more attentive — the better. 

It reminded me of an interaction I had last month in Oaxaca. My partner and I walked into a little bakery down the street from where we were staying, and ordered a breakfast pastry. The baked good sounded and looked delicious – a rhubarb and hibiscus danish with vanilla cream. After we paid, we waited for the cashier to hand us the pastry, and after a few minutes we assumed he had forgotten so we reminded him. His memory hadn’t failed him. He pointed behind him to the baker, who was carefully arranging a dozen mini-flowers on our pastry. Once the task had been completed, the baker was beaming with pride as she handed us this edible piece of art. It was incredibly beautiful and created with so much care. The joy that emitted from her was transferred over as the plate was carefully placed into our hands. We took our time admiring the fruit of her labor, before sinking our teeth into the delicate layers of dough. It tasted as great as it looked. 

Neither of us will ever forget that bakery experience. In large part because it was so different than what we’re used to. As I told my partner, “This would never happen in Los Angeles.” It’s simply not cost-effective to place dozens of edible flowers on a pastry – unless it’s an extremely luxurious restaurant that would charge a fortune for it.

In a society obsessed with productivity, cutting cost and raising profit, this type of action is an artistic rebellion. It’s not about the “bottom-line” but about the top-line – where sensory experience meets memory. It’s an act concerned with creating the utmost beauty and pleasure, both for the maker and the receiver. 

This is the mindset I try to embody when I create –– whether that’s publishing a digital essay, making a Zine or curating in-person experiences. I realize I don’t simply do it for you, but I also do it for me. 

In fact, this Zine has been somewhat of a life-savior –– at least a mental-health stabilizer – in recent weeks. It’s offered me moments of respite, of true presence, in a time of high anxiety and frenzy. When I’m writing by hand, collaging, or illustrating, I am fully attentive to what I’m doing. I am in the here and now in a way that the digital world rarely allows. I can’t cut paper and scroll on my phone at the same time. I can’t worry about the future while concentrating on drawing.

I try my best to give this same attention to my digital creation, but I find that the analog experience is much more potent in helping me slow down. When I type on my computer, I usually have many tabs opened and the pull of checking my email is sometimes irresistible. I love how far and wide my digital creations can travel, but I’m also aware of how untethered it can make me feel. 

When I make something by hand, I return to my body, to my senses, to reality – what is right in front of me. It soothes my nervous system, it calms my mind, and it fills my heart with possibility.  It may not change the world but it does change how I interact with the world: with a bit more patience, a touch of levity, and a dose of empathy. 

I hope this Zine can offer you the same as what it’s given me. I’ll be sending them out to paid subscribers for the next two weeks. If you’ve received one of my past Zines, then I already have your mailing address (unless you’ve moved, then please update me!).

If you’re a free subscriber and would like to claim a Zine, you can upgrade your subscription and share your mailing address by responding to this email or send it directly to: sabrina@kenshostudio.co.

Like a dozen delicate flowers laid upon a pastry, I hope this hand-made creation embellishes your mailbox, and your day. 

In Joy,

Sabrina