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out of touch zine

a summer 2022 personal project

A personal exploration of creativity and confusion, told through the five senses. View this zine with side-by-side alt text here.

description: front cover of zine. the cover is a cream-beige color with the title and description of the zine, "out of touch: a zine of the five senses," placed slightly below the top left corner. a landscape-oriented film photo hangs off the left edge of the cover. the photo captures the backside of a girl with a burberry backpack; she is walking through the streets of a dimly-lit city. the photo is surrounded by a dark brown hexagonal "frame" on the top, bottom, and right edges, giving the illusion of it being a painting hanging in a museum. on the right edge of the film photo is a digital cutout of the same girl from another photo. she is wearing a different outfit: yellow dress shirt, black sweatpants, pink tote bag, black face mask. her backside faces the viewer and she faces the film photo, posed like a museum-goer admiring a painting. text saying "audrey i.," the creator of this zine, is placed to the left of the girl's legs.

front cover

pages 1-2: sight

description: each page in the two-page spread contains a portrait-oriented photo and accompanied text below it. page 3 (left) contains a photo of cheonggyecheon, a stream that runs through a part of seoul, korea that was structured in an urban renewal project. there are steps on the left of the stream, a building and fountain on the right; behind, the hues of sunset are starting to show. page 4 (right) contains a photo of the inside of a yellow-lit cafe. there are two wooden chairs tucked in at the edges of a glass table; behind the table is a wooden shelf and a see-through closet with five shelves. two big potted plants are also pictured, one next to the closet and one closer to the table on the right.

page 3 text: the streets of korea smell like my grandfather on my mother’s side, who lives on the rinds of seoul in the neighborhood my parents were cultured in. a man that i haven’t seen in 5 years, a man i haven’t known in 12. i wonder what the scent combination is: fatigued beer, watermelon evaporated on a porcelain plate, a well-loved cotton tank bought before we started calling them wife pleasers.

page 4 text: in my nose lingers the slight smoky sting of his room, where i watch him subside into his sideways posture in front of the tv. i wonder how he feels about love, if his past’s queerness intersects anywhere with mine. do they sell bottles of this in america? i recognized the cologne as soon as i stepped off the plane.

pages 3-4: smell

description: the background of the two-page spread is a photo of greenery. in the center is a small seating area with two green chairs and a small white round table on a stone pathway. to the sides of the pathway are clusters of yellow flower plants. each page of the spread has a scanned photo of lyrics on a lined piece of paper; the photo on page 5 (left) also includes guitar tab. each photo was altered to have rough edges, creating a ripped-paper effect in this digital format. the lyrics are to a song called "revamping the wardrobe," written by audrey i. in the bottom right corner of page 6 (right) is a qr code that links to a rough recording of this song.
note: the text in the spread is not the final version of the song's lyrics.

page 5 text: revamping the wardrobe, august 5, 2022: i bought new clothes in a different country / and now that im home i dont fit in the same / stretch out on the loveseat cuz my tummy aches / i make myself sleepless just like yesterday // wish i wrote this for myself and nobody else / wish i thought a little more about how theyd felt / why do i always leave them there / and say they dont care / is this all i ever did ever do // the same old sorry conversations / i thought you loved them as much as me / but now youre the sun im the rain

page 6 text: say i miss the old me, and the coffee stains (?) whyd you she go away (shouldve let her stay) / but now i tire of both of us and what we became / chorus / what if i looked my best at sixteen / butterfly around my neck, doesnt (dont) even know her effect / i thought i looked my best at sixteen / button up its for the best doesn't know what she'll miss next / +maybe you should reassess, maybe you should readdress / +is this all i ever did ever do

pages 5-6: sound

description: page 7 (left) has a stanza of dark green text on a sage green background. the text is in the lower middle left of the page; the word "taste" in the text is highlighted with a light green swirl. to the top right of the text is a masked photo of a mouth with a tongue slightly sticking out. the tongue is pointing slightly to the left. page 8 (right) has two stanzas of dark orange text on a mango-orange background. the first stanza is in the top left of the page, the second in the bottom right. to the bottom right corner of the first stanza is a masked photo of a half-eaten piece of loaded toast. from top to bottom, the sandwich consists of smoked salmon, a soft-boiled egg, arugula, and a slice of english muffin.

page 7 text: i’ve lost my ability to taste soft words. as if someone took sandpaper and plastered it on my tongue, whittling down, lacking. i’ve forgotten how to regurgitate the words too. how do you use a muscle that has lost all of its practice?

page 8 text: maybe it doesn’t have to be grand. i made myself soft-boiled eggs to split open upon toast this morning. it was pretty and tasted just as good. i took a photo to savor the memory. // at age twenty i made myself eggs for the first time. / maybe loving is this easy: / fostering patience on the stove / and stomaching those few certainties.

pages 7-8: taste

description: page 9 (left) is a full-page collage, with photos masked in a curved shape overlapping one another. photos include, from left to right and top to bottom: three cups of ice cream; four chopstick holders in the shape of a frog, cats, and dog; teddy bear holding a wrapped blue square package; two calico cats; girl wearing yellow button down and lack mask looking down at a picture book; a computer screen open to a two-person discord call; singer lorde on stage on her solar power tour; flower bouquet; bowl at a japanese restaurant; watermelon and pineapple cubes, open cookie bag, and open mini airheads package on a picnic blanket that's white with green, blue, red, and yellow stripes; singer isaac dunbar on stage bathed in pink and purple light; singer jeonghan from seventeen waving onstage with a crowd of people behind him; backside of three girls walking in an outdoor mall; inside of an asian-snack-themed vending machine with cheetos, shrimp chips, honey butter chips, hi-chews, pocky, and other snacks whose names are hard to see. in the middle of the collage is a paragraph of light pink text highlighted twice by 1) lighter pink wavy lines and 2) behind that, an even lighter pink straight lines. the word "touches" within the text is formatted in a darker pink than the rest of the text. page 10 (right) contrasts from the busy collage with a radial gradient background. the center of the gradient starts slightly left of center, going from a muted pink to a lighter indigo-purple at the edges of the page. in the center is a line of text in light pink; the font is a handwritten digital font. the beginning letter of each word in the line of text combines to form the word "touch."

page 9 text: isn’t it beautiful? that a kiss is felt on more than just lips, that songs contact our hearts just as much as our ears, that we persevere in describing how the intangible, still, touches us.

page 10 text: time opens us carefully, honestly.

pages 9-10: touch

description: back cover of zine. the cover is a cream-beige color. a landscape-oriented film photo hangs off the right edge of the cover; it is the remaining portion of the same photo that appears on the front cover. in this portion of the photo is a view of traffic (moving toward the camera) and a building with tightly-packed rows of square windows behind the cars. the photo is dimly lit. the photo is surrounded by a dark brown hexagonal "frame" on the top, bottom, and left edges, giving the illusion of it being a painting hanging in a museum. to the left of the photo is a paragraph of text explaining the motivation for creating this zine.

text: because ive been feeling very out of touch with myself, both who i am now and who i used to be. it sucks realizing that the old you that you mourn for was just as lacking in maturity as you are now. have you regressed, or did you never move forward? who do i want to be, and how do i get there? maybe making something with my hands will help.

back cover

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