I had some apprehension going into Charlottetown Zine Fest today: the idea of spending six hours sitting in the same place, on display, subject to all manner of social interactions, wasn’t presenting as “delight” as much as “dread.” Or at least “I’ll power through.”
Surprise: I loved it.
What I learned, most of all: the people who will go to something called “Charlottetown Zine Fest” are, by and large, my people: weirdos, creatives, unusuals, divergents, the curious and daring. They were interested in our work. We had good conversations. Engaging tablemates. The spirit of the place was life-affirming
Every so often I would head out on walkabout with a print I’d created this week that I thought represented the spirit of the day:
I gave these away to other “tablers,” and in every case this was sufficient breaking of the ice to have a nice chat with the comic book artists, printmakers, publishers, and artists who we shared the space with.
(Among them were an unusual number of people who’d passed through the printmaking program at Mount Allison, clearly a creative nexus.)
And we sold our work.
Indeed we almost ended up selling at least one of everything we brought with us, including niche works like Terms of Union, which got more interest today than in the last 15 years (thank you PEI history weirdos!).
We also sold a good number of The Thing About Islands, more than a few fuck, and many copies of relief prints that Lisa conceived, carved, and printed in just the last 72 hours:
Lisa’s My Higher Self Wears Hot Pink was popular, as were deep cuts like Aslan is on the move and There Will Be Brighter Days.
The only item that didn’t sell a single copy was Lubricate Often.
The six hours passed quickly, due in no small way to Lisa’s good company, punctuated by frequent buying/trading trips out into the room.
Charlottetown Zine Fest is a great gift to the city, and we should all laud its founders for their dedication and tenacity.
We shall return!
I am 
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