W E L C O M E
Quaranzine was a non-competitive multimedia art and lit zine featuring the video, photo and art of creators everywhere. The first known digital zine of its kind, Quaranzine was published each Friday on Ashley Johnson’s (@hiaj) Instagram Stories.
The zine was created as a space for creators of all disciplines to submit and digitally “publish” their work during a time where Stay-at-Home Orders across the world hindered, or completely incapacitated day-to-day lives.
There were no judges or prizes—simply a free space to see and be seen. Click an issue below to be routed to one of Quaranzine’s volumes!
T U N E S
Guest-Curated & The Full Quaranzine Playlist
Guest-curated playlists, can be found beneath the respective issue pages below. Playlists featuring all of the music found within the issues are now available on iTunes and Spotify!
📍
WORLD-WIDE SUBMISSIONS
The Zine saw submissions from all across the globe. Check out our submission map, here!
Volumes
The soundscape for this issue was guest curated by Brittney Isbell. Now available on iTunes and Spotify.
Like clockwork, prayers are over. As soon as they had started. Like a whisper, the colorful mats and their owners dissipated: back to cars, back to traffic, back to office buildings, back to classrooms, back to the rat race.
—Udee Bassey, Atlanta, GA
Published 5/29/2020
The soundscape for this issue was guest curated by Corrie Beck. Now available on iTunes and Spotify.
I sit on the porch and watch as the shade changes shape
She morphs to different spaces
Then comes back
Sometimes she ventures far from me
Then comes back
Sunlight flickers on my shoulders
The day passes quickly this way
Until she completely engulfs me.
—Akile Mekuria, Addis Abeba, Ethiopia
published 5/22/2020
The soundscape for this issue was guest curated by Shahkeem Williams. Now available on iTunes and Spotify.
“I drove past a tree today,
The tree I grew up in,
The tree I ran away to in the middle of the night,
To escape abuse,
To escape assault,
To escape life.
They were cutting it down.
Good riddance.”
— Andrew Pan, Greensboro, NC
published 5/1/2020
“…I imagine our arms—your mama’s arms, your nana’s arms, your sister’s arms, your auntie’s arms, your cousin’s arms, your best friend’s arms, your work-wife’s arms, your classmate’s arms, your colleague’s arms, the arms of the stranger who helps with a bag or opens the door.
God granted us women arms; let us use them so we may be lifted up when we are most fear-full and to lift up another when we are most faith-full.”
—Tanika I. Williams, M. Div, Brooklyn, NC
published 5/8/2020
“I write love letters to ghosts. They show up and demand attention. They take hold of my face and force me to listen. Right now, the ghost is Dinah Washington. And in preparation for our conversation, I’m moving images and adding layers so her body and life can talk back to me. I want to know what her heart says.”
— C. LeClaire, Plainfield, IL
published 5/1/2020
“Many times we present a facade of what we want people to see on the outside while masking our truth, challenges and desires. We act and perform to the rhythm of society’s expectations, believing that we can navigate unnoticed in a sea of infinite eyes.”
— Arinze Areh, Winnepeg, Canada
published 4/24/2020
“The earliest memory I have of my pain being trivialized while in my black femme body; a pediatrician laughing at my severe asthma, I was at the age of four; This and similar experiences led to me avoiding physical pain and seeking help from physicians. Better to suffer silently than become un-consenting entertainment.”
— Jasmine Best, Greensboro, NC
published 4/17/2020
“Common.
Nonetheless
excruciationg. that
we could share
one womb
and know two
different mothers.”
— Jessica Rycheal, Seattle, WA
published 4/10/2020