Folded pages, stapled spines, a stack left on a cafe counter. Self-published zines trace back to 1930s fan-made sci-fi newsletters like The Comet, then surged through the punk and feminist movements of the ‘70s and ‘80s, when accessible photocopiers fueled publications like Sniffin’ Glue, which chronicled Britain’s early punk scene. Zines were built to bypass gatekeepers: fast, cheap, and outside traditional publishing. That ethos still holds. In an era shaped by algorithms and moderation, DIY zines remain a way to circulate uncensored political and creative voices. This issue of Next Wave turns to four Hudson Valley collectives building community, insisting on access, and making something out of nearly nothing.
New Paltz Zine Collective Builds DIY Publishing Hub on SUNY Campus
On Wednesday nights in the Sojourner Truth Library’s second-floor Create Space, the SUNY New Paltz Zine Collective gathers around tables littered with scissors, glue sticks, scrap paper, and ink. The student-run club centers on the “production and celebration of all forms of DIY artwork and subculture,” offering free materials and a low-stakes environment to make, experiment, and share, says Nina Zar, the president of the collective. Weekly meetings blur the line between creative and amateur, work, dissolving the pressures to be “good” in favor of being expressive. “I tend to be a perfectionist,” Zar says. “Making smaller, less polished zines has helped me grow. It’s become easier to share my work without so much pressure.”
That accessibility is the point. Zines are cheap to make, easy to distribute, and historically tied to resistance, circulating ideas outside traditional publishing and institutional control. The collective leans into that lineage, organizing community zines, tabling at local events, and collaborating with libraries to expand public access to reading and sharing local zines. More than anything, they create an entry point. “Anyone who makes art can be an artist,” Zar says. In a cultural moment shaped by algorithms and gatekeeping, the collective offers something radical: a table, a stapler, and permission to begin.
Little Histories Grows Multi-Genre Zine Community
Little Histories began as a collaboration among eight writers and artists based in Beacon, Kingston, New Paltz, Peekskill, and Kerhonkson, who set out to share work outside traditional publishing channels. The result is a collectively produced zine, pulling together poets, novelists, screenwriters, and visual artists from the group and community submissions. “It’s punk, imperfect, quick, dirty, and ours entirely,” says co-founder Chelsea Mize.
There’s no house style. The format holds drafts and polished work side by side, opening space for contributors who might not otherwise call themselves creators. The zines are sold, donation-based, given away, or used for fundraising, depending on the setting. The group also organizes readings and exhibitions. Last year, they curated “Don’t Go There!,” a multi-disciplinary show in Newburgh spanning poetry, fiction, visual art, and music. The exhibition reflects Little Histories’ goal of creating spaces where creatives and community members actively participate. “We want art to be for everyone and to act as a source of community, support, and activism,” Mize says.
A collaborative zine page featuring work from the eight members of Little Histories, including poetry, prose, and visual elements.
The collective runs on constant coordination and unpaid work, with members balancing it alongside full-time jobs and independent projects, yet they still manage to publish and distribute each issue. “Just making and sharing when the world feels like it’s breaking down is resistance,” Mize says. “Giving people power to create and consume art helps us all stay human.”
Visual Noise Scales from Digital to Print
When Stephanie Mallen and Joseph Suhovsky launched Visual Noise, it was a digital zine experiment built around a simple premise: treat every creator like they belong in a gallery. “Zines allow creators to be messy, embrace the unknown, and chase their own narrative,” Mallen says. “I’ve found my voice through Visual Noise, and love the community I’m surrounded by.”
Six months after launching, the Hudson Valley-based project has expanded faster than expected. The most recent open call drew over 100 submissions from filmmakers, photographers, tattoo artists, musicians, and video artists across the US and abroad. Thirty-eight were selected for Issue 3, which will be Visual Noise’s first print edition when it releases later this month, after printing previously digital-only Issues 1 and 2 for purchase.
Visual Noise also runs a weekly alumni shoutout series across social media, a podcast documenting the zine-making process, and is expanding programs fostering creative collaboration. “We didn’t expect it to grow this fast,” Mallen says. “It’s put us in a pressure cooker.” This fall, Visual Noise officially filed as an LLC, an administrative shift that has complicated the project’s creative rhythm. “We’re artists first,” Mallen says. “Putting on our administrator hats was a new adventure.” Still, submissions remain free, selection is anonymous, and the platform continues to function as a rotating gallery. “We just look at the work,” Mallen says, “and let it speak.”
Zine Machine Celebrates First Anniversary
In partnership with InnWay Art Coop, Zine Machine founder Amanda Wylie is currently accepting submissions centered on Ellenville’s cultural calendar, from the Borscht Belt Festival to the Blueberry Festival, inviting contributors to “speak your truth. No take is too hot,” Wylie says. The work will be printed and distributed through the Saugerties-based zine’s network of refurbished sticker vending machines, libraries, and local businesses. On April 16, Zine Machine launched a public-facing “behind the zines” experience with O+ on the corner of Wall Street and North Front Street in Kingston on Thursdays from 3 to 6pm. Passersby can watch the full production process: printing, cutting, and folding, in real time, with open studio hours inviting direct participation.
The model is intentionally open. Zines are priced between fifty cents and $10, available for lending in libraries, and as free downloads when tied to specific causes. Proceeds support local organizations, including immigrant defense networks and youth arts programs, while a new internal pay structure allows for profit-sharing with contributing creators. “We proudly support artists and the causes near to their hearts as they live and breathe,” Wylie says.
Now, one year after its public launch, Zine Machine channels voices, resources, and creative ownership back into the community. “The act of being in human existence, expressing yourself, and living life through your own lens is a form of art,” Wylie says.
This article appears in May 2026.
