Keeping the Zine Scene Buzzing in Santa Barbara

Archivist, librarian, and zinester extraordinaire Dez Alaniz is spreading “the good gospel”: Whoever you are, whatever you care about, whether you make art all the time or never, you can — and you should — make a zine.

When you decide to, Alaniz can help. Since founding the zine distro honey boy press in 2019, Alaniz has led zine-making workshops all across the Santa Barbara area, often in collaboration with local schools, the public library, and other community organizations. Rummaging through print samples and explaining the “how-to” of zine production, his enthusiasm for expanding public engagement with zine culture is palpable.

“There’s a zine on pretty much any topic you can think of, and if there isn’t, you should make it,” said Alaniz. “You should make that zine.”

Zines, for those unaware, are independently published print works. Created and circulated outside of traditional publishing networks, showcasing the unfiltered creative expression of their makers, zines reflect a “Do-It-Yourself” ethos; they’re “made for love, not for profit,” Alaniz writes in Zineologies: a Brief History of Zines and Radical Publishing.

Zines have historically been associated with social justice movements and political activism, serving as a platform for perspectives excluded by mainstream media. But zines can be about anything — no topic is too big or too small, too silly or too serious.

Alaniz’s own zines run the gamut from lighthearted odes to rodents and obsessive wrestling fanzines to deep dives into Santa Barbara history and educational pieces informed by their background as a librarian. Research, archival, and material culture are recurring themes; in addition to Zineologies, a meta overview of the historical development of zines, they’ve written guides to research justice and Wikipedia editing. Taken as a whole, their body of work is an idiosyncratic index of their passions and experiences.

Alaniz was first drawn to zine-making because it is essentially unique and personal. “Whether you’re baring your soul in poetry or you’re baring your research nerd-ery about a topic or you’re repurposing something you did for a class, nobody’s gonna come at a topic the same way you are,” he said.

As a form of alternative cultural production, zines can be powerful political tools, especially in a climate of increasing censorship and surveillance. Distributing physical pamphlets about political activity allows community organizers to bypass some of the risks — doxxing, data leaks, algorithmic censorship — that come with digital communication. As Alaniz put it, “Zines don’t have IP addresses.”

Alaniz pointed to the medium’s current utility for resistance against Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), with individuals and small presses across the country using zines to share information about community defense networks and what to do in encounters with ICE.

Moreover, in a time of worsening financial and political influence over media, zinesters have full editorial control over their work. “The only person censoring what goes into the zine is the person creating it,” said Alaniz. “We’re not pressured to create something that conforms to any particular norm.”

This makes zines uniquely positioned to question dominant narratives and tell stories that might otherwise remain hidden or marginalized. Take Alaniz’s zine about Ortega Park. In light of the city’s plan to dramatically renovate the Eastside park, Alaniz documented the site’s history as a community center and wrote about the cultural significance of the numerous murals designated for removal under the plan. This history is well-known to Eastside residents, Alaniz said, but was missing from broader conversations about Ortega Park’s future.

Like much of Alaniz’s work, this zine was done in close partnership with community members — in this case, Andi Garcia and the Ortega Park Steering Committee. In contrast to the passive, solitary, infinite scroll of social media, zine culture is social and conversational, and often reflects deep relationships with local people and places. It also collapses the boundary between audience and author, encouraging readers to create their own responsive work.

“There’s an invitation to engage, ideally,” said Alaniz. “Some of my favorite zines are the ones that inspire me to make something about [the topic], put my own take in.”

Community collaboration and outreach, then, is at the heart of honey boy press. Alaniz is not the only zinester in Santa Barbara, but they want to see the scene grow. They’re doing their part to make that happen by hosting dedicated public workshops and sharing their time, resources, and expertise.

Alaniz will be hosting casual office hours — a relaxed opportunity for the “zine-curious” to brainstorm ideas, get zine-making feedback and advice, and otherwise connect over zines — at Mosaic Locale from 5 to 7 p.m. on March 19. He will also be tabling at the Coffee Culture Fest on March 28.

“Anybody can pick it up and do this. You really just need supplies,” said Alaniz. “You can make photocopies at the library, or hit up your local zine distro!”

Find honey boy press online at honeyboypress.com.