Tossed in a handbag, left on the tube, drenched in spilt coffee or buried in the attic, zines by their very nature are as ephemeral as they are radical… but does that make them any less worthy of collection? Quite the opposite.
A delicious swirl of sherbet hues and psychedelic letters greets me as I step inside the former pumping station in Essex. “The dream is that it keeps growing for generations,” says Lu Williams (they/ them), the creative brain behind this collection of more than 600 feminist and LGBTQIA zines. They deliver the line with a smile, which is no surprise considering they are surrounded by the thing they love most. Floor-toceiling shelves carry titles awaiting eager fingertips.