Angst

This zine is the result of the research residency "Plotting with the archive" that took place at Komplot between September 2025 and January 2026. The publication contains a subjective timeline of Komplot — its strategies, relations and projects — with the aim of organising them and at the same time speculating on possible future developments. The material was produced during a collective workshop in which the archive was explored and activated.

This book is for people who love electronic music, people who probably have a synthesizer or two at home. It’s for people who tell themselves that they should find some time for their passion, who blame themselves for not making enough music. This book is for them.

For decades, I thought that I could be a music producer. But over the years, I have discovered that my contribution to the electronic scene wasn’t exactly the music itself. Although I was lucky enough to produce a few successful tracks in Lithuania, back in the ‘90s, my actual achievement turned out to be raising interest in electronic music, for other young people. I’m still surprised when someone remembers my old tracks, but I’m very proud when someone tells me that listening to me speak on the radio about Berlin techno changed their dreams back in the day. Later, in the 2000s, I was part of the early SoundCloud team. The code we wrote has touched hundreds of millions people around the world. No track or song I would have ever produced would have had such an effect. There is a reason that Brian Eno says the evolution of music is moved by technology as much as it is by artists. The people who created Logic and Ableton, those who code SoundCloud and Spotify, design Korg and Roland synths, they influence the course of music on a massive scale. The development of music technology is the work of many people and I’m happy to call myself one of that gang.

This book is a natural extension of those ideas. It’s not based on scientific or journalistic research, but it’s not a biography, either. I imagine this book sitting on a studio desk, or in a gig bag. In the process, I hope that some young music creators will find answers here, and inspirations, to the questions they’ve been wrestling with for a long time.

This collection of 20 poems by young poets Holly Miles and Joseph Dunkerley sheds a glimpse into the bizarre journey of two isolated souls in a time of global crisis. Read along in this 24 page zine as they chart their unique perspectives of the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic!

In the fall of 2017, Obe Alkema got acquainted with the American poet Kevin Killian, first at the New Narrative conference at UC Berkeley, then at the Poets & Critics Symposium in Paris that was all about his poetry. A year and a half later, Alkema traveled back to Paris, this time as a participant of a writing residency. He was there to research the landscape of memory, but more than he expected and initially realized, Kevin’s death the previous month (June 2019) affected his return. Besides inevitable, mourning and remembering became obsessions for Alkema, as he shows in ‘My Kevin, Our Paris’, a memoir about Kevin Killian (1952–2019), but especially about his Kevin and their Paris.

A series of choreopoems by Eric Peter. Published at the occasion of 'Assemblages of Intimacy' a group exhibition in a Tale of a Tub, Rotterdam in 2018. 

An exciting collection of new and selected poetry by Judy Grahn. The book contains selections from Judy's entire body of poetic work from The Work of a Common Woman, The Queen of Wands and The Queen of Swords, to new poems written between 1997 and 2008.

Judy's poetry is rangy and provocative. It has been written at the heart of so many of the important social movements of the last forty years that the proper word is foundational.

Featuring Zoe Leonard, Eileen Myles, Jimmy DeSana, Princess Julia, Olivia Laing, Simon Costin, Timothy Thornton, Mary Manning and many more. Published 2020.

"Discrete Categories Forced Into Coupling is consummate masterwork by a singuarly perceptive and articulate poet. Deceptively quiet in manner, its intimate foci and tone make clear the ground of our contemporary lives, our 'being together' despite the distances of isolating thought. I love Kathleen Fraser's extraordinary intelligence, her persistent care for where she is—and for all those she finds there too"—Robert Creeley.

"Here is a language of poetry that recognizes, beyond its intimacies, the intellectual and elusively sensate aspects of visual and literary aesthetic connection"—Carla Harryman.

Death-obsessed, disengaged and overinvested—the four long poems assembled in Steven Zultanski’s Help theatricalise morbid fascinations, self-protective impulses, and unfocused desire. Help is, at its core, a set of conversations; the result of games played between friends that were then transcribed, edited, and embellished. Participants were asked to talk about loss, the death of acquaintances, secret hiding places, mislaid time, and unmet demands. The resulting poems read like meandering scripts for unrealised plays; incidental excavations of persona and place.

Somewhat reminiscent of Linda Rosenkrantz’s Talk (1968) or Alice Notley’s transcription poems of the 1970s, in Help the poet pretends to be a recording device, and the poem an act of remembering. Zultanski’s writing is at once skeletal and overstuffed, dryly unsentimental and yet dripping with melodrama. Help foregrounds its own contradictions in a collection that is at once both extremely personal and distinctly artificial.

Help brilliantly extends Steven Zultanski’s current phase of writing—looser, more documentary, more situational. In setting up explicit objects of inquiry and conversation—love, death, childhood—the book shows that to know these things is to also know our friends and ourselves. Sustained by an orchestration of relation and memory (and thus reality), affect here is modular, the product of what happens when we transform things by talking about them. A careful and astute experiment in writing and living.
 — Jennifer Soong

Biography of a Fiction collects poems written between 2020 to 2025. These poems were written in a diaristic way, mostly in short form, while working on larger pieces, some of which also collected here or elsewhere. What started, seemingly, as notes on reproductive desire, gender, and sexuality soon matured into a meditation on the role of fiction in the exercise of writing (and idealizing) a biography, including the thorny aspect of artistic license and the uses of one’s own life and of others.