Tenderness A Black Queer Meditation On Softness And Rage (Second Edition)

You Can Vibe Me On My FemmePhone follows three friends, in a near-future Los Angeles, who are trying to improve themselves using a phone with a feminist operating system. Join Veronica, Phoebe, and Remy on their absurd adventures to seduce artists, entrap local Proud Boys, and enter a kinky queer horse-play scene. Their FemmePhones, programmed with their personal values, guide them toward the transformative love and professional passions they seek. But what choices will they make when they disagree with their phones and what does this mean about their feminist values? Kamala Puligandla’s heartfelt, humorous novella takes you on a wild ride about queer love, self-knowledge and growth.

Size: 4.5" x 7", 108 pages, perfect bound

Self-published by Co—Conspirator Press with the support of Feminist Center for Creative Work. Copy edited by Pratishtha Kohli. Illustrations by Phoebe Unter. Designed by MJ Balvanera, Riso-printed by Neko Natalia.

Wikipedia is not:
A paper encyclopedia
A dictionary
A publisher of original thought
A soapbox or means of promotion
A mirror or a repository of links
A memorial site
A manual or scientific journal
A dictionary
A crystal ball
A newspaper
An indiscriminate collection of information

¶#1 consists solely of texts and images found on the online collaborative platform Wikipedia. This publication contains many authors and we’d like to thank every one of them. ¶#1 is assembled by Annosh Urbanke. And includes a numbered print of her work Wadi Rum (2018).

Annosh Urbanke works as an artist and in the areas of art writing and curating. In her personal work she explores nostalgic and contemporary forms of tourism. While considering personal and collective experiences she looks at today’s consumption and performative elements of tourism. For ¶#1 she travelled through Wikipedia, looking for imaginary landscapes and fictitious cities. It is a critical and inspirational reading along all kinds of travelling that reach out to nowadays problematic (meta) realities of consumer tourism.

Size: A2, folded to A4
Page run: 12
Edition: 150 + 250
Published: November 2020, reprint December 2024
Editor: Jan-Pieter 't Hart
Design: Tjobo Kho

A classic queer text of trauma, written by one of the most talented novelists of her generation.

Published by Doubleday in 1994, Heather Lewis's chilling debut novel took place on the northeastern equestrian show-riding circuit, to which Lewis herself belonged in her teens. Expelled from boarding school, its fifteen-year-old narrator moves numbly through a world of motel rooms, heroin, dyke love, and doped horses. Kirkus Reviews found it “brutal, sensual, honest, seductive … a powerful debut,” while the New York Times found the book “grating and troublesome … it's difficult to imagine a more passive specimen.”

Almost immediately, Lewis began writing Notice, a novel that moves even further into dark territory. The teenaged narrator Nina begins turning tricks in the parking lot of the train station near the Westchester County home of her absent parents. She soon falls into a sadomasochistic relationship with a couple. Arrested, she's saved by a counselor and admitted to a psychiatric facility. But these soft forms of control turn out to be even worse. Writing in the register of an emotional fugue state, Notice's helpless but all-knowing narrator is as smooth and sharp as a knife.

Rejected by every publisher who read it during Lewis's life, Notice was eventually published by Serpent's Tail in 2004, two years after her death. The book, long out of print, emerged as a classic queer text of trauma, written by one of the most talented novelists of her generation.

published commonly, no no no expounds an experimental poetic offering, both text & art.

each issue features a limited edition artwork. which can be tacked or framed or stored in a drawer.

celestial in nature, no no no takes the form required, and necessary.

Cold Heaven joins two plays, Sometimes Dead is Better and Bye Bye Brunhilde, with an introduction by the author. Both plays have the dissonant, radical beauty of poetry.

As Roy writes in her Introduction to the book: “Plays are porous, written to be entered… Plays provide a frame for studying collisions… Language can be an (uncontrollable) character, moving in on the others, creating a stir… [I]n a play… the private self disappears. Writing can move out into the dead zone between any two people and test what is there.”

Imagine a Punch and Judy as lesbians whose domestic and sexual squabbles are paraded in the language of brilliant poets; these are Camille Roy's Fear and Technique. A wonderful play.

"At the tip of the hand" explores the nail salon as a space of labour and social exchange. The act of two women holding hands, applying polish, and waiting for it to dry is more than a beauty ritual. It is a moment of care, but also a reflection of the social expectations placed upon ‘cultivated’ bodies and the invisible work behind them. Beneath a flawlessly coated nail, unseen bodies persist—serving, tending, remaining out of sight.