A Review of Some Mail Art Publications
      Circa 1986 
By Mark Bloch
In the mid-eighties, New York City mail artist Carlo Pittore asked me, on behalf of an academic publication I cannot recall the name of, to pick eight of my favorite mail art zines and review them. He also asked a few other people to do the same and even reviewed a batch of them himself with the intention of compiling them all into an issue of the academic magazine that was interested in mail art at the time, but the piece was never published for reasons unbeknownst to me. I recently unearthed what was to be my contribution and so for the first time, I offer it to you now. It was the mid-1980s and Ronald Reagan was the President so I wrote my review in the form of a sarcastic letter to him. I review the wonderful self-published zines Mambo Press Update, Eat It Up, Prop, Collective Farm, Afzet, AU and Clinch.
New 
    York City Dear President Reagan, 
     
   Let me tell you about 
    a few of the mail art publications that have appeared in my mailbox over the 
    course of the past few years. I think they are a phenomenon that you should 
    know about.   You 
    may remember from my last letter, Mr. President, that the mail art network 
    is a loosely-knit community of artists, writers, poets, and just regular people 
    who communicate with each other through the international postal system. This 
    activity has been going on for quite some time. Well, it seems that some of 
    these hoodlums actually have the audacity to create their own magazines, as if we didn’t have enough commercially produced 
    periodicals to choose from in this great land of ours. Not only that, 
    but most of these publications are printed in small editions and are available 
    only to contibutors, or to outsiders at an exhorbitant price.  Who do these creeps think 
    they are, Mr. President? Using the U.S. Mail is one thing- tt's actually good 
    for the economy if these buffoons want to waste their dough on postage stamps. 
    But self-publishing? This is a sacred activity that is reserved for the Thomas 
    Paines and Adam Smiths of our society, not a bunch of twisted artists with 
    their minds in the gutter.  
   Mambo 
    Press Update  
   A case in point is MPU 
    or the Mambo Press Update, that came to me from San Antonio, Texas. 
    A guy named "Nunzio" is the editor of this rag. What kind of deranged 
    creep would waste his time mailing out this stuff? A lot of it is barely legible 
    and the illustrations seem to be done by children. I thought art was the stuff 
    "American Gothic" is made of. For my money, this MPU has 
    no relation at all to the work of Norman Rockwell. Yet, he calls it art.  
   The copy I'm holding now 
    (I will wash my hands momentarily) is xeroxed on white paper with a yellow 
    cover. Let me tell you, Mr. President, this is yellow journalism at its worst. 
    Inside, there is an article about a preacher who tried to convince the young 
    men in his congregation 
    not to masturbate by showing then a collection of chicken necks and telling 
    them they were penises that had shriveled up and fallen off! Granted, I did 
    read the article several times, but this was over six months ago, and I still 
    can't wipe this horrible imagery out of my mind. While this is only one story, 
    the rest of the scum inside seems to follow suit. The issue closes with a 
    Canadian woman recalling a childhood memory of an exhibitionist hiding in 
    the bushes exposing himself. While I have had similar experiences myself, 
    and empathize with the poor man in the bushes, I just have to ask, is this 
    the kind of stuff we need circulating in the U.S. Mail? I suggest we seek 
    out this Nunzio and give him a 21 gun salute—Texas style. If I didn't 
    know better, I'd think this guy was related to Lee Harvey Oswald.  Eat 
    It Up  Next on my list is another 
    xeroxed publication- this one called Eat It Up. I'm not surprised that 
    this so-called "magazine of art and culture" is done in that no-good 
    Pinko-town, Berkeley, California. The staff of this blatantly subversive rag 
    are listed as Franklin Void, Joey Know, Patrick T., Ray Weapons and Helen 
    Heaven, but I've been keeping a file on these jerks and I've got reason to 
    believe they are all the same person. It seems apparent, Mr, President, that 
    these cowards, if indeed they are NOT the same guy, are afraid of revealing 
    their true identities for fear that the world would see them as the gutter 
    snipes they truly are.  
   Anyway, Eat It Up 
    's format is one 8 1/2" by 11" page, printed on both sides and folded 
    into quarters. It seems to have some continuity to it, being held together 
    by regular features that appear in each issue. Amazingly, these thugs, whomever 
    they are, have had the tenacity to publish over forty issues to date. They 
    are obviously dangerous, Mr. President, if they have this kind of energy. 
    We've got to stop them. These are the kinds of ruffian who not only mutter 
    about free speech, but actually exercise it. Each issue contains both an editorial 
    and an answer to the question, "What is art to a post-urban artist?" 
    These queries usually contain lots of big words and ponder issues that no 
    American in their right mind would bother thinking about. Then, adding insult 
    to injury, they review local art shows and music events, in addition to mail 
    art projects with an inane rating system. Interspersed between the weird illustrations 
    are columns of mail art information, news flashes and a thing called graffiti 
    of the week. Finally, the most useful part of Eat It Up is called "the 
    mailbox", where addresses of correspondents are listed. I find this handy 
    in locating other, like-minded thugs to harrass. We've got to keep an eye 
    on these worms, Mr. President.  
   Prop 
     
   Speaking of underground 
    pests, another one of these scandal-sheets comes out of Albany, New York, 
    and is called Prop, Now Prop is interesting because it does 
    not, at first, look at all bizarre, I was moved by the fact that the price- 
    ranging from $1 to $5- was printed largely on the cover. Obviously an honest, 
    productive money-making venture. A closer look, however, revealed that its 
    mailing status lists the publisher as a non-profit organization. What do you 
    know about this "Workspace Loft Inc.", Mr. President? Is -this some 
    sort of trick? The publication looks innocent enough. The format is either 
    8 1/2 by 11 or 8 1/2 by 7 inches, with good quality photo-reproduction. It 
    is, after all, printed offset. This requires some kind of money and it makes 
    me wonder who is behind it. All I can find out is that one of the main perpetrators 
    is a fellow named Joachim Frank. A list of contributors is always printed, 
    but it seems to change, from issue to issue. Also, there seems to be a theme 
    for each Number such as "Post Historic Documents," "Literary 
    Issue," and "Vision and Supervision." Most copies have somewhere 
    in the neighborhood of 28 pages of ironic, often sarcastic prose, goofy and/or 
    thought-provoking poetry and witty collages that contain elements that seem 
    to collide from a myriad of sources, Mr. President. Isn't this evidence enough 
    that a menace the caliber of Prop must be wiped off the face of the 
    earth as soon as possible?  
   Collective 
    Farm  
   While we are on the subject 
    of cleaning up the planet, Mr, President, let me remind you that the only 
    good Russian is a disappeared one. That is why you must not hesitate to bring 
    action against a couple of commie-intellectuals who call themselves the Gerlovins. 
    These weirdos claim to be ex-reds, and I don't mean the kind from Cincinnati. 
    They are contoversial, extraordinary individualists who seen to work very 
    hard at what they do. This scares me. The Gerlovins left the U.S.S.R. in 1980 
    and headed for New York City, where they now publish editions of a hand-made, 
    one-of-a-kind project called Collective Farm, which they insist on 
    calling an art object. It is very beautiful to the untrained eye, but close 
    scrutinization by an expert such as myself reveals it to be a piece of cleverly-disguised 
    propaganda. They are obviously attempting to challenge our traditional concept 
    of what constitutes a book. Next they will be questioning the validity of 
    cheeseburgers or worse, apple pie. We must nip these mysterious no-good-nics 
    in the bud or they will undermine all that is sacred in America, Mr. President. 
    They have already infiltrated some of the finest institutions in our land. 
    Their work is archived in the Museum of Modern Art, and other reputable collections 
    across the country have also fallen prey to their masquerade. How long must 
    this go on? I urge you to act now. 
 Let 
    me tell you how it works, Mr. President. Rimma and Valerie Gerlovin and their 
    comrade' Yagrich Bakhchanyan, another Russian living in Manhattan, invite 
    artist-friends of theirs to submit work on a specific theme. Number One included 
    only Russian immigrants. In the second and third issues, only mail artists 
    participated. Number Four was called "Wunderkinds" in which "famous 
    artworks influenced by children's art are completed by the children of contemporary 
    artists." The 
    fifth and most recent issue is still in the works and involves-art critics. 
    Envelopes are filled by these selected participants, each one choosing the contents themselves, like a 
    book within a book. Rubber stamps and other ornamentation are then added by 
    the Gerlovins, or occasionally by the artists themselves. Finally, the envelopes 
    are bound together. Usually, Collective Farm appears in an edition 
    of 100, which means that that many envelopes must be stuffed by each of the 
    chosen artists. Thus, each copy of the "magazine" is unique and 
    assembled by hand. The cover is then stamped with the distinctive "Samizdat" 
    label, which means, of course "self-published." I think you will 
    agree, Mr. President, that for obvious reasons, this project must not "be 
    allowed to continue. Perhaps the Gerlovins and Mr. Bakhchanyan would find 
    the climate of Alaska reminiscent of their native land. At any rate, I suggest 
    that they practice their consciousness-raising 
    antics elsewhere. Do any of the major airlines fly to Siberia?  Afzet 
     We both know that in spite 
    of the melting pot myth that American society is based upon, we must keep 
    foreigners and their influence away from the people of the United States. 
    That is why I strongly suggest that you take a good look at some of the material 
    that is circulating in our country from foreign lands, Mr. President. One 
    such publication is a periodical of Dutch origin called Afzet. One 
    of the meanings of this word, I have learned, is an economic term refering 
    to an object that delivers less than what was paid for it. This is certainly 
    the case with a pair of outsiders, Margot Van Oosten and Sonja Van Der Burg 
    and and their bi-monthly taboo tabloid, Afzet. 
      
   Like Collective Farm 
    and many of the other mail art periodicals, Afzet challenges traditional 
    concepts of what a publication should be. For instance, Afzet is not 
    bound in any way, either literally or figuratively; it consists of several 
    pages of various sizes and textures, compiled in an envelope. I might add, 
    Mr. President, that over the four years of Afzet's existence, I've 
    noticed that it has become increasingly difficult to stuff the contents back 
    into the envelope from whence they came. This seems to be a periodical that 
    is growing in scope and popularity at an incredible rate, in spite of the 
    fact that it’s circulation is limited to sixty copies per issue. I feel 
    the time is now to squelch Afzet before it is too late. The publication 
    didn't even begin as a mail art venture. The two Dutch women started it in 
    1981 out of a need to do an art work in collaboration. They sent it monthly 
    at first, only to their friends and asked for responses in the form of ideas 
    and materials. As I look through my early issues, I see that from the start 
    they really had only one concern: to gum up the international postal system. 
    There are three-dimensional objects included such as pieces of rope and string, 
    or folded pieces of brightly colored paper whose only purpose could be to confuse the authorities. The second year 
    it became even worse. They cut down on the frequency of Afzet, publishing 
    only four Issues, and they announced that all the issues would deal with boxes. 
    The confounding thing, Mr. President, was that I couldn't find the boxes. 
    Perhaps the recipients were supposed to construct the boxes themselves. I 
    think that only people as patient and delicate as the publishers themselves 
    would have the gumption to do so. Much to my dismay, Afzet returned 
    for a third year, stronger and more organized than ever. Suddenly a whole 
    new audience of mail art loonies had developed. For the first time the size 
    was standardized to 3 1/2 x 5 
    1/2 (those Europeans call this "A5") and it was arriving regularly 
    now, every other month. They had also begun a section of the magazine called 
    "Palm Bank" where they could include the work of contributors they 
    called "visitors."  
   In spite of this success, 
    Mr. President, I was overjoyed when I learned that Sonja and Margot decided 
    to call it quits. They announced a "black issue" at the end of 1985 
    that was to summarize their experience and say goodbye. However, I guess the 
    people who recieve Afzet had other feelings. The responses were unanimously 
    in favor of continuing with Afzet. Thus, 1984 featured a different 
    color for each issue as Afzet was reborn. Again, participation increased. 
    A new feature called, the "5 by 5 page" was created to announce 
    mail art events. Suddenly these Dutch women were involved in a full-blown 
    mail art endeavor. My greatest fear is that their growth will continue into 
    their fifth year in which each issue will feature a given sentence fragment 
    with the intention of making them into a complete sentence by year's end. 
    How do these women do it, Mr, President? I never knew there was an audience 
    for such personal publication, so rich in texture and metaphor, What is the 
    world coming to, I ask you?  
   AU 
     
   I am also surprised by 
    the success of another foreign publication, this one from Japan. It is called 
    AU, which stands for both "Art Unidentified" and "Artist 
    Union," the name the group that publishes it in Nishinomiya, Japan, which 
    I believe is near Osaka. This periodical is not a magazine at all, but rather, 
    a wall poster. It is very very well-done, featuring two professionally-printed 
    sides of a poster that measures roughly 2 feet by 16 inches. Much of the information 
    is written in English, and some of it is in Japanese, but the most curious 
    results happen when English words, such as names or untranslatable phrases, 
    appear in the middle of a sentence comprised of Japanese characters. These 
    hybrid communications add to the confusion that is created by the incomprehensible 
    photographs. The most recent issue, for example, featured work by one of the 
    ringleaders of this operation, a Mr. Shozo Shimamoto. Images created by mail 
    artists in other countries (including the U.S.A.) were "stretched" 
    on a xerox machine, producing images that looked like somebody in a bad dream 
    having a bad dream. This was issue Number 64. Like the magazine Eat It 
    Up, which I mentioned earlier, AU's publishers seem to be quite 
    prolific, a trait that is even more alarming when it comes from foreign shores. 
    Please remember, Mr. President that these were the enterprising people who 
    bombed Pearl Harbor.  
   They also are a nation 
    that seems bent on one-upping America with their radios and fuel-efficient 
    cars. Could it be their artists have a better idea, too? Harry Truman knew 
    what to do with these strangers from the Land Of The Rising Sun, I'm sure 
    you do, too. AU is yet another reason why tomorrow is not soon enough 
    for history to repeat itself.  
   Like I said, there are 
    numerous illustrations in AU. They are all presented in that pristine 
    Japanese style that they seem to enjoy flaunting at the rest of the world. 
    The information is also presented in an impeccable manner. They often offer 
    information that other publications seem to miss. In fact, many of the projects 
    they mention seem to originate within the Artist Union Space itself. There 
    are announcements for a "portrait mail art show," a "unique 
    art show," and a "hand made book exhibition." There is also 
    an invitation to an "envelope show" as well as the "A.U. Mail 
    Art Book III." Now, you may be interested to know, Mr. President, that 
    previous A.U. Mail Art Books read like a Who's Who of the mail art network. 
    There were world maps showing just how many of these maniacs there are on 
    the planet and a compendium of entries by the usual gang of mail art thugs, 
    world-wide. How long can we let this go on, Mr. President? These people at 
    A.U, (who include, among others, Misao Kusumoto and Ryosuke Cohen) seem very 
    open to outside influence. They freely invite others to participate in their 
    projects. The question, however, is, do we have to stand by and watch? I think 
    you'll agree that this Artist Union is too powerful a force to be left to 
    their own devices.  
   Clinch 
     
   That brings us to the 
    last publication on my list, this one with a shorter history and from a country 
    with a less aggressive reputation.  
   I am speaking of Switzerland 
    and the magazine Clinch, which originates in the home of Geneva's Gunter 
    Ruch. Now Ruch is dangerous because of his seemingly flawless blend of information 
    about the network and artwork from that network. He seems to have a flair 
    for presenting esoteric subject matter as if it were everyday kind of stuff. 
    Is this the sort of man we want lurking in the streets of a neutral zone in 
    middle of Europe? Certainly not. Let me tell you what I mean. All of his issues 
    thus far (there have been four to date, with a new one due out any day) have 
    presented the work of his mail art friends in the form of stickers. Between 
    15 and 20 different artists, representing countries that stretch around the 
    globe, submit to Clinch 200 stickers to grace the pages of his magazine. 
    Those pages, I might add, are very seductive, being multi-colored and very 
    efficiently used, while not appearing cluttered. Each issue also prints letters 
    of praise from fellow mail artists that read like testimonials of their favorite 
    coffee. But coffee is not what we are talking about here. No, Mr. President, 
    this is intimidation of the first degree, in the form of visually interesting 
    propaganda, that works on the reader/viewer without their knowledge. The colors, 
    the stickers, the innovative layout—all coerce the recipient into empathizing 
    with the opinions that lie between the lines. What are these opinions? I can't 
    figure them out, but they seem to lead to a strange kind of concerned euphoria. 
    Perhaps by listing the themes of the various issues you'll see what I mean: 
    Number 1 was about mail performances, Number 2, mail music. Issue Number 3 
    was called visual poetry, but I couldn't find a rhyme or a reason anywhere. 
    Number 4 has been promising a mail art history that should prove interesting. 
    Future projects include Number 5 on social engagements and Number 6 on new 
    horizons. What are the horizons Ruch has in mind? I don't think we should 
    wait to find out, Mr. President.  
   The information I've presented 
    here. President Reagan, should convince you of the evil consequences that 
    await us if we sit by and allow these mail artists to continue with their 
    activities. I feel we must purge ourselves of this ugly mail art beast before 
    they grab control of our nation and our world. Even the Ayatolla does not 
    pose a threat as great as these artists and their “magazines." 
     
   New Zines  
   In case you aren't convinced, 
    let me close by citing a few of the newer endeavors in this area. A slick 
    new rag out of Texas called ND has recently surfaced, adding to the 
    havoc already created by the previously mentioned MPU in the Lone Star 
    State. Florida is home to two mew publications, The Trouser Snake Press 
    and Doo Dah Florida. The TAM Bulletin has recently come to fruition 
    in Holland. Finally, a threatening new publication from Uruguay has recently 
    cone to my attention called Participacion that reaches Spanish-speaking 
    readers and seeks to educate uninitiated artists of the opportunities available 
    to them in the mail art network. How long do I have to go on, Mr. President? 
    Example after example of these wicked monsters are creeping into the lives 
    of complacent human beings everywhere. Do we need this kind of aggravation? 
    Do Americans need to be harrassed by this sort of self-serving individualism? 
     
   As I said in my introduction, 
    President Reagan, self-publishing is a sacred activity reserved for patriots 
    and statesmen. I think every American should ask himself- would Benjamin Franklin 
    condone this sort of activity? I think we all know the answer to that one. 
    I know you will act accordingly. Thank you for your concern.  
   Sincerely yours,  
   Mark Bloch  
  
    Sometime 
    around 1986