Tag: Mineshaft

25 years of Mineshaft

The mailman slipped me the latest issue of Mineshaft #45 last week — the 25th anniversary issue of the magazine that published its first issue back in the last century. I read through just about the whole thing in one sitting, but “read” may not be entirely accurate: each issue is a world in itself of visual and linguistic acrobatics from writers and artists old and new. It seems churlish to pick out just a few highlights, since Mineshaft is best read from first page to last, but in #45 you’ll find:

  • First, that splendid, endlessly fascinating wraparound cover by Aaron Horkey
  • Simone F. Baumann’s depiction of her very brief career in a hooker bar
  • A memoir of pre-teen transvestism by Billy Childish
  • Mary Fleener’s comic travelogue through the current state of the humanities in academia
  • R. Crumb’s portraits of two great blues masters
  • Drew Friedman’s rendering of popular Chaplin imitators

And there’s more, much more, besides.

In the sixth part of his continuing saga about life with Mineshaft, publisher/editor Everett Rand muses upon the magazine’s continuing appeal. “[The] magazine is an attempt, by me, to keep control of my world. I’ve always enjoyed the possibility of living in art, rather than always being stuck in real life. That’s what a great painting or book does for me. They give me another world that I can step into and inhabit for a while.” He continues:

My own editorial vision … is always pushing artists and writers to send us their best work, and there’s no money in it. People can resent this, or not have the time for it. … Despite the sacrifice and hardship, I think people come on board because of the community, in order to be a part of the experience. The generosity of the Mineshaft community is really what keeps Mineshaft alive. Everybody comes together to help make something tangible, that is nicely put together, and that otherwise wouldn’t exist. It’s not practical and you have to be a bit of a dreamer and idealist. The readers are a big part of this community too.

It is, it must be said, not a big community. Only 1,350 copies of Mineshaft #45 were printed, but that community is always inviting new members who want to share that world with the contributors, and the community’s arms are always open. That’s why you should subscribe. Each issue is a new universe, a brief time away from what Rand calls “real life” (though, I suggest, that life is no more nor less real than that found in the pages of Mineshaft). “Long live MINESHAFT!” Crumb says. How can I disagree?

From off the streets of Durham comes …

Cover of Mineshaft magazine, issue #44, by R. Crumb.

Now available for holiday giving, issue #44 of Mineshaft magazine dropped into my mailbox in a plain brown envelope a few weeks ago, and as usual it’s a magazine to spend a few thoughtful evenings with. (And you can impress your friends when you leave it on your coffee table.) Among the highlights are tributes to the late Aline Kominsky-Crumb and Diane Noomin from Bill Griffith and others; a new, haunting story called “Nostalgia” from Christoph Mueller; Mary Fleener‘s meditative “Between the Worlds” travelogue; a Skip James portrait from R. Crumb; co-editor Everett Rand’s ongoing saga of Mineshaft itself; and great new stuff from Simone Baumann, Glenn Head, Drew Friedman, and company. I wrote a little more descriptively about Mineshaft here.

Mr. Friedman has called Mineshaft “the best magazine being published in the 21st century,” and who am I to argue with Drew Friedman? Certainly it’s one of the few magazines to which I maintain a subscription (the others are Acoustic Guitar and The Syncopated Times, which shows you where my head is at these days). You can yourself join the illustrious Mineshaft community easily enough; the current issue is available here, and you can sign up for a subscription here. And while you’re there, why not give the gift of bemused alienation to someone close to you?

Below, The Mighty Millborough himself discovers Mineshaft, as told to Christoph Mueller in 2011:

A toast to Mineshaft

In many ways, I’m still an analog boy in a digital world, and when it comes to leisure material for reading, watching, and listening, I prefer the hand-made sort of entertainment, whether it’s mid-budget comedy movies from the 1930s or what’s generally become known as roots music. Books and magazines that suit my temperament are harder to come by these days, though.

Fortunately there’s still Mineshaft magazine, celebrating its 20th anniversary this year. Inspired by underground magazines and comics of the past, Mineshaft is a modest and resolutely hand-crafted periodical that’s issued about three times a year, published by Everett Rand and Gioia Palmieri in Durham, NC, far from the media meccas of New York and Los Angeles. Produced through the increasingly quaint offset printing method, the magazine’s prose, poems, and comics are resolutely free of cant and pretension. The Spring 2019 issue (No. 37) features recent work from veteran cartoonists and illustrators Drew Friedman (front cover), R. Crumb (back cover), Art Spiegelman, Bill Griffith, and Mary Fleener; poems and paintings by Billy Childish; and work by a number of artists who are unknown to me, such as Nicolas C. Grey, David Collier, and Noah Van Sciver. What they all share is a rootedness in the physical, not the digital, world; like the magazine, the work has a distinctively handmade quality, and the comics especially share a meditative and contemplative marriage of laconic prose and atmospheric inkwork pioneered by, among others, Harvey Pekar in the 1970s. There’s a melancholy that hangs over the whole, a feeling that the analog world it depicts is being lost, if it hasn’t been lost already. That the work has a particularly satiric quality, then, doesn’t come as much of a surprise, especially when it refers to the digital realm, and it’s not much of a shock to find, tipped in with this contemporary work, a reproduction of a detail from a painting by William Hogarth.

Both single issues of No. 37 and back issues are still available from the Mineshaft web site, and you can pony up for a subscription there as well. Obviously the magazine, itself a beautifully, lovingly produced object, will be an acquired taste for those who have drunk deep from the well of the internet culture; it’s not for everybody. But it is, in many ways, for me.