Red River Creatives Collective & The Northern Mirror Zine: An Introduction to the Red River Valley
The Northern Mirror is a small publication available both in print (locally at select cafes and shops, specifically Moonrise, This Skateshop, Orange Records, Red Raven, and the Rourke) and online. Physical copies can also be shipped from our Ko-fi shop, though quantities are limited. This article is meant to serve as an introduction to this project, our organization (the Red River Creatives Collective), the context in which both were created, and the world that they currently exist in.
The Northern Mirror could be described as a radical zine, although I don’t think of promoting under-represented artists as radical. Maybe our rejection of institutions and the mainstream arts sector, or my personal values of autonomy, human rights, and social justice that qualify us as a radical entity. It’s a little bit of a hobby project that always feels a little tenuous, due in part because the relationships that make it happen are a little fragile. Our aim is flexibility, and the ability to evolve to fit our community’s needs. I try to live by the principles we’ve set.
Image: Street flyer from our first call for entries.
The Northern Mirror began in early 2021 through a brainstorming session with my partner, Justin Seng. It was driven by a desire to create opposition toward conservatism in the region, and is something we periodically continue to use as a means of checking-in (ex: How can we make things better? What sort of topics would you like to explore as an issue theme?).
Prior to that initial brainstorm, I attended the March for George Floyd in Fargo in the spring of 2020. The night before, it was powerful to see the Third Precinct in Minneapolis burn, even if I was just on my phone. The following day, thousands of people in Fargo took to the streets, and I joined them. We walked miles, from Island Park to the former Fargo Police Station on 4th St N (now the Downtown Engagement Center, a city-run facility providing services and resources for houseless individuals), to Fargo City Hall, to the Fargo Police Station on 25th St, and finally the West Fargo Police Station. It was a long, hot day, the events of which extended into the night with a small riot on 1st Ave and Broadway. Governor Doug Burgum called in the National Guard.
I still have a pin from a tear gas canister found outside of the location of our community’s old abortion clinic (the Red River Women’s Clinic, which relocated across the river to Moorhead, MN in 2022). A memento, providing perspective and gravity. In the day-to-day grind of life, it’s easy to become complacent. The passion and fire resulting from traumatic social events, like the death of George Floyd at the hands of Derrick Chauvin, is powerful, but not sustainable.
During 2020, I spent a lot of time in the streets as a protest marshal, mainly in Fargo, ND. Our group went to Bismarck, Grand Forks, and Minneapolis as well. Multiple protests were organized by our local Black Lives Matter chapter throughout the summer. Other marches were also led by indigenous groups and BIPOC individuals. With each protest that followed the March for George Floyd, numbers seemed to dwindle. This was due in part to Covid restrictions lifting, and more workers returning to their jobs. The work in the streets was exhausting. It’s one thing to attend a protest and go home. It’s another to be at the event ahead of time, attend with the goal of keeping people safe, stay until people disperse, and have a post-march meeting with the other marshals and medics. The hypervigilance and continual danger we faced was heavy. Plus I’m fairly sensitive to heat and sun exposure. However, it really felt like the right thing to do… at times, to be a literal human shield. (Ever play chicken against a motorcyclist?) It felt important to be there, but the energy and cohesion that these marches require couldn’t endure without respite.
Image: This photo of me was from the last event I marshaled, which occurred towards the end of January, 2021 (Source).
Every local affinity group that formed and dissolved in the years following is evidence of the vulnerability of connections and commitments. Even though we seem to be on the same side in the fight for global liberation, our egos, other afflictions, and bad behaviors continue to get in our way. Despite the impermanence, I think that the creation of those groups and the spaces that house them are evidence of a continued willingness to come together to make change in our world. Still, it was important to me to find something that had more sustainability, permanence, and accessibility than the actions I had been seeing in my community up until that point.
After the fervor of summer, I began to think long-term, and given our area’s conservative tendencies, it seemed like a collaborative, printed piece of propaganda was the best direction. This was something that could help tell the story of marginalized folks in this region. I felt that it was important to create a platform that could be used to promote whatever topic people felt passionate about, and to allow for whatever form that takes. I also wanted something relevant to our area that could help disseminate information about various educational topics, such as alternative services we can turn to before we resort to calling the police.
Given Justin’s experience with screenprinting and traditional zine making, he was the person I most wanted to work with to make a new project happen. We struck a balance between analog and digital methods, creating commercially printed booklets with approximately 44-48 half pages, plus an accompanying online issue. Justin screens and staples each cover by hand, often creating the design himself, and doing the majority of the internal layout work using scissors and tape. My role is generally to handle the majority of the organizational and online aspects and create filler content on an as needed basis. We have released 11 issues to date.
Image: A pile of zines. Each issue of The Northern Mirror.
We started The Northern Mirror under the Red River Creatives Collective name to provide a foundation to start multiple projects which could be autonomous from one another, and possibly be run by people other than us in our community. It also gave us a little more anonymity, allowing us to run the zine as a cooperative that wasn’t bogged down by social cliques and alliances within the scene. Each issue has a suggested theme, intended to inspire people to create something and to provide some continuity to the volume as a whole, and our submission process is fairly simple. We provide suggested guidelines and encourage folks to reach out for support if needed. Our overall aim is to reduce the barriers that stop people from having their work seen or getting their message out, such as entry fees, and certain educational expectations around formatting and grammar. Our focus is fairly local in nature, pertaining mainly to the Fargo-Moorhead Metro, but we feature regional artists and culture bearers across North Dakota and Minnesota as well. Our distribution also reflects our priority to serve within our own metro, as we have fostered relationships with small businesses that provide space for us. We generally operate on a “suggested donation” basis, so that we can help keep the out-of-pocket costs down while also allowing physical copies to be available freely as needed. Physical copies are limited to 75-100 per issue (depending on funding), and we do not offer reprints. Although we are continually tweaking our operation and are open to change, we’ve held these fairly solid foundational principles from the start.
In our first few years, we published issues quarterly, which was a tight schedule for our team of two. As paper and shipping costs continue to increase, and the amount of submissions received fluctuates, we have begun to rethink our own self-imposed deadlines. For the time being, we are publishing twice a year. In an effort to not influence the submissions too heavily, we generally do not do a lot of editing of work (although proofing was added as an option to submitters in 2023). We also do not announce entry approval. This requires folks to be proactive in picking up a copy once released, or following the link to the web version. Because of the nature of the zine as a passion project, our resources around it are limited in terms of time available and money we can spend. I often find myself wishing I could do more in terms of social media promotion and broadening the Red River Creatives Collective as its own entity, with public meetups and events such as Marker League.
Marker League has been an intermittent, “draw club”-style event geared towards adults, in which we provide markers and a table covered in paper. It’s a free, low effort, social gathering that often attracts younger adults and people we wouldn’t normally connect with otherwise. Sometimes it allows us to meet people who have submitted to past issues of The Northern Mirror, and sometimes it allows us to introduce our work to folks who are unfamiliar with what we do. I’ve found enjoyment in listening to the conversations that develop organically at the table, and I would like to use Marker League as a way to garner more community engagement in using art for social change.
The most effective event we helped host happened when we had the opportunity to team up with the Red Raven and the Community Culinary Corps Project for a Community Art Night in May 2024. I don’t know if the stars were aligned or if it was the free meal, but this was something that folks really turned out for. Although we rely on physical venues to distribute our zine, we primarily hold space online. Operating behind a keyboard seems to allow me more grace, and patience in terms of meeting people where they are, but I do see the importance in seeing one another face to face, hence the desire to create opportunities to meet, and create connections while utilizing various locations within our community.
Image: Snapshot from Community Art Night in May 2024.
I have a somewhat critical view of the art scene here in Fargo-Moorhead. To be fair, I have a critical view of art and creative institutions in general, with their often classist and exclusionary nature. I have struggled to find acceptance of my own work, which I think has less to do with its sometimes explicit nature and more to do with my lack of a masters degree. I’m not a musician/performer, I don’t really consider myself a writer, but I am a lifelong artist/maker who has chosen to live here for over ten years, so I feel I can speak on that experience.
To me, there are two aspects of “the art scene”: the makers and the fine artists. As an interdisciplinary artist, I find the cross-section of those two to be an interesting space to exist in. The actual division seems to lay somewhere between functionality and conceptuality. It seems to me that a shopping mall isn’t really the place one usually goes for fine art, but here, we have one of our main spaces for artist studios occupying a semi-hidden area in the West Acres Mall. We also have the Plains Art Museum, which houses a Center for Creativity focusing primarily on providing art education for children. I often find myself thinking that the Plains is a little too pretentious for its own britches, considering what it is, but at least admission is free now. The Rourke is perhaps the best gallery/museum this area has to offer. They provide actual support/representation of local artists and a lovely expertise for curation, lighting, and identification labels.
DIY venues and studio spaces seem to come and go. As much as I love and value them I’m frustrated by what they’re lacking. They claim to have a desire to promote local makers, but seemingly don’t possess the ability to follow through or the organization to really make anything happen. It’s one thing to hang work on a wall or display it on a shelf, but it’s another to actually sell work. While it’s not an easy task to create a comfortable and safe space where folks will actually want to attend events, it feels like the ones we currently have are focused more on continual fundraising for themselves rather than creating sustainable models to stay in business.
Capitalism is awful and it sucks the beauty and fun from these spaces. It’s a difficult balance, where it’s important that the venue be a free third-space but there’s no money coming in to pay rent and utilities. Grants and funding are often gatekept by institutional bureaucracies and corporate shills. However, in my experience, there’s a lack of maturity from the operators of these alternative spaces and a refusal to face reality around the amount of work one needs to put into running said spaces. Volunteering and contributing labor to these spaces has soured me when mutual support has been inadequate. That statement is not about money; it's actually about my fear of abandonment being triggered by someone not owning their space in the way I felt they should have. If you rely on community labor and support, you should truly value those who put in the most effort on your behalf. Maybe I’m too controlling to truly appreciate the spirit of these places. Maybe I’m disappointed because I see so much potential, but I’m continually let down by the people running them.
Image: Justin hanging the signage for Parachigo’s first location (at the former RRWC) in May, 2023.
It’s difficult to be an artist in an area that generally doesn’t really support unconventional art or people from marginalized communities. Established organizations seem to say, “Yes, we want you to make art, but not like that.” I’ve seen the tokenization of a few BIPOC artists here since 2020. Overall, the majority of people seem to want conventional art that belongs in a hotel lobby. Palettable, yet tasteless. The Fargo City Hall Art Panel Project is perhaps an exception to this in terms of aesthetic. Overall though, this city doesn’t seem to find value in providing funding or studio space for artists/makers to create or perform… unless they fit into the box deemed appropriate for them and can pay their rent on time. The annual FMVA Studio Crawl is another fine example of classist exclusivity that serves almost no one. In my opinion, the Fargo Moorhead Visual Artist group is friendly on the surface, but they’re without depth. I feel a judgemental vibe in regards to unconventional artists trying to make a place for themselves here.
One area where I am finding inspiration in our local drag community. In the past year or so, across multiple venues, there seems to be a resurgence in performances, and the Kings here really are stepping into their power. One of them recently offered workshops for the community to learn the craft, which I attended. This is the sort of thing that helps motivate me to continue with my own work, and to consider alternative possibilities ahead. Remember this: regardless if your workshop/event is poorly attended, it might be incredibly important to the one person that showed up. Whatever it is that they take away from the interaction, there’s value in that connection. There are no small parts, just small actors.
There is a big part of me that feels that “Art” should be disruptive. If it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, if it doesn’t make you think, or fight for social change, it’s worthless. Functionality can also serve as purpose in art, but without conceptual merits it is probably best qualified as craftwork. As a ceramicist, it’s been easy for me to fall back on maker’s markets as a way to gauge success based on sellability, but if I’m not enjoying the work or gaining some profit to account for the hours spent making and selling, what’s the point? It’s my intention to reestablish deeper meaning in my personal work and in my community work. I am pushing past my comfort level with more Marker League events. I've also been kicking around the idea of starting Guerilla Craft Nights, which will encourage folks to join together to create whatever is wanted or needed (anything from zines and sign-making for marches to creating infographics and memes). Each meeting could cover a different form of community-based guerilla art. Folks would then distribute whatever was made throughout their neighborhoods and networks in a safe and smart manner.
Although I have a strong desire to expand what the Red River Creatives Collective is, The Northern Mirror feels like a necessary component to the creative scene here, now. It’s something that we will continue to work on, hopefully for years to come. I'm not sure how the zine will continue to evolve, but we've been considering topics for the next issue, which will likely be released in the Spring of 2025. The concept of “home” has been brought up, but I'm also leaning towards a “history” approach. We have an old Xerox machine we're hoping to have fixed soon, so that we can increase our publishing possibilities and possibly offer a community resource. I just wish there were more hours in the day, because there's always so much work to be done. I just don’t have the capacity to do it all. I’ve had to really acknowledge priorities, set boundaries, and commit to gradually chipping away at my various to-do lists every day.
But I can do this, and so can you. We can do hard things, and with practice we can get better at them. We just need to make the commitment and find the time. We need to stop leaning on excuses and victimhood. The problems and struggles I’ve described are not uncommon to many, if not most, Midwestern communities. It’s becoming all the more important with each day that we get involved and get creative in how we combat authoritarianism. Whether that’s by creating safe physical/virtual spaces or a disruptive presence in existing areas, there’s room, and necessity for both. We cannot give up what is innately ours to keep. We must continue to normalize resistance against state-sanctioned violence, and surveillance which strips us all of our dignity. Be smart about the risks you take in working towards collective liberation.
Image: Snapshot taken from a recent community meeting held at The Red Raven. Painted lettering above the cafe window reads “Where There’s People, There’s Power.”