Zine Making




Her Body, Her Image: Zine, Poster & Oil Pastel Drawings – A Reflection
As my project has developed, I’ve continued to explore new ways of challenging the way women’s bodies are represented in fashion. Most recently, I created five new drawings of the natural female form using colourful oil pastels. I chose this medium because of how raw, textured and expressive it feels — it mirrors the energy and emotion of real bodies. These drawings aren't polished or “perfect” — they’re fluid, unapologetic and alive. They celebrate the individuality of women’s bodies rather than trying to flatten them into a standardised ideal.
Alongside this, I designed a campaign poster for Her Body, Her Image with the tagline: "A visual campaign challenging body image in fashion through art and activism." I wanted something bold that clearly communicates what my work is about and why it matters. It acts as a visual statement — something people can instantly connect with, that sets the tone for everything I’ve created.

Zine, Poster & Oil Pastel Drawings
Using this poster as the front cover, I then created a zine. Inside, I’ve taken fast fashion ads that promote narrow, unattainable beauty standards and risographed my oil pastel drawings directly onto them. This felt like such a powerful process — almost like taking back control. I’m not just commenting on the unrealistic imagery we see every day, I’m inserting my own, more honest visuals into that space. It’s a way of confronting the industry head-on, disrupting the glossy perfection of these ads with something more real and relatable.
The zine, for me, is a physical expression of protest. It’s small, handmade, and intimate — something you can hold, flick through, share. It’s personal but political. It combines all the elements of my practice: fine art, fashion critique, activism, and lived experience. Creating it has made me realise how important it is to use visual language as a form of resistance — not just to expose the harm of narrow beauty standards, but to offer a different, more empowering narrative.
This part of my project feels like a turning point — where everything I’ve been building towards comes together in a format that can go beyond the screen or studio. It’s art, but it’s also activism. It’s a campaign, but it’s also a conversation.


Making the Zine: The Process Behind the Print
Creating this zine has been one of the most hands-on and rewarding parts of my project. I wanted the process of making it to feel just as intentional and meaningful as the content itself. I chose risograph printing because it has a raw, layered, almost DIY aesthetic that fits perfectly with the tone of my campaign — it’s not polished or overly commercial, but bold, tactile and full of character. The slight imperfections and overlaps in riso printing actually add to its charm and communicate the kind of realness I’m always pushing for in my work.
For this zine, I selected two colours: pink and blue. I picked them not only because they contrast and complement each other beautifully, but because they carry strong cultural associations with gender. In flipping those associations on their head, I’m using the colours to challenge expectations — taking something familiar and reworking it in a more expressive, meaningful way.
The process itself started with making masters — basically stencils for the risograph machine. Each drawing needed its own master for each colour layer. I had to think about how the pink and blue would interact and where I wanted them to overlay or stay separate. Once the masters were made, I printed my drawings over fast fashion advertisements, which I had previously selected for their unrealistic and hyper-edited depictions of women’s bodies. Seeing my drawings layered over these ads felt powerful — like reclaiming space in an industry that rarely shows bodies like the ones I draw.

The Process Behind the Print
I then printed on both sides of the paper, carefully aligning the images to keep the zine visually cohesive. After that, I folded each page, collated them in order, and hand-bound the zine into its final form. It’s deliberately small, personal, and intimate — something people can flick through slowly and reflect on.
What I love about this process is that it's physical, imperfect, and human — exactly like the message I’m trying to get across. It’s about showing the work, the layers, the process. It’s about visibility — not just of women’s bodies, but of the making itself.
This zine feels like a protest in print — not just against the fashion industry's narrow ideals, but in favour of something softer, truer and more representative of us all.





Creating My 5 Flip Magazines
Throughout my project, creating five flip magazines using Heyzine has been one of the most significant and transformative parts of my process. These zines became the central space where all elements of my research and practice — from my drawings, risographs, détournement edits, to recontextualised fashion advertisements — could coexist and build a clear visual narrative. Each one evolved with my critical thinking, functioning not just as an aesthetic output but as a political statement.
The use of Heyzine as a digital platform allowed me to push the boundaries of traditional print, combining the tactile intimacy of zine culture with the accessibility and movement of online interaction. The flipping format mimics that of a commercial magazine, which was intentional — I wanted to subvert that familiar experience, luring the viewer into something that feels polished, but is layered with disruption, truth, and resistance.

Reclaiming Visual Culture Through Zine-Making
As I developed each issue, my confidence in layering media and message grew. Earlier versions were more collage-based and instinctive, while later ones became more intentional, with clear visual pacing and conceptual layering. I became more comfortable with letting contradictions sit together — using commercial visual language (ads, slogans, styled imagery) and clashing it with raw drawings, angry red scrawls, and détourned statements. This tension was crucial to my message — a representation of how fashion media manipulates and distorts, especially for women aged 16–25.
These zines gave me a voice in a format typically used to sell a lifestyle. Instead, I used it to challenge that lifestyle, to hold it accountable, and to reclaim visual culture as a space for feminist resistance. Each flipbook represents a progression in both my technical skill and my conceptual depth — and the complete set now stands as a body of work that critiques, reimagines, and empowers.