The Least We Can Do

 After the marathon of a few days ago, this time I chose the modern comfort of the Shinkansen to check out a couple of artworks at the Chubu International Airport in Nagoya. One of them (detail pictured above) is a clever pixelated version of an ancient folding screen portraying the Battle of Sekigahara (1600). Here's another detail. 

The train was only half full, and luckily everybody was fully masked.

Watching the scenery rushing by is no fun on the Shinkansen because of the sound barriers that block the view. 

Truth be told, what lies behind the wall is often ugly, gray, depressing - a never-ending concrete strip connecting Tokyo to Nagoya to Osaka. And on and on. Those barriers may actually be a blessing in disguise. 

Luckily I had a book and a zine with me to pass the time. 

Davida is one of my zine friends and the editrix of Xerography Debt, "the zine review zine with perzine tendencies."

The Least I Could Do is her latest effort. It's a tiny diary zine of sorts covering the month of January 2021, one page for each day, one black-and-white photo and a few lines of text per day. 

These things are quite difficult to do well. One runs the risk of being banal, superficial. But as soon as I started reading Davida's zine I began to highlight phases and write notes in the margins. 

Cleaning the house

Eating

Walking

Feeding the animals

Braving the maddening crowds

Sharing moments of joy and peace with husband and son

And trying to make sense of the general mess. 

"It was the worst of times..."

But sometimes it's the little things that make the whole thing worthwhile. 

As Peter Hammill used  to sing, 

the least we can do 

is wave to each other. 

I'm already looking forward to the February issue.