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I used to tell people that Fear
Not Drowning was a magazine about fear. In fact I'd developed quite a story to
tell about it. How it was about overcoming fear, describing fear, feeling fear,
blah-blah-blah fear, and so on. I've come to the realization that this is,
indeed, a crock of shit. I also tell the story that it, at least in title, comes from an English saying referenced in Shakespeare's The Tempest: "He who is born to be hanged need fear not drowning." Well, this is, in fact, the utter truth. I was reading The Tempest at that point in art school (if you could call it that), looking for a little ancient wisdom to perk up my artistic vision. But I fear this leaves the observer at a distinct, reductive glossing-over of the facts. Fear Not Drowning, in its original form, was a 20-page xerographed 'zine. To call it a true "publication" is to glorify what was really a frustrated photography's student attempt to justify where his --my-- time was really going. It had a run of...one copy. I was broke, and all that counted was that my professor could see it as it was supposed to look. The "articles" were little more than vaguely sober ramblings during a year that wes less than sober, at least in anything but significance to me. Mostly they addressed drugs and sex, occassionally touching on the political, but as my involvement in politics was waning and soured by disillusionment, mostly the former. More than anything I WANTED. I wanted a broad artistic vision with a focus. I wanted a serious boyfriend with casual sexual encounters on the side. I wanted mind-expanding experiences with hallucinogens and the clarity of mind to incorporate them into reality. Well, at least five years since that time, I still can't quite focus on a "vision"; I'm trying to balance desire and a monogamous boyfriend; and I'm still slightly shaky with the whole "reality" concept. I'm sober much more often than not, and consequently wince a little as many people do looking back at bad art one has produced. (I really did wear gold panties in a kiddie-pool full of milk. So much for performance art.) But also I can realize what was useful then and apply it to now. Which brings me, finally, to my point. Fear Not Drowning, if it is indeed about anything, may well be about desire. That desire and fear have such an intimate relationship, well, look where and when we live. That desire is as elusive a concept as fear, well, that has been the subject of art since cave painting. I maintain that something exists underneath the facade of self-indulgence, certainly more than splashing about in the milky-white pools of my misguided art upbringing. And entreat you, if for no other motivation than your own self-indulgence, to contribute and try to figure out what it is I'm trying to say. If I ever do, perhaps I'll stop publishing altogether. And what a contribution to the world that would be.... _Casey Caston, Editor |