MICE 2025 - Weeks leading up and recap
Tim, Craig, and I on day two of MICE
Returning to MICE: Debuting My First Comics in the Middle of Chaos
A full circle moment
This past weekend, I tabled at MICE (the Massachusetts Independent Comics Expo) there for the first time since 2016. The last time I attended, I was a freshman in art school, it was held at a different venue. I wandering through the hallways (it was a lot tighter and smaller then) dreaming of the day I might be sitting behind a table of my own. I remember looking at all the indie artists and thinking that I would someday be them.
This year, I went not as a visitor, but as a vendor. And not by myself, with folks from the Cape Cod Comics Collective, a group of us who have been meeting weekly to work on our craft together. I showed up with my first-ever printed comic and a brand-new mini zine I somehow managed to finish in the middle of complete, unexpected chaos.
It feels surreal to even be writing about this now.
Losing My Studio Space, and Creating Anyway
A sudden closure
In mid-November, The Cordial Eye ,the art building where my studio is housed, closed abruptly due to a construction issue. Overnight, my workspace disappeared. No dedicated workspace, no access to my printer, Cricut, or other tools necessary for me to turn my work into a physical form to share with others, none of the routines and regularity that make my dream of being a working artist feel possible. It also negatively impacted the holiday season for me and for the rest of my community at The Cordial Eye, artists who rely on that space not only to make art surrounded by others on similar paths, but to sell it.
And yet… people showed up for each other.
We held a pop-up at Pupcakes another business on Main Street, Hyannis. We organized coworking sessions in coffee shops and our local library. We gathered to make art, hold important conversations, and see each other’s faces that we sorely missed. Nothing about it was convenient, but it reminded me why local artist communities matter so much.
So when MICE started approaching, a deadline I had signed not only myself up for months ago, but also a group of people that mattered a lot to me, I had two choices: show up with what little I had (a couple zine packs and sticker sheets) or go out of my way to make it work somehow.
Finishing Easel & Abyss
I was able to secure access to a printer, and had my portable zine making supplies on hand: stapler, ruler, bone folder, and exacto blade. Once I gathered all of that in a makeshift print shop in my dining room, things started to look up.
My first completed comic
Easel & Abyss is the first comic I’ve ever fully completed, printed, and assembled. I’ve dreamed of making original comics for years, but I would always get stuck in the planning stages, trapped under perfectionism, or drawn towards other more ‘legit’ mediums of art making. Even having completed this story months ago (honestly close to a year ago) I ran into some roadblocks when it came to formatting it for print, and getting it to come out exactly how I imagined. But I did it. Knowing that it was a struggle for myself makes me want to put something together about the full process of creating a comic, from ideating to drawing, and all the way to printing and distributing.
Yeah, printing it for MICE literally changed everything.
Holding it in my hands
Seeing it come together, this story that encapsulates so much of what I communicate to my students about creating as a coping mechanism, a way to process what you have gone through and overcome… something finally clicked. This was something important, and was meant to be shared.
Tabling with it made that feeling even more real. Watching people pick it up, flip through it, ask questions about the story - I don’t have any words that aren’t cliche, it was a rush. Everything I have been working on for the past few years had come together in the most beautiful way: art education, mentoring young creatives, building trauma informed practices, developing my own capacity to be a successful member of the creative economy in my local community.
It made me feel like an artist in a way that nothing else had until this point.
Creating Celeste #1
Somehow, in the middle of losing my studio and scrambling to prepare for the expo, I also created a mini comic zine: Celeste #1. This story poured out of me. During one of these in between times coffee shop coworking sessions at Three Fins in Dennis with my beloved Alexis Charles of AC Creatives, I started writing. At first it was loose, and very abstract. Mostly just finding metaphors to describe the unique state of being when one is enduring a pain they feel like they can’t escape, and dreaming about all the ways in which they could escape. I’ve wanted to create a special OC to explore something a bit more violent and direct than Easel & Abyss. So when I put that desire along with this narrative, I knew what I had to do.
A reminder about process
It’s an intense story folded from a single sheet of A4 paper about undergoing harm, aftermath, fear, and the how people break when they’ve been broken themselves. I designed it to be simple, and fast to produce, both because of time and because the subject matter demanded that kind of immediacy. It’s a small thing, and I feel like that lends itself well to how I want my readers to feel as they digest this intimate and honest meditation from my heart.
Finishing Celeste in such a stressed period of time reminded me that not every story needs months of polishing. Some need to be made quickly so they can be honest and raw.
I’ve already received feedback that folks can’t wait to find out what happens in the next installment, because I left it on such a dramatic twist lol. So that’s what I’ll be working on this upcoming week.
Tabling at MICE
Day 1
Walking into MICE as a vendor instead of an attendee came with a bit of imposter syndrome, but once we were set up and all of my fellow Comix Collective people were there I gained confidence from their own expertise and positive energy. I was joined by my dear fellow comrade at The Cordial Eye, Craig Florence, the sweet and consistent Collective member Tim Graham, and the incredibly knowledgable Joe Daxberger.
The big room was full of creativity. There were so many tables full of zines, handmade comics, experimental formats, gorgeous prints (I drooled over every risograph printed thing in there, and hope to dip my toes into that space next year). Indie comics people are truly some of the warmest, weirdest, most welcoming people out there. My favorite thing were the yaoi and Baldurs Gate 3 nerds relating to some of the wares I had put out. It made me all sorts of warm and fuzzy to share those mutual loves.
Day 2
My offerings were fairly small compared to those around me: Easel & Abyss, Celeste #1, my Love Spell zine, and a BG3 sticker sheet. Every time someone stopped, or smiled under their mask all the way up to their eyes, or commented on the art, it effected me. I had conversations about queerness, tragic narratives, body horror, identity, and community. It felt like a new kind of nerdy paradise, and I grew less and less anxious as I felt each new connection with the attendees and other vendors.
Thanks to our dear friend Gabe Ribeiro, who got my additional offerings up to Boston from the Cape via the lovely fiber artist Marissa Currie, I also had my zine packs and print bundles available for the Sunday crowd to browse.
What I Learned, and Why This Weekend Changed Me
MICE taught me several lessons over the weekend and the days leading up to the event:
Deadlines to push through perfectionism
Needing an active community to keep you motivated
And the work you’re scared to release is the work people respond to most
Becoming who I want to be
Despite everything (losing access to my studio, shakily navigating the start of the holiday season, a lack of stability) I made two comics. I showed up. I impressed the 18 year old version of myself who had no idea what their future looked like until now.
I also finally feel like a comic artist. And that’s exciting as fuck.
Looking Ahead at What’s Next
I’m already working on Celeste #2, thinking about new zine ideas, and prepping for improving our set up at future shows. I’m hoping our building will reopen soon so we can all get back to the familiar routines that keep us grounded every day. But in the meantime, I’m still trying my best and finding ways to push through creative blocks that are completely made up in my head.
If MICE showed me anything, it’s that this is just the beginning.
Thank you to everyone who stopped by my table, supported my work, or shared kind words. And thank you to the comics community both online and IRL for inspiring me day in and day out, and helping me step into this new chapter of my own journey.
More stories are coming. I can’t wait to share them with you <3
