Episode 7 – Em Krall: Zines, Letter Writing, and Analog Art as Disabled Futures
In this episode, Charlie talks with Em Krall, a multimedia print artist, writer, archivist, disability advocate, and founder of Sandwich Press — a Portland-based zine distribution network dedicated to DIY art that speaks to identity, experimentation, and silliness. Em shares how growing up in rural Montana without reliable internet shaped their relationship to letters, records, and physical objects, and how those early practices became the foundation for a deep archival and artistic life. They discuss the stakes of preserving other people's stories, letter writing as a form of uncensored correspondence, and what it looks like to build community for people who are homebound or bed-bound. They also get into Em's experience being diagnosed with EDS, MCAS, POTS, and osteoporosis at 21, navigating dismissive medical systems, the Sick Futures Collective workshops, and why physical media is necessary.
Watch the full episode: https://youtu.be/6zFFN-RnBYQ
Topics we discuss:
Archiving, preservation, and the stakes of telling other people's stories
Letter writing as radical, uncensored correspondence for sick and disabled people
Physical and analog media vs. the capitalist internet
Growing up in rural Montana and chronic illness from childhood
EDS, MCAS, POTS, and navigating dismissive medical systems
PRP, PRF, and stem cell therapy as under-recognized treatment options
Sandwich Press and the lore of the zine distribution network
The Body Journals and Sick Writes workshops with Sick Futures Collective
Masking and mobility aids as crip kinship
Music, disability, and the body
Liberatory sick and disabled futures
Episode 7 Transcript
Charlie: Hi, everyone! I'm Charlie Moses, founder of Sick Futures Collective and host of this podcast, The Future Is Sick. Today, I am so, so happy to introduce y'all to someone who has become a dear friend and collaborator and creative co-conspirator in Sick Futures Collective especially. And that is Em Krall. Em is a multimedia print artist, a writer, an archivist, and a disability advocate based right here in Portland, Oregon, although they are originally from Red Lodge, Montana. They run Sandwich Press, which is amazing — it's a zine distribution network dedicated to DIY art that speaks to things like identity and experimentation, and of course my personal favorite, silliness. Em is also a member of Sick Futures Collective. They are on our Advisory Council, and they've facilitated two of our workshops. Every single time I am in a room with Em, I leave feeling more alive and more inspired and more convinced that the world they're working toward is actually, genuinely possible. So, I'm so glad they're here, and that's that. Em, welcome!
Em: Thank you! This is my cat, Gamsol, in the background — he might be a character in this. Thank you so much for that intro, that was so sweet!
Charlie: Yeah, absolutely. If you're watching this and not listening, there's a very cute Siamese cat just hanging out in the background, watching our every move. Okay, well, I just gave you a big introduction, but would you mind introducing yourself — name, pronouns, and what you're up to right now in the world?
Em: Yeah, hi, I'm Em. Either Em or Emma works. I use they/she pronouns. These days I've just been kind of gathering materials — that's been my biggest thing, because when I'm in an art slump, my intuition is to just hoard and gather all of everyone else's opinions so I can sift through those. I'm definitely in that state right now. I'm currently going through my records, CD, and tape collection and putting little labels on them and making my own cataloging system. So that's been my big thing lately.
Charlie: Dude, that's awesome. There's nothing better than having a good cataloging system that's just your own. Also, there's nothing worse than walking into somebody else's cataloging system and being like, I have no idea what went on here or how any of this exists or happens in the first place. I was thinking — I know that it's ultimately your mission and goal to archive and distribute work by other people, other artists, other makers. What do you see as the stakes of that kind of preservation, or that kind of storytelling, when you're telling the story of somebody else as opposed to them telling it themselves?
Em: Yeah, I feel like the stakes are kind of just memory, and making sure that other people's stories are being told, and the people who got me to the place I'm at are being properly thanked. I have a lot of — and I think a lot of artists have this — I have a lot of really deep parasocial relationships with other artists over time. One of my favorite practices is making fanzines, like really thorough love letters to these people and what they accomplished throughout their life and career. So I feel like that's a piece of it, in terms of the people who aren't around to speak on their legacy anymore. And then the other thing is I have a lot of really cool friends with really cool opinions and art and perspectives, and I just want them to be able to share their work and have the satisfaction of being seen and heard the same way that I get to.
Charlie: Yeah, I think that's beautiful and makes a lot of sense. It's just like respecting the other person, and being grateful and thankful for those conversations, and for people being willing to share their stories in the first place — that goes a really, really long way, as opposed to just logging away everybody's heartfelt work and stories and time. Which is the polar opposite of the work that you do, and kind of what archiving is about in general. But I do want to ask where you first got into archiving, or where it sparked something in you where you were like, okay, I think this is a really good thing.
Em: Yeah, that's a really good question. I think when I was really little, I had My Little Ponies, and I was super obsessed with making sure that they were always in their proper place. I had a very large setup — I called it Ponyville. It was basically the entire guest room. And if Ponyville was messed with, it kind of destroyed the equilibrium of my life. So I feel like I'm just kind of reconstructing Ponyville at all times. I was a history major and an English major in college, and engaging with primary source material — especially at the Lewis and Clark Special Collections — really inspired me in terms of preservation and cataloging. I became really interested in collecting data and analyzing trends. And then in the past couple of years, I have been a volunteer at the IPRC, the Independent Publishing Resource Center Zine Library, where I also do archiving and cataloging, and I've done a couple of exhibits where I've gotten to pull special materials that have a general theme. Being in those spaces really helped. But I think also letter writing has been a huge piece of my life, and wanting to hold on to those letters and wanting to find a place for them in my physical space has been a motivating factor for me since I was very young. I actually just finished filing them for the first time ever. I made folders for all my people, and I have an awesome filing cabinet — that was probably the most satisfying thing I've ever done. So I guess the roundabout answer is I've always kind of been an archivist. It's just become a little bit more named now.
Charlie: Yeah, oh my gosh, what a brilliant thing — to file your letters. That's such a good idea. I mean, I've been for years like, where do I put the shoeboxes, what are we doing here? That's so brilliant. And to have all of your people have their own little section — that probably felt so good.
Em: And there's something really striking about — once you can see the quantity of letters that one person has sent you, it is so emotional. My grandmother, who lives in Corvallis actually — I put together her file, and there were 400 letters. I had always known that there was a lot of effort that she put into our relationship, but I don't think it had really dawned on me how constant and physical that effort was. Like, she was always thinking of me, and always thinking to write to me. That's a magical thing. And also, getting to reread letters that you haven't read in a while — it kind of brings back those emotions and those relationships and makes them feel present. That's a really special thing that archiving can achieve. Because it's physical media, it's kind of timeless. It's like a little stamp of time that you get to engage with — whether it's a letter and you get to read it and feel the paper texture, or a record and you get to see the grooves and feel if it's heavy or warped. I think that's what attracts me to physical media.
Charlie: Wow, okay, I have so many questions. The first is — did anybody hold a candle to your grandmother's 400 letters? Did anybody come nearly close?
Em: No, not even close. I would say the letters from my mom and dad I definitely hold the most sacred. And it's actually really hard for me to open up that file, because of how huge the emotions are when I reread those letters. So in terms of potency of emotion and impact, they're up there — but in terms of actual quantity, grandma wins by a lot.
Charlie: Yeah, that's amazing. You know, it reminded me that my mom kept all of my in-class letters that my best friend and I sent back and forth to each other in 6th grade. I had this box of them, and I thought they just got thrown out in the trash. But I have all of them — probably 50 to 60 little 6th-grader-brain letters of us writing half a page and then the other one finishing the other half a page. I'm like, I don't know what to do with them, but I cherish them so much, because it was such an impactful relationship, even though we were 12 or whatever. But I'm like, oh, that's my Stella! That's a good idea, I need to put them in a capsule or something.
Em: Yeah, I think there's something about the youthful mind that just never gets old. Rereading letters or essays or whatever that I wrote in my youth, I'm like — she was so wise. How did I unlearn this? Can I relearn this?
Charlie: I know. I know!
Em: So yeah, you should definitely do a little project with those.
Charlie: Yeah, I think so, absolutely. I also want to ask about when or where physical media generally — you were like, okay, there's also something here that's very important and precious that needs to be archived and saved and preserved.
Em: Yeah, that's a good question. I think I've always had a really difficult attachment with items. It's hard for me to let go of them, because they represent something that might not be alive anymore in my life. So I think it's always been important to me that I have access to them. And I think documenting that access and documenting what they do is a really great way to kind of set it in stone — to say, okay, even if I lose physical access to these things, I have documented why they matter and what they've taught me. So I think that's why the archiving practice became attractive to me. In terms of physical media, I just grew up in a really rural environment and we didn't have Wi-Fi for a long time. I communicated with my grandmas through letters. We didn't really do work on computers until I was in high school. So I had just always been doing things with my hands, and I think it teaches you a lot about the world around you when you can just have it in your hands.
Charlie: Oh, that's awesome. Yeah, and then bringing in the central point of our conversation — which is around sick and disabled futures and understanding the sheer importance, especially for those of us who are homebound, or bed-bound, or whose worlds are small or have gotten smaller — it's like having things that you can hold and touch and interact with and be a part of is so crucial. And especially if you can be sending them back and forth to each other through the mail.
Em: Yeah. I do my walls like you do your walls, which is kind of like a chaotic collage of all the things that make me feel happy. I like to think of walls as portals — everything on it takes me somewhere. And I think that's also why I love having little objects that I can exchange with people and circulate, because they're portals. A lot of times my memories will kind of be dormant until they're reawakened by holding something or seeing something. I think letters specifically have so much importance for sick and disabled people in that they are a genuine, raw form of correspondence. They are not censored, they're not vetted by any capitalist institution — they're just sick person to sick person, or even sick person to not sick person. They're a completely level playing field. And they happen on our own time, when we have the space and room for them. I think it's pretty magical that I can write on a piece of paper, put it in the mail with a sticker on it, and all of a sudden it's in New York City. I think it gives us that physicality in a lot of ways that I think we crave as sick people. And a connection that meets us where we're at.
Charlie: Big time. And I'm also thinking about gatekeeping, or the way that sick and disabled people have been gatekept from essentially expressing ourselves in myriad ways. But knowing that zine culture, DIY culture, letter writing — there's no potential for you to be gatekept out of it. You can express yourself, tell your story, share your experience, communicate all of those things in ways that are fully supportive and true to you and your experience.
Em: Yeah. And access works for everybody. Access is good for the world. So putting emphasis and providing education in these super actionable places — like making zines and writing letters — helps the world by spreading important voices and telling not just sick and disabled people, but people of all identities, that their voices matter and that they should share them. I love journaling, but I've gotten to this point where it feels like I'm crawling inwards. So I've kind of stopped journaling altogether and I pretty much just write letters now, because to me it's like journaling and then tossing it in the wind. And then I get to hear someone that I care about talk about my journal entry. Which is a really magical experience. And yeah, the lack of barriers, the lack of having to compose yourself or physically make it somewhere, is so important.
Charlie: Yeah, absolutely. I want to shift gears a bit and just get more background on you and your experience. Like, what growing up in a more rural part of Montana was like, what it was like being diagnosed with a chronic condition — I don't know when you got diagnosed. How old were you?
Em: So I was diagnosed when I was 21, and I'm 23 now. So I am very much still figuring this whole thing out, and there are a lot of pieces of the puzzle that I don't have answers for right now, which is really frustrating. Growing up in a really rural place was beautiful in a lot of ways, and very isolating. I think I've always been very tired — painfully tired. So I've been doing the whole getting labs, doing tests, going to physical therapy since I was about 8. And my mom has always believed me, which is amazing. But the hard thing is I have never, ever had the markers that the medical system needs to believe me. Growing up in a really rural place where sports are how you have value in your community, I felt really lonely. And it also caused me to inflict a lot of pain on myself through sports that I will never be able to fully recover from. I was a competitive skier, a ski racer — and I actually still love skiing, that was a magical experience, it feels like flying. But I was never really educated on how women have their hips set at a different angle and are therefore way more susceptible to tearing ligaments. And I'd never been educated on how a lighter person can control themselves in powder. Those are things that for an able-bodied person might not end up being an issue, but because I have Ehlers-Danlos, it became a massive issue. I also did track and field, which was hilarious, because I was so bad at it. I would always tell people, I'm being so brave, I'm taking that L so no one else has to. I can handle it — y'all couldn't handle getting last place, so they're giving it to me. But I think that was my first experience with dysautonomia — having those moments where I was sincerely getting spots in my eyes and I thought I was dying, and my lungs felt like they were bleeding, and my whole head was filled with pressure, and it didn't go away for a week. Especially in the sports community, everyone wants to think they're tougher than everyone else. So when you're experiencing pain, it's seen as weakness. I think I learned to devalue myself and make myself the butt of the joke, in order to steer the conversation in a way that didn't focus on me as much. I tore my ACL when I was 16, I was skiing, and I didn't believe myself — I didn't believe that I had torn it, because it just didn't hurt that much. So I kept skiing that day, and my knee just kept giving out. Then I went about a month and a half where I would be getting out of the car and my knee would give out, sitting down at my desk and my knee would give out. I finally went to the doctor, and he was this funny Australian man, and he basically told me I'd done significant damage to my knee. I had ACL surgery on February 19th, 2020 — so I was back at school for 2 days before we left for COVID. And I had to do most of my rehab at home. That experience is why I am here today. I never recovered from ACL surgery, and I'd never been told about hypermobility in that entire process. So I went through years and years of ACL rehab — like 3 years of intense therapy — and was just putting undue strain on my ligaments. Then when I came to Portland, I just started having all of these random ailments. Like, why does my shoulder hurt? Why is my hip locking? So I connected with a PCP here who is educated in EDS and multi-system issues, and she was like, hey, you've got this thing, and it's a bit of a rabbit hole. And here I am in the rabbit hole. And I'm honestly really happy to be here.
Charlie: Yeah, gosh, I know. It's like the double-edged sword of getting some answers that then opens up 700 other doors to more questions and rabbit holes. One thought I had when you were talking about all this was that I grew up as a competitive gymnast, and am also hypermobile. And that was cherished as a gymnast, because you're really bendy. My knees can just hyperextend, I can just do it on a whim, and they were like, that's a great thing, your legs look super straight when you're in the splits. Always be arched, always be hyperextended. And being like, yeah, that's why everybody blew out their ACLs. Blowing knees out left and right was just the common occurrence.
Em: And I was a dancer as well, and literally three times a week I would go do splits up against the wall for half an hour. I think that's why I have hip issues now.
Charlie: Yeah, for sure. I know, mine pop out all the time. I dislocate my hips probably about once a month or so. I'm like, oh, there it goes again. My hip socket dislodging from itself.
Em: Yeah, I feel like our body parts start to develop personalities of their own. So I have my happy knee and my sad knee. I have my happy shoulder, my sad shoulder, and then the strong hip, and then the hip that just kind of happens to obey. It's really hard not to personify all of my body parts.
Charlie: Yeah, gosh, majorly. And also, thank goodness that there are providers out there who are going to listen to you talk about your symptoms, believe the symptoms you're having, and then look into it. Because we all know that specific biomarkers don't necessarily mean that there's an absence of something. With rheumatoid conditions or with lupus, you can have a very light ANA reading — it can be just a tiny little bit positive — and things are very slippery. There are a lot of things, as we know, that are very slippery.
Em: Yeah. Can I talk about my rheumatology?
Charlie: Yeah, let's go!
Em: So, if you're sick or disabled, you probably know the stickiness of the rheumatology world. I went to this rheumatologist before hearing about my things, and then again two years later, last week. The first time, I went with my mom and just didn't really have my stuff together. I felt like I had let myself down in terms of articulating the ongoingness of what I think to be autoimmune issues. But this time, I sat down and typed out my full medical history. I'm a narrative scribe and an EMT — I speak in medical terms, I'm not being verbose. I typed out every infection I've ever had, every surgery — I've had 6 surgeries — my family history, my diagnosed conditions, and every medication I've ever taken and which ones work. And she didn't read it. I also printed out every lab test I've ever done. I literally talked to my providers in Montana to get those tests sent to me. It took me two weeks to get all this information together. And then she was literally holding it in her hand and asking me, "Yeah, so, do you get sick often?" I was almost speechless. I pointed out that I have consistently had a high positive ANA with the speckled pattern — a test I've been getting since I was 15, and it has always been positive with the speckled pattern. And she looked at me and said, "Well, you know, over a third of healthy people have a positive ANA." And I was like, I don't consider myself a healthy person. And she was like, well, you know that's not what I meant. But I don't really care if that's what you meant — that's what you said. And the fact that I am coming here and telling you these things means that I am not healthy. For you to say that is to discredit the 4 pages of information I gave you, the 50 labs I printed out for you, and the lifetime of documented symptoms that I have. And recently I discovered that I'm basically having a butterfly rash, and I told her that. She won't consider it a butterfly rash unless I go get it biopsied while it's flaring.
Charlie: Are you kidding me?
Em: Who has time to go emergency to the dermatologist, get a piece of their cheek cut off, and then just see if it's autoimmune?
Charlie: What on earth?
Em: No. So I am looking for a new rheumatologist. Let me know if you have any ideas.
Charlie: I have a pretty good one, but she's on maternity leave — I will give you her information.
Em: Oh my god, that would be amazing. But I will say I have found this provider who is an NP. She runs her own private practice and is basically certified in everything there is to be certified in for multi-system chronic illness. She considers herself a specialist in the study of aging, which is a really beautiful and special thing to specialize in. Because she's an NP, she's able to prescribe me the things I need — such as the hydroxychloroquine that I take at a max dose and have had a significant reduction in symptoms as a result of. Which is often a diagnostic qualifier. But the other thing is I've found a lot of solace and support in Eastern medicine. It's interesting, because both my mom and my grandma have always been super pro-Eastern medicine, and I've always been like, can we just start with the easy stuff? I actually need to go to the doctor first and take meds. But a big thing I've learned since being diagnosed with EDS, MCAS, POTS, osteoporosis — the works — is that a real care team consists of Eastern and Western practices, and to be truly cared for, a more holistic approach is necessary. So I went to my first ever acupuncture appointment yesterday.
Charlie: Oh, how'd you do? Did you like it?
Em: Oh my god! She put headphones on me and a weighted eye mask, and she was like, let me know if anything's bugging you. I swear I didn't even feel anything. I just emerged from my little comfy cave — better! And interestingly enough, my insurance covers it. So I'm going to start going once a week. I walked away from that experience feeling more heard, more seen, and more taken care of than I have ever felt.
Charlie: I'm so glad. Yeah, acupuncture — I know it's not everybody's cup of tea, but that is truly the one pain management tool I have that works whenever my herniated discs flare up or my hip pops out of place. It will work its way back much faster if I just do 2 or 3 acupuncture appointments. Everything kind of realigns itself and I can continue semi-functioning. It's wonderful.
Em: Yeah, are you familiar with PRP or PRF?
Charlie: No, I don't think so.
Em: Okay, buckle up, because this is a game changer. Unfortunately it's not really covered, understood, or appreciated by Western medicine right now. But PRP, PRF, and stem cell therapy — platelet-rich plasma, platelet-rich ferritin, and adipose-derived stem cell — are these pain management and basically injury treatment options that involve using your body to heal your body. They inject whether it's the platelet-rich plasma, where they draw your blood, or the ferritin, or the stem cell, which they'll just do a tiny little graft and take it out of your body. That has been literally the only thing that has ever made me feel better. I've torn both of my ACLs 3 or 4 times. I've torn my labrum in my hip, my labrum in my shoulder, the ligaments in my wrist, 3 of my fingers. Like, I literally will not be able to participate in my own life. And then I'll go do this PRP or PRF, and in a week I'll go back to feeling — I mean, not perfect, but back to my baseline.
Charlie: Yeah, oh, that's amazing. This is such a cool resource, and I have not heard of it. Not once.
Em: Yeah, it's something my mom had been doing since I was a little kid, and I always thought it was woo-woo. But I guess I had to see it to believe it. So I guess this is all to say — sometimes it takes a whole village to get you to where you need to be. And if you're not finding answers in one place, there are other places to look, which is awesome.
Charlie: Yeah, no kidding. Well, I want to talk a little bit about Sandwich Press — where it comes from, what it comes out of, your family's business, all of those things. Get into the lore of Sandwich Press a little bit.
Em: Well, thank you. I love talking about Sandwich Press, it's my baby. I grew up as the kid who sat on the stool in the kitchen, because my dad is a chef. For most of my childhood we ran a sandwich shop called Deli on the Beartooth. Our logo was a piece of bread with a bear paw stamped into it — grilled into it. So basically the idea with Sandwich Press was to recreate that logo, but it's a piece of bread with a hand stamped into it. And it's supposed to speak to a couple of things. First, I'm trying to evoke that feeling when you finish making a sandwich and you press into it and it's there, it's done, it's ready for you, and it is beautiful. But also, the idea in terms of how it relates to paper goods is that I think my biggest takeaway from zine culture is that everything tastes better between two slices. The experience of opening and closing a story with covers is really special — kind of a sacred human practice that we have carried on for a very, very long time. So my intention with Sandwich Press is to hold those little stories between these two slices of bread. That's where the sandwich comes in.
Charlie: Oh, I love it! I wanted to ask — with tangible things like a zine or a letter, how do they relate to this act of telling a story about your body or your experience? Is there something about the materiality itself that matters there?
Em: Oh, I love this one — the answer is yes! I think handwriting especially is one of the most unique and beautiful qualities that we get to take away from this life. It's literally our own font. It comes across in the voice and language of the person who wrote it. So especially with letters, in handwritten zines as well, the very act of using your hands to accomplish that storytelling is magical. Last year I was going through a really significant pain flare. I was having some neuropathy and weakness and tremors in my right hand, so I started using my left hand. And it was a really good practice in art making, because it made me alter my understanding of what beauty is and what a successful piece of art is. I kind of settled upon — a successful piece of art is a piece of art that you make. So I challenged myself to make a lot of drawings and zines with my left hand. They were widely illegible and definitely assumed a more abstract form than what I can do with my right hand. But I feel like because of that, they told an even more potent story — kind of like pain and reckoning with it.
Charlie: Yeah, dang. I love that in that moment you were like, we're switching hands. And everything that came out of it — because of course when you're making the conscious decision to do that, you're not thinking, all of these things will be gained and learned from having to write with my non-dominant hand.
Em: No, it was actually exasperating, and I hated doing it. Because first of all it feels really uncomfortable to use your fingers and your palm in that way that you're not structurally used to. But also because what you understand to be your style changes. And I think it also gave me a greater appreciation for the quote-unquote ignorant, rough, childlike style that I'm always attracted to in other people's art — so why don't I like it in my own art?
Charlie: Yeah, for sure. I know. I love your art — anytime I receive anything from you or see anything that you've done, I'm like, oh, hell yeah. It's just pure aliveness and expression, and it's so cool.
Em: Aww, thank you. Yeah, it feels like in a lot of ways art is kind of a common language. I remember in our last workshop you asked the question, how can we meet across access needs, how can we collaborate across access needs? And I think art is a really great answer to that. There's just so much that can be accomplished with words and shapes and colors that can't even necessarily be accomplished with speech. So I think it's a really useful tool for a lot of sick and disabled people to feel seen.
Charlie: Gosh, yeah, I fully agree. Well, and speaking of the workshops — you've now facilitated two workshops with Sick Futures Collective, and they've been knockouts every time. The first one was Body Journals, a zine-making workshop in January, and then we recently did one at the beginning of June called Sick Writes, which was a letter-writing workshop, which was so amazing. Every time after these workshops end, I need a minute to just sit there and cry a little bit and be like, that was so beautiful. What's it been like on your end — building these out, putting them together, collaborating, dreaming things up, and getting to facilitate other people who are also sick and disabled and going through it?
Em: I mean, it's a dream come true. It's everything I've ever worked for, and honestly it's by far my proudest accomplishment — and it's still happening. I don't know, I think community is the answer to most problems. And when you are homebound, bed-bound, unable to reach the outside world in conventional ways, spaces that allow you to feel befriended — and not just recognized and your needs are met, but sincerely heard and cared for — are bliss. That's literally where I want to live, in those little spaces. Those workshops have been like the gift that keeps on giving. I love packing up little packets — little bundles are my favorite thing ever. I go crazy for people's birthdays, I do half-birthdays, I do all the holidays for all the people. I love little bundles for my people. And so putting love into these bundles and then getting to share a present-tense space with these incredible people has just been dreamy, magnificent. Especially because there were a number of people who returned from the first workshop to the second workshop. That felt like — I can't even describe that feeling, but that was the best feeling I've had in a really long time.
Charlie: Yeah, yeah. I mean, it's just phenomenal to see the sense of community and the engagement. At this last workshop, everybody wanted a pen pal — that was part of it. People want to be in community with one another. They wanted more contact. They were like, how can we be communicating all the time, offline? What are the options there? It's just such a good reminder when you hear from a whole room full of people being like, no, we all want to hang out.
Em: And I think the other thing that really strikes me is folks have said, "I've never been in a space where my needs feel so met." And it's just interesting to me, because it doesn't feel hard. It doesn't feel hard at all. It's actually been a really joyous process. These access needs, meeting where we are — it doesn't feel difficult. It feels logical. Like how bodies work. I also love knowing that it isn't impossible, and that not only is it possible, but it can be done for sick people, by sick people.
Charlie: Gosh, yeah, big time. And I think that's the ticket right there — for those of us going through it in varying degrees and extremities, knowing how nice it feels to walk into a room with another person wearing a mask. And to be like, oh, okay, cool. You just know. I don't have to explain myself. There's just such a sigh of relief when you see somebody else who you know is going to get it right away.
Em: And masking is a whole other topic I could go on forever about. But I actually do work a retail job at a record store, and I am the only one of any of the employees, and generally of any of the customers, to wear a mask. And whenever I see someone else wearing one, I get chills. The kinship that I feel immediately. And also, whenever someone's wearing a mask, they're also sporting the best fit I've ever seen — an awesome jacket with buttons on it — and generally present kind of queer. The aura, the vibes of people who wear masks are just incredible. And I think mobility aids are another one of those visible points where we can be like, oh my god, I understand you. You don't have to say anything, I just see you. And I think those interactions are what makes the customer service aspect worth it. But also just going in public and seeing that is almost — it's not that I need permission, but it feels a little bit like, okay, I'm not the only one. And maybe, just maybe, we're moving in the right direction.
Charlie: Yeah, gosh, I know. Or at least the awareness and bubble can grow. Accessibility can grow.
Em: And I think virtual spaces are also an incredibly important and useful tool for folks who do not have the privilege to go in public, even masked. It's important that both in-person masked and virtual unmasked spaces are being used to include all the members of our community we can.
Charlie: Yeah, yeah. Well, you mentioned you work at a record store — I know that music is extremely near and dear to you. How does that fit into everything else you make and do?
Em: I mean, I think music was the first form of therapy for me. Growing up in a really rural place, I still have this best friend who I share music with, and we were always obsessed with sad music. I never really understood why, but I think a lot of my life goal is just to find solace, and joy, and creativity and expression — and to me, that's what music is all about. Especially working at a record store and seeing masked people or people with mobility aids, it just makes me feel pure joy. Because I know that the way they hear music is the way that I hear music. I know it's a source of joy and a source of solace. And it's not to say that it doesn't work like that for able-bodied people, but I think it puts its finger on the experience of living in a body in a way that very few things can. One of my projects with Sandwich Press is called Sound vs. Space Time, and the first edition I wrote on Sparklehorse — Mark Linkous — who was disabled for most of his touring career. It was a very important piece of the story for me. One of my goals in this project is to make sure that disability is being discussed in music, because there is so much overlap. I just think music is a beautiful, special way to reflect on life.
Charlie: Yeah, gosh, absolutely. As somebody who makes music — thinking about how ultimately everything you're writing about, or singing about, or just playing instruments and making sounds, it's all body.
Em: Especially vocals. You can hear emotion, exhaustion, intimacy, vulnerability — so significantly, but on such a level that it feels like you're holding it in your hands. And same with playing instruments — it's your hands that are doing it. I think it all ties back to writing and drawing as well. It's like putting whatever's in here into here onto there.
Charlie: Yeah, gosh. And I'm thinking about people who don't have use of their hands, or who don't have hands — like, there are still a thousand and one ways to produce correspondence, to produce music, to produce physical media and analog materials. All of these things that I feel are just this beautiful, universal point of connection for all of us.
Em: Yeah. Music feels kind of like those virtual Zoom spaces — like, oh my gosh, we all feel this, and we're meeting here.
Charlie: Yeah, my god. I'm thinking back to high school and all of the beautiful, sad music I just could not get enough of — 16, 17, when you're just in the depths of despair about anything happening.
Em: Yeah.
Charlie: Well, we're at the hour, but I wanted to close out by — I like asking questions about futurism and futurity as the send-off note to these episodes. You more or less answered this in a number of ways through our conversation, but just to put it in a succinct form — what role do you think physical media and analog art play in building sick and disabled futures? Why does it matter that these things exist on paper, or cassettes, or records, or things that you can feel?
Em: Yeah. The internet is controlled by the capitalist institutions that oppress people like us. And the opposite of the internet is physical media. So I think more than anything, the preservation of these pieces of art and thought is like building out a toolkit to continue doing this work. If I hadn't read Sylvia Plath when I was a teenager, I would have felt a lot more alone and would have had to come to those conclusions by myself. Because she was there and she held my hand — we got through it. I was able to have her wisdom by my side. And I think that's what artists offer — guidance. Same with philosophers, same with political activists, anyone with a substack. That's obviously digital, but it speaks to that idea of self-published documentation. I think a lot about how Alice Wong left us with hundreds of pages of instructions. She left us with an entire framework to continue this movement that she built out. I still get chills thinking about her, and how she feels like she's with us in everything we do and everywhere we go. She gave that to us, and we'll always have that little piece of her in this disability justice movement. So I think that's the cruciality of documenting.
Charlie: Awesome. Great answer. Thank you. Yeah, it is so necessary. Really, really necessary. The last question I love to ask everybody is — when you imagine sick and disabled futures, what do they look like, or feel like, or sound like? And where do you already see little glimpses of them, if you do?
Em: Oh, I love that question. I love actually dreaming up a world that is for sick and disabled people. I'll start with the second part of that question — I think mutual aid is a jumping-off point. I think it's a really beautiful way to start implementing these ideas of community care. But I envision a world where sick and disabled people are seen and understood, but not objectified. Where their strength is understood and respected through care that doesn't need to be asked for. And I think a lot of that is able-bodied people, and people who are more privileged in terms of what they can physically do, sharing that privilege with the most affected. The biggest pillar of disability justice is leadership of the most affected. In a whole worldview, what works and what matters is that those who are feeling the ills of this are being heard and cared for. I think mutual aid, but perhaps on a more local level — I think as fascism continues, local and state politics are going to become more of what we engage with. I think our communities are going to have to come together and take care of each other. And soup. Also, always soup.
Charlie: All the time, every day.
Em: Soup.
Charlie: Yeah. Dude, Em, thank you so much. Thank you for being on this show and sharing your experience and your wisdom. It's just always a delight to hang out with you and talk with you, and I can't wait to actually hang out in person.
Em: Yes! We're gonna do that, it's gonna happen! This was so much fun. It's made me feel a lot of things I haven't felt before, and that's really amazing. Thank you for holding this space for people like me, and also for sharing everyone's stories so that I get to learn from other people too. It's really important work, and you're doing a really good job.
Charlie: I appreciate it. Thank you! Well, I hope the rest of your afternoon is really lovely. I will talk to you very soon.
Em: Alright, bye, Charlie!
Charlie: Oh my gosh. Just a major heartfelt thank you to Em for being here, and for everything they brought to this conversation — I mean, just honestly… well and this collective as a whole. I mean it’s just incredible. They are amazing. this Sick Futures Collective, too. I love that we got into the why of physical media, of analog art — like why zines, why letters, why objects you can feel and engage with that way. There's something Em articulated about materiality and storytelling that I haven't really taken the time to sit down with and have a good, deep thought about. There's just so much good insight there with Em's knowledge base and experience. It's so cool. And yeah, when you give somebody a story they can feel and hold — something happens that a screen or the internet just absolutely cannot replicate. There is nothing lovelier than getting fun snail mail, like a letter from your friend or a loved one – just something.
Em, thank you. Sandwich Press, forever! And thank you all so much for listening. If this conversation moved you, please share it. Feel free to follow the show, and keep an eye out for future workshops and collaborations with Em and Sandwich Press, because I know for a fact that this isn't the last time that Em and Sick Futures Collective are going to be making things together. So until next time — take care, rest when you need to, and remember, the future is sick. Bye!