My work as Nob Pagnotta has a place to be shown through ZINEs and T‑shirts,
but to be honest, I continue this activity with the mindset that it doesn’t need to be a business.
It doesn’t have to make money.
・New York code#001
https://a.co/d/05GYL7oq
・Taiwan 2014-2017 code#001
https://a.co/d/0f3zUKuF
・Taiwan 2014-2017 code#002
https://a.co/d/0dB1b3sQ
I’ve published three ZINEs so far, but of course they don’t generate enough income to live on.
To some people, it might even look like a pointless effort.
But for me, it has a much more personal meaning.
A dialogue with my past self. A way to check where I stand right now.
And a small sense of expectation toward my future self.
It’s like a place where the past, present, and future can sit next to each other.
That’s the role ZINEs play for me.
Right now, I’m selecting photos from 2009 to 2014 for the next ZINE,
and… honestly, they’re rough. Really rough. I can only laugh.
This was the period when I first became interested in photography,
and around 2011–2012 I started my career as a photographer.
I was taking countless photos that looked like “something I’d seen somewhere before.”
Just imitations of someone else’s style.
Looking at the “select data” I saved back then, it’s clear I didn’t realize it at the time.
I probably kept those images because I thought they looked “cool.”
Seeing them now, all I can think is:
– I didn’t know what I wanted to shoot, so I tried to take “photos that look like photos.”
– I thought tilting the composition made things look stylish.
– My framing was unbelievably sloppy. Painfully sloppy.
If my past self came to my company today to pitch work,
I’d definitely tell him to “come back when you’re ready.”
But at the same time, there’s a kind of raw energy in those photos that I can’t produce anymore.
I had just started my career, I had big expectations for the future, and there was a kind of reckless optimism in the air.
More than ten years have passed since then.
Now I clearly understand what I can and cannot do, and my work has naturally taken on a certain shape.
Because of that, I can no longer take those kinds of photos.
As I look back, forgotten memories—and even the faint “smell” connected to those moments—come back to me. It’s a strange feeling.
I want to move forward so I can release this ZINE soon, for my own sake as well.
