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Dreamwhip #11 144 pages, copied, 1/4 size (4 oz) $3.00

So much magic awaits in the pages of this fat, rubber-banded, handwritten object of hand-size art that I don't know where or how to start. In Chicago, where Bill lived for a while, he makes burritos and hands them out to poor people. He finds adventure in witnessing such spectacles as the demolition of housing projects, "and it's sort of obscene to see them like this, all these private spaces, these bedrooms and bathrooms, laid open to every snoop riding his bike down Lake Street. Who'd have guessed that they'd rip open these scary old projects and this is what they'd find inside? Who'd have guessed that these buildings would bloom just before they fell?" With an eye for architecture and for nature's malevolent motives (a body of water is "homicidal," the wind is "wanted for murder"), he most of all bears an understanding of the ineffable, the borderline-eerie, that zone psychologists call the liminal or in-between. By this I don't mean exactly the realm of ghosts he went hoping to see in the abandoned state penitentiary in West Virginia ("ghost hunting, like bowling, is a group activity," but he saw none). I mean his understanding of what can pass invisibly between people, or between a person and a place, like a breath. The intricate sketches by our author of places he's been and people he has seen ("Train to London. This guy noticed me drawing him and moved") bespeak his careful understanding and big-hearted, inevitably sad regard for life. Just one more. Having packed up and left Chicago, "I get back to Texas and I can't sleep. I lie awake with my light on, listening to the house creak and the air conditioner switch on and off. Downstairs, my parents are getting old, and upstairs, I am too. The girl from Seattle sent a letter with her zine. She said she'd read one of my zines and that she'd recognized something in it, the same restlessness that makes her restless, too. So she wrote, just like I've done a million times before. What else can you do? You play P.O. Box numbers the way other people play lottery numbers "hoping for a payoff, but knowing all along the odds are against you." This is gold.

Dreamwhip #12 144 pages, 1/4 size, copied (4 oz) * OUT OF STOCK *

So much magic awaits in the pages of this fat, rubber-banded, handwritten object of hand-size art that I don't know where or how to start. In Chicago, where Bill lived for a while, he makes burritos and hands them out to poor people. He finds adventure in witnessing such spectacles as the demolition of housing projects, "and it's sort of obscene to see them like this, all these private spaces, these bedrooms and bathrooms, laid open to every snoop riding his bike down Lake Street. Who'd have guessed that they'd rip open these scary old projects and this is what they'd find inside? Who'd have guessed that these buildings would bloom just before they fell?" With an eye for architecture and for nature's malevolent motives (a body of water is "homicidal," the wind is "wanted for murder"), he most of all bears an understanding of the ineffable, the borderline-eerie, that zone psychologists call the liminal or in-between. By this I don't mean exactly the realm of ghosts he went hoping to see in the abandoned state penitentiary in West Virginia ("ghost hunting, like bowling, is a group activity," but he saw none). I mean his understanding of what can pass invisibly between people, or between a person and a place, like a breath. The intricate sketches by our author of places he's been and people he has seen ("Train to London. This guy noticed me drawing him and moved") bespeak his careful understanding and big-hearted, inevitably sad regard for life. Just one more. Having packed up and left Chicago, "I get back to Texas and I can't sleep. I lie awake with my light on, listening to the house creak and the air conditioner switch on and off. Downstairs, my parents are getting old, and upstairs, I am too. The girl from Seattle sent a letter with her zine. She said she'd read one of my zines and that she'd recognized something in it, the same restlessness that makes her restless, too. So she wrote, just like I've done a million times before. What else can you do? You play P.O. Box numbers the way other people play lottery numbers "hoping for a payoff, but knowing all along the odds are against you." This is gold.

Dreamwhip #13 170 pages, 1/4 size, copied (7 oz) ~~$5.00~~ $4.00

So much magic awaits in the pages of this fat, rubber-banded, handwritten object of hand-size art that I don't know where or how to start. In Chicago, where Bill lived for a while, he makes burritos and hands them out to poor people. He finds adventure in witnessing such spectacles as the demolition of housing projects, "and it's sort of obscene to see them like this, all these private spaces, these bedrooms and bathrooms, laid open to every snoop riding his bike down Lake Street. Who'd have guessed that they'd rip open these scary old projects and this is what they'd find inside? Who'd have guessed that these buildings would bloom just before they fell?" With an eye for architecture and for nature's malevolent motives (a body of water is "homicidal," the wind is "wanted for murder"), he most of all bears an understanding of the ineffable, the borderline-eerie, that zone psychologists call the liminal or in-between. By this I don't mean exactly the realm of ghosts he went hoping to see in the abandoned state penitentiary in West Virginia ("ghost hunting, like bowling, is a group activity," but he saw none). I mean his understanding of what can pass invisibly between people, or between a person and a place, like a breath. The intricate sketches by our author of places he's been and people he has seen ("Train to London. This guy noticed me drawing him and moved") bespeak his careful understanding and big-hearted, inevitably sad regard for life. Just one more. Having packed up and left Chicago, "I get back to Texas and I can't sleep. I lie awake with my light on, listening to the house creak and the air conditioner switch on and off. Downstairs, my parents are getting old, and upstairs, I am too. The girl from Seattle sent a letter with her zine. She said she'd read one of my zines and that she'd recognized something in it, the same restlessness that makes her restless, too. So she wrote, just like I've done a million times before. What else can you do? You play P.O. Box numbers the way other people play lottery numbers "hoping for a payoff, but knowing all along the odds are against you." This is gold.

Dreamwhip #14 344 pages, 1/4 size, paperback (10 oz) ~~$10.00~~ $8.00

Doubling the size of the previous issue and graduating from the days of rubber band binding, Bill Brown treats us with so much magic inside the cover of this handwritten object of pocket-sized art. Bill just completed work on the film "The Other Side" which documents the work of activist groups who comb the desert for Mexican immigrants into the US, providing them with safe rides, water, and food. Many of his experiences and observations are captured here similarly. A wandering philosopher, he tells us funny stories and anecdotes - St. Roch, the patron saint of lost causes, whose church is littered with discarded crutches and prosthetic limbs. "I begin to wonder if the body parts St Roch cured stayed strong and healthy, even as the rest of the person who was healed grew old and frail." We are also treated to the tale of Mother Goose, an older lady who wears a long skirt and floppy sunbonnet who storms into local restaurants and sings nursery rhymes until someone kicks her out. "In Austin it was impossible to go on a simple errand without falling in love. Every time I mailed a letter or went to buy a loaf of bread, I'd end up with a broken heart." and "Jerry makes me hold [an instrument] before he tells me it's an indian hunting club made from an Alaskan walrus penis bone." His way of explaining things is simultaneously laugh out loud funny as well as engrossing and captivating. This is gold. 100% Post-consumer paper and soy inks (because we care). ISBN 0-9770557-8-7

An excerpt about hitching a ride on a cargo ship across the Atlantic:

"My cabin has a bed and a couch and a coffee table that's bolted to the floor. Those bolts worry me. They mean there are days on this ship when the furniture needs bolting down. I slept on the couch last night. Maybe that's out of habit. Maybe because I'm more comfortable on couches...I consider sleeping on the couch every night, like I'm couch surfing across the Atlantic Ocean. That's a couch surfer's dream, all all, catching a ride on some couch that'll take you around the world, like some slacker Magellan, mooching a circumnavigation."

I first came across Dream Whip, through its tenth issue, when I was living in my parent's house in small town Maryland. This was six or so years ago, ... ing a time when I was embarking on my first significant road trips, and Dream Whip fueled my daydreams of exploring further than Philly, New York or Toronto. I wanted to go west, as Bill Brown does, in his seemingly endless voyages throughout the U.S. I still haven't made it west often, and both times on a plane, a mode of locomotion Brown seems to avoid. Instead he opts for his car, bikes, buses, trains, ferries, and ships when traveling to Europe. And as I did as a teenager, I indulge my wanderlust with his meandering tales, as the destination, for Brown, is often of lesser interest than the trip there. Like previous issues I've encountered, issue fourteen is a thick, squat, hand-written affair, illustrated with Brown's delicate line 'portraits' of roadside motels, signs, train depots, and evocative buildings. Also included are comics accompanying the text, but fewer than before, as I recall. Other important differences are the cover and price: issue fourteen is bound in delightfully-textured card stock and costs ten dollars. Also included is a quirky index that captures the spirit of Brown's topics in a few choice, intriguing words (i.e. machine guns, hippy kids armed with; film projectionist, soviet-era; and skin rashes, patron saint of). The price hike is more than justified, as Brown's zines are packed fuller than many a book, this one clocking in at 336 pages, not including the index. Also, it's much easier to handle than previous issues, as those were secured by a fat rubber band that did little to prevent pages from slipping and curling. Content-wise, issue fourteen expands on the same themes as Brown's other works, including his short film collection The Next Best Place. His publisher, zine distro Microcosm, describes him as a “philosopher wanderer” and that fairly sums him up, though one gets the impression Brown thinks of himself more as a lay-social scientist. However, what makes his writing so poignant and funny is the gentle, reflective philosophy underscoring his observations. Brown is attracted to nooks and places fallen on hard times: to folk art sites, abandoned structures, truckstop chapels and diners on forgotten interstates. Brown is also something of an amateur historian, relating the overlooked past of sites, from a former punk rock cafe in communist Yugoslavia to a failed biosphere in the Texas desert. Issue fourteen covers several years, post 9-11, which colors Brown's reflections, especially the recent hardships resulting from stricter security. In fact, the volume is dubbed “The Homeland Security Issue”. One of his related adventures, a stand-out selection, are his trips with border activists, who leave jugs of water in the desert for Mexicans crossing into the U.S. A hostile encounter with some suspected 'coyotes' (those who transport people, in this case, but sometimes drugs across the border) highlights the tangible complexities of U.S. immigration and tightened border-guarding. As he puts it, relating the frustration of a young border activist, “People shouldn't have to risk their lives to get a job in the U.S. that nobody else wants.” Brown's musings are free of chronology for the most part (aside from his trip to Europe), structured only by place-related headings. In less capable hands, the writing could feel disconnected, but Brown's cohesive perspective and voice hold it together well, making Dream Whip a smooth and fairly quick read, despite its length. Fans of the long-running zine Cometbus should be sure to check Brown's work out, as should those who enjoy urban exploring, roadside americana, alternative histories, and well-crafted memoirs. Beatbots Print

I should just get off my duff and write Bill Brown the fan letter I've been meaning to write him for years,. I was reading Dream Whip on the train ... Too Much Katerine

Remember Big Little Books from when you where a kid? This book is what I the size and shape of those books. At least it is what I remember those ... 410 Media

A fat little publication that can easily fit into a hoodie pocket to be read on a train ride, Dream Whip is a travel-story focused personal zine. ... Profane Existence, #54

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Homeland Insecurity DVD: Films by Bill Brown 62 min, DVD (5 oz) ~~$12.99~~ $10.00

Dreamwhip's Bill Brown returns with 3 new films! The Other Side explores US/Mexico immigration issues, following activist groups that supply water and rides to people crossing the border, who are stranded or lost in the desert. At a time when border politics and immigration are all over the news, it's great to get an independent, emotional, and real piece of film about what is going on. Bill is more like a silent observer showing us what he sees and narrates in a manner that is informative without being totally detached. "Hub City" is a short about Lubbock, TX - the home of Buddy Holly and trajectories of death and small towns. AA Trailer is a goofy short about the joy of film making for The Ann Arbor Film Festival. Shot beautifully on real film, these experimental documentaries represent a hometown of past, present, or future.

Generally an Indie film maker will go through the effort of making a film simply because he can, and not for a huge pay cheque which is merely ... Subba-Cultcha

All three films are pretty good, shot in 16mm and have a visual mood to them you might not expect. It is so compelling that you forget you are ... Nicholas Sheffo, Fulvue Drive-in

The Next Best Place DVD: Short Films by Bill Brown 92 minutes, DVD (5 oz) $25.00

You can take Bill Brown out of Texas, but you can’t take the Texas out of Bill Brown. His films are vast and expansive and take you on a road trip across the back roads of forgotten places. From his award winning Confederation Park, which carefully depicts an aimless American kid setting out across the Trans-Canada Highway, to Buffalo Common, which observes the dismantling of nuclear missile silos across North Dakota, Bill’s films blur the difference between documentary and personal filmmaking and create a time-capsule of the subtle changes of the North American landscape. His films have won many awards and screened at nearly every film festival on the planet, he has received both Rockefeller and Creative Capital grants, and in November 2003, the Museum of Modern Art presented a retrospective of his work. He gets excited about blimps, elevated trains, and vegan bratwurst, but the steady tug of time passing and Hummers leave him less excited. Includes: Mountain State (2003), Confederation Park (1999), Buffalo Common (2001) and Roswell (1994).

Saugus to the Sea Book 200 pages, 1/2 size, paperback (10 oz) * OUT OF STOCK *

Debut novel about the underground in L.A., as well as a search for a road (hence the title) from filmmaker and the zinester, Bill Brown, the genius that brings us Dream Whip. There are human characters in Saugus to the Sea, but they play the barest of supporting roles; the primary focus being the relationship between the narrator and the American urban complex of underground Los Angeles. Less of a novel and more of a collection of short stories or personal essays linked by consistent themes. Additionally it's a madcap mystery about an introverted underground-sprinkler repairman who discovers pieces of a grand conspiracy involving Arbor Day insurrectionists, underground irrigation systems, earthquakes and the flashing light on top of the Capitol Records building.

Its elements don't demand to be taken too literally; as metaphors, they form an elegant network of signification. Water, fault lines, maps, flora and architecture are symbols that present urban life and urban history as an interplay of tensions between order and disorder, deliberateness and chance. This is a mystery story (kind of) but the riddle at hand is the whole, vast life of a city. Brown got his start in travel zines and it shows: His genuine love for and knowledge of his subject saves this book from the cynicism and archness that characterize many other chronicles of alienation in the surreal City of Quartz. Illustrations from Brad Young, the cartoonist who draws and writes the comic strip Stay As You Are. (Willamette Week Review)

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Catalog / Artist / Bill Brown