Dear Readers,
Thank you for reading this. It means a lot to have you here.
This project started from a personal place, a constant questioning of my own identity and where I belong. By the end of 2024, I turned that questioning into the Mediterranean Commune, an archive built to find a shared experience among the people of this region, both those living there and the diaspora spread across the world.
What began as an open call for a simple zine caught me completely off guard. We expected a handful of submissions; instead, more than 100 people sent in their work. I am incredibly grateful to every artist who took the time to submit and trust us with their pieces.
We are living through a time when simply being together, remembering, and resisting feels essential. As we see genocide on our screens, experience the climate crisis in our own homes, and watched by daily surveillance, having a dedicated space to create and archive is crucial for our collective survival. Politicians stay silent for their own interests and try to silence us too, which is exactly why our words, our art, and every small space where we choose to express ourselves matter so deeply. We can (and will) save one another by creating, speaking, and simply refusing to disappear.
This issue exists because of that belief, and because of the community that showed up for it.
Inside these pages, you will find stories and images on migration, grief, resilience, and memory. They are works that show how, no matter how far we move, we carry the reality of our lands across borders.
A very special thank you to Gülce for her careful help with the final read, and to Sarah and Seren for their support in finalising this issue; also thanks to Gonzalo for cover photo. It would not exist without them.
Thank you for being here, and I hope you find a piece of yourself within these pages.
In solidarity,
Serra