1. I awoke to whirring and heat, white light shining effervescent against my face. I tried to open my eyes, but where they should have been, was merely metal. I dared not speak and waited for a gruesome fate. My creator filled me with liquid monochromes—black, grey, and white. I could hardly breathe as the paint enveloped me, and yet when my second skin hardened, I caught a first glimpse of the world above me. A white flatness. Two large eyeballs stared back at me, close enough to see the veins. Without warning, my hard body flipped over. My creator added metal knobs to my back. Then she attached me to hard paper and laid me flat, slipped and suffocated inside clear plastic. All at once, darkness. I felt buried alive. I stayed, stiff and enwrapped, imagined a graveyard of stars. My world moved beneath me, above me, and I was tossed to and fro amidst darkness until finally, I was lifted into warm hands.
2. She stared at me and laughed like I was some sort of joke. I inspected myself under the dim light of her kitchen lamp. If I could smile, I would have, in that same cheeky manner when I wrote a good line. I knew exactly who I was—the black bob, somber clothes, much thinner than the real man. A measly forty millimeters and flat as a tombstone. A dwarf compared to the greatness of him. I tried to stand proud. To radiate the literary fame of my likeness. I am Edgar Allan Poe, offering my signature frown and a permanent fist bump. I gasped at the raven on my shoulder, consumed with a deep-seated fear that it would whisper nevermore and drive me to the brink of insanity. But it stayed as frozen as my fist. The bird was less ominous up close, and I liked the fact that I would always have a friend. A banner with the quote “Poes Before Hoes” unfurled beneath my fist. What on Earth? I failed to remember when I said that, but by the smirk on my new owner’s face, well, it could only be some vulgar contemporary expression.
3. Enamel pins have influenced American fashion and pop culture since the 90s. In a recent interview with Eye on Design, artist and pin designer Penelope Gazin stated, “Pins are not only affordable art but they’re perfect staple pieces for our current generation that celebrates individuality and customization.” E-commerce and social media trends have sparked a broad market of diverse consumers for independent artists. Plus, since enamel pins average around $10, it’s a great, affordable way to support artists. Designs range from kawaii pastels to gothic monochromes. The level of specificity makes pins so desirable. They can represent almost every taste. Since much of our cultural conversation exists online, pins serve as mini time capsules or wearable snapshots. It’s a type of art that’s less permanent than a tattoo but one that you can equally show off.
4. A disillusioned optimistic, I wonder what personal clues and artifacts I will leave behind when I die. I’m a writer who struggles to produce a unique voice amidst the newest trends, the Best American collections of the 2000s. As a result, I’ve often turned to visual expressions, stylistic choices, and strange objects. My interest in enamel pins goes way back to the 90s when my mother gave me her Bill Clinton for President ‘92 pin for show and tell. At five years old I was too young to understand the depth of wearing this metal object on my person, but now I recognize this moment truly sparked my awareness of artistic visual representation. Since then, I’ve found myself drawn to this type of pop art in order to reflect my political and social opinions.
5. Once in high school, my crush and I were hanging out on the football bleachers. One of his male friends ran past us on the track and shouted, “bros before hoes,” infamous sexist slang for “bro code,” or an unwritten set of rules that governed male friendships. I don’t remember if I replied, but my crush smiled apologetically and went to join his friend’s soccer team on the field. In that moment, my infatuation faded. I wouldn’t really think about that phrase until I discovered the enamel pin online. In this rendition, “hoes” might refer to other literary work that is not Edgar Allan Poe’s. I liked how this pin subverted the original gender-charged insult and transformed it into a literary pun that highlights book nerds and the author’s fame.
6. An independent company Ectogasm created the hilarious “Poes Before Hoes” pin. Raeha, a 25-year-old artist from LA started it in 2015. She aspires to make art that people can incorporate into their lives and take with them everywhere. Her designs represent what she loves—literature, nature, human rights, and all things spooky and weird. She creates most of her illustrations digitally with the help of an iPad. Originally, Ectogasm only made enamel pins, which Raeha describes as “tiny art pieces you stick on yourself like a living gallery.” Raeha self-identifies as a feminist, activist, and humanist. She donates a portion of her proceeds to organizations like San Francisco Women Against Rape, The Trevor Project, Planned Parenthood, and The LA LGBT Center. Her studio resides in Redondo Beach, California.
7. As I study Poe, I pay close attention to the dark turquoise cardboard to which he’s adhered. Inked in light brushstrokes—a bottle and an octopus tentacle. Immediately, I associate the bottle to Poe’s short story “M.S. Found in a Bottle,” or perhaps it’s a nod to his renowned alcoholism, his issues with sobriety recorded readily by the public eye. The darker, delusional undercurrents of Poe’s work seem trapped in the cardboard backing, yet when I remove the pin from its packaging, Poe transforms. He’s less of a maddening force to be reckoned with and more like a present-day man with wit and gusto. Poe morphs into a west-coast liberal—a precursor of the classic Californian hipster: awareness of language puns, a cheeky political statement. Suddenly he becomes one of us, extremely relatable and young. Just a random dude. Way less “classic.” Someone who understands how to market in mainstream culture. I had no issue displaying him on my backpack, which held my own notebook of stories. Fun inspiration that reminded me of an author I aspired to write like. A reminder that I, too, could become a great novelist one day. Visual expression was an added bonus.
8. I wouldn’t call myself bookish. Come on, people! I’m a literary mastermind. Quite honestly, I find it a bit degrading that my creator shelved me under such a generic term. I’d call myself an influential epicenter that promotes cultural revolution. Educate yourselves! Read my manuscripts and review them (accurately). My creator shelved me under “gifts for readers and book lovers inspired by literature.” I’m there on the screen next to Jane Austen, HP Lovecraft, George Martin, and the Grimoire. Underneath is a “Censorship is Dictatorship” pin, promoting free speech. I must say, I am the largest and most attractive pin, even though I seem bland compared to the rest of the lot. But my work has transcended the American canon. Who could dare call themselves a book lover without familiarizing themselves with the wild surrealist gore I write? I’ve completely re-shaped the heart of American fiction, I tell you. As I gleam on my owner’s backpack, I allude to one of my most successful works The Raven. Although the narrator’s haunting by Lenore doesn’t fully encapsulate all facets of my twisted imagination, I would say it propelled not only the concept of psychological disturbance but also meta fiction to the literary forefront. I conjured paranoia, guilt, even fantastic madness in the speaker, clearly displaying my love of the uncanny: “The silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain/Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.” I imagined the speaker teetering on insanity’s cliff in their own study, the familiar drapes now an eerie phantasm. Isn’t that genius? Go ahead, read for yourself.
9. I watched my owner for years on that shelf. I loved observing her write. She had the most interesting way of it. No alcohol involved. She turned on music so loud it would vibrate my metal, and then she would dance on her toes, twirling to low beats, eyes closed, hair spinning around her face. I wanted to know how it would feel to be that free. Not frozen forever, gathering dust. Then, as if some magic bolt struck her brain, she would fly to her computer, lip bit in concentration. Her eyelashes would shake as she typed, and after a few minutes, she would stretch her back, her smile so wide it reached her eyes. Other times, she wouldn’t smile, her jaw tight with frustration, her unwashed hair set in a loose bun atop her head. She would type frantically in a manuscript she had no intention of publishing. These are times she might stare at me for a long while. I could see her face changing, her mind acting like gears, churning through all the emotions—agony, confusion, determination.
10. “Literary Hipster” Trinket American Durable black metal with enamel coating, double back prongs 21st century
Retro trinket originally found in an old shoebox. Modern rebranding of author Edgar Allan Poe aimed particularly at young people. Due to the rapid disinterest in print materials like books, journals, and newspapers, a group of literary lovers found innovative ways to keep famous names in contemporary circulation.