zines & art books



zine . riso print . 28,5 x 20 cm . 44 pages . 2019

Olabo and Akay are scavengers. They serve a role, not unlike the rats and crows. They make note when old bikes haven’t moved in a while, turn them into the police station, and when no one claims them, they fix the bikes up and get them back into the environment. This was how they collected 25 bikes to send to Syrian refugees newly arrived to Sweden.

Their eyes are always open, keeping watch on the bikes in their environment. They send each other photos of lazily locked bikes, where the owner wraps a lock around a bike seat, barely. A totally unsecure, false sense of security. Akay noticed a nice bike locked with a thin cable lock and figured that it wouldn’t last long. But it was there day after day for like two months until one day he found the bike lock cut and the nice bike gone. That was how these things went, the laws of nature. But then he found the bike the very next day abandoned in a public square five blocks away. He wheeled it back to its spot and then had no idea what to do. Should he admit that he was a weirdo who had abnormal interest in just that bike? In the end, he locked it with his own lock and left a note with his number saying he caught the thief and to give him a call. No one did. Eventually he turned that bike into the police as well and the cycle continues.

E.B. Itso once shared with them an article about photographer Klaus Holtsing documenting cut bike locks in Copenhagen, and they started bringing home the evidence of crimes committed. Over four years, they’ve collected 90 of these sliced locks littering the sidewalks, just while going along through their day, along their normal routes. A natural sanitation process, cleaning up after the bike predators.