Scribbling the Edge
Is not just a sketchbook

t’s a declaration.
Over the past ten years, every line in these pages has been an act of presence, a way to say
“I’m here” when words fell short, when space felt borrowed or nonexistent. To scribble was — and still is — a way of existing without asking
for permission.

There are no safe margins here.
No perfection, no polish.
There is rage and stillness. Desire and loss.
Memory and delirium.
Shaky lines born out of sleepless nights, out of the urge to catch what was slipping away, out of a need for intimacy that resists explanation.

This zine is not an archive. It’s a breathing body.
A body made of ink, graphite, stains and
uncorrected mistakes.

Ach page is a raw fragment — a space where scribbling becomes rebellion, play, shelter.
Where drawing doesn’t illustrate, but sustains what words cannot hold.

To scribble the edge is to choose not to fit in.
To resist the neatness of correctness.
To love what is unfinished, what is scratched, what defies the straight line.
It is, above all, a way of being in the world — fiercely, tenderly, with the whole body.
Cuauhtémoc Arrieta,
Los Angeles California June 2025
@ my studio In Lake forest CA