By Ella Holmes & Michaela Roper
Toni and Frankie met between library stacks and late-night study sessions, drawn together by a shared reverence for the strange, the storied, and the beautifully unfinished. From that friendship, Flesh and Parchment was born — a space carved out for the quiet hauntings, the half-said, and the overlooked. Rooted in a love of history, art, and the offbeat, the zine is a home for work that slips through the cracks: the fragmentary, the fierce, and the forgotten. Each edition is an invitation to witness, share, and hold the work with care — a celebration of friendship, creativity, and the next spill of ink.
It was at the launch of Blood Orange Zine, surrounded by voices that pulsed with urgency and tenderness, that the idea first leapt from conversation into resolve. In that room, where community and experimentation intertwined, Flesh and Parchment began to take its shape — imagined as a collaborative project, one that could carry forward the same spirit of rawness and reverence while creating its own distinct space.
Sleeve Magazine sat down with Toni Burns (@toniscuriositycabinet) and Frankie Reed (@frankensteins.curios), the creative masterminds behind a project rooted in a deep love and appreciation for artfulness amongst the curious of life, and everything in between. Flesh and Parchment exists with care, curiosity, and commitment to platforming voices that might otherwise go unheard – and has been met with love across the city.
Q: How did you arrive at this concept for the zine as a whole, meeting, friends, what were the motivations behind the themes of the monstrous and the divine? Or, can you recall a specific conversation or experience between you as friends that sparked the central ‘monstrous and divine’ theme for this volume? How did that moment shape your artistic direction together?
FRANKIE: “The theme grew out of conversations between us about how bodies and identities are framed — often as either sacred or suspect, beautiful or grotesque. We were drawn to the tension between those extremes: how something deemed “monstrous” can hold its own strange divinity, and how the divine is often entangled with the fleshly, the imperfect, the human. It wasn’t a single “lightbulb” moment, but more an accumulation of shared interests and late-night conversations where we realised we were both fascinated by that threshold”.
TONI: “For me, the theme really took shape when we thought back to studying early modern monsters together at uni — so many of them weren’t “monstrous” at all, just bodies or lives that didn’t fit the expected pattern. As two disabled people, that stuck with us in a very immediate way, this sense of how difference gets distorted into fear or spectacle. At the same time, we were both fascinated by the divine — drawn to religious art, but also negotiating that fascination through layers of Catholic guilt and questioning. The tension between awe and unease, reverence and rejection, felt like exactly the space we wanted the zine to inhabit. The “Monstrous” and “The Divine” became a language for exploring those contradictions, and for carving out a space where they could be held together rather than forced apart”
Q: Where do your interests in writing and poetry come from, is it something you enjoyed when you were younger and realised you enjoyed, or was it something you later discovered. How does that early influence still show up in your work now?
FRANKIE: “For me, writing has always been a way of making sense of things. As a kid I was forever scribbling little stories and fragments, and my sister shared that same love for words. When she passed away, I found myself picking up the pen more often — writing became a way of holding onto that connection, while also carving out my own voice. Over time, poetry felt like the form that fit me best: I’ve always loved rhythm, texture, and how language can transform when spoken aloud. I’ve carried a lifelong pull towards physical art too, though for years I thought not having studied it meant it wasn’t for ‘me’.
Adulthood has shifted that perspective — life is too short to sideline creativity. Now I let my passions for the strange and the historical spill into my writing, which feels like a way of channelling both my personal experiences and my academic curiosities into something imaginative and alive”.
TONI: “I always loved art as a child, but as I grew older, I drifted away from it. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself I’d been left behind, that if I didn’t keep pursuing it seriously, I couldn’t return. That made me hesitant, almost scared, to try again. What shifted things for me was Frankie: both their talent and the way they gently encouraged me to give poetry a go. That support made the act of writing feel less intimidating, more like something I could step back into without having to prove myself. Poetry has become a way of reconnecting with that early love of creativity, but also reshaping it — it’s about finding a voice I didn’t know I was allowed to have, and letting it exist alongside my other passions”.
Q: In this issue, ‘authenticity’ feels tangible, ‘pressing skin to page’, how essential is authenticity to you in your work, and how does this volume reflect your identities as poets?
FRANKIE: “Authenticity is vital, but for us it’s not about confession so much as honesty of voice. We’re not interested in performing a persona that doesn’t feel lived-in. The zine reflects our identities because it makes space for vulnerability, humour, and strangeness — all things that feel core to who we are as poets”.
TONI: “I’ve always been scared of being an oversharer; part of me has wanted to be the “cool girl” who stays a little untouchable. But I’ve learned that what actually brings the most meaningful relationships and interactions is authenticity. It’s still scary to put that on the page, but it feels more worthwhile than hiding behind a version of myself that isn’t real. For me, making authenticity central to Flesh and Parchment is about creating a space where that risk is welcomed, where honesty and openness can be met with care. This volume reflects that by holding pieces that aren’t polished masks but living, breathing fragments of experience — something I want to keep reaching for in my own work too”.
Q: Other than what you’ve portrayed in your work in the zine, what is your own experiences and origins with the divine, is there a particular moment that encapsulates your grapplings with religion or divinity more broadly?
FRANKIE: “I grew up very religious, and as an autistic child I took it all very literally. When I eventually realised the Bible wasn’t meant to be read word for word as fact, I stepped away from practising faith and instead turned to studying it. That shift didn’t dull my fascination — if anything, it deepened it. I’ve always been captivated by Christianity’s imagery and ritual: the icons, altars, hymns, and symbolism. Even without belief, those aesthetics have left a lasting imprint on me, and I return to them often in my writing. For me, the divine isn’t about doctrine, but about the power of ritual and how those symbols continue to shape the way we think about bodies, morality, and desire”.
TONI: “I was raised, thankfully, in a very open way when it came to religion. I’ve always had this yearning to believe, to feel that certainty, but something has always held me back — and that’s something I’m still navigating. I recently wrote about it for The New Critic on Substack, reflecting on a moment when I was eight and took communion even though I wasn’t supposed to. I remember waiting for something to happen, for some kind of transformation, and when nothing did, I felt confused. That feeling has followed me through my life. But I’ve come to realise I can explore those questions without pressure, that faith (or the lack of it) doesn’t need a strict time frame or structure. In my life, the divine has become less about answers and more about the act of exploration itself, allowing space for uncertainty, curiosity, and personal meaning”.
Q: You both have obvious interests in working in the arts – How do you think these experiences and interests have informed your concurrent projects, most notably Flesh and Parchment?
FRANKIE: “Facilitation has taught me the value of creating spaces where people feel comfortable exploring and making. That ethos carries directly into Flesh and Parchment — it’s not just about producing a zine, but about opening a door for others to share their voices. The two roles feed into each other: what I learn in workshops influences how I think about collective creativity, and the zine gives me new ways to imagine what inclusive, collaborative art-making can look like”.
TONI: “Through my studies in institutional practice, I’ve realised how essential art is, and how it can function as a social tool. In the world we’re living in, where hate and division feel so present, art can create points of connection, empathy, and understanding that other structures often fail to provide. That perspective has really shaped how I think about Flesh and Parchment: it’s a creative outlet, but also a way of holding space for voices and experiences that might otherwise be silenced. For me, the zine is a small act of resistance as well as an act of care, a reminder that art matters because of the relationships and conversations it makes possible”
Q: Frankie, would you say your work as a learning facilitator inspires your more creative endeavours – would you say these experiences in delivering workshops pushed you to create the zine, or the other way around?
FRANKIE: “Both, really. Working with children has shown me how powerful creativity can be when people feel free to experiment — that openness is something I wanted to bring into Flesh and Parchment for adults. The zine creates a space where grown-ups can take risks and share their voices, and in turn it’s given me confidence and fresh perspectives I carry back into my facilitation work. Even with different audiences, the two roles constantly feed into each other”.
Q: Toni, your current MA combines aesthetic theory with institutional practice, do you think this gave you the idea to create almost a gallery of your own to curate?
TONI: “Yes, it definitely has. For a long time I had this mental wall that I couldn’t create, so curation felt like the natural career path for me. Being surrounded by such talented artists on my course reinforced that feeling — that my role was to support and showcase rather than make. But working on Flesh and Parchment has shifted that perspective. I’ve realised I don’t have to choose between the two: I can curate and create, lifting others up while also giving myself the space to explore my own voice. The zine feels like a way of holding both roles at once, and that balance has been really empowering”.
Q: How important are the zine launches to Flesh and Parchment? Do you think events like yours are opening doors for creatives around the city?
FRANKIE: “The launches are everything. The zine exists on the page, but the events bring it to life — hearing the words spoken, feeling the atmosphere, and connecting with people in person. Open mic slots are especially great, giving contributors a chance to share their work for the first time. Watching that confidence grow is incredibly rewarding, and I hope these events help open doors for more creatives”.
TONI: “The launches feel just as important to me as the zine itself. We’ve had such amazing feedback from people saying we’ve created a space that feels safe and comfortable, and that means everything. Before this project, I often felt like I didn’t really have a place in creative circles — I admired them from the outside but didn’t quite feel part of them. Through Flesh and Parchment, and especially at the launches, that’s changed. I’ve met some incredible people and made real friends, which is something I’d been missing.
“And that’s exactly what we want to provide for others too: a space where people can connect, feel at ease, and know they belong. For me, the events aren’t just about showcasing work — they’re about building that sense of connection and community, which feels just as valuable as the zine itself”.
Q: Did the live readings from the contributors reveal something to you about the anthology that was less visible on the page?
FRANKIE: “Absolutely — live performance completely changes the way a poem lands. Lines that feel quiet or subtle on the page can suddenly burst with humour, urgency, or emotional weight when spoken aloud. You see how the voice, timing, and presence of the poet can shift meaning and give the work a different resonance. It reminded me that poetry isn’t just about words on paper — it lives in the body, in pauses, in breath, in the interaction with an audience. Those readings revealed layers in the anthology that I hadn’t fully grasped while editing”.
TONI: “I handle a lot of the admin side of things, so I end up talking to contributors quite often before the launches. Meeting them in person is always really grounding — it reminds me what Flesh and Parchment is actually about and who we’re holding space for. Hearing their work in their own voices is especially powerful: the cadence, the pauses, the nuances they bring add so much that you can’t always catch on the page. It makes the pieces feel alive in a new way, and that’s really special to witness”.
Q: What do you most enjoy about sharing your poetry with a live audience? Does reading aloud change how you approach writing or revising future pieces?
FRANKIE: “I love the immediate exchange — the energy that flows between poet and audience is unlike anything on the page. It’s exciting to hear how a line lands, what draws laughter, or what causes a hush. Reading aloud makes me reconsider my own work: I think more carefully about rhythm, the musicality of language, and how a pause or inflection can transform meaning”.
TONI: “For me, reading aloud has almost become a kind of exposure therapy. I’d love to go back and tell my 16, 18, or even 20-year-old self that one day I’d be sharing the things I used to bury in my notes with a room full of people. It’s terrifying, but also liberating. What makes it even more powerful is the feedback afterwards — when someone comes up to say they’ve felt the same way, it’s incredibly emotional and affirming.
I write about some heavy topics, and I’ve struggled a lot in silence with my mental health, so hearing that my words resonate makes me feel less alone. That connection is what keeps me pushing through the fear to keep reading and creating”.
Q: How are you evolving or reimagining Flesh and Parchment for future volumes or projects? Are there themes, collaborations, or new formats you’re dreaming of exploring next?
FRANKIE: “I want to continue pushing the boundaries of what a zine can be, exploring the intersections between text, sound, and visual art. I’m particularly excited by collaborations — bringing together poets, musicians, and visual artists to see what unexpected forms can emerge. Future projects might include more tactile, immersive design elements, or experimental performances that challenge the idea of a printed anthology. The goal is to keep the work alive and evolving, reflecting the voices and energies of the contributors in fresh ways”.
TONI: “I feel the same — collaboration and community are at the heart of what we want to keep doing. With Flesh and Parchment, the dream is to continue platforming more artists, giving space to voices that deserve to be heard, and building on the safe, welcoming environment we’ve started here in Liverpool. At the same time, we want to expand that reach online so people anywhere in the world can feel part of it. For me, the future isn’t just about new themes or formats, but about strengthening those connections — creating spaces, both physical and digital, where creativity and care can grow side by side”.
Q: What excites you about the poetic landscape of Liverpool and the North West in general at the moment? Do you feel as if more creatives have come to the surface in terms of more readings and events happening?
FRANKIE: “The poetic energy in Liverpool and the North West is incredibly vibrant at the moment. There’s a strong DIY spirit — grassroots readings, small collectives, and independent events are flourishing. What excites me most is the diversity of voices emerging: people who might not have felt welcome in traditional spaces are now finding platforms to be heard. There’s a sense of experimentation and openness that feels urgent and vital. It’s inspiring to be part of a community that’s both nurturing and boundary-pushing, and it feels like this energy is only just beginning to surface”.
TONI: “I’m quite new to the poetic scene, but I’ve never felt more connected and accepted in a space so quickly. What excites me is how open and brave it feels — we don’t shy away from difficult topics, and there’s a real sense of taking a stand. For me, it’s about making space for all voices and being clear about our values: anti-hate speech, anti–far right, pro-community. That’s the kind of environment we need to nurture, and Liverpool feels like a place where that’s genuinely possible. It’s inspiring to see so many people finding their voices here, and I feel lucky to be part of it”.
The third issue of Flesh and Parchment is currently in the works, but you can get your zine fix over at @fleshandparchment and soak up some snippets from issues one and two, as much as your heart desires.
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