I'm no stranger to the ol' Shrinky Dink magic. My dear friend Emily Orzel and I reignited our childhood love for the craft back in college when we made pins for our zine, Washed Out. We were way ahead of the whole pin game that has taken over Instagram but I'll try not to brag about that now...
Anywho, enamel pins are back and big as ever and if you want to be a relevant, hip artist, you are turning your line art into metal pins and slinging it to anyone who digs your style. It's great to bask in the golden age of pins, I am all about poking holes into my jean jacket or my army jacket with illustrations that show who ~I really am~. And literally anything you have ever wanted to express yourself is made into a pin now a days. It's amazing. From The Smoking Man to lady products to Mrs. Doubtfire and Mike Tyson to Olde English in a paper bag. Literally anything you want. Anything... But my art.
I don't know how to get into the enamel game and I don't think anyone would want to buy my shit and I am not financially able to make risks like that. So the alternative is... Shrinky dinks!
I made a bunch of random doodles into a bunch of hunks of plastic and watched how they shrunk to a third of their printed size and expanded to 9x's their widths. It was fascinating. Still. (The packaging does suggest that teens and adult use this product, so no shame!)
These pins aren't for sale, they were made for a special purpose and a cool lady and are off in the mail as we speak.
I pinned the pins onto swatches of my pattern designs and they turned out pretty dang cute.
This heart eyes pin set would've been so cute for a Valentine!
Do you guys want some dinked pins of my art? No? Okay, cool.
PS. Before you go and start thinking I'm a magical magician of a human being (I'm not. At all.) Check this picture out:
Perfectly imperfect. I messed up like 3 full sheets of dinks because they got too hot and the inks melted together and couldn't unfold in the oven. It's a game of chance- nothing comes out perfect and hey, that's pretty cool. 👌🏻