In the landscape of modern media, where digital algorithms dictate taste and doom-scrolling has replaced genuine cultural exploration, Birdy. magazine has remained a stubborn, beautiful, and tangible anomaly. Founded in Denver, Colorado, the all-lowercase, print arts publication has spent over a decade serving as a sanctuary for disenfranchised artists, underground writers, and musicians. Operating with a fierce, punk-rock ethos, Birdy. grew from a hyper-local DIY experiment into an internationally recognized cult favorite, distributing tangible pages of art to major creative hubs across the United States.
But the physical reality of keeping an independent print magazine alive has caught up with its creators. Today, the water levels are rising. Plagued by skyrocketing production costs, shifting economic landscapes, and the compounding financial hangovers of the post-pandemic era, co-founders Krysti Joméi (she/her) and Jonny DeStefano (he/him) find themselves facing a critical crossroads.
With their personal savings entirely drained and their lines of credit exhausted, the duo recently launched a public GoFundMe campaign. It is a vulnerable, transparent plea to stop the bleeding, secure their milestone 150th issue, and completely restructure their business model. They are not giving up; rather, in true Birdy. fashion, they are mutating.
The Birth of a “Paper Venue”
To understand Birdy. is to understand the DIY subculture of Denver in the early 2010s. The magazine’s DNA was forged in the Deer Pile, a legendary, completely independent, donation-based community space founded by DeStefano located above the City, O’ City restaurant in Capitol Hill. Joméi and DeStefano’s initial meeting reads like a classic independent film narrative—a serendipitous convergence of two creative spirits hiding in plain sight.
“Jonny and I met at City, O’ City,” Joméi recalls. “He was the (resident) DJ and the DJ Manager and Promoter [of the resturant], and I was a barista … I actually moved into the same building as him, apartment 103, and he was in 301. We didn’t even know each other existed (DeStefano begs to differ, noticing Joméi at the annual holiday party and barista counter) … I came in on my day off to pick up my paycheck and to grab a cup of coffee, and he was behind me, and he complimented my white leather combat boots … We started talking about DJing and community radio, and then he told me about Deer Pile, which I didn’t even know existed, even though I worked down below.”
That conversation quickly unlocked a shared obsession with print media and independent journalism. Joméi had served as the editor-in-chief of her college magazine, while DeStefano was operating a bustling but chaotic cultural vortex upstairs at the Deer Pile.
“Krysti and I have so many relatable interests and passions,” DeStefano says. “We had all the same interests … I started the Deer Pile at City O’ City, and we needed help … We were told that the Deer Pile had an expiration date on it. We had all this talent coming through the Deer Pile—comedians and writers, musicians, incredible, beautiful, powerful local and across the nation talent … and we’re like, we need to make a magazine because we have access to all this. We might as well utilize the same vortex of talent.”
At the time, Denver possessed vibrant journalistic staples, but the physical art scene lacked a dedicated, uncompromising canvas.
“There was a void within the art (scene),” Joméi explains. “There were so many amazing news journalistic publications … but there really wasn’t an art magazine at the time. So we met, and we brought on board Michael David King, who was the old layout designer for The Onion when it was in print … Through (the help of Sexy Pizza and its founder Kayvan Khalatbari) providing that initial advertisement—I think we had like two ads in the first issue—We launched Birdy. with one month of content, and 1,500 bucks. People told us we were insane. They were like, ‘What is wrong with you? I can’t believe you’re doing this. There’s only Birdy. on the front cover. There’s no words describing what’s inside the issue. No one’s gonna pick it up.’ And then people picked it up.”
The Deer Pile essentially transformed from a physical room into a tangible, portable format. Joméi and DeStefano began viewing Birdy. less as a corporate publishing venture and more as a “paper venue”—an ongoing, monthly exhibition curated for the people, by the people.
Star-Dust and Global Tentacles
The unconventional nature of the magazine quickly garnered a massive following. Its minimal, elegant design approach—letting the artwork take center stage without aggressive headlines or cluttered text—respected the intelligence of the audience. That aesthetic purity caught the eye of legendary cultural icons, most notably Mark Mothersbaugh, the visionary co-founder of the seminal new wave band DEVO.
“We were huge fans … specifically Jonny, of DEVO, of Mark Mothersbaugh … We just told MCA (Denver), ‘Hey, we love DEVO; we love Mark. Can we just print free ads for you guys just to have Mark in our magazine?’ And that ended up leading to a relationship with Mark, who would start to create art for us.” Joméi says. “We’re not the star-fucker type; we just follow or lead with our heart.”
Mothersbaugh became an active champion of the publication, physically carrying copies of Birdy. across the globe.
“Through the internet, Birdy. became known across the world,” Joméi notes. “Literally, (Mothersbaugh) would take magazines and put them in Japan, or wherever he’s going … Before the pandemic, we actually had several national distribution spots. We had Los Angeles (still active), New Orleans, Brooklyn (still active), Seattle, Chicago, Tennessee, North Carolina, Virginia. So we actually would send out all of these issues because there was such a demand for it, even with just Denver advertising.”
Rising Waters and Economic Shocks
The trajectory of Birdy. seemed unstoppable until a sequence of macro-environmental crises severely impacted the independent printing industry. Long before the COVID-19 pandemic paralyzed small businesses, systemic shifts in paper production began driving up operational expenses.
“There’s so many details that, if you’re not in the publishing industry, you don’t understand,” Joméi explains. “With the rise of Amazon and e-commerce, (several major) paper mills … shut down in the United States. The demand (for cardboard) really changed the industry. That happened around 2019 … And then COVID happening, that destroyed so many (businesses) … I can’t even believe we survived, just barely. It’s just been increasingly harder and harder to do what we’ve been doing.”
The most catastrophic blow came in the wake of post-pandemic supply chain issues and printing plant closures, forcing an immediate, unsustainable financial shock onto the tiny operation.
“We had another printer, and they basically couldn’t print us anymore,” Joméi says. “And we faced a 52% increase in our printing costs virtually overnight (moving to a new printer). It was wild. That’s where the majority of funding goes. (Joméi also explained that Birdy lost a major sponsor in late 2024 who essentially covered their print costs). So, we’ve been just doing everything in our power. I have largely been self-funding the publication for the past year and a half [to supplement the sponsor loss] through lines of credit, and like my own … our own life savings is gone.”
DeStefano adds:
“We have no more credit, no more savings … The combination of the new administration and the economy being so bad now, on top of all the costs, the interest costs, the printer costs, all that stuff. The economy is struggling, and our fellow businesses are struggling. It’s hard to come by advertising. So our normal method for paying for Birdy. is not there.”
For years, the creators shielded their audience from these harsh financial realities. Because Birdy. has always been distributed for free on stands, many readers assumed it was backed by a well-funded media conglomerate or a fully staffed non-profit foundation. The reality is far simpler, and far more exhausting: It is kept alive by two human beings.
“We’ve calculated, and I’m probably under-calculating, but Birdy. has given over a million dollars to our community since our inception through free issues, payments to contributors, artists, writers, DJs, comedians, photographers, interns, delivery people (and countless underpaid and volunteered hours),” Joméi states. “We’ve given so much money and time and energy that we have to ask for help now … The ship is really filling up with water, and there’s sharks swimming all around us.”
Restructuring the Punk Ethos
Faced with impending closure, Joméi and DeStefano are refusing to let the publication sink. To make ends meet and keep the lights on, they have temporarily transformed themselves into jack-of-all-trades laborers while organizing a strategic overhaul of the magazine’s corporate blueprint.
“We’re taking on any job that we can get,” DeStefano says. “We’re carpenters now, we’re gardeners now, someone’s paying me to paint them a Tuscany landscape … We’re doing anything we can on top of everything else we’re doing already for the magazine. But we’re gonna crack the code; we’re gonna figure it out.”
The GoFundMe campaign serves a specific, calculated business objective. It is not an ongoing subsidy for an unsustainable model, but a vital financial bridge designed to secure a landmark issue and buy the founders the operational runway needed to execute a smarter, more resilient infrastructure.
“We’re asking for help to take a breath,” Joméi emphasizes. “What we’re asking for is … a fairly modest amount for everything that we’ve contributed ourselves. It’s just for us to be able to take a breath and not work seven days a week and reassess and restructure … The most important mission out of anything, though … is this next issue that we print … our 150th issue. Which is wildly, wildly magical.”
With that breathing room, the founders plan to transition away from a DIY operation into a robust business model supported by a seasoned advisory core. They have already started assembling an impressive, heavyweight team to help guide the brand’s evolution.
“That amount of money, I think, will allow us to really go after something that we’ve been talking about: larger grants, other further support … We don’t want to be in a position like this again,” Joméi says. “We strategically chose (an amount) that will allow us to basically create a three-month runway to really create a solid core crew of people who … have joined forces with us, one being Dan Landes (the founder and former owner of City, O’ City), the other being Didi Bethurum (the former CCO of Meow Wolf) and she’s a force … It’s essentially creating the business structure and crew to do what we really should have done in the beginning.”
Expanding the Birdy. Universe
The long-term vision for Birdy. extends far beyond the traditional page boundaries. If the survival campaign succeeds, the founders plan to activate a multi-media ecosystem that utilizes their deep connections across the global creative arts community.
“What’s on the table is so immense,” Joméi reveals. “The print publication is always the bread and butter, but we’re working on an animation department. We’re working on music right now; we’re both musicians. We’re working on a lifestyle component of Birdy., an affordable (art and apparel) facet of Birdy. where we can further support artists with cool, ethical merchandise and clothing. We’re working on the world’s first audiozine … called Birdy.Orbit.”
This diversification aims to establish multiple revenue streams to protect the print magazine from erratic shifts in the commercial advertising sector. In doing so, Birdy. will build an engine capable of funding and employing an entire generation of independent creators.
The Power of the Analog
For DeStefano and Joméi, saving Birdy. is not merely a matter of commercial survival—It is an act of cultural resistance. They view the physical, tactile nature of a print publication as an essential antidote to the psychological toll of an increasingly digitized world.
“The new generation is just craving analog media,” Joméi observes. “The studies that are coming out (show) how important it is for your mental health and your well-being, your physical nervous system, to consume tangible products … It does something to your psyche, to your being. And I think that in a day and age that is so driven by algorithms, and doom-scrolling, and comparing ourselves to AI and robots … It’s just crucial to continue to make actual tangible art.”
DeStefano echoes this sentiment with urgent intensity:
“The phones, as we all are aware of, are hacking our amygdalas. We’re being doom-scrolled; we’re being manipulated by the billionaires who are trying to control the narrative … And it’s like, they don’t get to control our narrative. We’re here, and we have lots to say. We’re in this fight … part of the resistance. That is another reason why we’re fighting for analog media.”
The overwhelming flood of community support since the campaign’s launch has validated that mission, reminding the founders that their decade of quiet sacrifice has deeply impacted the cultural fabric.
“The love that we have seen already … Even if it’s a small donation of $6 or $2, that act right there just fills our hearts up,” DeStefano says. “We feel like we’re doing this for those people.”
Joméi agrees:
“One of my favorite quotes … It’s a song (by Nine Inch Nails) … the way out is through. And part of (the lyrics are), I will keep on; I will keep on. The way out is through … You have to face things head-on … as hard as this has all been, I think that it’s crucial and pivotal. We have to lean on each other right now. Despite how hard it is, there’s this unmoving hope that I feel … I know that the outcome is going to be greater than I can imagine.”
How to Help
To support the continuation of independent arts journalism and help secure the landmark 150th issue of Birdy., community members can contribute directly to their official GoFundMe campaign. Beyond financial donations, the founders are urging supporters to buy mail subscriptions, share the campaign online to counter social media algorithms, and offer local event collaborations to help amplify the publication’s reach.
Images courtesy of Birdy.
