The process is... liberating?!
Editing, reworking, and feeling free
Friends,
Papers, papers, everywhere. If I were to give this month a title, it would be “Hot-in-process,” and it would be a dance performance in which a bearded bloke in a slick red latex leotard (designed by Jean Paul Gaultier) dances to Da Hool’s classic 1997 “Meet Her at the Love Parade” as printer paper blows across the stage. The dancer is supposed to be the red pen making edit marks on paper, btw.
What the joy?!
From picture book manuscript to business contract, each project I have been editing is dear to me. I used to be intimidated by projects that felt big, serious and/or long-term like this, as if they were things I had to put on boxing gloves for or suffer through. Gripping onto this way of thinking is so frickin’ exhausting! And I realize too that so much of this behavior is not actually mine — I learned them from other people as I was growing up.
So I’ve been shifting my mindset to that of my true/kid self, who is so kind and loves the world. With their help, I’ve been cracking open, releasing, and allowing joy to pour into the editing and creative process.
Here are some recent examples of that:
(expressed in yellow scrap paper and pencil because I felt like it!)
Putting on a cute art uniform helps me cross over to the art making world more easily. When I wear the uniform, I know I’m in that world of imagination and creation and I can get messy!
One morning while I was meditating, a thought surfaced like a seal popping out of the ocean. They said, “Yes, you and God are one. But you, God, and everyone else is also one.” and flopped back into the water. This helped me clear the fogginess I felt during a contract negotiation that seemed to have stalled. “I better fight for myself!” morphed into “How can I honor myself and my creations, knowing that this corporate lawyer I am negotiating with is also a part of the whole, a part of this universe, just like me?”
Working on picture book sketches on the floor is totally fine and sometimes preferred because it reminds me of when I made art as a kid.
To prepare for a heavy period flow, I buy my favorite fluffy pads and dark chocolate. When my tummy hurts, I make dates stuffed with peanut butter and pretend I’m an alien princess sent to a beautiful moon with other alien princesses who are also on their periods and we have to eat yummy, nutritious things.
Stories don’t have to make sense, especially if I like them and I’m having fun.
Observing the ways I want to express myself, and then letting myself do that, is fucking liberating. When my hands automatically reach for scrap paper and glue, I let them do that and see what happens. When I am itching to write lyrically, I let my art director know of this. Good news: my next narrative art piece will be lyrical.
With so much enshittification around the world, I am literally tired of the shit.
I am here to create beauty and add more beauty to this world. I hate that oppressors who have 0 taste and 0 integrity have so much power right now, that they are destroying the world, tricking good-hearted people, and literally murdering our friends and loved ones.
But as Ursula K. Le Guin reminds us,
“We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable – but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings.”
My winged, fedora-sporting characters made out of scrap paper and bright pastel cackle and say to the oppressors: “Girl, what has come over you? Take off your shoes and have some of this amazing rose tea we just brewed. Then we’ll chat reparations and figure out how we can heal all this destruction you’ve made. But first, tea.”
That’s where I’m at right now. Sparkling towards life, humanity, and joy in my art, my caring, my life. Resting when I need to too, but not backing down.
As we trot into June, here’s my vibe: espresso tonic, braids, shiny lip gloss, fresh melon, and channeling the Christian Dior RTW Fall / Winter 2003 runway show (which featured this beat below).
Adjusting my thinking cap to a sharp tilt,
Haruka