Composting and Processing
Things have to be processed to break down into fertile soil that will nourish our best ideas.
I’ve been writing daily in notebooks I bound at my self-styled-studio-catsitting-residency in Seattle. The notebooks are one of the few things that I printed. I’d resolved not to watch television, to block out social media, and to walk in a park for an hour each day. I’m keenly aware of how overused “dissociating” is in my tool belt for dealing with our current reality. I had imagined that time alone would be a blank page full of possibility. In reality it often felt more like I was adrift in the open ocean.
Thoughts, memories, realizations I’d suppressed crashed over me, flooded through me, overwhelmed me. My 10+ item grocery list of “things I’ll complete” seems laughable now. I made dumplings with friends, I had a full day at the Korean spa with Amelia and I stuck to my daily park walks to ground myself. I just had a lot of… dealing with myself I’d put off?
I listened to Smog, conjuring memories of when I was younger and a whole night seemed like not enough time to make and write all the things that seemed to flow through me effortlessly. I’ve had several periods of this flow state throughout my life. They were always connected to time outside, very little internet, lots of friend time coupled with uninterrupted alone time where I was truly present.
Is that gone forever?
Amelia gave me a copy of Writing Down the Bones, a creative peptalk about writing from the perspective of zen meditation. The author talks about how we have to write daily to have material to compost and process. Things have to be processed to break down into fertile soil that will nourish our best ideas. At my residency I filled up many pages of my sketchbook and about half of a notebook. This was the work I had to do more than churn out some new printed matter, even though Zine Hug has a weird and wonderful palette and a bright orange studio that looks out onto the water.
Two things about my writing and art practice have become very clear to me over the last year. The first is that dopamine and short-form video content is breaking my brain, my connections with others and often my heart. Stuck on a set track, in a passive mode, my muscles for imagination, reasoning and synthesizing atrophy. Instagram has been the way that my press has grown to sustain me, that I’ve met new contributors and shared events and fairs that I’m excited to do. But I feel the weight of what it’s costing me. I aim to continue to wind down my participation.
The second thing I’ve realized is that I am more drawn to writing than ever. This may seem obvious.But I know that I want to continue to pour more energy into my own writing. Substack is, of course, trying to emulate the same addictive properties of other platforms. But several hours writing here still rewards me with a completed piece of writing, wrestled from a jumble of thoughts.
I know that saying “social media breaks our brain” is like saying “sugar is not good for you”. Obvious, potentially perceived as scolding. Last night Felix made us some of his amazing cinnamon rolls for our self-soothe. He has remixed a recipe to use Tangzhong, the Japanese roux that makes milk bread fluffy. We ate them ravenously. I regret nothing. I need to get him to write out the recipe. I cannot imagine a future or a past without the simple pleasure of a slice of cake or a handful of hi-chews from a friend at a book fair. But I can remember when my mind felt more my own, even if only to make very bad art or type up clumsy poems. I’m working to get closer to that flexible state, to form what that could look like. I’m composting and processing.
This first poster is a reworking of an older art project and a past substack post. It’s going out to paid subscribers! This is a blue riso drum that my friend Robert helped me get working with a random tube of aqua that my friend Alex gave me when their studio changed colors. I love a thoughtful transition of ink. The riso community is a real friendship circle, I’m very lucky. If you get something from me at an upcoming fair I’ll likely have some of these to give away as well.
I have a Tip Jar option if you’d like to support my writing and get some things occasionally. It works out to a little less than $4 a month This helps me devote more time to my writing practice. The printed objects will likely be simple and text heavy.
Hope you’re staying safe, logging off and tapping in.
Luv,
RAH
I very much relate to this, thank you for putting it into words and I hope the composting has been fruitful! 🪱