guide.notes 22 | ritual adventure
dear creative friends,
I write to you from the first day of autumn rain in Istanbul. last Thursday I didn't write, because an old friend visited, and, in stark contrast to my summer hermit life, we spent 12-hour days outside, everyday (see below), and talked so much and for so long, such that by the end of the day, I could not lift a finger to write even a sentence...
what's inspired me lately
Ritualized Adventures -- when my friend visited me, we (+ my dog Luna, featured above) took the ferry to the Prince Islands, three times in 5 days. it meant waking up at 6:45 am, packing a backpack, and walking half an hour to catch the 8 am ferry for an hour long ferry ride to the islands, south of Istanbul. whereas in the past, I used to do this once a month, if at all, the intensity of adventuring 3 times in a week made me think about the concept of ritualized adventure.
as in: what if adventuring was something we planned for, made time and space for? not only physical adventures in the world, but also creative, emotional, mental? it would mean a deliberate way of stretching my boundaries, a deliberate space for discovery and exploration.
what forms would that take, for you?
Google Arts & Culture as a resource for art history & world culture, as well as a collection of AI-inspired, experimental games!! I stumbled upon this while researching for my Visual Play Camp course, and WOW. this is way better than any social media platform, by far. If I had nothing else to do, I would totally spend hours playing games on here - it could be my adult version of Neopets.
Pippin Barr, a game designer I found through the above. (his name sounds too perfect to be real!) I'm so inspired by (not only his very witty games), but also by the meticulousness and open way in which he documents his process and projects.
The Museum of Innocence, by Orhan Pamuk - I think I mentioned this before - I had sent my friend to visit the museum (here's a virtual exhibit), but now I begin reading the book.
A story about this book:
I discovered the novel at a used English bookstore called "Another Country," when I lived in Berlin, and brought it with me to Istanbul. It's a story of an obsessive love affair, documented through objects (which form the physical museum). My first time starting this book, I escaped from Berlin to Istanbul at the end of my own (obsessive) love affair. Reading this book did not help. Plus, the narrator's entitled, male-gaze / objectifying voice drove me nuts. I put it down.
Now, after two years of living in Istanbul, in a very different place in my life, I'm reading it in English, and listening to the audiobook in Turkish. I feel very different about this book -- inspired by it, and realizing that somehow, it's a significant piece of work to me. Perhaps it's because my own artistic practice feels sometimes like the act of collecting objects for a museum -- for my future self to visit -- as the anthropologist of my own life experience.
A poem I took a screenshot of
notes from this week
this week, I drew the last two drawings of summer diaries series (for the year), and plotted my next creative projects for the fall, which I can't wait to share with you... (along with all the other clogged projects (podcast, website, microgardens...) soon!)
nights on the water — kening zhu
summer diaries no. 8
crowds of summer tourists — kening zhu
summer diaries no. 9
I'm signing off for this week, my friends. I've been working long days on a website for a jewelry client, and feeling almost ready to never work again! just kidding, kind of.
this Sunday, my partner comes home from 6 months of military service, and I'm feeling: anxious, excited, and, after a summer of self-obsessed artist-entrepreneurial work, nearly ready to think about the meaning of intimacy and love, I think, again.
wishing you a beautiful full moon, and turnings of the month,
kening
this is guide.notes no 22, a weekly letter on the solitary act of embarking on your own creative adventure in the internet wild.