アートディレクターとしてのキャリア
This is Rainomoto's podcast, The Creative Mindset.
Hi everyone, welcome to The Creative Mindset,
a podcast about what the future holds at the intersection of creativity and technology.
I'm Rainomoto, the founding partner of I&CO,
a global innovation firm based in New York, Tokyo, and Singapore.
Today's guest is Haruka Aoki, a queer Japanese poet illustrator based in Portugal.
She writes and illustrates a regular narrative art column in the New York Times.
Her picture book about a square navigating a world of circles,
Fitting In, was published in 2022 by Sky Pony Press, Simon & Schuster.
Part one of my conversation with Haruka is about finding your place in the world.
So let's get started.
Haruka, it's good to meet you finally online.
Yes, nice to meet you. I feel so honored and
just really happy to be here and be in conversation with you.
Thank you. I only came across your work very recently.
My wife sent me a link to your website harukaoki.com immediately,
you know, from the homepage and beautiful illustrations and artwork that you have,
as well as your writing that you have both in your illustration and the poetry
and the blog that you write. It was so familiar, but also so different at the same time.
And I was also impressed at the same time that, you know, the work that seems so personal
was getting some industry and if I may say commercial attention from the likes of,
you know, New York Times and Washington Post and these major publications.
So just to start off first from your career perspective,
and then perhaps wherever it's relevant, your personal perspective,
the turning point for you to get to the point where you are now.
Yes, yes. When it comes to my life, I think the big turning point was meeting
my partner who really, really opened up how I think about a lot of things,
how I think about my life, the people around me, truly the world.
And when it comes to more of my career and my work as an artist,
it's very clear that my turning point was when I quit my corporate job,
or when I was kind of transitioning from that corporate world
into my current world now living as an artist.
Yeah. So just to dig deeper into that, can you share what was your corporate life
and why did you decide to leave that world?
Hmm. I was working so, so hard as an art director.
Oh, you are? Okay.
As a healthcare company.
I initially, I feel like I have to kind of rewind a little bit
because this also comes with perhaps my background as a Japanese person living in New York
and kind of chasing that dream, going up the ladder, really living that corporate life.
And I had a really kind of, now that I look at it,
it's quite a cute, almost kid-like dream of being like,
yeah, I'm going to make it big.
I'm going to be an art director in New York and I'm going to make six figures,
you know, even when I'm in my late twenties or something like this.
Yeah.
And I really believed in that dream.
And I also was kind of taught that dream while I was growing up.
Okay.
So, after going through that and realizing that dream that I had,
I was like, what? Like, this is it. Come on. I'm not very happy right now.
転職と新たな決意
And in fact, at my last job, at the last corporate job, I was just so unsatisfied.
I just really knew that I had to leave. It was time.
To be honest, I really didn't know that this would be my path as an artist,
illustrator, poetry. I really had no idea.
It was more like I had clinged on to the burnout for as long as possible.
So afterwards, I was just like, I need to get out of here.
And it was more like a survival thing. Like, I need to get away from this place.
So it wasn't at all like, oh, now I know exactly what I'm going to do.
Right.
Like, you know how I'm going to live my life now.
So it was a bit scary leaving without knowing what to do next.
Yeah. But just to visualize what that was like,
was it just one day you getting up and thinking, you know what?
I have to go talk to my boss or to my company and then giving a resignation
without knowing what your next day or next week or next month paycheck will be.
What was it like? That transition?
Yeah.
Yeah, it was. I kept trying. I kept trying. I didn't want to acknowledge,
you know, some of my feelings of sadness or frustration.
Sure.
One day it finally really hit me like, oh, I really have to figure out what to do.
And because I didn't want to completely jump ship one day without thinking too much.
Yeah.
I'm more of a planner type person.
Oh, I see.
And so in the fine, small detail in the contract, I saw that, oh,
employees are able to get a leave of absence if they have a reason.
In fact, the company would continue paying and supporting the employee during this time.
So I was like, OK, like, this sounds like a good idea.
Yeah.
I had no idea that I was even going to quit then.
Actually, I was kind of ready to go back in my head.
I was like, yeah, I will take this leave, but I'm too scared to leave completely.
So, you know, of course I'll go back. Right. Of course.
But then five months later, I, instead of going back, quit the job.
So that was a really helpful time.
Oh, I see. I see.
アーティストとしての第一歩
So what was a moment when you realized doing art, illustrating and painting and writing
was your at least an option for the next possible path?
Ah, I think the day that I knew, oh, maybe this might work out,
this might be a good idea was when I got my first gig as a comics person, artist.
Narrative artist, which was, I think, in 2022.
OK.
With the Washington Post.
Yeah.
So that was my first job ever.
And I had never worked.
As an illustrator.
Yeah, as an illustrator, as like a kind of front facing professional artist.
Sure, sure, sure.
Yeah.
In your case, it's relatively recent that you made this transition working at a corporation,
having a corporate gig to be working as an individual artist,
which I'm sure comes with its own challenges.
But at least, you know, you are writing your own destiny.
Did you already have a portfolio that you had on your website?
Or like, how did the Washington Post discover you?
It's for most of my work, Ray.
Actually, I reach out to the people that I want to work with.
Oh, you do?
Yeah.
OK.
So in this case, I think I had a portfolio.
アートの旅の始まり
Yeah.
I did go to design school and I did design work and art direction.
So I had some of that stuff, but it was actually more of my
graduate school work at Pratt that was at the forefront of my portfolio.
So I kind of hid some of the graphic design stuff.
Yeah, yeah.
And then put up more of the experimental artistic work that I did in grad school.
Yeah.
So you had reached out to some of these publications
and Washington Post happened to be the first one that hired you as an illustrator.
Yes.
And it was very specific.
So again, it's not...
Well, I have reached out to art directors being like,
Hey, here's my portfolio.
I'm an illustrator.
Usually none of those work for me.
I'm not sure why, but they rarely, rarely work.
It's when I say, Hey, I have this story idea.
Here's some sketches.
I really want to write about this.
I really want to illustrate this because it's really important to me and meaningful to me.
That's kind of what has worked.
Oh, interesting.
So that first project that I did for the Washington Post was actually about
all of the hate that was going around specifically,
at least for me in New York City, locally against Asian people.
Sure.
So there was a whole movement called, I think, Stop AAPI Hate.
Yeah, yeah.
And I really wanted to write about that.
I thought, Oh, actually this section of the Washington Post
called Gender and Identity at that time.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
That would be a really perfect place for it.
So that's how it started.
Oh, fascinating.
So you approach these publications, not purely as an illustrator who's looking
to draw or illustrate for somebody else's story, but you actually pitch a story idea.
Yeah.
And then you also happen to illustrate.
Yes, yes.
I think with my work, it's like 98% maybe that way.
Oh, wow.
Do you remember the title of your first story?
Slash piece for Washington Post?
I have your site up.
Maybe you can read it for us because actually the editor creates the titles.
Washington Post, Expansive Love.
No, it's...
You have quite a few for New York Times.
Yeah, there are a few.
Yeah, AAPI Heritage Month.
And it says perspective, stepping into my voice amid an uptick in anti-Asian attacks.
I'm processing through art.
Yes, that's right.
Yeah. So that was the...
So that was my first ever job.
Yeah. It's a sequence of almost like a mini comic book strip.
Exactly.
With about 10 blocks or squares, each one having an illustration and a short statement or two.
So I'll just read a few.
Anytime I hear about another violent attack on an Asian person, my heart skips a beat.
And it's a very cute illustration of an abstract person holding a phone
and the image of the heart aching.
Like many of the victims, I have been followed home after a night out.
One experience still sticks with me.
And then you go on to describe and illustrate your experience in this beautiful,
simple, hand-drawn writing as well as illustration.
So did you already have this completed more or less and then you pitched it?
アートディレクターとしての変化
Or you pitched an idea and then you drew upon it?
For this one, because I'd never worked with an art director at a newspaper before,
I completely finished everything and then sent it.
But that's not what you're supposed to do usually.
Oh, I see. I see. I see.
So is that now... Has that become your main line of work?
Yeah.
To write these stories and to illustrate and paint these stories?
Definitely. That was definitely the turning point where I'm like,
okay, we're gonna go do this now.
Just writing and illustrating, doing both and telling mostly personal stories.
Yeah. Yeah.
But that was only the first one.
And was it relatively quick after that?
Or what did you have to do to feel like, okay, this is something that I can...
After the turning point, it's one thing to turn,
but then it's another thing to sustain, right?
Yeah.
I just really, really loved doing it.
I loved not just the pitching process, like thinking of maybe two or three
juicy sentences for the art director to immediately understand,
and thinking of interesting ideas, stories.
Also just the whole process of writing the script,
thinking of characters, because it's such a blessing because
it's my story, it's my characters, it's my words.
I just have full control.
I certainly did not grow up like that.
And I was not taught that this kind of work was okay to do.
So it was just so freeing.
So, so freeing.
And after I had submitted the comic and the final files and everything,
I just fell in love with the sharing aspect of storytelling,
sharing it on social media, seeing the impact,
getting emails from readers across the country.
Oh, wow.
I just love that so much, especially because
I realized that my stories aren't really so unique.
So many people experience depression or loss or joy in small moments.
There's just so much that we share.
And to be able to do that in a big way, like through a newspaper, for instance,
is really special.
What's another story slash artwork that you pitched
that you've gotten a lot of reactions to?
Is there any other piece that you pitched?
And it could be about the same topic, could be about another topic,
but something that there was a lot of reaction for.
It was actually my first one for the New York Times
called The Ode to the Public Library or An Ode to the Public Library.
Yeah, yeah.
And this is like a full page piece.
It's part of the inside culture section of New York Times.
And it's an entire page from top to bottom of,
imagine a newspaper spread, but the vertical one.
How about visiting the library instead?
An Ode to the Public Library.
I'm based in New York, so I can sympathize and I can relate to,
not that I go to the library or these libraries often,
but what kind of reactions you got
and why you think there was such a big reaction to it.
Yeah, I think almost everyone loves the library.
It's such a beautiful place where you get to rent out free books
and almost everything is free at the library.
Services for even renting out instruments or COVID tests are free.
図書館とコミュニティのつながり
Just so many things are accessible there.
And the whole point of the library is learning
and being in this communal space of learning.
So I think that as a topic, I think is just a popular one
or one that is already loved.
Yeah, the reaction to this was just so fascinating.
I think still my favorite reaction was getting
all of these lovely emails from librarians.
I think that was the best.
Yeah, and some of the librarians also emailed me in like a poetic format.
So with rhyme.
Yeah, yeah.
Wow, that's beautiful.
Yeah.
So I just love that.
And I also got invited to...
It didn't end up happening,
but I was invited to have this chat with the president of the Brooklyn Public Library.
Oh, wow.
And just all of these various people came out of the woods to just be like,
we love libraries too.
And it was just beautiful.
I was not expecting that.
Wow.
ニューヨークタイムズへの初ピッチ
The first sentence or the first statement of the piece says,
in a crowded city with not so much space,
there was once an artist in search of a quiet place.
And I assume this artist is you,
but it sounds like there are a lot of people who relate it to this point.
And I guess they felt seen, perhaps.
Yeah, maybe, maybe.
Did you have the whole piece or was it...
You said that you craft that sentence or that statement,
the core of the piece.
What was that like?
The process of pitching and getting accepted?
Yeah, pitching.
So this one was my first one for the New York Times.
And I reached out to her after seeing another artist
doing a beautiful piece on that page in that section.
And I was like, oh my gosh, I want to do this too.
And in fact, I have an idea.
So I reached out to Jen.
In her bio, she said, I think she was a guardian to two cats or something.
So I was like, perfect.
I am a cat person.
I'm going to sprinkle some cat energy into my first pitch and my introduction email.
So I definitely study the section that I'm pitching to,
study the art director that I'm pitching to,
kind of see if it's a good fit.
And then the pitch itself, I think I pitched a couple ideas.
I wanted to include a few ideas to let the art director choose.
Yeah, it was a few sentences, a few juicy sentences.
At that point, you didn't have the illustration itself.
It was just a few sentences to communicate the point.
Yeah, that is usually how I work with her.
Just a few sentences, a nice title maybe for the piece.
And then, yeah, two to five sentences maybe.
How long does the process take place?
I'd say like two, three to five weeks.
Three to five weeks.
So you initially making a contact.
And now that you've gotten to know her,
I assume that the process is probably quicker and smoother than the first time that you pitched.
Yeah, definitely.
And then you usually bring multiple ideas for a story.
And have a few statements that you bring to the table.
And then art director decides.
Yeah, yeah.
I think now I don't send as many at once.
But at the beginning, I was like, here are maybe three to five ideas.
アートへの道
But yeah, now, yeah, it's more like one or two ideas I send her.
Yeah.
Was it a medium that you were paying attention to?
Or it just happens that you had an idea that you wanted to pitch?
And then that sort of started the process?
Yeah, I definitely was an artist since I was a kid.
So that's always been there.
And I think I kind of slowly, slowly with every step in my life,
made my way to where I am now.
Because for instance, when I was in university, I was taking art history as my major.
But it's because I was telling myself, oh,
with art history, maybe I can get a real job.
I went to graduate school communications design.
So even then, I was like, maybe if I become a graphic designer, I can get a real job.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Then as an art director then, and the time came to quit, I was like, you know what?
I think it's finally time to commit myself to art.
At least try.
At least try doing the art thing.
I always really love to write.
And I always really love to paint.
But it was more of a mental block for me.
I had told myself so many times that I was not allowed to be an artist.
Or it was, quote unquote, impossible to become an artist and continue living,
which is totally untrue.
But I told myself these things.
And always had that kind of fear of launching into doing what I really, really love.
日本社会の影響
Yeah.
If I may ask, why do you think there was that mental block?
What was, yeah, what was preventing you?
I think just years and years, literally decades of
adults and kind of other important people around me telling me, like,
Yeah.
Yeah, you got to get a real job.
Or yeah, you got to go to college after high school.
And you have to go to, you know, like all of these kind of made up rules of society.
And I think a lot of that comes from my upbringing as a Japanese person.
Sure, sure.
Did you grow up in the US mostly?
Did you grow up in the US mostly?
Or mostly in Japan?
What was sort of that split?
I apparently left Japan when I was three.
Apparently, yeah.
I don't remember that.
But I was carried over by my parents to Hong Kong.
So I lived there for four years.
And then when I was seven, we moved to New York.
So that's when the whole New York era started.
From your personal mental perspective, you know, being approved by the adults
or accepted by the adults in terms of what you do now,
is this something that you feel like you're still working towards?
Or do you feel now at free, at ease?
Yeah.
That, you know, I don't have to worry about what they say.
Yeah, I definitely feel at ease.
Now though, instead of the adults and the societal norms and expectations,
I'm now trying to listen to my child self or my inner child way, way more.
So they're kind of my...
I don't know.
I'm not trying to impress them or anything.
Okay.
Wait, so say more about that.
Yeah.
Yeah, yeah.
So I think as kids, a lot of us don't really get what we want.
And that's just for a lot of kids.
That's just the way it is.
There are so many rules in society.
自己表現の再発見
And especially as I grew up, when I was little, I truly thought that adults,
and including my parents, were gods.
Like literal, like, kamisomas.
So I was like, of course, I will say, or I will do what they say.
Or of course, what they say is true.
They cannot lie.
Like, I believe in them 100%.
And while that is very beautiful, it also hurt me a lot.
So I bottled up a lot of things when I was a kid and just said yes to everything.
Like, sure, you know, I'll take swimming classes.
Sure.
I'll continue to play piano.
All of these things.
Just yes, yes, yes.
So now I'm kind of rewinding back to that child self who really did not express,
or did not know how to express themselves and even think about what they wanted,
what they desired.
So I'm trying to go back to them and ask,
okay, like, is this really what you want?
Oh, you need more time?
Oh, okay.
Or like, hmm, like, what do you feel about this project?
Does it really make you excited?
Or like, are we doing that thing again, where we're listening to all the adult?
So I go back to them a lot.
Oh, wow.
Fascinating.
Fascinating.
So that was part one of my conversation with Haruka Aoki,
a queer Japanese portrait illustrator based in Portugal.
This was the first time that I ever got to meet her, even though virtually.
And I really didn't know what she was like.
But having virtually met her and having seen her work on her website prior to the conversation,
I really connected the dots between who she is as an individual and the impression that
I got from her and the type of work and the style in which she creates her work
and the impression that her work gave me.
If you haven't seen her work yet, I really encourage you to go to her website,
HarukaAoki.com, and it's filled with these beautiful hand-painted watercolor illustrations
accompanied with the text that gives an idea behind the illustration or that tells a story
behind her narrative, visual narrative.
And I think it was quite striking for me because in this world of AI, where
online content is becoming more and more AI-generated and quite synthetic,
her work is very analog, handmade.
It's imperfect in many ways, but it feels human, soft, and personal and emotional.
I guess AI could mimic that kind of feel, but there's a very, very fine line between
something that was created by a machine versus something that was created by a human being like
Haruka, and especially having spoken to her, that personal touch came through her work,
and I was able to connect the dots between what I saw on screen, the work that I saw before
talking to her and after speaking to her and the perception and impression that I got from her.
アーティストとしての道のり
The key takeaway from my conversation with Haruka is as follows.
You can be in charge of your life.
The destiny is yours to make.
And one of the first questions that I asked her was how she made a transition into becoming
a full-time artist.
She went to an art school in New York called Pratt, and that led her to pursue a career
as a designer in a corporate world working for a healthcare company.
Having worked there for five or six years or so, she decided to pursue her life as an artist.
I was quite curious how she made that transition, and to my surprise, what she said was that
she had a specific topic that she wanted to write about and that she wanted to illustrate.
The timing of that was during COVID, when Asian hate was quite heightened, and myself
as an Asian individual living in the U.S., I definitely sensed the tension between the
Asian people and non-Asian people, and particularly living in a place like New York City where
there are a lot of different ethnicities and a lot of different races, and where incidents
of Asian hate were almost a weekly, if not a daily, headline that I saw.
And it was at that time that Haruka decided to do something about it.
Her way of doing something about that situation was to write and illustrate.
What she then did was that she had this visual narrative, visual story that she had created,
and she decided to, quote-unquote, sell that in to a specific editor of a particular section
within the Washington Post.
And by the time she brought that visual story to the editor of that section of the Washington
Post, she had her work pretty much completed, and the selling process was almost immediate.
The editor immediately bought into her story, and then a few weeks later, that was published.
So from that episode, the takeaway that I shared with you, you can be in charge of your life,
the destiny is yours to make, that sentiment was quite inspirational because I had assumed that
as an illustrator, the normal, more usual path to getting a commissioned project or work is to
showcase as many of your work as possible on a website, on Instagram, other types of public
consumption that she can use to make herself visible to the world.
Instead, she said that way of approaching a specific individual at a specific company or
a specific platform has been, from the get-go, her way of selling it in.
Haruka, as a queer individual, having left Japan when she was quite young,
she lived in Asia, then she came to the U.S. Even though her parents went back to Japan when she was
a teenager, she decided to stay and went to a boarding school in the U.S. and then built a
career in a corporate world first, and then eventually finding her place in the world
was a long journey, and she had many trials and failures that she had to go through in order to
get to the first success, which sounds like a very shiny, exciting opportunity, but there was a
lot of foundation that she needed to build up to get to the point. In part two of this conversation,
we discuss how she makes a living as a young artist. If you're listening to this on Spotify,
there's a Q&A field, so please do send us your questions and comments, and if you like our
podcast, please leave us a five-star rating. We'd be so grateful. I hope you enjoyed this
conversation with Haruka Aoki as much as I did. I'm Reina Moro, and this is The Queer Mindset.
See you next time.
