Doodling is escapism for me. When my mind is looping on work, current events, or upcoming responsibilities, I can point it to an inky scrawl and tell it to focus on THAT for a change. It was a lockdown Hail Mary strategy that worked.
So when doesn’t this brain redirection work? Distraction is a losing battle when existential dread is not only hiding under my bed, but leaning against my bedroom door, floating outside all the windows in my house, and waiting patiently in the passenger seat of my car. “I’m here,” it says pleasantly, “I’ll just hang out until you’re ready to join me.”
In those moments I try to switch things up and doodle more…well, therapeutically? It’s an act of desperation, because I know these doodles won’t have the same joy or easy-going flow that my favorites images have. But the process of running right at the horrible thing helps me work through things a bit. Sometimes I just can’t NOT. I always hesitate to post these drawings, because they’re not the vibe that my doodling is generally about. If I do post them, I second guess myself as being self-serious, or virtue-signally, or divisive.
But weirdly, the “hot take” aspect that makes so much of social media interaction toxic becomes a superpower in crisis moments. Platforms like Twitter and Instagram are surely hotbeds of meaningless self-involvement, but they are also whisper networks telling people about the danger zones that don’t get acknowledged elsewhere. They connect us for information sharing, or calls to action. “I’m safe, I’m here,” we reassure friends after a natural disaster or a shooting. Or: “Send help to this person—they’re in trouble.” Or: “Am I crazy??” we ask each other. “Do you see what I’m seeing?”
Inevitably someone out there will tell us we are crazy, but there will also be someone who says, “I see you, I see this. It’s happening. You’re not alone, we are together in this shitstorm.” That is an enormous comfort. It’s the antidote to gaslighting, and it’s also the reason why I do occasionally throw these grim doodles out into the world. Because I see this, and I see you. We ARE in this shitstorm together.
1. Pandemic deaths
I made this doodle in September of 2020. I couldn’t wrap my head around the number of Covid deaths; I was thinking of the physical knot I’d felt in my stomach when we watched the news reports of the first three U.S cases. I had known then that this number would be inevitable. Still, it felt like we were living in backwards world—instead of my usual doodle on a white canvas, I was carving something out of the blackness everywhere.
I didn’t post this doodle. I felt that anyone paying attention already had the number engraved on their heart. I also knew that it would eventually be eclipsed by worse news. I just needed to spend time with the number to process and try to internalize the current reality.
2. Trump
Watching press briefings (or “press briefings”) from the White House during the Trump era was terrifying, in part because Trump himself looked so ill and detached from reality. It was a metaphor for the government as a whole: the uncomprehending stare, a sickly imbalance. Our visible leaders were props, put in front of cameras by people as a distraction so they could get the real dirty work done. Incompetence was the feature, not a bug.
The emperor had no clothes, and half of us were shouting “I love naked emperors!”This was not a fun or cheerful doodle. It was born of fear.
3. Ukraine
I worried that this doodle was virtue signaling—most people were supportive of Ukraine. I posted anyway, as I felt so strongly.
I’ve had an ongoing internal debate on whether visibility has impact, or can exert positive peer pressure. As I age I believe more strongly that our beliefs do influence our friends and peers, and so I’m pretty transparent. I’d rather have conversations with those who disagree, and either learn something or share something. These days, polite neutrality seems like cowardice. Polite disagreement is always an option. (Maybe less polite disagreement will be necessary soon.)
4. Roe v. Wade
Listen. This week is just…who are we anymore? We knew it was coming, many of us, but now the message is pretty clear: misogyny is driving the bus. It’s a feature, not a bug. It’s behind most of the worrying events of the last decade/century.
This is not a great doodle, and it doesn’t represent a new message, or even a minority opinion. But from now on our voices all need to get loud and stay loud. Maybe it says something that I worried about posting a Ukraine image, but didn’t think twice about posting a doodle on one of the most polarizing political issues of this era. Who gives a shit if it bothers someone? If we keep going along this path, in a few years I may not even have the option to weigh in anymore.
It's an interesting conundrum: is art an escape, or a political tool? Do we do it to take a break, or to effect change? Mostly I do it to still my whirring brain, have a laugh, reinterpret reality in a pleasing or honoring way. But then Trump happens. Ukraine happens. The Supreme Court happens x2. It makes drawing feel useless in the face of painful reality. And I don't know what to do about that. But I'm grateful at least to know that another artist is suffering from the same dilemma.
I continually struggle with whether or not to use my newsletter to add my voice to those raised in horror, rage, mourning. As someone who has worked in words her whole life, my first impulse to do so and sometimes I do.. Often though, ii just feel like I I would just be adding to the noise that flattens me. Your images are evocative and powerful. They are succinct yet layered. Abd sometimes you've got to get it out and we need to too .