Introduction:
Perfect is Better than Done

I am chronically slow to make decisions. I drag my feet through the mud of perfectionism, indecisiveness, and a paralyzing fear of regret. No sooner had I come up with a topic for my Master's thesis in Graphic Design than I would switch it to something else. I wanted to talk about ancient literature and its reception in the modern day; I wanted to talk about memory and nostalgia and decay, from the physical to the digital; and I wanted to talk about death, which has been the central theme of my scholarly and creative work for the past decade. All three topics are powerfully connected, and my thesis would end up incorporating them all.

My Bachelor's in Archaeology and my love of ancient literature provided the backdrop for what would become a systematic study of narrative. The writing of Joseph Campbell, a figure as much maligned by anthropologists as he is loved by narrative theorists, deepened my awareness and opened new paths into the study of myth, ritual, and story. I am also indebted to Ellen Lupton, whose work helped me to apply the principles of storytelling to my practice as a designer, artist, and poet. This book is not about design; it is ultimately a personal narrative. But I have used the principles of storytelling and the techniques of graphic design to accomplish it.

I have experimented with the use of photo editing for various purposes: to provoke an emotion, to illustrate a concept, or to display my own and others' work. My typographic choices were largely inspired by the work of Jenny Holzer, Barbara Kruger, and other members of the Postmodern Feminist art movement. The finished project is part art book, part story, and part design iteration. While making it, I was thinking carefully about the experience of reading: the pace at which the reader consumes my material; images that catch the eye, words that echo. My aim was to create a narrative whose structure is not identical to Campbell's Hero's Journey, but true to it in spirit. It follows the fundamental premise that wisdom is to be acquired through a journey into, and back from, the Unknown. I have found this to be true in my own life as it is true in story.

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The designer is ultimately a functionalist: design thinking, it is often said, is about problem-solving. In years past, my practice as an artist suffered because I lacked the design skills to communicate my ideas effectively. I believe that art must be double-sided. No matter how good your work may be, it is useless if it is not seen and understood, if you fail to communicate with your intended audience. Artists create a story; designers craft an experience, one which permits the instructive and affective properties of the art to shine through. Design generates atmosphere, mood, and tone. It draws upon the common visual language of history, replicating and transforming familiar images to communicate new ideas.

I have studied the connotations of image, from Ancient Greek sculpture to Postmodern Feminist typography to the halcyon strangeness of  Vaporwave graphics. When I pull these images up from the well of history, I do so intending to transform them. I pass them through multiple veils: the veil of my identity as a queer, disabled Jewish female; the writing that has impacted and transformed my worldview; and my unique personhood and taste. In this way, the process of photo and typographic manipulation becomes a metaphor for transforming the outer world in the image of my inner world.

I am deeply grateful to the professors, friends, and creatives who influenced, inspired, and enabled my work, as well as nurtured my personal growth these last two years. I hope that this story serves as more than an explanation for my chronic lateness, my perfectionism, my long absences from the world of the living. I hope it will provide an experience that is either cathartic or instructive, or if I am especially successful, both.