Short-form magic
It's been a challenging month to brainstorm anything more substantial than an Instagram story caption. I hope it’s been more prolific in terms of words and art for everyone else!
June has been a buzzing, busy month, and I'm personally having a hard time believing that we're already at the end of it. Between work and more work and children and family responsibilities and boring adult tasks and other secret things that I’ve only mentioned to the crows outside my window, I haven't even been able to finish reading a full book in weeks, let alone nestle into deep creativity.
When this happens, as it always does from time to time in this mortal coil, I find a great deal of meaning in returning to short-form magic.
Art from Peter Kuper’s Insectopolis: A Natural History, at the Society Of Illustrators
Short-form magic is what we reach for when we’re out of time, out of focus, out of steam. It’s the creative exercise of doing something tiny and beautiful when everything else is unwieldy.
It’s for the days (or weeks or months) that are overpacked with getting the minivan’s brake pads replaced, managing childcare logistics, and endless emails that begin with “just a friendly nudge!” When your brain feels like a browser with too many tabs open and your heart feels like it got left on read.
Short-form magic doesn’t require hours of quiet or a room of one’s own. It fits in a pocket. It lives on confetti. But it has meaning, nonetheless.
Short-form magic can include:
Taking snapshots of interesting things you pass by on the street
Writing wishes on post-it notes and leaving them out in public
Making a collage out of junk mail and takeout menus
Jotting down overheard phrases that sound like dialogue from a weird little play
Pitching story ideas to the nearest animal
Drawing something with your non-dominant hand
Creating a one-sentence story in the notes app
Rearranging the items on your desk
Taking a 10-second video of a strange or visually compelling moment
Doodling a repeating shape or character in a notepad
These tiny acts are offerings, humble breadcrumbs. They are reminders that even when you’re stretched thin, you can still be here, creating through lines.
This bodega cat was very interested in my story ideas
What’s your version of short-form magic? I’d love to hear about it. Or you can tell the crows. They know where to find me.