Quarantine Kanzashi I

I have always had a tepid relationship with my own hair. It is thick, black and curly, and although I love designing and creating fantastical hair accessories, I hardly have the time, energy or desire to work with my own hair. The more stressed I am, the more unruly I let it become.

For many of us, the advent of the COVID-19 pandemic has thrown our lives into chaos. My life has been no exception. I was already in the middle of searching for a new joy when the pandemic hit, and the stress has been overwhelming at times.

The last few months as my own hair has become more and more unruly (before I get fed up and fight it back into complacency with comb and detangler), I have found solace in creating as many new pieces of wearable art and couture hair ornamentation as possible.

I have been practising the Japanese art of tsumami-zaiku (pinching craft) for the better part of 5 years, carefully folding tiny squares of hand dyed silk into complex floral designs, which I arrange to create kanzashi (hair accessories) and other items of unique wearable art. I've recently started exploring wirework and fabric, and resin as well - trying to create a unique east meets west aesthetic.

When things are at their most chaotic, the act of quietly folding, pinching, and placing petals of silk gives me a sense of zen. It helps me to focus and find a place to breathe. Every time I finish a new piece I am reminded that there is still joy to be had in the world.

Some of the first pieces I made during quarantine revolved around winged creatures - birds, butterflies and dragonflies - which have always made me think of hope and the freedom of flight.

It still feels a little strange to create couture hair accessories at a time when most of us can't get hair cuts. Sometimes I feel like maybe I should be making art that's more important or socially relevant. Does my work really matter? Am I wasting my time?

But, I also feel this is my own small way to fight back against anxiety and depression. I want to believe that we'll rise up from the ashes of this disaster, emerge from our cocoons, and shine in the light. That's what my work is about, and even when I am consumed by doubt there is a small voice in my heart that tells me this is true and good.

If you're struggling today, I hope that this reminds you that there is still joy and beauty to be had in the world, and that at the end of the day unruly hair is probably the least of our problems.