Yuka Hirac’s new photography zine feels like waking up mid-dream

Looking back at the past is different now. It’s done by scrolling: back through profile posts, memory prompts, old photos resurfacing by algorithm. But in jajaja…瞑想散歩 (meditation walk), a new zine from Tokyo-based artist Yuka Hirac, that archive becomes something messier and more physical. “I’m interested in anything that connects the past and the future,” Hirac says. “I like the feeling that looking back on the past and moving forward into the unknown are actually connected, as if they are part of the same flow. That contradiction and mystery feel very natural to me.”

The zine centres on an imagined experience of dying. “What do people think when they die?” she asks. jajaja…瞑想散歩 takes inspiration from a Japanese belief that at the moment of death, your memories play back like a revolving lantern – seen as flickering and fragmented shots. That idea became the foundation of the book. “I imagined the life I would look back on when I died,” Hirac says, “overlaid it with what I have seen so far, and imagined what I would want in the next life.” Rather than present these reflections in any linear way, the zine leans into distortion. A recurring orange-haired figure is seen throughout – representing a former version of Yuka.

Unsurprisingly for a multi-hyphenate creative, she finds inspiration all around. “I like rusty doors and spiral staircases,” she says. “Truck logos. Nostalgic places.” she continues. Her references range from Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams to old magazines and Nina Menkes films. It’s all about taking these moments and creating something just slightly distorted from reality. “I like giving it an eerie meaning,” she says. “Something that makes you feel uncomfortable, that has a strange balance.”

Pulling these inspirations together forms jajaja..., a project Hirac describes as “acidic visual representation of my fantasy escapades”. The pages are collaged and messy, glitchy distorted graphics. Fragmented text atop lo-fi images, which range from photos of make-up looks to shots taken while walking aimlessly around the city. Faces are cut, pasted and warped into each other. “I believe that using various media has a surreal effect,” the creative explains. “I like adding strange angles or things that make you feel uncomfortable to my work.” Hirac uses intuitive arrangements and collages, and sometimes even AI to pull the zine together. “Finally, using what I’m feeling at the time as a theme, I create a fantasy story in my mind and write it down,” she explains. The result is a zine that feels like waking up mid-dream and catching yourself falling back into it.

Hirac handles every part of the process herself – from sourcing and assembling the content to sending it out to shops. “It’s like a dream come true that my book is being stocked in countries I love around the world, as well as countries I’d like to visit but have never been to, and that local people can see it!” she says. The work may be solitary and time-consuming, but it’s also a cathartic process. “Zines allow you to express your thoughts and feelings honestly. Creating a zine allows me to express who I am at that time, and having people read it gives me an opportunity to get to know myself. I think it’s extremely useful not only as a communication tool but also for communicating with myself.”

This kind of self-exploration is a through-line in all of Hirac’s work. Alongside publishing, she works as a make-up artist, often creating futuristic looks. “With this latest zine feel like my make-up work has finally connected with the themes of face and identity,” she says. “The make-up work itself isn’t the main focus, but I use the face as an effect to convey a story or emotion.” In fact, she purposefully gravitates toward warped versions of identity. “I actually especially like the pages where faces aren’t clearly visible,” she says. “Fish and the ‘invisible’ are my favourite recurring themes throughout – I dream of being a fish in the next life.”