Alumni, Arches

The introduction to Hallie Bateman’s new book, Directions: Really Good Advice for Getting From Here to There, posits the existence of two kinds of people in the world: “Alive” and “Not Alive.”

Hallie Bateman ’11 by Meredith Adelaide

Bateman ’11 explains that, according to her mother, Alive people are present and a “little bit shiny,” while Not Alive people “exhibit an almost spiritual dullness.” She writes, “When I feel Not Alive, it’s usually because I am focused too much on the future or the past. I am numb to the right now.” 

Her book offers simple directives to inspire Aliveness, inked on colorful construction paper: “Little by little, become yourself.” “If it ever occurs to you to buy flowers, buy them. It’s never a bad idea.” “If at first you park badly, repark.” 

A Los Angeles-based artist who describes herself as an “illust-writer,” Bateman combines drawings and text to explore the absurdity of life, often grappling with topics like mental health and death with empathy, humor, and curiosity. More than 102,000 followers have connected with her art on Instagram, and her work appears in publications like The New Yorker and The New York Times Magazine

The daughter of two journalists, Bateman grew up scribbling stories and cartoons in a small town in northern California. But it was in an art class during her junior year at Puget Sound that she began to take herself seriously as an artist. Students used a metal nib pen with ink, and the tool unlocked a new world of creative potential. She began turning in her writing assignments with accompanying illustrations; later, she got her first gig through fellow student Kevin Nguyen ’09, illustrating for his blog The Bygone Bureau. 

Directions began with an idea Bateman had in 2017, while she and her brother were doodling on pieces of construction paper. She wrote “Directions’’ at the top of each page, then whatever phrases came to her underneath. One of the first instructions she wrote was, “Do NOT be embarrassed. Not even of that. NOT EVEN OF THAT!” 

She spent the afternoon playing around with the idea, then tucked the pages in a drawer and forgot about them. 

A year later, she found the pages, uploaded a few to Instagram, and was surprised at how much they resonated with people. She made more “directions” and developed a ritual: She’d turn down the lighting, turn on music, smoke some weed, and tear up her paper. (Bateman is open about using cannabis as part of her creative process. “I just think the stigma is so messed up,” she says. “It’s legal in so many places now, and we have to destigmatize it.”) She’d get out all her brushes and grind her ink on an inkstone, a technique she first learned in a calligraphy class at Puget Sound with Zaixin Hong, professor of art and art history. The process helped her access a “Zen-like” state of mind. “You have all this careful preparation so you can play with chaos,” she says. The Instagram series grew in popularity, and Bateman signed a book deal with Workman Publishing Company in 2019. 

She hopes the medium of construction paper will reawaken readers to childlike pleasures. “The book is about stating the obvious in a way that shows you how the obvious is a miracle, and how we completely take these things for granted,” she says. “Even something as small as looking up at the sky. We walk around in our lives squinting and frowning, and we get used to the fact that we live on Earth, but that fact is something worth reminding ourselves of.”