Description:

All The Days You Owe Me is an intimate yet universal exploration of internalised misogyny, rendered through the language of graphic design and tactile storytelling. This artist’s book transforms deeply personal reckonings into a shared visual vocabulary, offering women a mirror to examine how patriarchal narratives quietly shape their self-perception.
At its heart, the project is an act of reclamation—both of time lost to self-doubt and of the picture book format itself. By appropriating a medium traditionally used to socialise children into gendered roles, the work subverts its own structure to expose how these very narratives take root. The six-chapter narrative unfolds like a psychological map, tracing the protagonist’s journey from childhood alienation to adult awakening. Each “day” represents stolen moments—birthday parties where she felt invisible, classrooms where her voice faltered, bedrooms where she scrutinised her body—now reclaimed through bold visual metaphors.
Material choices serve as emotional conduits. The exposed spine of the coptic-bound volume lays bare its construction, echoing the vulnerability required to dismantle internalised beliefs. Tactile contrasts—between the smooth cloth cover and rough handmade paper, between the crisp flip book and soft bookseat—create a physical dialogue about perception versus reality. Even the limited palette performs psychological work: red oscillates between representing menstrual blood, shame-filled cheeks, and eventually, defiant lipstick.
What emerges is more than a book—it’s an interactive toolkit for healing. Readers don’t just observe the monster; they physically disentangle the volume from its grasp, enacting their own liberation. The companion bookseat, with its deceptively plush exterior hiding weighted pellets and sharp claws, becomes a confessional object in workshops, prompting women to share their own “monster” stories.
This project redefines what graphic design can achieve as a medium for social change. By blending autoethnographic rigour with accessible symbolism, it creates bridges between personal pain and collective catharsis. The work doesn’t just depict transformation—through its very binding, stitching, and interactive elements, it performs the messy, beautiful process of becoming. For women who’ve ever apologised for existing, this is more than design. It’s proof that what was imposed can be undone—one page, one thread, one reclaimed day at a time.