I used to buy beautiful journals and leave them blank. I didn’t want to ruin the pages. Now I make guided journals and actively encourage people to scribble all over them.
I’m Harris Rtiwisith, born in 1985 in a small town in Thailand. In high school, I talked my mother into buying me a copy of Vogue Italia for almost 2,000 baht. Couldn’t read it. Loved the pictures. I went on to study graphic design, chose handmade books over animation, and got a master’s in fashion design.
Alongside my design work, I’ve studied astrology for over a decade. I like figuring people out. I’d rather not have to talk to hundreds of them. Writing books lets me share what I’ve learned; making journals gives me an excuse to fuss over every page. I do the writing and design myself.
Well, look who somehow ended up here.
I'm Harris Rtiwisith. Born in 1985 in a small town in Thailand, where apparently nobody told me that having expensive taste was supposed to come with having money.
Back in high school, I begged my mom to buy me a copy of Vogue Italia from an imported bookstore.
Did I know what Vogue Italia was? Absolutely not.
Did I understand a single thing in it? Also no.
But the pictures? Gorgeous.
The price? Almost 2,000 baht. And this was 24 or 25 years ago.
My poor mother. She probably thought she was raising a child, not financing a tiny fashion editor.
Anyway, that explains a lot.
Years later, I got my bachelor's degree in graphic design. Logos, corporate identities, book covers, layouts, all that good stuff.
We had plenty of things to choose from. Motion graphics, animation, all sorts of exciting digital things.
And what did I choose?
Handmade books.
While technology was busy moving forward, I was learning how to fold paper and bind it together.
Why? No idea.
Apparently, my instincts knew something my brain didn't.
Did I have a career plan? Please. I barely had a plan for next Tuesday.
But there was another thing I loved. Fashion.
So I went back to school and got a master's degree in fashion design.
And I loved it. The creativity, the clothes, the whole thing.
What I didn't love?
Cost calculations. Break-even points. Suppliers. Pattern makers. Production teams. And having to talk to approximately 700 people just to get one thing done.
Oh my Buddha.
I signed up for fashion, not a group project with the entire population.
And that's when I started realizing something about myself.
I actually enjoy not having to talk to people.
Don't get me wrong. I've met all kinds of people. I've had wonderful experiences, terrible experiences, and enough questionable encounters to fill several books.
People are fascinating.
Preferably from a comfortable distance.
And then there's my perfectionism.
If something doesn't look right, I fix it. Then I fix it again. Then I notice something else. And suddenly it's 3 a.m. and I'm arguing with a margin.
Very healthy. Highly recommend.
Over the years, I've tried all sorts of things. Some worked out. Some were educational. Let's leave it at that.
Meanwhile, I picked up another interest alongside my work in art and design.
Astrology.
Yes, astrology. The stars, the planets, the whole cosmic circus.
I've been studying it for over a decade, and I'm still learning.
And strangely enough, it helped me understand people better. Why we're so different, why we make the choices we do, and why we keep creating problems for ourselves even when life is already doing a perfectly good job of that.
After years of studying people, their personalities, their struggles, and all the things they worry about, I started thinking:
Life is already ridiculous enough. Maybe we don't need to take every little disaster so seriously.
And I wanted to share what I'd learned with more people.
Which presented a small problem.
I enjoy understanding people. I don't particularly enjoy talking to hundreds of them.
So how the hell was I supposed to do that?
Then I remembered something.
Books exist.
Oh, right. Those things.
I could write about life, people, and all the nonsense we put ourselves through. Maybe make someone laugh, think, or realize they're not the only person doing something completely ridiculous.
So I started writing a book.
Is it finished?
No.
Am I still rewriting it?
Obviously.
My perfectionism would like to thank everyone for their patience. Especially me.
Anyway, while that little masterpiece continues to fight for its life, I decided to make journals.
And here's where things get embarrassing.
I used to buy journals all the time. Beautiful ones. Expensive ones. The kind you almost feel guilty touching.
Did I write in them?
Absolutely fucking not.
I didn't want to ruin the pages.
Yes, I spent money on notebooks and then refused to use them for the one thing they were designed to do.
Apparently, I was collecting blank paper as a lifestyle choice.
And now?
I'm making journals and encouraging other people to write, draw, scribble, complain, and make an absolute mess of them.
Personal growth? Maybe.
Irony? Definitely.
But here's the thing. I'm genuinely happy doing this.
Designing the covers, playing with layouts, deciding what goes on each page. Sometimes I spend an unreasonable amount of time figuring out where one tiny graphic should go.
And I love it.
Oh, and yes, I do all the writing and design myself.
Not because I think I'm the greatest designer alive. I just know that if someone else does it, I'll probably take it back and redo half of it anyway.
Why ruin two people's day when I can ruin just mine?
And if you're wondering why my guided journals have different activities instead of making you answer the same questions over and over, the answer is simple.
I get bored.
Easily.
That's not a revolutionary design philosophy. That's just my personality causing production problems.
Of course, other journals might have even more activities. I haven't counted. I have a life. Occasionally.
So here we are.
A kid with expensive taste, two design degrees, a decade-plus obsession with astrology, an unhealthy relationship with perfection, and a growing collection of unfinished ideas.
Making books.
Honestly, I hope I get to do this for the rest of my life. I love the process, and I'd be very happy if it could also pay my bills.
Because apparently, being creative doesn't make electricity free.
Anyway, nice to meet you.
If you like my work, buy a book. Tell your friends. Share it online. Whatever makes you happy.
Your support means a lot.
And my bank account would be absolutely thrilled.
Harris Rtiwisith