The starting point for this concept is the metaphor of WOMAN AS FLOWER, an idealized image I realized needed to be challenged. Bakemono—transforming, monstrous beings—offered the perfect framework to break this fragile metaphor. I began to “arrange flowers” in a way that would evoke kakemono, aiming to shatter the traditional flower-woman image and embrace a more complex and monstrous form of femininity.
Kakemono 花け物 (花 hana = flower; け物 kemono = monster) is a neologism, a concept where metaphor and reality intertwine. It lies at the intersection of the metaphor WOMAN AS FLOWER and the shapeshifting bakemono tradition (化け物, where 化 ba = change, and け物 kemono = monster), blending the idealized image of women with their deeper, more “monstrous” reality.
Ancient Japanese records, dating back to the 8th century, tell of kami (spirits, deities) maintaining order in the world. When faced with problems, these spirits would gather to resolve them. In the beginning, these “fictionalized” stories marked a communion between humanity and nature, reflecting how spirits were integral to understanding the world.
Through the medieval period, the Japanese psyche viewed nature as an untamed, fearsome force, where monstrous and ghostly spirits roamed—inhabiting mountains, rivers, and seas, realms beyond human control. These beings were cataloged alongside plants and animals, seen as part of the natural world and serving as explanations for inexplicable phenomena. By the mid-Edo period (18th century), however, these spirits shifted from objects of fear to subjects of fascination, becoming “fictionalized” as playful fantasies. This shift reflected a changing attitude toward nature and control.
These spirits, or yokai include:
- Bakemono: Shape-shifting creatures
- Yūrei: Ghost-like spirits, often vengeful
- Tsukumogami: Everyday objects that gain spirits after 100 years
- Kaiju: Massive, destructive monsters, embodying chaos
It is in this context that we encounter the manifestation of societal anxieties and cultural constructs. The prevalence of female yokai, outnumbering their male counterparts, reveals a troubling societal paradigm steeped in the subjugation of women. Heian and Muromachi literature (794-1392) often depicted mistreated women as vengeful ghosts, reflecting cultural fears surrounding female sexuality and societal fears of women’s bodies, and reinforcing the connection between the supernatural and societal anxieties about women’s bodies.
In this framework, Kakemono creates as a rethinking of femininity—one that challenges the fragile metaphor of women as delicate flowers and embraces a “monstrous,” transformative identity.
Eventually, I met Zack, artist, and among the rest, a creator of tarot cards, and asked for his help in bringing these ideas to life in the form of a tarot deck—a tool to help others break free from limiting metaphors. Together, we created something that would challenge conventional understandings of femininity.
In many ways, my kakemono stories embody my own memories—emotions, desires, and fragmented moments. They reflect the monstrous aspects of my own life, seen in my decisions and experiences. These stories are made of the same flowers I once bought to decorate my room or picked up during long walks to clear my head. They are also born from random notes I wrote on my phone, often without knowing when or why they appeared.
For Zack:
For the third edition of betweenanxietyandhope.me, we set out to create a tarot deck featuring kakemono characters. Zack focused on interpreting their meanings in a tarot reading, while I developed their backstories as flower monsters, intent on dismantling traditional flower-woman metaphors. We worked independently, not sharing our ideas until the final moment of combining them.
The kakemono in my stories live in places often considered dark or unclean—like catacombs, swamps, or the forgotten edges of the mind and world—places usually associated with mystery, decay, and what society tends to avoid or stigmatize. Far from delicate symbols of beauty, these flowers thrive in hidden or misunderstood spaces—the dark corners of existence.
In contrast, Zack’s monsters are playful and full of life, often depicted swaying happily in forests or fields. While they can still be dangerous, they embody a sense of joy and spontaneity rather than fear. Zack’s approach to monsters is rooted in a belief that monsters should be fluid and evolving, rather than rigid or confined to traditional forms. He says that the famous yokai were mainly imagined, defined, and spread by straight Japanese men at the center of society, while monsters should lurk in the margins, emerging from the unknown and challenging societal norms, embodying the possibilities that go beyond established conventions – not very ‘monsterful’ but more like rigid, limited representations, a tiny subsection of what could be.
These stories surprisingly align, though there’s a visible contrast between our stories. This contrast, as well as the shared underlying themes, is something we reflected on in the tarot deck. We decided that a card’s meaning would shift depending on whether it was face-up or face-down, capturing the duality of human experience—with some monsters leaning towards the cheerful and others more somber, yet neither fully conforming to the typical, rigid definitions of monsters.