The Ghibli Museum and Me
I am always looking for inspiration. On a walk, I’m stopped by the magnificence of the shade of green a tree is or blooming flower. I feel like the doors of my internal vessel are open to being inspired. While in Tokyo, the Ghibli Museum unexpectedly climbed in and set-up camp, becoming an enduring source of hope and determination.
But before we get to Ghibli, you should know me.
My career is ten years a marketer and two years a night shift artist: drawing, reading, writing, painting.
After a recent job redundancy, I am now confronted with a choice: transform my night-shift love into a new career or maintain my status quo? Common sense says I should be doing the thing that has paid the bills. But yet a deeper wisdom tells me there is a much richer life waiting at the other side of hard work, passion, and self-belief.
I have decided it is time to take the advice I would give my children. This is my declaration for a new life as an artist and creator.
I know it will be harder and more testing than I can comprehend. The pressures to go back to the life I know are enticing and logical. Even now, at any given hour, my confidence sways from positivity to despair.
I also think it would be a shame to waste my knowledge and marketing skill sets, so I plan on applying that appropriately with the right people. When I work in marketing, I will be strict about who I work with. I’m less fussed about the actual job.
My guiding principles are:
- Work with people I love
- Work on projects I love (doesn't matter if I'm doing 'marketing')
- Work on projects that positively impact the community and the planet
Like a baker trusts that time will leaven the dough, I have to trust that diving into my curiosities and interests will create commercial opportunities.
The Ghibli story gives me hope that this is possible.
Newly unemployed, our family travelled to Japan and visited the museum. I had never heard of Ghibli, but Katrina booked us tickets so…I go. And unexpectedly I fell in love.
Nestled next to a lush park in a suburban corner of Tokyo, lay this quirky little castle and garden dedicated to the works of Studio Ghibli, the famed creators of My Neighbour Totoro, Spirited Away, and so much more. The museum is a cross between an anime Hobbiton and Willy Wonka’s workshop. Every inch of it felt filled with soul. Even the parents’ room—where I changed our baby an impressive number of times—felt as lovingly curated as the rest.
Inside, the small rooms displayed concept art from Ghibli’s films: character sketches, scene drafts, pencil scrawls. Workspaces were left frozen in time, cluttered with paints, books, cigarettes, and whiskey glasses, as if the animators had just stepped out for the night. The experience was somehow old and new, whimsical and grounded, all at once.
Unlike other big-ticket attractions in Tokyo (cough cough TeamLab and Disney), this wasn’t about capturing the perfect Instagram shot. It was about presence—being in the moment, soaking up the magic.
I felt like I was in a giant claw game and had been dipped in a pool of inspiration-holy-water.
One shirt in the gift shop read: “The kind of museum I’d want to make.”
And I thought, Yes. It is.
The Ghibli Museum reminded me that focusing on work you love is a necessity for greatness. Hayao Miyazaki, Studio Ghibli’s co-founder, turned his passion into gifts for the world including this living, breathing celebration of imagination. His museum isn’t about ego; it’s a testament to what’s possible when you pour yourself into something with care and conviction.
It made me hopeful—hopeful that maybe, just maybe, after enough days and late nights my work could blossom into something magical too.