Reeya Banerjee’s new single “Misery of Place” isn’t just a standout moment on her upcoming album “This Place”. This is the album’s emotional thesis, wrapped up in crunchy guitars, sharp lyrics and a healthy dose of self-aware swagger.

Inspired by a haunting question that first surfaced in her teenage years – “Are you experiencing misery of place, or profound, lifelong misery of self?” — the song digs into the complex relationship between geography and identity, asking how much of our discontent is rooted in where we are. And, how much in who we are.

To bring those layered themes to life visually, Banerjee teamed up with longtime friend and visual literacy expert Kelly Kingman-Joslyn, whose work translates complex ideas into striking hand-drawn images.

The result is a music video that’s anything but traditional. It is more of a moving sketchbook full of flickering memories, half-thoughts, bold colors and scribbled commentary. It’s part animation, part stream-of-consciousness and entirely unique.

In this exclusive interview, Banerjee explores the origins of Misery of Place, the question that’s haunted her for over 20 years, and the deeply personal (and creatively rich) process of making the video with Kingman-Joslyn.

1. Tell us the story of this song, Why did you choose to visualize this song specifically in this way?

“Misery of Place” is essentially the thesis statement of my upcoming record, “This Place” — a collection of songs exploring how the places we live leave emotional imprints on us.

The song was inspired by a question that’s been rattling around in my brain since high school — over 20 years ago(!): “Are you experiencing misery of place, or profound, lifelong misery of self?”

It came from a teacher, passed along through a friend, and at the time, I was furious. I was 17, and it felt cruel and unhelpful — like, what kind of teacher says something that brutal to a kid still figuring out who they are?

And yet… the question stuck. Through every move and transition in my life, I kept coming back to it. It shaped how I think about identity, belonging, and change — how much of what we feel is about where we are, and how much is about who we are.

This song wrestles with that tension — between geography (physical and existential) and self — and it does it with crunchy guitars, narrative lyrics that nod to Bruce Springsteen’s character-driven storytelling (with a smirk), and the sonic swagger of the 90s power pop I grew up on. It felt right to kick off the album cycle with this one, because it asks the question the rest of the record is trying to answer.

2. What was the inspiration behind this new video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?

I didn’t want a traditional narrative video for this song — the song itself is full of characters, but it’s also packed with doubt, cheek, and internal monologue. So I teamed up with my dear friend Kelly Kingman-Joslyn, a visual literacy expert whose job is literally to transform spoken ideas into powerful, hand-drawn visuals. She works with keynote speakers at corporate events, sketching huge live illustrations on whiteboards or easel pads to help visual learners absorb complex ideas — and she also creates animation videos for clients like Goldman Sachs.

That combination of clarity, creativity, and abstraction made her the perfect person to bring Misery of Place to life. I wanted the video to feel like flipping through someone’s subconscious — a swirl of memory, sarcasm, self-doubt, and scribbled footnotes.

Instead of telling a linear story, the video leans into abstraction: sketchbook textures, bursts of color, and hand-written text that echo the psychological layers of the song. It’s part inner monologue, part visual essay — and it adds a new dimension to the song’s central question.

3. What was the process of making the video?

The video was a true collaboration, but also an act of deep trust. I gave Kelly the track and a brain dump of what the song meant to me — a mix of stories, reflections, and the emotional weight behind the lyrics. Then I stepped back.

I trusted her completely to take all of that and filter it through her own artistic lens. Her ability to translate words and feeling into image is extraordinary, and I knew the best thing I could do was give her the space to do what she does best.

There was also something quietly full-circle about working with Kelly. She’s married to one of my closest friends — we met freshman year of college, and after graduation, we were roommates for nearly a decade. He moved out when he married her! So asking Kelly to make this video kind of felt like calling on family. That trust wasn’t just creative — it was personal.

Kelly is based in Beacon, NY — a small city in the Hudson Valley with an enormous artist community. It’s a place filled with visual artists, filmmakers, photographers, writers, and musicians, many of whom I’ve crossed paths with over the years. I lived there for a long time, and it was one of the most creatively rich chapters of my life. So in a way, this video wasn’t just a collaboration between two artists — it was a product of a larger creative ecosystem I was once part of.

A community-rooted project in every sense. We didn’t storyboard it traditionally. Instead, Kelly treated it like a live sketchbook in motion, responding to the song’s tone and energy in real time. What she created was a moving mural — quirky, emotional, and raw — that mirrors the rhythm and spirit of the song itself.

Keep up to date with Reeya Banerjee on her Website.