In creative the creative world, it feels there is an unspoken emphasis on constant creation.  New ideas, new work, new output.  Fuelled by endless new, vibrant and engaging creative content on social media it is so easy to feel that artists are creating new collections on a weekly basis and everyone has piles of new material to hand.  

It quickly creates a pressure to create more “new” work and fosters an inner sense of failing to be as productive, as innovative as “commercially viable” as everyone else in the space.

In the last few weeks I’m realising that the most meaningful progress in my pattern design practice hasn’t come from creating more, but from the time I’ve spent reworking what already exists. Returning to unfinished ideas, revisiting old sketches, and allowing work the space to evolve has become the most valuable part of my process.

Finding a creative voice isn’t something that happens all at once. It doesn’t arrive fully formed, nor does it come from a single breakthrough moment.

For me, it has begun to emerge slowly through repetition, revisiting ideas, and refining what already exists rather than constantly searching for something new.  It almost sneaks up on you and you find its starting to be present before you’ve even truly noticed it exists,

When I first moved from the certainty and structure of corporate life into the creative world I underestimated just how disorienting that shift would feel. I was used to clear processes, defined outcomes, and knowing what success looked like and suddenly none of that existed in quite the same way. Instead, there were trends to keep up with, styles to explore, and an unspoken sense that I should be designing very specific things at very specific times.  The structure and process that had been essential to success before was actually proving rather crippling in this new creative environment.

Emotional connection has always sat at the heart of me as a human, long before I recognised that or consciously understood why.

As a result I don’t approach design as a purely visual exercise, I respond to colour, shape, and visual rhythm emotionally, instinctively, and often intuitively. Certain palettes hold memories and emotions, certain motifs carry feeling and connection, and certain patterns only feel complete when they are resonating on a deeper level.  I’ve had a harder time connection to designs that feel fleeting or only relevant in a moment or a trend.

Many creatives wait with anticipation for the release of the new colours of the year and trends for the coming seasons.  Interested to discover what new inspiration they might find to re-touch patterns and rework collections with a new twist for the new trends.

The start of a new year always carries a strange pressure. New planners, new goals, new promises to ourselves — all wrapped up in the idea that we should suddenly know exactly what we’re doing.

But as a surface pattern designer, I’ve learned that my best creative years don’t begin with urgency. They begin with curiosity. With space. With listening.

Planning my creative year isn’t about locking everything down. It’s about creating a framework that allows ideas to move, shift, and grow.

In the middle of June, I woke up and didn’t have to check my work emails. No back-to-back Teams calls, no corporate dress code, and no Sunday dread leftover from the night before. After years of dreaming and months of planning, my first week as a full-time surface pattern designer had finally begun. And honestly? It was so beautiful — and yet still anxiety ridden— in ways I didn’t expect.