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.

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.

Every pattern I create has a backstory; every idea comes from a point of inspiration. From the smallest doodle the most vibrant repeats evolve. My surface pattern designs are little pieces of narrative — shaped by moments, emotions, and inspirations that beg to be transformed into something lasting that adds beauty and decoration to the world. In this post, I’m pulling back the curtain to share how my designs come to life at Krafty Chameleon, and how storytelling guides every step of that journey

Colour isn’t just a finishing touch — it’s a storyteller. It sets the tone, stirs emotion, and connects people to your brand before they’ve read a single word. Whether you're a maker designing your next product line or a small business shaping your visual identity, colour is your silent ambassador.

Every pattern I create is a journey in itself — born from the places I’ve wandered and the quiet beauty of my own back garden. As a surface pattern designer, I’ve learned that inspiration doesn’t always come from sitting at a desk. Sometimes, it comes from the curve of an iron balcony in Italy, the colours of a Moroccan spice market, or the way dappled sunlight hits the petals of a peony.

Leaving behind the world of corporate banking for the vibrant world of surface pattern design may seem like an unlikely leap — but for me, it was a shift from spreadsheets to soul work. This is the story of how I swapped suits for sketchbooks, boardrooms for botanical prints, and found my true creative calling in the colourful world of surface design.