Sea, Land, Sky: A New Design Perspective

FINDING MY CREATIVE PURPOSE

Sometimes, it takes a while to refill your creative cup. Mine had been dwindling for years, so when I finally sat down to do some serious navel-gazing to figure out why, I discovered an underlying theme.

My designs felt aimless. Pointless, even. They were being driven by competitions, challenges and a whole array of other people’s agendas, rather than something meaningful to me.

The core of my work, my signature style, felt disconnected from any purpose of my own. I’d somehow convinced myself that designing to a brief meant changing my style to suit it. The result? I felt unsatisfied and, ultimately, unhappy with what I was producing.

The old saying “create before you consume” speaks volumes to me now.

It’s easy to fall under the influence of others and stray from your own passion and purpose. But for the longest time, I didn’t really know what mine was. So I followed along, looking outward for inspiration and direction.

I’ve always valued being mindful of the environment, yet I wasn’t bringing that value into my work. Ironically, my surface design had become just that — surface deep. My designs were pretty and whimsical, but the intention behind them lacked depth and meaning. Something was missing, and I could feel it.

Since moving to a tiny island in the middle of a stunning Queensland marine park, my perspective and values have slowly shifted. My world has shrunk, but my awareness has grown exponentially.

I’ve befriended marine enthusiasts who generously share their knowledge of our oceans and shorelines. I’ve had countless conversations with avid gardeners whose passion for, and knowledge of, native flora and fauna seems inexhaustible. I live amid a chorus of birdsong that carries long into the silent darkness. There’s no constant hum of city traffic here at night, just the calls of curlews and owls.

The hysterical laugh of the kookaburra bookends my day. But on the days when chainsaws hum and human progress is measured by the felling of our beautiful island trees, there’s no sadder sound than the territorial cries of birds searching for a new home at sunset.

It has all been a gentle wake-up call to be more mindful and present on this planet we fondly call home.

It’s given me pause to think and reflect. To better understand who I am as a designer. To ask what I want my work to stand for.

And, perhaps most importantly, to ask myself a deeper question:

Am I building a creative practice that reflects who I am, or one that reflects who I think I need to be to succeed?

Over the next few weeks, I’ll be exploring what has changed me, how it’s influencing the way I work, and what the future might hold as I move forward with a renewed sense of passion and purpose.

This time, I want my work to come from a place that feels true to me — to my values, my curiosity and my heart.