I'm a Christian, a designer, and a gadget fan who lives in Cheltenham, UK.

This is my blog, a creative outlet to mess around and play with as well as a place that logs my thoughts and inspirations.

Two States of Perfection

For as long as I can remem­ber I’ve had a sketch­book on the go. I think I estab­lished the habit when I start­ed senior school, but I remem­ber hav­ing them back in junior school as well. They’ve been a com­pan­ion beside me all that time, whether I’ve been draw­ing, writ­ing, brain­storm­ing, plan­ning, or some­thing else, they’ve helped me to be cre­ative in some form or another.
When a new sketch­book arrives, it always brings a moment of joy. The moment the wrap­pings come off is one of the two moments that a sketch­book is per­fect. There are no creas­es on the spine, no scuffs on the cov­er, no page cor­ners curl­ing up or fold­ed in, every­thing sits square and com­pact, full of poten­tial. I always enjoy that moment. When a sketch­book is first opened it’s excit­ing, there’s poten­tial on those pages, but with it comes a hes­i­tan­cy, it’s some­thing that I don’t want to ruin.
It’s the fear of the blank page.
Over the last few years when I’ve start­ed a new sketch­book I’ve devel­oped a habit. I open it to the first page, grab a pen and I write the same sentence.

I give myself per­mis­sion to mess this sketch­book up. 

From then on I use it how I want and it doesn’t mat­ter what goes in it.
It might seem a bit sil­ly to write that sen­tence on the first page, but with­out it it would take a lot longer for my sketch­books to get to their sec­ond point of per­fec­tion. The moment they are fin­ished, either because they are com­plete­ly full, or the year has end­ed. At that point it’s done it’s job and deserves it’s spot on my shelf along­side all it’s old­er sib­lings, it’s per­fect because it’s been used and not wast­ed. It’s helped me think, helped me cre­ate, helped me process events that have passed, it’s poten­tial has been met.
With­out that first page sen­tence and my nat­ur­al state of being a per­fec­tion­ist, there’s a chance those sketch­books would remain on the shelf in their first state of per­fec­tion. And in that state they would be a waste. What would be the point in own­ing them, if they remained for­ev­er in their first state of per­fec­tion and nev­er made the jour­ney to the sec­ond state of perfection?
It’s not just a sketch­book that has these two states of per­fec­tion. A blog has them, a can­vas has them, a book has them, a roll of film or an SD card in a cam­era has them. The unused per­fec­tion, and the fin­ished, full, com­plete per­fec­tion of a job well done.

Building a New Photography Workflow With the iPad Pro ›

Drew Coff­man has some inter­est­ing obser­va­tions in the open­ing para­graphs of his arti­cle about Build­ing a New Pho­tog­ra­phy Work­flow with the iPad Pro.

“I’m just now real­iz­ing that the more and more I embrace each cre­ative process, the less time I want to give to any­thing but the act of creating” 

So often we change things because we think we should, but in actu­al­i­ty we should only real­ly make changes in work­flows and apps we use with moti­va­tion sim­i­lar to the above. To free us up to cre­ate more things.
I like my blog, I enjoy it from many angles, from cre­at­ing the design to post­ing to it reg­u­lar­ly. But on reflec­tion I realise that the thing I dis­like the most is edit­ing and feel­ing the pres­sure to write well. I just enjoy post­ing or my blog, and I enjoy read­ing arti­cles and shar­ing the ones which I think are most inter­est­ing. Hence why my post­ing rate has increased since I made it eas­i­er to share an arti­cle to my blog from my iPad or my iPhone. The change in work­flow has allowed me to do more of the thing I most enjoy about my blog.

Let me make a note of that

Ever since I got my first iOS device, a 2nd gen­er­a­tion iPod Touch, I’ve been on a quest to work out the best way to take notes. I’ve tried a shed load of dif­fer­ent apps, Sim­plenote, Ever­note, Notesy, the built in notes app, NVAlt… in fact if you can name it I’ve prob­a­bly tried it. I’ve always read with inter­est arti­cles on note tak­ing setups, how peo­ple use them, how their go to app on their iPhone works so well for them, and I’ve always strug­gled to fig­ure out how or why that is.
You see I’ve tried so many times to get into the habit of using an app, or a suite of apps, to make my notes in. But for what­ev­er rea­son I’ve nev­er been able to stick with one. I’ll go through a spell of forc­ing myself to use them, to form a habit so that my first thought is to use my phone or the Mac app, but they nev­er stick. I can nev­er get to the point where I can declare, so and so is my goto note writ­ing app.
Except, now that I think about it, I can.
My goto for notes sits right beside me on my desk. In fact for the whole of my work­ing life it’s sat right next to me on my desk, or in my back pock­et. What’s it called?
Well it’s called paper, or a note­book, and I make my notes on it with a pen. Try as I might I can not break the habit of using a phys­i­cal note­book to make my notes.
The habit stretch­es back to my school days. I always had a note­book, or the back of my exer­cise books, which I would doo­dle and scrib­ble in. Then when I was 16 I start­ed a Sat­ur­day job in a fam­i­ly run hard­ware store which fur­ther ingrained the habit. I always need­ed a piece of paper and a pen in my pock­et, to make a note of mea­sure­ments, stock num­bers, phone num­bers, deliv­ery address­es, you name it and it was on my note paper.
Then when I start­ed uni the habit con­tin­ued, my sketch book was always with me. I’d use it to make note of ideas for projects, to record com­ments from crit ses­sions with my tutors and when I got the odd free­lance job, to make notes from client meet­ings. The way I use my note­books has bare­ly changed since then. When I meet a client I take my note­book and my iPad, but it nev­er feels nat­ur­al to pull out my iPad to make notes (I use it to show work). It does how­ev­er feel nat­ur­al to pull out a pen and jot down some comments.
There’s some­thing about the con­ve­nience of a note­book and pen that an app and my iPhone just can’t break. The tech­nol­o­gy, which on the sur­face presents a far more supe­ri­or expe­ri­ence doens’t seem to be able to break the hold a nice note­book and pen has over me. With my iPhone I can make a note, I can tag it, it’s auto­mat­i­cal­ly dat­ed and I can search to eas­i­ly find what I need. It should be the best way of mak­ing notes. Except it isn’t.
Tap­ping out a note on my iPhone, just doesn’t give me the men­tal con­nec­tion that I need when mak­ing a note of some­thing. It may be less effi­cient, in the sense that it might take me a lit­tle longer to find a note because I can’t search for it, but I do (gen­er­al­ly) remem­ber where on the page I wrote it and over time I’ve devel­oped lit­tle quirks to help make things stand out. Tasks get a lit­tle box to the left of them, if I think it’s impor­tant when I write it, it’ll either get a star or often a box drawn around it. Infor­ma­tion gets seg­re­gat­ed on the page by lines, but more often than not, the sim­ple act of writ­ing it down is enough to com­mit it to my mem­o­ry. It’s some­thing which, in this dig­i­tal world we now live, I fear we will lose. Pro­cess­ing some­thing in an ana­logue man­ner can have a far more last­ing effect than doing some­thing digitally.
There’s also some­thing rather nos­tal­gic about using a note­book and pen. I have every sin­gle note­book from my pro­fes­sion­al life as a design­er on a shelf. I can pick them up and look back to a cer­tain moment in time and have an instant con­nec­tion. I can remem­ber where I was, who I was with and what was going on in my life at the time. Some of them are all neat and look like they’ve bare­ly been used from the out­side. Most of them are nice­ly worn, weath­ered with age they bulge in the mid­dle. But I think most impor­tant­ly, they present a phys­i­cal instance of the work I’ve done in my life. The vast major­i­ty of it is cre­at­ed on my Mac, sure some of it’s print­ed, but the ideas and begin­nings of it all are in my note­books. You don’t get that with a list of files on a com­put­er screen, you don’t get lit­tle sketch­es or doo­dles that seemed like noth­ing at the time but which turned into a sub­stan­tial piece of brand­ing. The throw away moments that are so com­mon­ly cre­at­ed in a note­book don’t even get con­sid­ered in a notes app. Those are the very moments I can’t give up, the very moments I won’t give up. They’re the very moments that bring the best out of me and my pen and note­book are the most pow­er­ful tools I own.


I can’t tell you how much I strug­gle with the notion of sup­ply­ing a client with a few options for them to see. They invari­ably pick the one that’s weak­est. Maybe it’s that per­ceived lack of gump­tion that stops me doing say­ing some­thing a long these lines:

“I don’t think you under­stand how this works, Steve.
I don’t do options. I will solve the prob­lem, and you will pay me. It’s up to you whether or not you use my solu­tion, that’s your choice. But I don’t do options.
I will give you my solu­tion, and you will pay me. That’s how it works.”

(Via David Airey.)