On Inspiration

Inspiration is often called the “holy grail” for designers. Everyone wants to draw from it, yet sometimes it’s just as hard to find as that mythical cup. On the other side of the campfire are the pragmatists, who dismiss it as another creative indulgence and insist that real professionalism can’t rest on such shaky ground. The truth, in my humble opinion, sits somewhere in the middle - not black, not white, but, as usual in life, a shade of gray.

When I started in design, I often wandered into a mystical world of claims about the profession - ideas like “brainstorming days” or “waiting for inspiration.” The latter shows up in almost every creative pursuit - writing music or stories, painting - along with a long list of humanity’s experiences with art. The problem with this concept, when applied to design work, is that it often doesn’t fit.

Art or Work

Like many rational designers, I lean toward the school that repeats the mantra: “Design isn’t art. A designer’s job is to solve problems.” But the fact that I lean that way doesn’t mean I agree with it 100%. To put it artistically - something in it feels a bit too cold for my soul.

Cold or not, reality largely overlaps with that mantra. In the real world, designers work within clear frameworks, patterns, and common practices, and their main task is to solve business problems. Whether people like it or not, a good designer is a highly skilled tool. And tools - simply put - are used to get work done.

So far, so good. But isn’t there a creative side to design? Yes, there is, though it’s quite different from the usual stereotypes. If we make the simplest comparison, the difference becomes obvious. A designer (with rare exceptions) can’t just sink into a beanbag with a fragrant coffee and spend the whole day waiting for inspiration. A painter, on the other hand (with rare exceptions)... can.

In Search of Inspiration

How do we find inspiration, then? Does it descend like a mystical revelation, or do we look for it under every rock? Everyone has methods, but what I’ve mostly noticed is that “creative” designers have behavioral patterns they follow to “summon” inspiration. You’ve met those people - they always have an idea. Sometimes it’s awful, sometimes brilliant. Most often, it’s a good fit for the task at hand. How do they do it? They have a process. The word may not sound romantic, but it’s accurate. This search-and-find process isn’t always even conscious.

What always strikes me is the common denominator: it involves looking at other designers’ work and absorbing a wide spectrum of creative stimuli - books, music, paintings, woodcarving, industrial design, architecture, mechanics... the list is endless. One of my favorite quotes by one of my design idols, Tobias van Schneider, goes like this:

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“If you want to be a better designer, don’t study design books. Study sculpture. Study paintings. Study cars, watches, philosophers, movies, fiction, music, people. Study the world.”

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It’s not a direct reference to what we are discerning here, but it outlines a good designer’s mindset to aim for - one that builds a mental model that paves a way for inspiration to flourish.

The Inspiration Process

In a perfect world, each of us would have all the time we want to finish a task - creative or trivial. The truth, for better or worse, is far more pragmatic. I don’t know a designer who hasn’t run headfirst into a tight deadline, a tense project, and stakeholders who don’t care about our muse, only about outcomes (which, to be fair, is their job). In some cases, such projects are daily life, and this systematic “creative overheating” can breed resentment toward the profession or the role.

What can we do? Build a process, of course. It may sound simple, trivial, almost like an “atomic habit” - but it’s the truth. The process of inspiration isn’t new. Humanity has wrestled with it since the first cave painters wondered whether the beast they drew was big and threatening enough to capture the dramatic moments of the hunt. That process naturally differs for everyone, because every mind is unique. What we share are the stimuli we can apply to spark a reaction in that beautiful machine we toss around inside our heads.

In practice? Curiosity is a designer’s best friend and strongest weapon. In my view, a designer should try to return to a childlike mind - the mind that constantly looks and wonders about everything. It’s hard as the years pile up and cynicism gains ground, but I strongly believe a curious mind finds inspiration much more easily. The goal is to channel that curiosity into a concrete process of seeking and discovering new things - things that recharge our creative battery.

A Simple Example

Here’s a simple exercise that takes 10–15 minutes. Pick a discipline, craft, or topic (hell, it can be accounting & finance, but if it is creative or art-related it is even better). Let’s take woodcarving as an example. Spend five minutes skimming the most basic, digestible information about it - where and how it originated. If your interest grows, even a bit, spend another ten minutes and go one level deeper - look for a more specific example or the next “layer” of complexity. Maybe a specific technique or a particular woodcarving that is considered monumental. After a few such "exercises", you’ll find your mind slipping into a mode of searching and curiosity.

It sounds simple, but it works remarkably well. Our brains often erect barriers to shield us from the flood of information and noise around us. The problem is those barriers can become permanent, keeping us from expanding our horizons - and that leads to a lack of inspiration.

As for me, I love being curious - about everything, and a lot. Sometimes it annoys people and maybe, just maybe - sometimes it’s too much. But it’s always effective. It makes me think. And thinking, honestly, is turning out to be a valuable asset in the 20s of this century.