Putting a pin in Pinterest this summer

I am putting a pin in Pinterest this summer.

Inspiration platforms are becoming closed loops. The more I search, the more I find myself being served various versions of the same thing. This isn't me trashing these platforms; they can be very useful. But in a world where everything is instantly referenced, we're all pulling from the same well. And that can mean things become predictable.

So, as my internal monologue asks me on a frequent basis, "what are you going to do about it?"

Recently, I went to an event called Comment Hater by JME. A cinema tour of his latest music, with accompanying visuals. You can't stream it, you can't find the videos online. The only way to experience it was to show up, or get your hands on the USB he's selling. Phones were banned, you were forced to be present with intent, without the ability to rewind or replay. But what struck me most was the emotional connection to tactility. JME purposely keeps his music off streaming platforms. Digitally, we have a throwaway nature toward things. When something is physical, tangible, something you have to seek out or hold in your hands, an element of value is assigned to it. It had me thinking less about my work as a whole, and more about how I can start to introduce tactility into certain areas of my practice. No algorithm was ever going to serve me that.

As a creative, at times I feel compelled to dissect experiences as they happen, analysing and referencing in real time. Which is a skill in itself, but it can also get in the way of a good time. So this summer, I'm officially taking my design hat off and allowing myself to be immersed before I'm analytical. My goal is to experience things in the moment, let it breathe and then reflect on it afterwards.

A recent example of this is attending the ballet. I went to see Merlin by the Northern Ballet, and came away feeling nothing short of inspired. As a designer with a retail background, a lot of my work is about theatre and presence. Allowing myself to be immersed in that moment, not dissecting it as it happens, I realised afterwards that the theatre comes from careful consideration. Clever use of minimal stage design where the propping complements rather than detracts from the "product" (in this instance, the dancers), lighting cues and atmosphere can do more for capturing the attention of an audience than filling every inch of the stage ever could.

This has started to feed directly into my work. Budgets need to work harder than ever, and there's a conscious question I now ask myself. How do I do more with less? This especially comes into consideration with shop windows. Every time I get to work on one, my instincts scream to create the most all singing all dancing showcase for a product that has ever been seen. But in reality, that window is going to sit on a busy high street or shopping centre, flooded with people, distraction and noise. The challenge becomes how do we cut through?

The answer to that question has rarely come from me alone. Some of the best refinement comes from those around me. People with diverse points of view who ask questions to challenge my thinking. Too many opinions can water something down, but the right people with the right skillset can turn a quick inspiration idea into a full piece of theatre. The best retail experiences are live performances; when the consumer journey is built that way, people don't just shop, they participate. They buy into the world, the story, the brand.

And for me, that works best in person. There's something about physical collaboration that a Teams call just doesn't replicate. That's another form of inspiration these platforms can't give. Being around people physically bouncing ideas off one another can suddenly take you down an avenue you'd never have previously explored.

Moving beyond virality isn't about looking for inspiration, it's about creating the conditions for it to turn up. Unlike a screen, you can't curate what happens to you in a room, at an event or in a conversation. You can't filter it, there is no algorithm for it, and you certainly can't Pinterest it. The best ideas emerge from experiences, conversations and observations that only happen when you're physically present. So turn the screen off, show up somewhere unexpected, and let inspiration find you.