Something in Me Wants More. I Can’t Rest

I’ve been noticing how time feels different when you’re not rushing through it. There’s a certain comfort in that—a reminder that the journey isn’t meant to be hurried.

Partnering with major brands like Selkirk, Hyperice, Adidas, Miller Lite, Amazon, and others has been a powerful marker of how far I've come as a designer this year. Milestones that feel even more meaningful when I take a moment to pause and actually reflect on them.

There's a sort of richness in each moment we're given. One's that don't demand anything of us, but just asks us to pay attention. It’s a subtle significance, in slowing down, in taking a breath to notice what often gets overlooked. 

The Godfather Part II, 1974

I think the real progress lies in our ability to appreciate the pauses, the spaces, the moments, that are woven in between the rhythm of our everyday lives.

01 I'm Tryna Hit a Parlay

As the year wraps up, these last few months have turned into what I’m calling “months of observations.” I've found myself noticing the little things more: the way leaves drift past on backroads, the wild colors October brought to my yard, the steady, unhurried cadence of old films, the wonderful late nights and slow early mornings. 

These things matter.

I like to think they're accumulating in the background, slowly becoming the framework for something bigger in my career. Whatever that may be.

Hugo Décrypte, Christopher Nolan on Oppenheimer, AI and the future, 2023

But they are reminders that the most profound stories often aren't the loudest ones, but the ones that unfold in the spaces between the chaos and uncertainty.

It’s ironic how we’re always pushed to keep moving, to stay busy, yet here I am finding clarity in slowing down, in letting things be.

Everyone’s in a rush to do nothing, it seems like.

Yet I’ve been finding inspiration in the quiet. I want to press pause more often and rediscover the kind of storytelling that lingers, that feels grounded in its pace.

Bob Ross, The Joy of Painting, 1983

And then there’s Chris Bumstead's retirement. He’s stepping back after six Olympia titles, at the top of his game.

Maybe that’s the lesson I’m starting to understand. Sometimes, it’s about appreciating what’s already been built, and letting things come together in their own time. It’s a balance, one that takes its own kind of discipline to embrace. One that is only learned with time and experience.

It's that quiet confidence, knowing when you've done enough.

And one where you don’t need to push forward just for the sake of it. There’s a steadiness in that choice I admire. There's freedom in that perspective.

It’s made me think about the legacy I want to build—not just in terms of projects or recognition but in how I approach my work, my life, and everything in between.

I mean, what would it look like to create something that feels meaningful and complete, without the need to constantly prove myself or add more to the pile?

Anyway, Chris, I look forward to seeing how you set a new standard beyond the stage.

For now, the seasons keep changing, and for once, it's good just watching it. For once, it’s nice to just be in the moment, rather than always racing ahead to what’s next. I look forward to more of it.

Veritas, Project 2025

02 Faking My Death and Moving to the Mountains

We’re all plugged in, inundated by a constant stream of content, noise, and work. It’s easy to get swept away, but I’ve come to realize how important it is to just disconnect.

To go offline. To slow things down.

voicemail-10773575424.m4a, saved October 5, 9:55am, 2024

Take time to focus on yourself and the ways of working you love. I keep saying it but there's a strange beauty in stillness, the moments of 'not much happening.'

The kind that can only be found when we allow ourselves to step away and just exist.

I'm still learning to allow myself—really allow myself—to step back in my creative process. It feels less like ticking boxes and more like rediscovering design I love, what I fell in love with.

I can focus on refining techniques, refining patterns, routines.

Playing with the ideas without the pressure of output, and remembering what inspired me to become a designer in the first place.

I don't want to create for the algorithms or timelines, but for that elusive feeling of being in sync with your own creative vision.

Simon Dixon, Design Isn’t Just Surface, 2024

The best way to move forward is to step away, letting the noise fade until it's just you and the way you process your work.

As simple and honest as it gets.

I’m not interested in designing to keep up. But I am interested in finding ways to drop the demands and influences, allowing that internal cry for something more to find a clear channel.

I may not at times be sure about what really interests me, but I am absolutely sure what doesn’t.

Out there, in the quiet, I imagine ideas growing like wildflowers, untamed and genuine, untouched by the need for approval or clicks. Allowed to simply exist.

Pharrell Williams on N.E.R.D. Music Style, 2002

It’s a chance to cultivate a vision that’s truly mine, influenced only by the things I love and the life I want to lead.

There’s something Gogol-esque about it, too—a sort of dark humor in realizing that the only way to truly connect with oneself might be through complete detachment from the constant barrage of what everyone else is doing. 

It’s the restlessness that drives creation, a call to explore and expand, even when that means venturing far from the familiar.

Andrei Tarkovsky, Nostalghia, 1983

And in that space, I can hear the echo of Plath’s words—this craving for more, this inability to simply rest.

03 In the Company of Wanderers

I’ve been leaning into words that slow me down, inviting me to see my work, my ideas, and even my daily routines from a fresh angle.

Maybe it’s the influence of designers, authors, and poets like Simon Dixon, Sylvia Plath, Søren Kierkegaard, C.S. Lewis, Nikolai Gogol, Albert Camus—artists who explore the deep, often murky layers of thought. They're good reminders for me to embrace the mess of creativity, to find humor in the absurd and beauty in the overlooked. All while staying grounded in my own process.

Case in point: Jensen Huang, CEO of NVDIA, got his best career advice from a gardener in Japan.

What does this mean for me as a designer? What's next?

I don't know. And I'm cool with that.

Simon Dixon, DB Journeys: How to Fuel a Flourishing Creative Career, 2024

I’m learning—maybe relearning—what fuels me as a designer.

I've been less strict about sticking to a process and more about embracing change and curiosity. Inspiration doesn’t always strike when and where you expect it.

I find it in places I wouldn’t have thought to look a few years back: at the gym, in old films and music, or even in passing conversations.

The creative part of design isn't what you think it is.

What we usually think of as the creative part of our work is really just piecing together all the decisions and ideas we've gathered all while figuring out what we want to do next.

I feel like I’m currently in that stage now.

Simon Dixon, It's easy to tear others down, 2024

We are far too easily pleased.

We chase after the next thing, the next fix, the next project.

But as I dig deeper, I’m finding a more deliberate kind of satisfaction—a slower, richer connection to the world and my work, and what I want my work to look like. Whether it’s in my career, personal life, or even in those fleeting moments of nature, slowing down doesn’t mean stopping; but it is about moving with intention.

Because real generosity for the future is showing up fully for the present.

A Bibawen edit, 2024

SOUNDTRACKS:

Things Have Changed by Bob Dylan, 2000

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right by Bob Dylan, 1963

THUMBNAIL:

Meet Joe Black, 1998