My "Why": Chasing Surface Pattern Design Around Work and Family Life

Let's get one thing out of the way first: I was not the kid drawing on every wall in the house, clutching a pencil since birth, destined for art school glory. I wish I had that story, it sounds so much more romantic. The truth is a lot less cinematic. I was better at art than maths in school (low bar, I know), and then...nothing. No lightning bolt. No "this is my calling" moment. Just years of doing other things, the way most of us do.

It wasn't until my early thirties that design and art even entered the chat as something that could be mine.

Looking back, I think I was just quietly yearning for a passion. A purpose. Something that was just for me, in a life that was rapidly filling up with other people's needs, especially after my first baby arrived. I loved her fiercely (still do, obviously), but somewhere in the fog of new motherhood I remember thinking: I need something on the side that's just mine to pour myself into. Not much of me left over after a newborn, but whatever was left, I wanted somewhere to put it.

So, while she slept (she was, thank goodness, an excellent sleeper, and I will hold onto that fact for the rest of my life), I did a graphic design course. After hours. In the strange, quiet pockets of time new parents know all too well.

And that was basically the start of a decade of very up-and-down creative attempts.

The wedding stationery years

First came a wedding stationery business, which taught me more about running a business. It also taught me, rather painfully, what it actually takes to be a business owner, and that not every business model fits every life.

The work was intensely custom. I'd pour hours into quotes, and only a fraction would ever turn into paid work. Add a second baby (who, unlike his sister, had zero interest in sleeping), a day job, and suddenly the whole thing tipped from "fulfilling side project" into "completely overwhelming and, if I'm honest, not profitable."

So I stopped. And went back to the drawing board, quite literally.

Enter paint, Prisma pencils, and Cass Deller

After a fair bit of brainstorming, I did Cass Deller's course (I've talked about that one at length in another post, so I won't repeat myself, but you can read it in full HERE) and started creating again. I bought paints. A full set of Prisma pencils, the good kind you feel slightly guilty buying for yourself (mind you, there are now being used as colouring pencils by my kids, I fought hard for them but lost!). And I just started experimenting.

This is where the "why" actually showed up.

I was looking for something that was mine. Not mine-and-also-everyone-else's. Just mine. A passion, a purpose, something that would light me up for no particular reason.

And once I started turning that experimenting into actual patterns, living in colour, playing with shapes, watching a page slowly become something, it changed everything. I just knew. This was the path.

Quick look at my messy work station.

Why this, and why now

Surface pattern design turned out to be flexible enough to fit into an already very full life. It gave me joy without needing to take over everything. And I knew that with consistency, not intensity, just steady consistency, I'd eventually get somewhere good.

So early on, I made myself a promise: I'd take this slow. I wouldn't force it. I'd create mindfully and actually enjoy the process, because the very worst outcome I could imagine was burning out and ending up resenting the one thing that brought me so much joy in the first place.

That's the why. Not a grand origin story, no pencils-since-birth destiny. Just a busy, tired mum in her thities looking for something that was hers, and finding it, slowly, in colour and pattern and a set of Prisma pencils she still doesn't feel guilty about buying.