Editor's Note

We often see creativity as the finished project, the polished portfolio, the beautiful photo, the final version of the design.

The longer I spend making things, the less I actually believe this.

Most of the work happens quietly, where nobody else sees.

It happens when collecting photos that I’ll probably never use. In the packaging I’ve saved that sits in a cabinet. In the notes that I take when reading nor researching. In the walks that have nothing to do with design but somehow lead to an idea three days later.

This issue of Marginalia is about that part.

Creative practice.

Not creativity as a moment of inspiration, but creativity as something we continuously build.

I’ve been thinking about my own creative practice. What actually happens before I sit down to design? What am I collecting without realizing it? What have I learned from other designers? What influences have shaped the way I work?

Most of these questions don’t have answers, or at least not easy ones. And I think that’s the point.

This month, I’ve become interested in the things that don’t immediately become something. The 6,000 photos that sit untouched in my camera roll. The ideas that aren’t ready yet. The experiments that don’t work. The publications I return to because they reveal something I overlooked each time.

They may not look like creative work from the outside. But I think they are.

Perhaps creative work is more about developing the ability to notice, collect, make, question, and return.

This issue isn’t a guide about becoming more productive or a formula to be more creative.

It’s an invitation to look at the process behind the polished creation.

And maybe to recognize that the quiet, ordinary parts of our lives aren’t interruptions to the practice.

They are the practice.

- J

Founder & Designer