Our Headspace, Process and The Need to Create
There is a spot in East Coast Park that I frequent to clear my head some evenings. There, waves fling themselves upon the shore with wild abandon, the wind whispers sweet nothings to the trees which in turn rustle their leaves in delight. The creeping darkness masks uncertainties. In some way it’s my portal to listening to myself amidst the surrounding noise. It helps me set my headspace right. It’s my little space.
The brief for Headgear was straightforward enough – sell the hair product as stylish and affordable. We had free reign to come up with something. After the somersaults and chest bumps, we sat down to think. This is always the scariest part. Creative blocks are a real thing. It is frightening to stare at a blank piece of canvas. How do we overcome this? We create.
I like to think of each project as an extension of myself and as an opportunity to explore the way I see the world.
I wanted to create a dreamlike, sterile environment for the Headgear project to reflect how we perceive ourselves each day and the choices we make to let the world perceive us. Elevators can be awkward spaces – the awkward smile or downward glance when we are forced to share our personal space within an enclosed environment with people we have yet drawn close to. Time stretches. We want to get out of it. Yet elevators can be pleasant spots too. When we allow that brief moment of interaction with people we otherwise won’t get to know quite enough.
In Reminisce, I explored the three stages of a memory – encoding/storage/retrieval and used them as metaphors in the little box of treasures that the kid was rummaging through. The usage of different mediums to tell the story also allowed us to explore memories in an efficient and different way.
In our spare time, we look for stories. We look for inspiration and we build upon them. Our personal work is our armour of craft. We care for it and understand it's chinks. We polish and refine it.
We approach each project with fierce intensity. Not wanting to be placed in a mould, we figure how to change direction (or approach) when things are good.
There is always an urgency for us to keep creating. CANVAS was birthed from this need. It is our survival instinct.
Not every project sees the light of day. There are several personal endeavours that we are still working on. Some stretching as far back as three years ago. We tell ourselves it's okay, and it's the process.