E56 Transcript
Welcome to 2026! There’s a whole new year of exciting creativity ahead of us.
We’ll start the new year off by closing our series on planning for 2026. Today’s episode is about reading your own creative evidence — gently, honestly — and using it to make better decisions for the year ahead.
It’s about paying attention to what your work has already been telling you, instead of jumping straight into planning or fixing or reinventing everything.
Because before we ask, “What should I make next year?”
There’s a more useful question to sit with first:
What has my creative life already been pointing toward?
This isn’t about goals or productivity or clearing out your studio so you can start fresh.
It’s about noticing patterns.
About listening to what your hands, your habits, and your instincts tell you.
That’s what makes it different from goal-setting plans, stash-clearing advice or productivity hacks. This is pattern recognition.
This kind of listening is different.
It’s not aspirational.
It’s observational.
You’re not asking what you want to do next.
You’re asking what your work has already been trying to show you.
And that’s why this episode isn’t about making decisions yet.
It’s about attention.
About noticing what’s been consistent, what’s been magnetic, and what keeps calling you back.
You don’t need a new plan today.
You just need to notice what’s already there.
So, now that you’ve seen how you felt, and what worked… let’s look at what your hands and heart have been reaching for when you weren’t looking.
One of the biggest shifts for me this year has been realizing that my work has been leaving breadcrumbs. I just didn’t always stop long enough to notice them.
We tend to think we need to decide what to do next — make a choice, set a goal, pick a direction.
But what I’ve learned is that your creative life is already pointing you somewhere… if you’re willing to pay attention.
There’s a big difference between collecting materials and returning to them.
We all collect things — fabric, tools, ideas, half-finished projects. But returning to something, over and over, even when no one is watching? That’s different. That’s information.
For me, fabric has always been part of the story. But this year, I noticed something else happening. I kept reaching for ways to add depth — layering, stitching into surfaces, painting onto fabric, combining materials. Even when I wasn’t consciously “working on a project,” my hands kept moving in that direction.
The same thing happened with collage. I kept circling back to it. Wanting to push it further. Wanting to see what would happen if I let it bleed into other parts of my work. And then the shows started happening, and suddenly that thread didn’t feel accidental anymore. It felt like something asking to be taken seriously.
That’s the thing I want you to notice in your own work.
What do you keep reaching for when no one’s telling you to? When I’m not telling you to?
What techniques keep resurfacing?
What materials do you touch when you’re not trying to be productive — just curious?
For me, it’s those “random bags of stuff.” The bits and pieces I’ve saved for no good reason. The scraps I can’t bring myself to throw away. The odd little finds that make no sense until suddenly they do. Even lately, when I’m sketching or planning, I keep reaching for those odd bits — the ones that have been waiting quietly in the background.
That’s not distraction. That’s information.
And it’s not about judging it or turning it into a plan right away. It’s about noticing the pattern.
Because repetition tells you something.
Avoidance tells you something.
And attraction — especially the kind that keeps showing up uninvited — tells you something too.
Your work is always communicating.
The question is whether you’re listening.
And this is the shift I want you to make in this episode:
Instead of asking “What should I be making?”
Try asking, “What do I keep coming back to — even when I’m not trying to?”
When you start paying attention to what keeps calling you back, something interesting happens.
You stop thinking in terms of more…
and start thinking in terms of clearer.
Because most of us don’t actually need more supplies, more tools, or more ideas. We need fewer things that matter more.
Let me say that again:
We need fewer things that matter more.
This is where the shift happens — from accumulating to curating.
Curating isn’t about purging or throwing things away in a dramatic weekend spree. It’s a bit quieter than that. It’s about noticing what wants to come forward and what’s ready to rest for a while. It’s very intentional.
It’s asking yourself:
What do I keep circling back to?
What do I enjoy spending time with — even when there’s no deadline?
What do I want to give more attention to, not because I should, but because I’m genuinely drawn to it?
That’s creative direction.
It’s not a plan so much as a relationship.
And when you start looking at your work this way, something shifts. You stop treating your studio like a storage unit or a to-do list, and start treating it like a conversation. One where some ideas are asking to step forward… and others are perfectly fine staying quiet for now.
This is where a lot of people get tripped up. They think moving forward means adding more — more projects, more goals, more output. And they equate failure to those things that are not done! But often, the real progress comes from deciding what doesn’t need your energy right now.
What can sit.
What can wait.
What doesn’t need to be solved this year.
That’s curation! Curation means ‘the selection of’…the selection and care of objects to be shown or form a part of a collection.
Because when you give yourself permission to curate instead of accumulate, your work gets clearer. Your decisions get lighter. And the path ahead starts to feel less crowded — and more intentional.
That’s the kind of clarity that actually makes space for momentum.
And this is where I want to offer you a very simple invitation.
Not a plan.
Not a goal.
Not a decision you have to get “right.”
Just a moment of attention.
If you had to choose one thread to follow this year, in 2026 — one material, one idea, one curiosity — what would it be?
Not the thing you think you should focus on.
Not the thing that sounds impressive or productive.
But the thing that keeps pulling at you quietly, even when you’re not trying to make anything happen.
Maybe it’s a material you keep reaching for without thinking.
Maybe it’s a half-finished piece that still feels alive every time you see it.
Maybe it’s a technique you keep circling back to, even though you may not have mastered it yet or even when you tell yourself you should move on.
I’m not asking you to commit to it.
I’m not asking you to build a plan around it.
I’m just asking you to notice it.
To pay attention to what’s already in motion.
Because this isn’t about choosing your future today — it’s about listening to what’s already asking for your attention.
So instead of asking, “What should I do next?”
Try asking, “What keeps asking something of me?”
That shift — from deciding to noticing — is often where clarity actually begins.
It’s quieter than goal-setting.
It’s slower than strategy.
But it’s also way more sincere and trustworthy.
And when you start there, you’re not scattering your energy —
you’re learning how to stay with something long enough for it to show you where it wants to go.
I want to leave you with something calm — not a takeaway, not a task, just a way of holding the next little while.
You don’t need to know where this leads yet.
You don’t need a plan, or a direction, or a word for what you’re doing.
You just need to notice what’s already calling for your attention.
The things that keep resurfacing.
The materials you touch without thinking.
The ideas that linger, even when you’re busy with other things.
That’s not indecision — that’s information.
And it’s enough for now.
The next phase isn’t about making big declarations or locking anything in. It’s about letting what’s already alive have a little more space to speak. About trusting that direction often shows up quietly, long before it makes sense on paper.
In the next episode, we’ll start shaping that listening into something more tangible — not by forcing clarity, but by letting it emerge naturally, in a way that fits you.
For now, just stay curious.
Stay present with what’s pulling at you.
And let yourself be in that not-quite-knowing space a little longer.
You don’t need clarity yet.
The doors to a new year have just now opened.
You just need curiosity.
And that’s more than enough to begin.
Welcome to 2026 my fellow fabric creative! Let’s approach it with curiosity!
