I Tore Down My Process and Built Something Slower
The way I work has changed since taking Immersion. Not slightly. Not in a “tweaked a few things” kind of way. I took what I had built before, pulled it apart piece by piece, and rebuilt it into something that actually feels like me. And that shift has changed how I create across the board.
My process isn’t rushed anymore. It’s intentional. Sometimes an idea starts as a sketch and becomes a woodburning, and maybe that woodburning turns into a pattern. Other times, I design a surface pattern first, and that becomes something I burn into wood. It goes both ways now. It’s fluid. It’s connected. And honestly, it’s a lot more interesting than the old way of just pushing to finish something quickly.
But here’s the part that feels both exciting and a little uncomfortable.
It’s slower.
In a world that constantly rewards speed, output, and “what’s next,” I’m choosing to take my time. To sit with ideas. To let them evolve instead of forcing them into something just to check a box. There’s something deeply satisfying about that, even if it doesn’t always make logical sense from the outside.
Living in a rural area has made that shift easier. Things move differently out here. Quieter. Calmer. Slower by default. Even with four dogs who somehow manage to be chaos and grounding all at once, my days have a rhythm that pulls me out of my head and back into something real. I’m not sitting around overthinking every move. I’m moving, observing, creating, and then coming back to the work with a clearer mind.
And yet, this way of working still feels unfamiliar. I didn’t grow up in slow environments. Foster care, the city, constant transitions… life was unpredictable, fast, and often chaotic. You learn to move quickly in that kind of environment. You adapt. You stay alert. You don’t linger.
So, choosing slow now? It feels like learning a new language.
There’s a part of me that still holds onto structure, precision, and punctuality. That part isn’t going anywhere. It’s wired in, you know, being German and all, but there’s also this growing pull toward something else, something more grounded, more deliberate, more in tune with how I actually want to live and create.
And if I’m being honest, I don’t fully know yet if I can sustain it. That’s the question sitting underneath all of this.
Can I keep choosing slow in a world that constantly pushes fast? Can I trust that this way of working will not only feel better, but also work?
I don’t have a clean answer for that. But I do know this: the work I’m creating now feels more like mine than anything I’ve made before. And for now, that’s enough reason to keep going.
