Recently we went to Billund and visited the Lego House - which was brilliant. Alongside the heaps of bricks and nostalgia there were quotes and parts of the brand’s philosophy on play. In the museum bit I read something that’s been bouncing around my head which I’m now going to bastardise:
Everyone is born creative.
We just express it differently.
And some of us need different triggers to unlock it.
Which sounds obvious. Almost annoyingly so - but it’s not trite. It’s clear and when you think about it a bit more you understand a bit more how people perceive the world.
And yet… most of us walk around thinking we’re either “creative” or we’re not. Like it’s a personality trait. Or a job title. I certainly wouldn’t put myself into a “creative” bracket - although I’ve been assured by peers and those that know me that I actually can be pretty creative.
However I’m not the only one that doesn’t perceive their own creativity at first glance.
“Oh I’m not the creative one.”
“That’s more of a design thing.”
“Let’s get someone in to make this look good.”
Even in UCD. Even in teams literally built around understanding humans.
We quietly box creativity off. Give it a seat over there. Usually next to Figma or the beardy designers that fawn over specific pens - you know the exact ones.
And the rest of us crack on being sensible, with spreadsheets, slide decks, snarky memes and such. But that doesn’t really hold up when you look at the work. Because creativity in the product design space isn’t just making things look nice. It’s in the weird, messy, slightly unpredictable bits and how things all work together.
It’s when you take a problem that everyone’s been nodding along to… and realise it’s the wrong problem entirely.
It’s when you ask a question in an interview that wasn’t on your discussion guide, follow the user down a rabbit hole, and suddenly everything opens up to an entirely different wonderland.
It’s when you’re in a workshop, it’s going sideways, and you somehow find a way to pull it back without anyone really noticing - pulling all the strings majestically like the Doctor saving the world in a savvy speech with an appropriate score.
That’s creative.
We just don’t give it that label because our perceptions of creativity can be limited to the arts in the way we were taught at school.
Creativity doesn’t just show up at the end of a project in the outputs. Nice journey maps. Clean personas. A deck that doesn’t make people want to quietly close their laptop and walk into the sea.
And don’t get me wrong - I still love that stuff. There’s craft in it, hard craft indeed - which is why my persona and slide templates follow me from gig to gig. But it’s not where the magic is.
The magic is earlier. And scrappier and has nothing to do with TV magician and pox upon our houses Stephen Mulhern.
It’s in the half-formed thoughts. The slightly chaotic workshops. The moments where you’re not entirely sure if what you’re doing is going to work.
It’s in taking a bunch of messy conversations with users and somehow turning them into something that actually means something to a team.
It’s the conversion of “here’s what we heard” to explaining“here’s what this changes” - in a way that’s engaging to multiple audiences.
Pivoting and adjusting, understanding and interpreting - that’s creative.
Ok, I know that “everyone’s creative” can sound trite, but what really stuck with me was the second part: We all need different triggers.
Because some people can sit quietly with a problem and just… think their way through it. I thought I was one of those people, turns out I’m not. I need to be moving around and distracting myself to get into flow state. If I sit still for too long, I start checking emails, planning ahead and basically being anywhere but present.
My version of creativity is much more… chaotic. It’s movement. It’s a Kerrang 2004 playlist whilst throwing post-its at a wall, it’s not always physical (although a walk helps), but it’s channelling freneticism. Jumping between ideas. Letting things collide. Pulling something from one place and dropping it somewhere else just to see what happens like a toddler discovering bath bombs.
A comment from a user turns into a metaphor.
A messy workshop becomes the start of a strategy or a strained metaphor - content onion anyone?
A throwaway thought becomes a whole direction of travel.
It doesn’t look tidy. It’s definitely not linear - but it makes sense and can be cleared threaded.
And then there’s making.
Not the polished, “ta-da, here’s the final thing” kind with a great unveiling via ‘can you see my screen?’
The working out. The bad sketches. Half-written narratives. Scratchy chicken writing. Diagrams that only make sense to you (and even then, only just). The moment you put pen to paper (or pencil, or stylus…) it pushes back. It gives you something to react to.
And suddenly you’re not stuck anymore.
This is the bit I think we miss in UCD.
We’re surrounded by creative opportunities.
User interviews.
Workshops.
Ambiguous, slightly uncomfortable problems.
Each of these can be made to be creative and engaging - useful for yourself.
Interesting stuff, the stuff that actually shifts thinking, rarely comes from just following processes - it comes from following the flow and energy of a task.
How you listen.
How you question.
How you connect things that don’t obviously go together.
How you wrap them all up together.
That’s the creative bit - the structure is a canvas, how you approach it is up to you.
So maybe the question isn’t “am I creative?”
That feels a bit binary and blunt.
Maybe it’s: “What makes the way I approach this different?”
Is it talking things out?
Writing?
Sketching?
Arguing (nicely)?
Letting your brain wander for a bit longer than feels productive?
Because once you know that, you can lean into it.
I’m a lot less interested now in whether something looks “creative” from the outside and a lot more interested in whether it unlocked something.
Everyone’s born creative - yes it sounds trite, but it’s true - it’s just finding the way to unlock it.