Ideas Matter: My Personal Process (And Yours Can Too)

Let’s start from the heart: Art begins when you believe your ideas matter. 

Not when the painting is hung, not when the application is accepted, but in that fragile first moment — when something stirs inside you and you decide it’s worth holding onto. I often say this to my students, and I remind myself too: the real work begins when you give your thoughts value.

And since I love artists, and I love methodology (yes, really), and I truly want to see our ideas not just flicker for a moment, but grow into something real, I’ve decided to start sharing more of these tools and processes here.

1. Catch it — however you can

Ideas rarely arrive when we are sitting quietly with a notebook. Most of the time, they appear while I’m cooking, holding a child, walking between errands, or just trying to breathe between two moments. That’s why I rely deeply on voice input. My hands are full — I’m raising small children — but my mind keeps moving, so I dictate everything into my phone. Fragments, images, strange phrases, raw thoughts. I don’t filter. I just record, because I’ve learned that if I don’t, those ideas evaporate. This is the most important part: to recognize that your thoughts are valuable, even before they are coherent. Art starts when you consider your ideas worth keeping.

2. Give it a visual pulse

If something stays with me after I’ve recorded it, I take the next step — I look for visual anchors. I find 3 to 5 images, textures, colors, artworks, objects — anything that holds the same feeling. Not to illustrate the idea, but to surround it, to give it a pulse. Sometimes those images don’t make sense at first, but they speak to a part of the idea I haven’t yet articulated. They help me feel where the idea is going, even before I can define it.

3. Shape it and stress-test it

When the idea becomes more present, I move toward shaping it. I usually combine two methods here. First, I speak it aloud — to a friend, a colleague, a fellow artist. Even just explaining the idea makes it clearer. Saying it out loud often reveals its gaps, its energy, its structure. Second, I use AI tools as a kind of external mirror. I feed the raw text into a system and ask for feedback: What’s strong? What’s unclear? What directions could this take? I often ask for ten possible developments, not because I’ll use them all, but because even one suggestion might open a door I hadn’t seen. The combination of human conversation and critical digital feedback helps the idea take on a sharper shape.

4. Make it real (even just a little)

Next, I give it a body. It doesn’t need to be finished or perfect — just visible. I create a sketch, a diagram, a color palette, a layout. Something that gives the idea form. It’s a grounding moment. When you see it in front of you — even in rough lines — it starts feeling real. It starts speaking back.

5. Keep it close — even if not now

Not every idea is for now. But if it feels meaningful, I archive it visually. I print out the references and pin them on my physical idea board in the studio. This isn’t just decoration. It’s a place where future projects live. An idea incubator. A place where thoughts can rest, wait, grow slowly until their time comes. And the truth is: they always come back. Sometimes after a year, sometimes two. But they return. And when they do, they are stronger.

A small story from right now

Just a few days ago, I submitted a proposal for a conference. It started out as just another deadline. But while writing, I dug into my old notes and found an idea I’d recorded long ago. As I tried to shape it for the proposal, I saw it differently — not just as a talk, but as a full exhibition. Suddenly the structure was there, the tone was clear, the potential felt real. Now I’m gathering materials, refining the concept, letting it take root. Because once an idea is formed, once it’s seen, it begins to breathe. And then it asks for a place in the world.

A quick exercise for you

Take five minutes. Write down a quiet idea that’s been living inside you. Give it a working title. Find three to five visual references that feel close to it. Then sit with it. See what opens up. It may not be for today, but it may be the beginning of something powerful.

There will be more posts like this — because I believe artists deserve tools, not just inspiration. Because method and emotion can go hand in hand. And because I want our ideas — yours and mine — to find form, space, and life.

Photo: a fragment of my current idea board — the materials and thoughts I’m working with these days. Quiet beginnings. Beautiful seeds.