Feeling inspired, more confident in my instincts and slightly annoyed that I’d not studied earlier with this master of creativity.

In 2025, I enrolled in Developing Your Creativity; a week-long course at University of the Arts in London taught by Rod Judkins. Together with others from across the globe, we spent a week challenging our familiar habits and working with less certainty. The aim was to experince exactly what it feels like to approach creative problems from some very unexpected angles. Rod asked us to

• put experimentation before polish,
• begin before we felt ready and
• notice the rules we’d imposed on our own work.

Rod brought an impressive range of references from art, design, invention and popular culture, but he never made creativity feel either abstract or unnecessarily academic. His relaxed teaching style made it easier for us to test ideas without treating every outcome as a measure of our ability. He applies the same curiosity to his own work and is always interested in

• how people generate ideas,
• why they dismiss certain possibilities and
• what helps them move beyond predictable answers.

Working faster and thinking differentlOne of our first briefs involved designing a chair for someone famous from the past but with a contemporary twist. I chose LS Lowry and looked beyond the most recognisable imagery in his paintings to focus on industrial materials.

I sketched a wooden chair with metal supports and hob nailed boot-shaped wheels, a raw wooden seat and a tablet holder as the modern element. The final design looked slightly awkward and rather off putting, a cross between a seat of torture (think dentist) and a piece of scaffolding. Rod also asked us to work quickly and give ourselves less time to reject an idea before exploring it. I’m terrible at doing that and prefer to plan and refine in my head before I’ve begun to put pencil to paper. That brief taught me that too much prep and planning prevents me from discovering where my initial ideas might lead. I was there to learn and it was quite liberating to draw at greater speed, give myself permission to refine later and be OK with what I’d produced.

From lemons to garden maps

One exercise began with the close observation of a fruit or vegetable. I chose a lemon because it was the nearest thing to hand in the kitchen. I studied its skin, colour, texture, reflections, curves and natural imperfections before Rod asked us to create something completely unrelated. I thought about the thickness of the peel, its flexibility and resistance to water, then considered the softness and insulating qualities of the pith. From there, I developed the idea of sandals. I imagined peeling the lemon carefully enough to form straps and then reconstituting the pith to create a cushioned insole, although I used felt for the prototype. The lemon sandal now lives in our front room, and I still think a whole fruit-shoe collection might be possible. Testing it on the cats may require a separate course.

Behind the absurdity, I learned to study a material according to its properties rather than its usual purpose. Once I considered the lemon as a structure made from protective, flexible and cushioning layers, the connection with footwear became easier to understand.

We then tested this approach through deliberately unusual combinations, including a hedgehog cheese grater. The humour helped interrupt the pressure we place on ourselves frequently to produce something sensible. Once I stopped asking myself whether an idea was good enough, I left myself room to explore more useful questions about materials, shape, function and possibility.

For another exercise, we mapped an area near us without relying on roads, buildings or other conventional map features. I chose my garden and recorded it through the plants, trees and flowers that marked different spaces. I drew nasturtiums curling through fences, pyracantha forming a scribble of fire, alyssum creeping beneath the shed, wisteria bordering the side path and a juniper marking the far corner. As I worked, I began to imagine a seasonal series in which I could return to the same spaces and record how the planting changed throughout the year.

Through that exercise, I began to think about mapping as a record of attention and experience. Two people could map the same place very differently because each person would notice, remember and value different details.

Ideas, identity and unlikely materials

Rod introduced us to the Live Aid matrix, a visual grid that contained different elements from different categories to see more clearly how differnt elements might combine to get away from linear thinking. We used it to generate logo ideas and brand language. I found it more deliberate than a traditional mind map because it left enough room for surprise, and Ive kept the method for times whwn I’ve needed to move beyond my first idea.

One of the most memorable briefs involved rebranding a fried chicken shop that, thankfully, no longer trades. I imagined neon signage, steamed-up windows and a local reputation that had outlived its hygiene rating. We had to take the weaknesses of the business and consider how we might use them as part of a distinctive identity. That was harder than it sounded. I had to find a balance between humour and credibility, and I had to resist the temptation to conceal every flaw behind polished branding. We considered how people remember businesses, through character, history and reputation as much as through logos and colour palettes.

Better ideas worth developing

We also discussed creative identity and the question of what distinguishes one person’s work from another. I made a personal manifesto from collage, magazine clippings, washi tape, a cut-out painting and found text about hedge trimming. The result made me laugh, but it also reflected my interest in repetition, balance and aesthetic play. Later that week, I turned one of my own lines into a bold, hand-lettered poster.

By the end of the week, I had created a Lowry-inspired chair, a hedgehog cheese grater, lemon sandals, garden maps, slogan posters, logo ideas, a collage manifesto, a lollipop-stick business card and a fried chicken brand that made full use of its questionable past. None of the work needed to be finished or refined. We were learning how to begin, how to move beyond the most obvious response and how to remain open to ideas long enough to discover more and probably better ideas worth developing.

Rod combined knowledge, humour and irreverence without losing sight of the discipline involved in creative work. He asked us to

• use constraints more intelligently,
• approach problems from unlikely directions and
• accept imperfection as part of the process.

I came away with new methods, a varied collection of experimental work and a stronger understanding of my own (limiting) habits. Most importantly, I became more willing to start before knowing exactly where I was headed.