lately, i’ve been tinkering with the idea of sacred creative play, a few hours in my day that are protected, intentional, and devoted purely to making something with my hands.
as creatives, it’s so easy to be consumed by work that exists for others. deadlines, deliverables, expectations. but i truly believe that if you don’t create just for yourself, something will wither. you have to make things that don’t need to be useful, sellable, or even good.
a practice i’ve been trying to build into my everyday is this: once i come home from the studio, i shut my laptop. completely. and i dedicate whatever hours i have left to making. side-quest projects. handmade gifts. all those tiny sparks deserve a chance to exist in the real world, and this is my way of letting them.
i don’t put pressure on these evenings. no time limits. no expectations. and no rules about outcomes. i just create. i call these my crafty evenings, and honestly, they’ve been absolutely crucial in keeping me creatively fulfilled this month.
what comes out of them isn’t perfect or polished. but they are deeply joyful. and purely exploratory. and i want to take the time to document them. and maybe, hopefully, they’ll remind you to make something too.
crochet dino keychain
my partner bought me a beginner’s crochet kit a very long time ago, back when i actually was a beginner. life got in the way, as it often does, and the kit sat untouched in the depths of my cupboard.
this month, i felt a strong urge to revisit all those unfinished projects that once excited me. so i pulled the kit out and started making. it was surreal to realise how far i’ve come since then. the instructions were clear and helpful, but i also noticed that with what i know now, i could’ve made this without them at all.
that realisation felt incredibly affirming :)
i ended up tweaking the pattern and adding a face, little hands, and changing the size and shape slightly. making it my own. i love him so much.
crochet mat thingy
i’d been seeing videos of people making yarn from old t-shirts and weaving them into mats and tapestries. i had a pile of old tees meant for donation, and this felt like the perfect way to give them a second life.
i didn’t follow a pattern. i just went with intuition weaving the t-shirt yarn with regular yarn, figuring things out as i went. i made this mat for my aunt; her home has a lot of blues, and i loved seeing little touches of pink peek through.
i genuinely had no idea what i was doing most of the time (oops), and that was the best part. i’m so excited to make more of these. everyone in my life may eventually end up with a slightly unhinged mat made from ness’s old shirts :)
vision board
yes, i made a vision board. i know, cliché.
i included a photo of my younger self, and that became the foundation for all my intentions for 2026. everything i want to do, create, and prioritise is for her. i want to make choices that would make little ness happy.
i bought cheap, fun stickers, rhinestones, gems. i cut scalloped edges. i leaned fully into whimsy. and i loved every second of it.
during a work exercise recently, someone asked: “what’s something you do now that makes you feel like a kid?” i froze. i couldn’t answer. whether it was because i truly didn’t know, or because i was put on the spot , i’m not sure. but i remember feeling abolutely gutted. but like, that moment stayed with me. and i promised myself i wouldn’t forget it.
now i know i do have things that make me feel like a kid: visiting craft and stationery stores, making chocolate fondues, scribbling on notepads, swinging on creaky swings, eating this one specific brand of chips, dancing in public when the music is too good, buying new notebooks, toy stores, barbies, glitter, star stickers.
documenting this is my way of remembering, for her.
2026 punch cards
i fully hopped onto the goal punch-card bandwagon, and i regret nothing.
i hand-painted each card using acrylic markers and gouache. it took two full days. slightly unhinged behaviour, but deeply satisfying. i tied them together with a beautiful ribbon from a friend’s shop packaging, and now they live on my desk.
punching through them is ridiculously fun. i’ve decided i’ll choose my reward only after completing the entire card like a mystery voucher. the idea absolutely delights me.
beads
i’ve wanted to work with beads for the longest time, but they always felt intimidating. a very talented friend of mine, reshu singh on instagram does incredible beadwork, and i’d admired it from afar for years.
this month, i finally tried. the bead kit was on sale, my stomach fluttered, and i ordered it.
best decision ever.
i made a beaded chain for my digicam and a bunch of bracelets for friends and family. i didn’t follow tutorials, once again, i figured it out on my own. it took like 2 hours longer than it probably should have, but it felt so fulfilling. the concentration, the coordination... it genuinely felt like working on a school project again.
i can’t wait to do more.
texture collecting
this was another experiment i’d been saving for “someday.” i started with play-dough (disaster. read: all the play-dough got stuck right up in all the crevices of the thing i was trying to pull textures from), then switched to softened blu-tack which worked beautifully.
i’m so excited to keep collecting textures this way. i love the idea of carrying a little kit around and noticing surfaces differently. it’s such a playful way to engage with the world.
what i'm learning
what this month has taught me is that creativity doesn’t need to be productive to be meaningful. and to protect myself from perfectionism and burnout, i’ve decided to document everything even when it’s messy. you’ll see bad lighting, ugly bedsheets, blurry photos. but these things matter more to me than aesthetics right now.
they are proof that i played. proof that i made. proof that i showed up.
so, if there’s a message here, it’s this: pay attention to your ideas. even the small ones. especially the small ones. they’re trying to keep you alive.
for now, that’s all. i’ll see you in my next tinkering 🤍
- nessart16
- Oct 28, 2025
- 5 min read
Updated: Jan 29
About a year ago, I embarked on a project I had always dreamed of. For a long time, I felt "not ready yet." However, in celebration of my first published illustration work, I want to share a behind-the-scenes look at my artwork in the self-development book Ignite Your Inner Spark by Alpa Kapadia Teli.
The Rewarding Experience of Illustrating a Book
Illustrating a book is a deeply rewarding and enriching experience. This is especially true when the subject matter resonates with you personally. In September of last year, I had the opportunity to work with trainer and coach Alpa Kapadia Teli on her very first book, Ignite Your Inner Spark.
This book focuses on discovering your true self through deep inner work, rather than superficial changes. As someone fascinated by self-help content and personal growth, this project felt like the perfect alignment of my passions and skills. Today, I want to share my journey, insights, and practical tips for creating illustrations for a book, from someone who has just started out in this field 😊.
How the Project Began
The collaboration began when the author reached out to a group of coaches for an assignment. My mum was in that group and picked up her request. Thinking it was for a graphic design requirement, she passed on the information to a fellow designer. This designer eventually recommended me for the job, which turned out to be illustrations. What a full-circle moment!
Alpa needed hand-drawn diagrams and illustrations to better convey her ideas and concepts. It was her first book and my first experience illustrating one, so we were both stepping into new territory. The aim of the illustrations was to serve as visual aids that complemented the text and enhanced the reader's understanding.
Scope of the Project
We agreed on a package of 20 illustrations. The variety of illustrations made it particularly interesting:
Recreations: Some illustrations were adaptations of existing images, stock images, or previously AI-generated images collected for this book.
Original Concepts: Others required brainstorming and building visuals from scratch.
Quote Designs: I also worked on re-drawing quotes to accompany the text of the book.
Infographics and Tables: These added structure and clarity to the book's content, helping to guide some of the activities mentioned.
Creative Process
Starting Point
My process for tackling the illustrations was intuitive. I began with the pieces that felt easiest or resonated the most with me. For example, one of my favorite illustrations from the project was the buttress tree roots, and it was also the first one I completed. This approach of following what "called out to me" kept the momentum going and helped me tackle creative blocks.
Grouping Similar Illustrations
Since the author was on a semi-strict deadline, I had the flexibility to choose the order of my work. I often grouped similar-looking illustrations together and worked on them consecutively. This method helped maintain consistency and efficiency.
Style and Design Choices
Visual Aesthetic
After discussing with the author, we decided on a clean, monoline style for the illustrations. The paper the book was printed on was slightly textured. Overall, we avoided textures to maintain simplicity and cohesiveness with the book’s cover design and overall tone.
To add depth and interest, I incorporated different opacities of black and grey in select illustrations. This decision proved effective, especially since the book was printed in black and white. The grey tones added character without increasing production costs.
Challenges in Conceptual Illustrations
Some illustrations required creative problem-solving, especially when visualizing abstract ideas. For example:
Meaning-Making Machine
Illustration: Representing the complex process of how memories, beliefs, stories, etc., are formed and how we assign meaning to them.
Whole and Hole Self: Depicting the idea of self-completeness and addressing internal voids.
These illustrations took the longest to conceptualize and finalize. I needed to ensure that the visuals conveyed the intended messages clearly and effectively. I used Pinterest to gather inspiration for how I wanted these visuals to look first. Then, I went to my drawing board and tried to visualize how I would like to understand these concepts.
A trick I used was to act as though I was explaining the concept to a child. I asked myself how simplified and visually engaging I could make this. I tried to use visual metaphors wherever possible and keep the illustrations direct.
Key Takeaways & Suggestions
Having done this for the very first time, I learned a lot about myself and the process. Here are some key takeaways:
Know the Content Inside Out: Spend time reading and understanding the book before illustrating. Visualize the concepts you are trying to illustrate. The better you grasp the concepts, the easier it will be to translate them.
Build a Strong Connection with Your Client: Talk to the author regularly. Ask questions, share drafts, and ensure you’re aligned on the style and tone they envision. This back-and-forth may feel like a lot, but it is key to creating illustrations that truly complement the text.
Work Smarter, Not Harder: Start with the pieces that excite you or feel easiest. This builds momentum and confidence, giving you initial easy wins and fresh ideas for tackling the more challenging parts later.
Consider Practical Constraints: Always keep production methods and costs in mind. For instance, if the book will be printed in black and white, find ways to add depth using shades of grey rather than relying on color, as I did for this book.
Take Creative Liberties (But Communicate Them!): Don’t be afraid to experiment and add your own touch. That is what your client has come to you for. Just make sure your client is on board with these decisions.
Be Patient with Abstract Ideas: When working on conceptual illustrations, give yourself enough time to brainstorm and experiment. It’s okay if it takes a few iterations to get it right. Take your time in visualizing, journaling, or discussing these ideas to truly understand them.
Stay Organized: Group similar illustrations together and work on them in batches. This ensures consistency and saves you time switching between different styles or themes.
Illustrating Ignite Your Inner Spark was a fulfilling journey that allowed me to merge my love for art with my interest in personal growth. It taught me valuable lessons about creativity, collaboration, and problem-solving.
For anyone looking to step into the world of book illustrations, I hope these beginner insights provide inspiration and guidance, especially if you are starting this journey yourself.
Whether you’re recreating existing visuals or crafting new concepts from scratch, remember that your illustrations have the power to bring stories and ideas to life. And that is something to cherish :)
You can check out the book here ~ Good luck, and I will see you soon! Byeee <3
- nessart16
- Aug 18, 2025
- 4 min read
Welcome to The Roses in August, the eighth blog post in my 2025 Calendar Blog Series. Over the remaining months of this year, I’ll be taking you behind the scenes of each month’s illustration, sharing stories, memories, and reflections that continue to shape my creative journey.
For 2025, I created a collection that bridges my childhood art with my current skill level - I’ve revisited some of my old oil pastel drawings and watercolour paintings, recreated them digitally, and added reflective thoughts, messages, and affirmations that connect what they meant to me then with what they mean to me now. Each month is crafted with care, representing both the season and a personal story.
this month, i thought i’d switch things up and begin with the artwork itself. this is an oil pastel drawing i made back in one of my art classes, a simple study in learning to draw from real life. our teacher had placed some roses in front of us. no vase, no fancy setup, just roses as they were. the task was to really look, really observe, and then draw. and so i did.
what’s funny is, i don’t think the roses in front of me had thorns. but in my head, roses always have thorns. that’s what i’d learnt in school. so i drew them that way. i remember feeling a little self-conscious when i noticed the other kids hadn’t done that. maybe some did, i don’t remember.
technically, i guess i “failed” the assignment because i didn’t capture what was actually in front of me. but what i did capture gave me something else to take home. in terms of the actual art though, little ness went all out. I left the background hazy and unfinished (so artsy, right?), pushed the shading, and created what i thought was a very professional composition. whether it was “right” or not, i felt good making it.
this month’s theme is, at its heart, a letter to my younger self. a reflection on something i still struggle with today... accepting every part of who i am.
we all have pieces of ourselves we struggle to love. the quirks, the habits, the features we try to hide or paint in a kinder light. but i believe the real work of life is not just to tolerate these parts, but to fall in love with them. truly.
it’s easy to admire a rose when the thorns have been stripped away. “oh, such a smooth stem!” but rarely do we stop to wonder, what are we removing when we cut them off?
the truth is, thorns, or, more accurately, prickles, are not really flaws. they’re vital. they keep the rose safe from being eaten. they help it climb and reach for sunlight. they’re a part of its survival. and yet, when roses are harvested or gifted, the first thing we do is strip them away, as though they don’t belong.
isn’t that something we often do to ourselves? we hide the parts that feel “too much” or “too sharp” because we worry they’ll hurt someone else. but those very parts are what make us whole.
as a child, with my habit of naming everything around me and looking at inanimate objects as “people”, i would often wonder what the rose thought of its own body. did the petals say, “i make you beautiful”? did the stem say, “i hold you up”? did the thorns say, “i keep you safe”?
not every part is equally admired, but every part plays a role in making the rose a rose. and when i think of myself, i realise it’s the same.
i used to feel so self-conscious about my broad shoulders, my height, my long fingers, my slanted teeth. i felt frustrated at the little twirl my hands do when i get nervous, or the way i feel discomfort so deeply in a room that i couldn’t rest until everyone else felt at ease.
but with time, i’ve started to see those very things differently. i love that i care so deeply. i love that i feel deeply. my anxiety is my body trying to protect me. my height and shoulders make me feel powerful and strong, and, honestly, i look pretty great in a blazer. my long fingers and big hands have allowed me to create every single thing i’ve ever dreamt of making.
these quirks, these “thorns,” are not faults. they’re part of my design.
we are all roses in this vast, tangled garden. or maybe you’re not a rose at all.. maybe you’re a sunflower, a lily, a cactus, a lemon tree, even a rafflesia. whatever you are, you are you because of every part of you. the celebrated petals, yes. but also the hidden thorns. the pieces you love, and the ones you’re still learning to accept.
Stay tuned for September's story, and if you haven’t yet, check out my
2025 calendar collection to bring these illustrations into your home!
