Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
Before the semester even started, I was collecting lighting references I liked—pieces that felt aesthetic, interesting, or just different enough to stick in my head. At that point, I was mostly thinking about what I was drawn to visually, not how I would actually make any of it.
I was excited, inspired, and probably a little overconfident.
Once the semester started, I got the brief: Paper + 1. The project asked us to explore paper as a primary material used alongside one additional material. The goal was experimentation first, then innovation. It was definitely not what I expected, but it did force me into a process that was messier and more exploratory than I usually like.
We were given a few designers to research, including Ingo Maurer and Lindsey Adelman. I could appreciate those references, but I found myself much less interested in “light poetry” or highly precious statement pieces made for luxury interiors. I kept coming back instead to an idea Virgil Abloh talked about—embedding art into democratized design so more people can actually live with it. I like objects that get used. I like pieces that can age, get handled, and still feel valuable.
That became an important thread for me, even before I fully realized it.
Visual ideas: reference moodboard, first inspiration images, screenshot of your early Pinterest saves, annotated page of “what I liked and why.”
First Assignment: Paper Mâché
Visual ideas: grid of the ten forms, close-ups of the more interesting textures, one photo showing them all together, quick captions like “what worked / what didn’t.”
If I wasn’t already unsure about paper as a material, papier-mâché definitely didn’t win me over. The assignment was to make ten balloon-based forms, and honestly, it felt more like craft than design.
Still, I tried to make the most of it. Instead of using only plain paper, I experimented with readymade paper materials like sticky notes and receipt paper. Even if I wasn’t in love with the process, it was useful to get my hands moving and start making forms without overthinking them.
That assignment may have lowered my excitement a bit, but it also set up the next phase.
Finding Direction
The second assignment was where things started to click: sketch four different families of lights.
Up to this point, I had a bunch of directions bouncing around in my head—railroad spikes, biophilic forms, concrete, bent wood.
Concrete was funny because it felt like the complete opposite of paper, which I loved, but it was wildly impractical for apartment living. Bent wood was the direction I was most drawn to.
Visual ideas: close-up shots of sketch pages, scrolling through
A constant urge I have to fight against when ideating is adding. I am constantly trying to add more features, more ideas, more complexity.
I started thinking about aesthetics like Japandi—not because I wanted to copy them, but because they felt like a useful constraint. Simplicity, functionality, and material honesty felt like a good antidote to my usual “do everything at once” instincts.
Visual ideas: inpo scandianvain minimalism
Japandi also made sense in the context of paper. Paper lanterns, soft light, wood structure, visible aging—those ideas started to line up in a way that felt natural. I was interested in exploring wabi-sabi through form and material, and I liked the idea of mending or repair becoming part of the lamp’s story.
At the same time, I kept circling one question:
How simple could I make a lamp while still making it useful in different spaces?
That question pushed me toward versatility. I wanted something that could feel at home almost anywhere—something playful, simple, and adaptable.
Visual ideas: sketchbook spreads, circled concepts, a scan of your notebook cover, a “4 families of lights” collage, arrows and handwritten notes.
Early Prototype
From those sketch pages, one concept started to make the most sense. I made a mockup for class, and even in rough form, it had something.
Around the same time, I also started playing with the idea of an orb as a rechargeable light source. I disassembled an old reading light and quickly modeled a small enclosure for it. These were some of my first 3D prints, and they were rough in every possible way—but they were fun, and more importantly, they helped me start testing form in real space.
sceenshots from SolidWorks, side-by-side of sketch vs prototype.
When I presented the concept, the general response was positive. The scale, the form, and the functionality were received well. But my professor questioned two big things: the material choice, and whether the lamp really needed to function as both a pendant and a tabletop light.
Normally, I’m stubborn about feedback. I tend to defend the idea first and process the criticism later. But this one stuck with me. The more I sat with it, the more I realized the questions were fair. If this lamp was going to be made from wood, did I actually have the time, tools, and skill to make it the way I imagined?
That was the beginning of a shift.
Visual ideas: first mockup photos, exploded sketches, scr
Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
