Lovers of a minimalist aesthetic probably wouldn’t agree, though. My version of organisation still involves a lot of stuff. Lots of books, shelves of vintage vases, trinkets picked up on work trips and car boot sales, artwork, piles of textiles and all sorts of knick-knacks. But I find my curated clutter comforting. Everything has a story, a memory or a reason for being there. And as my mum used to say, there is “a place for everything, and everything in its place.”
The “stuff” in my home – curated or clutter?
That is, until I start a creative project. Or, more accurately, projects with a capital S.
My children still joke that there was no greater sense of dread than emerging from their bedrooms as teenagers – usually nursing a hangover – to find me blasting music, the back door flung open and halfway through about twenty-five different jobs. I might be making stock (which would inevitably languish in the fridge before being thrown away), painting a piece of furniture, taking up a pair of trousers and repotting several plants. Somewhere along the way I’d discover a box of old photographs or letters and abandon everything for two hours while attempting to organise them into neat piles, only to lose interest and shove them all back in the box.
Creative projects – a tabletop I recently tiled, and the creative process in the office
A friend once described me as being “all style over content”, which I still find true/highly amusing. My brain constantly making connections, chasing ideas and thinking about a hundred things at once. It’s probably why I’ve never slept more than six hours a night – and never in one uninterrupted stretch – and why I regularly forget things like keys, umbrellas, birthdays, train times and where I’ve put my travel card. I lost so many Oyster cards over the years I’m convinced TFL has me on a watch list.
The team at USP have often asked if I’d ever considered that I might have ADHD. Growing up, my understanding of ADHD was based on the stereotype of a fidgety child disrupting the class, so I simply assumed my organised chaos was the by-product of a creative brain. But more recently, after dealing with someone close to me with severe ADHD, I’ve spent time reading about the condition and the different ways it presents. The more I learn, the more I recognise some of those traits and it has made me think differently about the relationship between creativity, attention and order.
For some people ADHD is profoundly disabling, affecting every aspect of daily life and relationships. For others, certain traits can be both a challenge and a strength. I’ve come to realise that my tendency towards distraction, constant ideas and occasional chaos can be either an inconvenience or a superpower depending on how I channel it.
Modern life encourages us to optimise everything. We optimise our mornings, our diets, our sleep, our exercise routines, our productivity and even our hobbies. Our “best life” has become one of carefully curated habits and relentless self-improvement.
But where does that leave curiosity and experimentation? What about the messiness that often accompanies original thought? Research suggests that a degree of disorder can encourage the brain to make unexpected associations and explore new outcomes.
That isn’t to say all creative people have ADHD, or that highly organised people can’t be creative. Of course they can. Some of the most innovative people in the world are meticulous planners.
But the creative people and trend forecasters I know rarely reach for the first answer. They let ideas simmer. They embrace uncertainty and explore possibilities before committing to a solution. This can seem inefficient, chaotic or even indulgent. In reality, they’re allowing seemingly contradictory ideas form, to see new patterns emerge.
Perhaps that’s the real value of messiness.
At a time when algorithms increasingly predict our tastes, streamline our choices and serve us more of what we already know, maybe our willingness to remain uncertain and make a mess can become a super power. Maybe sitting with an unfinished idea, changing our minds, following an unexpected tangent or surrounding ourselves with meaningful clutter isn’t something to tidy away.
Maybe that’s where originality begins.
