Creativity is not confined to a studio, and it is not reserved for people who carry an artistic title. It begins with curiosity—the refusal to let the first answer become the final answer.
An idea may arrive as a question, a photograph, a stain on a garage floor, a sentence, an unexpected connection, or an ordinary object that suddenly looks different. The important part is not the tool. It is making room for the observation long enough to ask what else it might become.
A creative life is therefore less about producing masterpieces on command than practicing attention. We notice. We question. We preserve what seems worth returning to. Then, sometimes years later, one idea finds another and something new becomes possible.
