I’m constantly refining barriers in my own life to make creating art more accessible.
Over time I’ve realized that if something makes it easier for me to create, there’s a good chance it’ll help someone else too.
That’s where nearly every product begins.
Sometimes a design starts because a customer asks if I can solve a specific problem.
Other times it’s a new iteration of something I’ve already made.
And sometimes it’s simply an idea I think is worth exploring.
I have an entire box filled with prototypes and “maybe someday” projects that may never become products—and I’m perfectly okay with that.
Earlier in this journey I felt a pull to keep expanding the catalog. There were always more ideas, more requests, and more things I could build.
But as both the catalog and my design experience have grown, I’ve become much more selective about what I spend my time creating.
For me, it was never about designing more products.
It was about designing products that earned their place.
If something doesn’t deserve a permanent spot in my own bag or toolkit, it’s probably not something I should be making for someone else.
Every product has to earn its place.
It has to earn a place in my bag.
It has to earn a place in my creative routine.
And ultimately, it has to earn a place in someone else’s toolkit.
If it can’t do that, it probably doesn’t need to exist.
Because at the end of the day, the goal has never been to create more things.
The goal has always been to remove barriers so creating art becomes a little more accessible.
If a product quietly helps someone make time to create—whether that’s at a coffee shop, in the car while waiting for an appointment, or around the kitchen table after a long day—then it’s done exactly what I hoped it would do.
-Zak