Notebook: How Creatives Capture Their Ideas


I noticed during two of my Bird Lens interviews that both John and Shari had something in common. Well, a few things. Both are what I would call high-output creatives. Both are, in my observations, so profoundly driven to create that they simply must. Some people are just artists, like my friend Shari. Nothing stops her from creating. She does it because she must. And my friend John, he's a writer. It's just a part of him. Both have these gifts, and both have this compulsion to create. And both of them work across multiple disciplines. 

When I met Shari she was an artist, a painter. I remember I learned the word ubiquitous from her artist statement. She used to paint these picnic tables and electrical wires and telephone poles, and now, years later, her artistic drive has taken another form and she upcycles old clothing by screenprinting or uses the material for quilting or braiding. The quilting is especially incredible, like wrapping yourself in one of her bright colored crazy shaped paintings. Like being wrapped in a surreal comfort. There is a sort of happy geometric echo that pulses through everything she makes. What a gift to the world. 

And John is a writer. 

It's quite incredible - for an artist who dabbles almost exclusively in ubiquity, her expression of it is entirely unique. 

Taking breaks

RESEARCH OBSERVATION How Two Creatives Capture Their Ideas

RESEARCHER: Jane Marx PROJECT: BirdLens — Generative Research Phase METHOD: Semi-structured interviews PARTICIPANTS: 5 total, 2 observed here

During generative research interviews on how people learn creative skills, two participants described something similar. They both capture and save unfinished creative material, not to stay organized but as part of doing the work.


SHARI — Quilter, Visual Artist

Shari references choreographer Twyla Tharp's box method. You start a project, you put anything related to it in a physical container, a file, a folder, a box, you hold onto ideas even when they're half-baked.

"You might have some idea that's kind of embarrassing, just totally half baked, but there's something about it that is interesting. So you hold on to it."

She wants to wrap an abandoned gas station like Christo. She'll probably never do it. She wrote it down anyway, takes notes on it while she's sewing, entertains the whole fantasy because who knows what comes out of it. She might throw a feather boa in the box, a menu with a nice font, colors, things that seem related somehow. She describes the process as tending a garden.

She used to plan paintings in her head and execute backwards, layer by layer. Now she works the opposite way.

"I'm gonna stitch these two pieces of fabric together, and I don't know what I'm gonna do with them tomorrow, but this is what I'm doing today."

Her output went up when she stopped deciding what she was making before she made it. She calls it discovery.

NOTE: Shari treats idea capture as creative work. Writing down an impossible idea and sitting with it is part of the practice.


JOHN — Musician, Writer

"I have just little bits of shit everywhere. So many files that are just like, two sentences, three sentences, just these bits."

John keeps fragments of his writing in files everywhere. Two sentences, three sentences. He writes far more than he would ever keep but the bits stay, raw material to come back to later.

He separates practice time from idea generation time, two different headspaces. Time to refine what exists and time to generate what doesn't yet. He's deliberate about structuring his schedule around that distinction.

He doesn't show people his poems until they've been worked on, revised. "They're not straight out the open for the most part." But the fragments that feed them, those just accumulate.

NOTE: John doesn't call this a system. The fragments pile up and he trusts they'll be useful when he needs them. The deliberate part isn't the saving, it's making time to generate in the first place.


WHAT I NOTICED

Shari's practice: References Twyla Tharp's box method Physical container: a file, a folder, a box Puts anything related to a project in there Holds onto half-baked ideas, embarrassing ideas, impossible ideas Wrote down the gas station Christo idea, takes notes on it while she's sewing Throws a feather boa in the box, a menu with a nice font, colors, things that seem related somehow Calls it tending a garden

John's practice: Files everywhere with two sentences, three sentences "Little bits of shit everywhere" Writes far more than he'd ever keep The bits just stay Separates practice time from come-up-with-new-ideas time, two different headspaces Doesn't call it a system, it just accumulates

What they share: Both hold onto unfinished things Both believe half-formed ideas are worth saving Neither needs to know what it's for yet

NOTE: Shari and John are both people I really admire, very high-output creative people across multiple disciplines, and it was cool to get to ask them about their process even though they're my friends. The thing that stuck with me was how they both collected their ideas and inspirations without judging them, without thinking any of it was stupid. They both just felt like it was worth holding onto. I kept thinking about this while I was building BirdLens. Shari's box, John's files, Julia's bird log. I saw BirdLens as a place to put everything about your bird photography journey. Your lessons, your photos, your log, your saved settings, your progress. All of it in one place, to come back to whenever you're ready.

Jane Marx BirdLens UX Case Study, 2025



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