From Graphic Designer to Artist
I’m stepping away from the glow of the screen—away from the laptop, away from sales-driven design—and returning to something slower. Something physical. I’m using my hands again, shaping thread, texture, and form into something real. Something that inspires me.
It’s grounding. Tangible. Quietly satisfying.
For years, I chased the idea of becoming a professional creative—a paid artist making a living through design. And in many ways, I achieved it. As a graphic designer, I worked across digital and print: ads, web banners, billboards, marketing campaigns. The work was fast, strategic, polished.
But somewhere along the way, I realised something uncomfortable—creative fulfilment in commercial design can be limited.
As designers, we don’t always create from our own ideas. We interpret. We refine. We execute. The skill is real, the craft is undeniable—but the creative direction is often shaped by clients, brand guidelines, trends, and expectations. The work becomes less about creative expression and more about creative problem-solving.
And while there is beauty in that, there is also constraint.
If you’re one of the few who can sustain a career purely through your own artistic voice, that’s something special. But for many of us working in commercial graphic design, there’s a quiet tension—an internal pull toward something more personal, more expressive, more ours.
A need to create without permission.
Lately, I’ve been listening to that pull.
I needed a creative outlet—something that exists beyond the boundaries of a brief. Something that takes me away from the screen and brings me back into my body. Into process. Into play.
This is where free-motion embroidery, textile art, and handmade design have found me.
This is where I’m becoming an artist.
Right now, I’m in the in-between—the transition from structured designer to intuitive maker.
Ms. Sinda is my space for that transformation. A place where I can explore experimental embroidery, mixed media art, and creative practice without the pressure of selling or scaling. This isn’t about profit or performance—it’s about exploration. Expression. Curiosity.
Of course, if it grows into something more, I’ll welcome it—but that’s not why I’m here.
I’m here to reconnect with creativity on my own terms.
To make art that feels honest.
To follow an idea without knowing where it will lead.
To let things be imperfect, textural, a little chaotic.
To make something simply because I need to.
Calling myself an artist still feels unfamiliar—heavy, even. It’s a word I’ve only recently allowed myself to say out loud. First to myself, then to my partner. Thankfully, he met it with nothing but encouragement.
Because the truth is, the word artist is expansive.
It gives permission.
It means letting go of rigid rules and embracing creative freedom. It means allowing the process to unfold naturally—to get messy, to experiment, to explore new techniques without a defined outcome.
It means trusting that the work will lead.
So this is me—a graphic designer turned artist, exploring creativity beyond the screen, one stitched line at a time.