Desking, the Nesting of the Creative Nomad
In the quiet hours of the morning, as the day begins to unfold, I find myself drawn to the ritual of "desking"—a practice that transcends the simple act of setting up a workspace.
Each day, my desk becomes a blank canvas, awaiting the careful arrangement of objects that inspire, comfort, and ground me. A book that sparks my curiosity, a fresh sprig of sage from my garden, the fluorescent photo tape I love, Polaroids or cyan photos, a small sculpture that caught my eye; these items are not mere decorations. They are the threads that weave together my workspace, each chosen with intention, each reflecting the mindset I wish to carry into my work.
For the untrained eye, it might seem the book´s topic spurs the imagination; more often, it can be a specific font or even the use of commas. Occasionally, I choose them simply for the way they make me feel. Feelings and emotions are the cornerstones of what I do, and I have a mantra I often share when teaching various workshops:
"Move the thought patterns away from the head, through the heart, and out into the hands.”
This practice reminds me of the Buddhist monks who create intricate mandalas in the sand, painstakingly drawing each line, each pattern, knowing full well that the wind—or a simple sweep of their hands—will soon dissolve their creation. This impermanence holds a profound beauty, a lesson that resonates deeply with me.
Our desks are not permanent fixtures adorned with branded logos or company mission statements; they are ephemeral arrangements as fluid and dynamic as our roles. We are not here to live the brand; we are brought in to provide insight, critique, and add a new layer of perspective.
Unlike the permanence of a traditional desk setup, our workspaces shift and change with each new assignment and location. Last week, it was a sun-dappled table on the remote island of Pantelleria adorned with wild plants, a journal, and a sketchbook. Tomorrow would be the corner of a hotel room, marked by the glow of a laptop and the familiar weight of a well-loved notebook. We constantly adapt, set up, and move on, much like the monks who create and dissolve their mandalas. It is an act of creation for the moment, meant to serve its purpose, then fade as we move to the next task, city, and desk.
This daily ritual of desking is not just about comfort or aesthetics; it's a necessary act of self-expression and grounding in a life that can often feel untethered. Each item placed on the desk is a touchstone, a reminder of who we are and what we bring to the table, regardless of the fleeting nature of the setup. In these small acts, we find continuity and calm—a personal sanctuary amidst the ever-changing landscapes of our work.
Like chefs are meticulous about their knives, back in the day, when I was the creative lead in the kitchen of retreats, the first thing I would set up each morning was an incense stick in a lemon. I’d light it and let its soothing scent fill the air as I got on with the tasks at hand. Just as chefs need their knives in perfect order, setting the stage for creativity requires more than just tools—it needs a ritual, a grounding moment that marks the beginning of something purposeful.
As creative nomads, our desks reflect our journeys—ever-evolving, never static, and deeply personal. They are spaces that hold our thoughts, inspirations, and fleeting moments of insight. When the day is done, and the items are carefully packed away, we are reminded once again of the beauty in impermanence, the power of creation, and the joy of knowing that we will build a new tomorrow.
What's always on my desk:
Cameras
Notebooks
Sketchbook
Fountain pen
Something botanical
The beverage of the day (yes, I love my mocktails)
