“Man must become comfortable in flowing from one role to another, one set of values to another, one life to another. Men must be free from boundaries, patterns and consistencies in order to be free to think, feel and create in new ways.”
– Luke Rhinehart, The Dice Man
Following graduation from Kingston University, I went straight into full-time work as a junior designer at NB Studio. I was offered the role after a really fun stint there during my second year. On my commute into work, I would read The Dice Man, one of my favourite books. It’s written by Luke Rhinehart, a psychologist who becomes bored with life’s routine and chooses a path dictated by the cast of a die. The book started a literal cult following, with people all over the world adopting a six-sided life. From 8.15am to 9.00am, then again at 6.30pm to 7.15pm, five days a week, I followed Rhinehart as his life descended into blithesome chaos, whilst mine steadied itself on the career track. Not long after I finished the book, I left the job I loved, in search of my own chaos.
I had a brilliant time at NB, and learnt loads about the responsibility of full-time work. But I have one of those childish, ‘Peter Pan’ brains that can’t stop wandering. Since leaving at the end of 2016 I haven’t stopped, with no real idea of where I’m heading. I think it all comes down to my appetite, and I don’t mean the career ladder kind. I have a taste for all different kinds of ideas and disciplines; university was the perfect place to feed on everything at once. I wrote a radio ad, designed a speed bump, built furniture and broke a world record. I suppose it’s this idea-led education that’s to blame for my opportunistic attitude. My aim with my own practice is to recreate the freedoms of third year art school, but that’s obviously very hard.