For many creative professionals, it’s hard to navigate the cognitive dissonance of trying to shape beauty and order while the world tilts toward chaos.
A specific example stands out. It was February 24, 2022. A normal Monday morning at the studio, caught between meetings and deliberating font choices and logo placement for a feel-good campaign. The concept was simple: “It’s a good day”, written in Times Condensed on shop windows and splashed across tote bags, Instagram posts and ads. Then the news broke. Russia had begun a full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Obviously, it was not “a good day”. Quite the humbling reality check. Suddenly, my choices about gradient intensity felt half a breath away from meaningless.
In the creative industry, many of us live with this duality daily. On one side, chaos and disorder. On the other, creativity, curiosity, even levity. We’re constantly numbed by a firehose of global disasters, Gochujang recipes, wars, get-ready-with-me (GRWM) clips, human rights violations, couples’ challenges and Nazi salutes. The question nags: How do we find joy and balance in what can feel futile when it feels like the world is unraveling?
Many argue the solution is simple. Quit. Stop working with corporate clients. Only take on projects aligned with your values. Choose the clients; control the message. But this is more than just overly simplistic, it’s a false choice that ignores economic realities. My work, my craft, still lights me up, a decade into my career. Does that make me complicit or complacent?
Perhaps it does. The real challenge – how we deal with that daily juxtaposition – is more complex, but also more invigorating. How do we maintain passion and purpose in our creative endeavors amidst global chaos?
Far from a five-step formula to solving that existential challenge, what follows are some tricks and habits I’ve developed over the years that help me re-find balance.
Taking action, however small
In the words of the groundbreaking 1960s design manifesto: First things first. The truth is, the weight of global havoc can either paralyze you or provoke you. When you choose movement, both literal and figurative, over despair, you begin to reclaim purpose.
Within client work, there may be scope to take on pro bono work for organizations whose missions and values align with yours, reinvigorating pride and passion. Opportunities for action extend beyond the studio walls. Protest for justice. Mentor young creatives. Volunteer your skills within the community. Ask hard questions about privilege and equity in your work and your workplace.
Active political or social engagement, however small, can help shift the scale, restoring a sense of control and reinforcing that design doesn’t exist in a vacuum.
Using joy as resistance
That said, relentless action alone can be exhausting. There’s something very mundane yet grounding in noticing small moments that stand still amid the chaos of it all.
For creatives, joy is everywhere if you know where to look. It’s about finding pleasure in the act of making, in the quiet satisfaction of a well-balanced layout, the rhythm of type, the way colors interact. These seemingly small victories aren’t trivial. It’s about designing beyond obligation, carving out space for curiosity and play.
This isn’t about running away from reality. It’s about reconnecting with it. Joy helps you process the chaos without being consumed by it. When the world feels like it's burning, joy isn’t frivolous. It fuels your perspective, your resilience, and your innate ability to challenge what's broken and create what’s possible.
Welcoming friction
In a world built for speed and efficiency, taking time – to flâner, to linger, to get lost – can be radical.
Today’s digital experiences are designed to be frictionless, taking us from point A to B without deviation or detours. It’s a journey that keeps us in our comfortable filter bubbles, surrounded by what we love and know. Yet true creativity thrives in the unexpected.
Take inspiration from the 19th-century flâneur – think Baudelaire, Balzac or Zola – who wandered aimlessly through Paris, discovering ideas in chance encounters and serendipity. Whether offline or online, welcoming the unexpected – embracing friction – forces us to pause, question, and reimagine.
Surprise and absurdity disrupt the predictable. They’re the grains of sand that make the machine squeak, shaking loose new perspectives and ideas. And they remind me why I create in the first place. To use design as a tool for resistance and revolution, one that weaves through liminal spaces and gives shape to the in-between.
Going chronically offline
Hours spent tethered to our screens, drowning in open tabs and algorithmic content loops floods us with information, both the beautiful and the B.S. It’s easy to mistake the sheer volume of input for inspiration.
Often the antidote lies offline. The French philosopher Gaston Bachelard found it in quiet spaces – a corner, an attic – that nurtured rêverie and imagination. Flipping through books. Wandering through museums. Feeling the texture of paper, pencil and uneven handwriting. Rediscovering the richness of the real, not for nostalgia's sake, but as a way to reset and find clarity in a world that constantly clamors for our attention.
When we go offline we don’t just unplug, we recalibrate. We relearn how to touch grass, both literally and metaphorically.
Building creative ecosystems
Creativity doesn’t thrive in isolation. Others' perspectives challenge and stretch our ideas, keeping us sharp and inspired. Actively seek out those whose work makes you a little jealous, but in a good way.
Find your anchors and accelerators. Mentors, peers, collaborators who inspire you and push you forward. Outside the sector look to writers, activists, scientists, or even that opinionated neighbor who always has a fresh take. They’ll keep you grounded while bringing insights that help evolve your practice. When the world feels like it’s burning, surrounding yourself with brilliance and generosity is one way to fight the fire.
When I was a student, I just wanted to be a great designer. Now, I want the luxury of being able to balance a little naïveté with realism regarding the world we live in.
More than anything, I’d love to start a conversation. Many creative professionals are asking themselves if the work they do for brands make them complicit, or complacent, in the late stage capitalism that’s pushing our world to its limits. The more constructive question is: how do we evolve our craft and stay connected to our values?
For the past seven years, Senior Designer Aurélia de Azambuja brings clarity, structure, and an all-too-contagious laugh to Base’s Brussels studio. Originally from Paris, her journey has taken her from the Mediterranean to New York and, finally, to Brussels—each stop shaping her perspective and deepening her curiosity. Aurélia leads with a clear conceptual direction, orchestrating teams of copywriters, illustrators, and art directors to bring bold, meaningful design to life. But her boldness goes beyond aesthetics. She’s passionate about the power of design as a tool for change, always asking the big questions—challenging her creative approach, her team, and the world around her.”
For many creative professionals, it’s hard to navigate the cognitive dissonance of trying to shape beauty and order while the world tilts toward chaos.
A specific example stands out. It was February 24, 2022. A normal Monday morning at the studio, caught between meetings and deliberating font choices and logo placement for a feel-good campaign. The concept was simple: “It’s a good day”, written in Times Condensed on shop windows and splashed across tote bags, Instagram posts and ads. Then the news broke. Russia had begun a full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Obviously, it was not “a good day”. Quite the humbling reality check. Suddenly, my choices about gradient intensity felt half a breath away from meaningless.
In the creative industry, many of us live with this duality daily. On one side, chaos and disorder. On the other, creativity, curiosity, even levity. We’re constantly numbed by a firehose of global disasters, Gochujang recipes, wars, get-ready-with-me (GRWM) clips, human rights violations, couples’ challenges and Nazi salutes. The question nags: How do we find joy and balance in what can feel futile when it feels like the world is unraveling?
Many argue the solution is simple. Quit. Stop working with corporate clients. Only take on projects aligned with your values. Choose the clients; control the message. But this is more than just overly simplistic, it’s a false choice that ignores economic realities. My work, my craft, still lights me up, a decade into my career. Does that make me complicit or complacent?
Perhaps it does. The real challenge – how we deal with that daily juxtaposition – is more complex, but also more invigorating. How do we maintain passion and purpose in our creative endeavors amidst global chaos?
Far from a five-step formula to solving that existential challenge, what follows are some tricks and habits I’ve developed over the years that help me re-find balance.
Taking action, however small
In the words of the groundbreaking 1960s design manifesto: First things first. The truth is, the weight of global havoc can either paralyze you or provoke you. When you choose movement, both literal and figurative, over despair, you begin to reclaim purpose.
Within client work, there may be scope to take on pro bono work for organizations whose missions and values align with yours, reinvigorating pride and passion. Opportunities for action extend beyond the studio walls. Protest for justice. Mentor young creatives. Volunteer your skills within the community. Ask hard questions about privilege and equity in your work and your workplace.
Active political or social engagement, however small, can help shift the scale, restoring a sense of control and reinforcing that design doesn’t exist in a vacuum.
Using joy as resistance
That said, relentless action alone can be exhausting. There’s something very mundane yet grounding in noticing small moments that stand still amid the chaos of it all.
For creatives, joy is everywhere if you know where to look. It’s about finding pleasure in the act of making, in the quiet satisfaction of a well-balanced layout, the rhythm of type, the way colors interact. These seemingly small victories aren’t trivial. It’s about designing beyond obligation, carving out space for curiosity and play.
This isn’t about running away from reality. It’s about reconnecting with it. Joy helps you process the chaos without being consumed by it. When the world feels like it's burning, joy isn’t frivolous. It fuels your perspective, your resilience, and your innate ability to challenge what's broken and create what’s possible.
Welcoming friction
In a world built for speed and efficiency, taking time – to flâner, to linger, to get lost – can be radical.
Today’s digital experiences are designed to be frictionless, taking us from point A to B without deviation or detours. It’s a journey that keeps us in our comfortable filter bubbles, surrounded by what we love and know. Yet true creativity thrives in the unexpected.
Take inspiration from the 19th-century flâneur – think Baudelaire, Balzac or Zola – who wandered aimlessly through Paris, discovering ideas in chance encounters and serendipity. Whether offline or online, welcoming the unexpected – embracing friction – forces us to pause, question, and reimagine.
Surprise and absurdity disrupt the predictable. They’re the grains of sand that make the machine squeak, shaking loose new perspectives and ideas. And they remind me why I create in the first place. To use design as a tool for resistance and revolution, one that weaves through liminal spaces and gives shape to the in-between.
Going chronically offline
Hours spent tethered to our screens, drowning in open tabs and algorithmic content loops floods us with information, both the beautiful and the B.S. It’s easy to mistake the sheer volume of input for inspiration.
Often the antidote lies offline. The French philosopher Gaston Bachelard found it in quiet spaces – a corner, an attic – that nurtured rêverie and imagination. Flipping through books. Wandering through museums. Feeling the texture of paper, pencil and uneven handwriting. Rediscovering the richness of the real, not for nostalgia's sake, but as a way to reset and find clarity in a world that constantly clamors for our attention.
When we go offline we don’t just unplug, we recalibrate. We relearn how to touch grass, both literally and metaphorically.
Building creative ecosystems
Creativity doesn’t thrive in isolation. Others' perspectives challenge and stretch our ideas, keeping us sharp and inspired. Actively seek out those whose work makes you a little jealous, but in a good way.
Find your anchors and accelerators. Mentors, peers, collaborators who inspire you and push you forward. Outside the sector look to writers, activists, scientists, or even that opinionated neighbor who always has a fresh take. They’ll keep you grounded while bringing insights that help evolve your practice. When the world feels like it’s burning, surrounding yourself with brilliance and generosity is one way to fight the fire.
When I was a student, I just wanted to be a great designer. Now, I want the luxury of being able to balance a little naïveté with realism regarding the world we live in.
More than anything, I’d love to start a conversation. Many creative professionals are asking themselves if the work they do for brands make them complicit, or complacent, in the late stage capitalism that’s pushing our world to its limits. The more constructive question is: how do we evolve our craft and stay connected to our values?
For the past seven years, Senior Designer Aurélia de Azambuja brings clarity, structure, and an all-too-contagious laugh to Base’s Brussels studio. Originally from Paris, her journey has taken her from the Mediterranean to New York and, finally, to Brussels—each stop shaping her perspective and deepening her curiosity. Aurélia leads with a clear conceptual direction, orchestrating teams of copywriters, illustrators, and art directors to bring bold, meaningful design to life. But her boldness goes beyond aesthetics. She’s passionate about the power of design as a tool for change, always asking the big questions—challenging her creative approach, her team, and the world around her.”
