Intentions: A Creative Reset for 2026
Every January arrives with the same familiar soundtrack: new year, new me. Resolutions line up neatly, full of promise, yet somehow they always feel like starting the year already on the brink of failure. They rarely unfold as planned, and when they wobble, they tend to take motivation with them.
So this year, I decided not to make resolutions at all.
Instead, I’m setting intentions.
Looking Ahead, Gently
When I think about December 2026, I don’t want to measure success by how perfectly I stuck to a list. I want to ask a softer question: what would I be genuinely happy to have achieved by then? Not the maximum, not the idealised fantasy, just the minimum that would feel grounding, satisfying, and true.
This feels like opening a new chapter rather than issuing myself a set of rules.
My Complicated Relationship With Instagram
Instagram has always been… complicated for me.
When I first started, the growth was instant and exciting. It felt validating, energising, like a creative conversation. Then algorithms changed. People came and went. Communities formed and quietly dissolved. During COVID, online spaces felt electric. Everyone was present, connecting, sharing. It was genuinely lovely.
Now? Everything feels a little samey.
Engagement drifts in and out. Sometimes I’ll get a surge of attention, then nothing for weeks. And while I tell myself I’m not doing this for validation, let’s be honest, that feedback buzz does matter. It’s human.
But I’ve realised something important: I don’t want to live inside a constant marketing loop. The endless Christmas is coming, this needs promoting, what’s the next post cycle. This isn’t a business for me. It’s a hobby. It’s where my creative self gets to breathe.
Unless I one day decide to leave my full-time job and go all in, it can’t become something overpowering. And right now, that’s not where I am.
Protecting Creativity
This year, one of my core intentions is simple: this must remain a creative outlet, not a drain.
I’ve spoken to people, dipped my toe into business-style creative workshops, tried to understand how my work could run as a business. But every time I lean too far in that direction, I get lost in admin, pressure, and expectations that don’t actually serve me.
If something drains me, it isn’t worth my time. Creativity should feel expansive, playful, and restorative. If it ever stops being that, I need to step back.
Returning to What I Love
When I strip everything back, I know exactly what I love creating.
I love big blankets.
I love modern art. Colour. Geometrics. Mid-century design. I love abstract painting and visual art, even though I know I can’t realistically take on another hobby. Crochet is where all of that wants to live.
Over Christmas, we’ve been wrapped in pieces I’ve made over the years. The Big Attic 24 blanket. The Secure Blossom blanket I made but never released. Using them again reminded me why I keep coming back to Afghans. There’s something deeply comforting about being wrapped in something beautiful, especially in winter.
My Intentions for 2026
For at least the first quarter, and possibly the first six months of the year, my intention is to focus on large crochet art blankets.
I’m inspired by artists and designers who blur the line between textile and artwork. The kind of blankets that feel like they belong on a wall as much as on a sofa. The books and makers I always return to are those that treat crochet as visual art, not just pattern.
I’m drawn to both structured and unstructured design:
Geometric, system-based layouts
Fluid, abstract, painterly compositions
I don’t want to limit myself to one style. I want to explore both.
Turning Art Into Crochet
My plan is to start by choosing artwork I love and trying to recreate it in crochet. Not to copy perfectly, but to translate.
Through that process, I want to understand myself better as a maker:
Which stitches best capture certain shapes?
How can colour be used to echo mood and movement?
Where does structure help, and where does it get in the way?
Each blanket will be different. Each one will teach me something new. I’ll experiment with stitch choice, scale, and colour matching, trying to stay as true as possible to the feeling of the original piece while letting crochet have its own voice.
A Slower, Truer Year
This isn’t about output. It’s not about algorithms. It’s not about growth charts.
It’s about making things that feel meaningful to me. About letting creativity be an escape again. About choosing intention over pressure.
That’s how I want to step into 2026.
