Finding My Voice After a Career in Toy Design
I loved. Love. And will always love toys!
For over twenty years, I poured my heart into creating toys that would inspire and delight children. My job was to imagine colorful, playful, safe worlds that helped kids dream and explore. I loved that work, and I’m still proud of it. But the truth is, designing for a brand or a market always meant filtering my creativity through someone else’s needs: age groups, price points, safety standards, gender stereotypes, and endless testing protocols. Over time, my own voice, the part of me that wanted to speak freely and honestly, went quiet.
When I decided to become an emerging artist it was both thrilling and terrifying. I was stepping away from the familiarity of a structured, commercially driven creative role, to face the blank page of my own making. There were no rules, no briefs, no client presentations. At first, it felt almost too open. I had to learn to trust my instincts again, and listen to what I wanted to say, instead of what I was supposed to say.
I remember those first days in my studio, feeling overwhelmed by possibility. I would stand in front of a lump of clay or a blank sheet and wonder, What do I even like? What do I care about? After years of design thinking and structured brainstorming, it was hard to just follow an impulse without second-guessing. Slowly, I started paying attention to small sparks: an image from a childhood memory, a color that reminded me of a toy I played with. This began to build a new language for me, one rooted in honesty and playfulness.
My voice as an artist is different from my voice as a toy designer. It is more raw, more personal, sometimes more awkward, and that is exactly what I needed. I had to let go of the polished, market-approved ideas and accept that my own creative expression might feel strange or imperfect, but that was the whole point.
That shift has been freeing. It’s like rediscovering a part of myself that had been quietly waiting all these years, ready to come back to life. Now, when I shape a sculpture or sketch a character, I hear my own story in the lines and textures. There is no client to please, no sales target to hit, just my own curiosity leading me forward.
If you are wondering whether it’s possible to reinvent yourself, to find a new voice after decades in another field, I promise you it is. My journey is far from finished, but I feel more alive and more honest now than ever. Finding my voice took courage and patience, but it has been worth every minute.
