Every person who encounters this 22 metre-long corridor artwork in Griffith Base Hospital brings their own lens, their own story, their own way of interpreting the world around them. That's the beauty of co-creating art for healthcare settings where so many different lives intersect.

The impact of art extends far beyond aesthetics — it serves as a channel for human connection and healing. In a clinical healthcare setting, art becomes more than merely a backdrop; it transforms into a silent communicator, speaking directly to the human experience of vulnerability, resilience, and hope.

When you picture a digital artist, you might envision someone alone in their studio, Apple Pencil in hand, lost in creative solitude. I want to challenge that perception.

Like all skills, design thinking comes with the nuance of our narratives, the texture of regular practice, the reality of success and failure, and the curious conversations that happen along the way.

Human Centred Design (HCD) is designing with intent. It takes the guesswork out of designing for business. It turns the subjective (“I love the rain!”) into the objective (“It's raining”).

I started out the year like I do most others, devouring a tray of mangoes while promising myself I’ll be nicer to myself and loved ones, overthink less, be more… uh, I can’t remember now.

What I can recall is that I promised myself I’d make an effort to share my graphic design knowledge.

I can often recall what some might say is useless information like cicadas and magician’s lyres at the drop of a hat. Personally, I like to call it impractical, not useless. It’s certainly useful in my own way as I find myself creating connections between random bits and pieces both in my work and in my personal life.

In a typical session, Nina asks me what I ate for lunch that day, and what I’ve got planned for lunch the next day. We mostly talk about food (it’s both our favourite subjects) and cats. There’s no plan, we draw together. But the results each week are happily unpredictable.

Eastern Double Drummer cicadas spend six years growing underground. Once mature, they emerge from the earth and leave ghosts of their youth behind as shells, to then climb the trunk of a tree to sing, eat and be merry.