In 1998 I turned 23. I had dark shoulder length wavy hair, I wandered around town barefoot, was as skinny as a rake and my clothes were mainly made out of linen. I had a few jobs to help me pay the rent, buy food and put petrol in the car and was building a painting and signwriting business in the evenings instead of sleeping.
I lived in a flat in nelson NZ, with seven other guys (which was both smelly and incredibly clean, as we threw people out of the house if they left their dishes on the bench) and this was a space that was full of young guys dreaming into their futures. One morning as I was preparing my breakfast, I was walking around the kitchen and imagining aloud what I wanted to do. University and school had not been particularly agreeable with me at that stage in my life journey, and so being an artist who kind of made his way was the prevailing identity (Later on, along with marriage and responsibility I did go on to go to university, become a teacher, do my masters of theology etc). At that stage in my life however it was about the painting, the sculpture, the art, and the creativity of life… long hair, bushy beards, John Lennon sunglasses and hemp skull caps to match.
As I was pacing around the kitchen, I imagined being invited to go into large buildings, like warehouses or high ceilinged lofts, to paint whatever I wanted and create imaginary worlds. Within six months of that daydream I found myself there. Somebody literally brought me into an old commercial warehouse, explaining said there was going to be a children's playground, and asking… what did I envision on these walls? I went away and sketched and came up with some designs. They happily accepted them and this was the beginning of my first proper commissioned job; painting murals. Over the following three years I ended up painting over 5000 square metres of original artwork all around New Zealand. It was absolutely amazing. And it was not only the starting place of finding myself as an artist, it was also the discovery of my love for creating immersive environments.
In the middle of these years, when I had put enough money aside, I decided to go on a big trip to the US. My first stop was Disneyland. I spent the entire first day just hanging out in the park, looking at the brickwork, looking at how they created these incredible spaces, how the queues were almost more interesting than the rides. The attractions were over in just a few minutes but you could be standing in the queue for hours. They were these detailed spaces that just brought you in. If you went to a cafe themed like Toon Town, you couldn't see anything real. Everything you could see, including the kitchen in the background, was like a living animation; with giant cartoon kitchen implements and little animatronic animals hidden in corners to be discovered by only a few. Everything was created to bring you into a world and the staff were caught up in that world too.
I remember having a talk with a very old guy that ran the Coke machine, telling me stories of the friendship he had with Walt Disney, and how Walt would spend time getting to know the people that ran the concession carts and stands. Now, we all have criticisms of the Disney corporation, there are multiple valid criticisms, but if I want to talk about creativity, or transcending daily stresses and challenges, and creating something that people genuinely feel. For that, he was a genius. And I remember being in that world and thinking, I can do this. Not a copy… I didn’t want to make a generic version of someone else's vision… I wanted to do it myself. I wanted my imagination to jump off the page and into physical spaces where people were caught up in feeling and experiencing something.
I tell you this long story because that experience changed how I worked as an artist. I went from two dimensions to three. I learned how to craft fibreglass and epoxy, how to use recycled materials in a way that was not only environmentally sound but didn't cost the earth. I learned how to shape and use tools. And it was the beginning of what has become, as of 2026, a 29 year journey of shaping my creative practice.
This is an important background because in the last post I talked about the importance of culture. And I know I am burying the lead here, but culture is nothing if you cannot communicate it through your environment. I am always astounded when I walk into a cafe, a school, or any environment where a designer has been hired to do a specific job and has started amazingly, choosing the colour scheme, the features, the furnishings, the floor covering, the type of books and decorations, and have invited people in. In the commercial world this is often just branding, but occasionally you find a cafe or a restaurant that comes from more than a brand, more than a focus group, that comes from somebody's passion for what they are creating. And you know when you walk into these spaces.
But you also feel slightly disillusioned when you walk into these spaces and the people on the ground, not the people that created it, have allowed those beautiful features and ergonomically designed walls and furnishings to suddenly have cardboard boxes piled on top of them, or hung up against the wall because they didn't account for storage, or it's not maintained… lightbulbs are out, paint chipping off to reveal building materials underneath/ betraying the illusion. It is always sad when the vision and cultural imagination stops at the designer's desk.
Our role, whether we are pastors, educators, business owners, or someone passionately trying to get your vision as a restaurant to come through, is to never let the vision settle at being a statement. It is an overflow into your space. It is an overflow into the behaviour, from every word that is spoken, every way that the serving staff, your pastoral team, your hospitality team, your teachers and teaching assistants and students speak; both with their bodies and words and tone.
Language and space and colour and texture and line and furnishing and plants and books, all of this lives and breathes culture. When these things are aligned, when these things are maintained and sustained, they continue to teach where your words don't have to. They continue to flow and breathe life even when you’re not there because vision is tangible through space, and culture is tangible through the things that people interact with.
And so this very long post is to help you understand that the little details matter. And it is always more important and more powerful to show, not tell. In the way we do culture, the way we do vision, we have to show. Putting a sign on the wall saying ‘we are this sort of church', ‘we are this sort of school’, ‘we have this sort of classroom’ only has a small impact. But creating a space and maintaining it with colour and light and visuals and artefacts that show that statement rather than tell it, creates a scaffold around your learners, your congregation, and the people you have invited in. It shows them that they belong here, that they resonate with what they are looking at. It speaks to their imagination and their interests, values and convictions. It shows them how to be in this space. And it goes with them when they step out.
So this is an invitation. Create intentionally. Maintain and sustain intentionally. And walk your vision every day, looking for those little details.