From Overthinking to Intentional Design: My Minimalist Design Mindset

When I first started illustrating, I felt like I had to get everything right. I believed I could only be a “real” illustrator if I created full scenes, used dramatic perspectives, worked with complex shading, downloaded brushes, and mastered all the tools. And while I could do those things, I never really enjoyed them.

Eventually, I had to admit something I hadn’t wanted to say out loud: I just wasn’t interested in drawing that way.

What felt like laziness at first turned out to be a form of clarity. By paying attention to what I naturally gravitated toward, and what I instinctively resisted, I began to define my style. I gave myself permission to not do what I didn’t love. And in that space, something minimalist started to emerge.

I no longer rush into design. I begin by listening.

Not to trends or templates, but to the idea itself. I pause before opening Illustrator or Procreate. I take a moment to ask what this piece is meant to express. That stillness has become part of my process.

I used to think I needed to use all the tools available, but now I often do the opposite. I stay with simplicity longer. No flashy effects, no added flourishes. And I’ve come to believe that the simpler the design, the harder it is to make it work beautifully. If it holds up in its most minimal form, you know it’s strong.


Every element becomes more meaningful when there are fewer of them.

I treat colors, shapes, and lines like I would treat words in a quiet conversation. Each one is intentional. Each one matters. Minimalism isn’t about removing for the sake of it. It’s about refining. Letting go of anything that doesn’t serve the message.

Even whitespace feels more like a presence than an absence. I never felt the need to fill empty space—but I have felt the fear of a blank canvas. That hesitation, that moment of wondering where to begin, has taught me that sometimes what looks empty is actually full of potential.

The shift happened when I stopped designing to prove something.

There was a time when I wanted my work to impress. But that mindset often led me into over-complication, into trying too hard, into a kind of creative burnout. Letting go of that need to prove gave me more space to express.

Now, I ask different questions. Not “Will this be good enough?” but “Does this feel like me?” If the answer is no, I simplify. I remove. I stop before it’s polished in the traditional sense—because often, it’s already saying what it needs to say.

Minimalism is more than an aesthetic. It’s a form of creative honesty.

My energy, like most creatives’, moves in waves. Some days I feel expansive. Others, I just want to keep things focused and light. Minimalist design lets me honor both states. It doesn’t demand that I be “on” all the time. It gives me space to show up as I am.

Some of my most meaningful pieces were created on quiet days. Not out of pressure, but out of presence. I didn’t force them. I just followed what felt real—and let that be enough.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, or creatively stuck, maybe this is your invitation. Not to do more. But to let go of what’s not truly yours. To create with intention. To let stillness, simplicity, and structure support your message.

You don’t have to master every technique. You don’t have to illustrate full scenes. You just have to show up in a way that’s honest for you.

That’s enough.

And sometimes, that’s where your style begins.

Let’s Connect!

I’d love to see how you explore minimalism in your own creative process. If this post resonated with you or inspired you to simplify your work, share your art and tag me in your artwork:

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Can’t wait to see what you create! 💛

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6 Steps to Find Your Minimalist Illustration Style