As designers we are curious creatures. By day, we build brand systems and wrangle pixels. But outside of work? We’re collecting reel mowers from England, splitting firewood for fun, sweating it out in saunas with strangers, restoring vintage motorcycles, and freeze-framing movies to admire background props.

In this edition of Clarity, we’re peeling back the curtain on the weird hobbies that keep us inspired. These side passions might seem a little obsessive, but they spark joy, sharpen our creative edge, and remind us that design is just one of many things we love to perfect.

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Paused for props – Tahirah’s love affair with cinematic design details

The driving factor in making my switch from film to design was just how much I loved noticing design in film. Not just the promo art or title design (I’m looking at you, opening title sequence of The Phoenician Scheme), but the props and background pieces: signage, labels, documents, the fake brands that live in the background for half a second. The film’s visual brand.

In film school we tried to wear every hat once. As an art director, it was fun to find the perfect item for a scene, not just for storytelling, but to solidify the visual style. As an editor, I’d spend way too long digging through my fonts folder just for a documentary lower third.

Watching movies is a perfectly normal hobby. Just not when I do it. I’m pausing to look at the details, screenshotting them for a folder I keep for inspiration (or just to revisit because they tickle some strange, comfy part of my brain). Is that typeface era-appropriate? Did someone actually design a cereal box for a 2-second breakaway?

My biggest inspiration is Annie Atkins (Bridge of Spies, Penny Dreadful, and a handful of Wes Anderson projects). She’s designed wayfinding, packaging, letters, newspapers—whatever the story needs. I saw her speak at Design Thinkers 2024, and got to thank her for her work and how it’s impacted my own love for the intersection of film and design.

Sure, sometimes I miss the plot because I’m too busy staring at the background of a scene, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Kickstarts and carburetors – Will Robinson’s slow fix hobby

When I tell people I collect vintage motorcycles, I’d like to think they picture me cruising scenic roads on pristine classic bikes. While I do love riding these beautiful machines, the truth is my real passion lies in the dirty work: I love working on them.

These bikes are relics from a different era, frozen in time with mechanical simplicity that modern machines have left behind. A 1982 Suzuki spent countless hours in various stages of disassembly, patiently waiting for my attention. After my son was born, afternoon projects stretched over months and years. I would sneak out to the garage during his naps at family gatherings, picking up where I left off, gradually bringing the patiently waiting machine back to life.

What makes this hobby truly rewarding is the problem-solving. There’s something magical about diagnosing what’s wrong with a machine that’s been silent for decades and figuring out the fix. There is nothing like hearing a motorcycle run for the first time.

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Warm conversations – Korneliusz’ sauna rituals

The ritual of using the sauna has become one of the most important aspects of my weekly routine. It has many physical benefits like helping with muscle recovery after a workout, cleaning my pours, and releasing toxins from my body. These were the main reasons why I started, but over time I discovered that the social ritual was why I kept coming back.

I love meeting new people and striking up warm conversations. In the gentle heat of the sauna, the walls seem to drop—people open up. Unlike the high energy of the gym, the sauna creates a calm, reflective space where deeper conversations unfold naturally. Over time, I’ve found more meaningful connections there than almost anywhere else.

People often walk in looking unsure about whether to start a conversation, so I usually break the ice by asking if they’re okay with me adding a few drops of essential oil to the stones. That small gesture almost always sparks a dialogue—and from there, the conversation can go anywhere. I’ve talked with strangers about life struggles, dreams, family, even regrets—things I’d rarely share outside that space. But there’s something about the heat that makes people open up… just like our pores. 🤷🏼‍♂️

It’s amazing how much people crave connection. Sometimes, all it takes is a bit of honesty and vulnerability. That’s what the sauna gives me—not just heat and sweat, but real human warmth.

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Stacked to perfection – why Will splits wood for fun

My weird hobby? Wood. Splitting, stacking, burning, or cooking over it. I love everything about it. There’s nothing quite like the warmth of a hearth or a backyard pit. It hits all the senses: the weight of the axe, the smell of the wood, the crackle of bark, the smokey taste of grilled steak, the way the flames dance and glow. And it’s meditative. I can sit by a fire for hours, totally present. Sometimes just staring at the flames, other times contemplating the meaning of life.

I’m lucky to have a wood-burning fireplace in my home, so I stalk Kijiji for arborists posting free hardwood. When I see a fresh pile of maple or oak, especially the big rounds, I’m on it. Processing them by hand with a splitting axe or heavy duty maul is a workout I actually look forward to. As the saying goes, wood warms you twice.

But maybe my favourite part is stacking. There’s an art and design to it. Getting the airflow right, making it beautiful and solid. If it doesn’t look or feel right, I’ll tear it down and rebuild it. It’s the perfect weird hobby: mentally grounding, physically demanding, and totally absorbing.

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Better stripes – Paul’s descent into lawn obsession

I got a little obsessed with my lawn. It started innocently enough: you walk across a golf green and think, “why doesn’t my lawn look like this.” And then you catch a glimpse of those ballpark stripes and think, I could do that. Next thing you know, your YouTube subscriptions are full of “How to Cut Your Lawn Short,” “What is Lawn Striping,” and “What the Hell is Bent Grass.”

So you rip out the Kentucky Bluegrass and replace it with Pencross Bentgrass from a turf farmer you found in Saskatchewan. Why? Because Bentgrass cuts shorter. And shorter means crisper stripes. And crisper stripes mean you’re a god among lawn mortals.

Then it gets serious. Push mowers? Please. We use precision-ground reel mowers (made in Britain) at twice the price. And no, we don’t mow the lawn—we manicure it. We feed it with liquid fertilizer like a baby with a bottle, and fight fungus like a grizzly protecting her cubs. Why? Say it with me: Better. Stripes.

Eventually, your children stop asking to play outside because “Dad’s filming the grass again.” You’re crouched in the bushes at golden hour, adjusting your iPhone for peak angle and light, muttering things like “That’s just beautiful man.”

And that’s when it hits you: this may have gone too far.

But then the light hits just right, the blades shimmer like emerald velvet, and all is forgiven.

Because… better stripes.

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