Shopping Cart (0)
Your cart is empty
← Back to Blog
When a Design Fails (and Why That's the Best Thing That Can Happen)
There's a design sitting in the studio right now that we've quietly removed from production. It was meant to be elegant — a botanical motif, soft tones, clean composition. On paper, it had everything. In reality, it fell completely flat. And honestly? That failure taught us more than a dozen successful designs ever could.
At Lily & Inc Studio, we don't erase our mistakes. We study them. Because the moments when a design doesn't work are often when we learn what does. Failure, when embraced with honesty and curiosity, becomes one of the most powerful tools in creative growth.
The First Rule of Creative Work: It Will Not Always Work
Every designer wants to believe that with enough skill, intuition, and experience, you can create flawlessly. But that's a myth — and it's a damaging one. The truth is, even with years of practice, some designs simply won't land. And that's not a reflection of talent; it's the nature of exploration.
The design we shelved wasn't poorly executed. The color palette was refined. The composition followed strong principles. Yet something fundamental was missing. It lacked soul. It felt overworked, overly cautious, and ultimately forgettable.
When you create to avoid failure, you often create something safe. And safe, in textile design — or in any creative field — is the true failure. The piece that doesn't take a risk is the one that disappears.
What We Learned From the Design That Didn't Work
After sitting with the failed piece for a few days, we held a studio conversation. Six of us around the table, each offering perspective. What emerged was a clearer understanding of what we'd been unconsciously chasing — and why it didn't work.
Lesson 1: Over-Perfecting Kills Character
We'd refined the motif so many times that we'd stripped away its original energy. The first sketch had a rawness to it — loose, expressive, full of movement. By version ten, it was polished into lifelessness. We realized that sometimes, the messy first instinct is the truest one.
Lesson 2: Designing for an Imagined Audience Misses the Mark
We had created the piece with a vague idea of what "customers want." But we weren't designing from our core perspective. The moment we started second-guessing our instincts, the design became diluted. Authenticity, we learned, always resonates more than trying to please an imagined expectation.
The Studio Philosophy: Embrace the Flawed First Draft
One of our core principles now is to honor the flawed first draft. We've stopped treating early iterations as stepping stones to perfection. Instead, we see them as honest expressions of an idea before fear or overthinking creeps in.
We keep a folder in the studio titled "Honest Mistakes." It holds designs that didn't make it — but that taught us something. Sometimes we revisit them months later and discover a detail worth salvaging. Other times, we simply use them as reminders of what not to repeat.
This approach has shifted how we collaborate. Instead of presenting only polished work to each other, we now share rough, incomplete ideas. The feedback is richer. The conversation is more honest. And the final designs feel more grounded in real creative exploration rather than manufactured polish.
Why Failure Makes You a Better Designer
Here's what we've come to believe: failure is feedback. It tells you where your instincts diverge from your intent. It reveals gaps in your process. It exposes the difference between what you thought you were creating and what actually emerged.
When a design succeeds, you celebrate it. When it fails, you learn from it. And learning is what builds long-term creative strength. Every misstep teaches you to trust your gut a little more, to question your assumptions a little faster, and to stay curious rather than defensive.
Some of our most celebrated pieces came directly after a failure. Because failure recalibrates your sense of risk. It reminds you that not every experiment needs to succeed — it just needs to teach you something.
Emotional Honesty in Design
We believe that great design comes from emotional honesty. And you can't be emotionally honest if you're terrified of being wrong. That fear creates stiffness, hesitation, and designs that feel calculated rather than felt.
Our studio has become a space where it's safe to fail. Where showing something unfinished is encouraged. Where admitting "this isn't working" is treated as insight, not defeat. That culture of honesty has made us better designers — individually and collectively.
The Design That Almost Was
So what happened to the design that failed? We shelved it. But we didn't delete it. Because who knows — maybe in six months, we'll look at it with fresh eyes and see something we couldn't see before. Or maybe it will stay in the archive as a quiet reminder: not every idea is meant to become a product. Some ideas are just meant to teach you something.
Moving Forward With Failure as a Friend
If there's one thing we want to share with other designers, makers, and creatives, it's this: don't fear the designs that don't work. Study them. Sit with them. Let them show you what you still need to learn.
Because the design that fails today might just be the foundation for the one that succeeds tomorrow. And even if it's not — the honesty, humility, and creative courage you gain from failing is worth more than any flawless execution could ever be.
Ready to create something honest with us?
Work with us
