Tidy tools, clear mind
A love letter to organising
In the repair studio, perhaps there is no more satisfying and useful task than productively avoiding work. Cleaning every inch of your workspace before beginning a project is as satisfying as finally reaching that itch on your back that has been bugging you all day. It’s a mental relief. A deep stretch for the creative juices. And this satisfying version of ‘procrastivity’ (a word I just learned, and now will be using all the time) isn’t limited to the studio either. There are so many instances in life where I find that a good tidy up of the space frees up endless amounts of creative energy that had been dedicated up until then to trying to decide what to do with each of these things cluttering up the eye-line. For minds that are easily cluttered to begin with (mine), additional decisions to make in the form of stuff populating every surface can be exhausting. Which is why it may seem like a less pressing matter, but organising your tools before you begin can mean life or death in our increasingly busy weeks. Taking just a bit of time to audit your space and your tools can be a jolt to the creative juices.
Mise en place
I’ve always liked things to be in a certain order, or so I thought. But I knew nothing about organisation until I entered the conservation studio. Order and mindful consideration is second only to breathing in and out in the environment of historic repair. I heard one conservator say that they loved to take every single one of their diamond files out, arrange them in order of size, deep clean the file drawer, and replace them like little sleeping children being tucked back into bed. Seeing each of those little tools polished and organised was so soothing that it opened up the path to work when they felt a bit frantic and blocked. This is obviously not THE task they were meant to be doing, but it was the onramp to the task. A little appetiser to get the productivity started. Sometimes I call little actions like this in my own studio mise en place, which is a kitchen term meaning ‘everything in place’. At the beginning of every daily project in the studio, I do some version of mise en place. Having your materials ready, your tools where you can see them, and your space cleared of yesterday’s chaos is like giving Future You a head start. It’s the difference between feeling scattered before you even begin, and easing into your flow like you meant to be there all along. It’s also a mindset. Mise en place is about respecting your time and energy. It’s saying, “I’m here to create something, and I’m going to make that easier on myself.” Whether you’re about to glaze a ceramic piece or dive into a repair, that intentional prep work tells your brain: we’re doing something that matters. And when your tools are ready and your space is calm, you get to show up with presence, not panic.
One of my favourite little mise en place tricks is the art of knolling. Mise en place and knolling are like creative cousins—one born in the kitchen, the other in the studio—but both rooted in the same idea: thoughtful preparation sets the stage for flow. Whether you’re lining up tools or ingredients, it’s about creating visual order that invites focus, clarity, and ease.
What is knolling?
I first heard of knolling in the context of the conservation studio. Conservators love this concept, and everyone seems to have their own flavour. Knolling is the joyful, slightly obsessive art of arranging objects at right angles—usually in a way that’s neat, flat-lay style, and so tidy it makes your brain sigh with relief. Think tools laid out like a blueprint, or studio supplies in perfect little rows. If that sounds familiar, you’ve either been knolling for years without knowing it… or you’ve seen it all over Instagram and didn’t realise it had a name. In addition to being a useful little tool, it also happens to be a photogenic ritual.
So where did the name come from? Enter Frank Gehry’s furniture studio in the late '80s. One of his assistants, Andrew Kromelow, began arranging tools at right angles whenever he cleaned up, calling it “knolling” in homage to Knoll—the sleek, minimalist furniture brand known for its Bauhaus-inspired clean lines.
Basically: tidy tools = Knoll spirit.
But the term didn’t really take off until artist Tom Sachs adopted it. He took Kromelow’s concept and made it a daily creative ritual in his studio, famously encouraging his team to “Always Be Knolling.” (ABK forever.) Today, knolling lives on in workshops, design studios, even kitchen drawers—and not just for aesthetics. It’s a brilliant way to take stock of what you have, get mentally organised, and feel that dopamine hit of visual order.
Knolling for beginners
There are 4 clearly defined steps to the knolling ritual, which I like to play fast and loose with.
Scan and Identify: Begin by surveying your surroundings to spot items that are not currently being used.
You know the feeling when you look at that chair in your bedroom, the one where you throw all your clothes? Theres a reason it’s exhausting to look at that chair. Each item that is filling up your space represents a choice. A decision that needs to be made, to either remove something and put it elsewhere, or give it away. And too many decisions to be made result in decision fatigue. The studio is an excellent place for that fatigue to set in quickly. Nothing gets in the way of creative flow quite like decision fatigue. You are already doing something kind of difficult just by being there, and fighting every impulse to find something less difficult to do. By identifying the objects that are not serving your process, but stalling it, you are undertaking a sacred ritual of protecting your mental space. Fiercely defending your ability to create. I think this step might be the most essential.
2. Clear Unnecessary Items: Eliminate any objects that are not actively in use or needed for the specific task at hand.
Before you arrange, you need to audit. I find this is actually a great time to reduce. A little spring clean, if you will. Maybe this isn’t the time for a full overhaul, so choose a little corner of your workspace, and pull everything out. Is everything in that little pile still useful? If you were forced to get rid of 5 items, what would the first five items be? I like to set a timer as well for these little organisation sessions. If I have 3 spare hours, 3 hours is what it will take for me to sort through everything. Parkinson’s Law is useful to keep in mind here. It says that work will generally expand to fill whatever space you give it. So start small, choose small but impactful audit projects, and set a 30 minute timer. You will be shocked at how much you can accomplish in that little window.
3. Group Similar Objects: Organise the remaining objects by grouping them according to their type, function, or visual characteristics.
Now the fun part. Once you have decided what is important and what is irrelevant to the project you are about to work on, clear your work surface, and begin the grouping bonanza. What materials are you dealing with? Paints? Those go all into one pile. Brushes? Files? Each gets its own little section. I find this part so satisfying. In fact, any time I am rearranging my studio, I discover that grouping objects into their categories has helped me in innumerable ways to mentally ‘clear the decks’, and I am never left wondering where my one favourite diamond file is. It’s where ALL the diamond files are, duh.
4. Align and Square: Arrange the grouped objects so that they are either parallel to each other or at 90-degree angles, creating a visually pleasing and orderly arrangement.
This step might be the reason knolling as a design concept is so popular. The photogenic quality of like-objects grouped and arranged at perfect angles to each other is aesthetically pleasing, yes. But i also think there might be a reason we like to view our objects this way. In addition to being able to take stock of everything when it's laid out clearly, there is something soothing about the space created between each straight line. The colour of like objects bounce off each other, and create a sense of order which I find can help lubricate creativity right before beginning a day of work. I can picture each of these tools being used, and exactly how they will be nestled back into place. This part of knolling is like a moving meditation before the process begins.
At the heart of it, knolling and mise en place are just ways of getting out of my own way.
A little pre-project reset.
An opportunity to take stock.
Clear the decks.
Breathe.
It doesn’t have to be perfect (and it rarely is), but laying things out with care helps me feel ready—like I’m meeting my work with intention instead of chaos. Over time, it’s become less about neatness and more about showing up fully.
Happy knolling friends.
Love,
T.S.C.
