How to Build a Creative Concept?
- moshe-katz
- 3 days ago
- 2 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
The Birth of Every Idea I’ve learned that every groundbreaking invention begins with a single word. Not a complex sentence or a finished drawing, but a word that carries its own DNA—a spark of meaning waiting to unfold. In one of my early experiments, I chose the word bloom and watched it blossom into an entire design narrative. That simple choice became the root from which walls, openings, and even a rooftop garden emerged.
From Word to World To build a concept, I dive into etymology—the origin story of that word. I flip through dictionaries, tracing its first roots and earliest meanings. Suddenly, bloom isn’t just a verb; it’s a metaphor for expansion, for movement, for life pushing through constraints. Armed with that understanding, I sketch a white concrete shell perforated by ovoid holes, each hole releasing a cascade of green growth—like petals escaping a bud.

Cross‑Pollinating References Then I test the concept across unexpected fields. I look at an experimental pastry, a dessert sculpted with a white chocolate shell punctured to reveal vibrantly colored mousse. The same story plays out: white form, holes, color bursting forth. If I can translate the concept between architecture and gastronomy, I know I’ve found something universal. Inspiration loops back and forth—what began as a building sketch can inform a dessert design, and vice versa.
Intuitive Writing as Blueprint One of my favorite exercises is intuitive writing. I write “bloom is …” over and over, letting sensations flow without judgment. Bloom is opening to the sky. Bloom is breaking through stone. Bloom is a spiral of light. Then I swap bloom for pavilion or museum and watch the text magically repurpose itself. Pavilion is opening to the sky. Pavilion is breaking through stone. Pavilion is a spiral of light. Suddenly I have a narrative blueprint for shapes, materials, and atmospheres.
Feeling the Geometry of Concepts With that text in hand, I draw directly onto my reference images. I overlay curves that echo petals, angle walls to mimic unfolding layers, and carve voids that feel like breathing openings. The geometry of the concept emerges organically: what was abstract writing transforms into spatial configuration. A humble dot becomes a threshold; a looping line becomes a pathway.

Creating Without Limits By the end of this process, the building—or the pastry, or the chair—carries the story in every surface. I realize that the word really did carry the entire world of meaning. I haven’t simply designed an object; I’ve given life to an idea. And in that moment I see the true power of iGenius: mastering not tools but the art of turning stories into form, intuition into invention, and a single word into limitless possibility.

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