Over the years, I’ve set myself a series of creative projects to push my skills and explore new ideas. From taking a photo every day for a year, to building a balloon sculpture a day (My Daily Balloon), to recreating a movie scene each week (Twisted Cinema), these challenges have taught me a lot about creativity, persistence, and what works — and what doesn’t. One of my more recent projects focused on myths and legends, and that’s the story I want to share today.
The plan was simple…ish. I would start with the 12 Labours of Heracles and then branch out into other myths and legends: trolls, the Loch Ness Monster, King Arthur, and more. For years, I’ve been fascinated by Greek myths — ever since I was a kid, I found their stories and heroes utterly captivating. So the Labours felt like the perfect starting point: structured, epic, and full of opportunities for balloon creativity.
And they were a joy to make. Each labour gave me a chance to push the limits of balloon sculpture while telling a story. I could see the project taking shape, and for the first time in a while, I felt completely immersed in something new.Then came the other myths. The Salmon of Knowledge. Brownies and Boggarts. The Lambton Worm. And this is where things got…tricky.
For some reason, the energy shifted. Maybe these stories didn’t land as well with my audience. Maybe the connection that worked for Heracles’ labours didn’t translate to trolls or salmon. Maybe it was just timing. Whatever it was, engagement seemed to drop off. The project lost a little of its magic — at least from the outside.
So what did I do? Nothing. I quietly let those final myths fade. The Lambton Worm never even made it online. From everyone else’s point of view, the project was complete after the 12 Labours. Finished. Done. Dusty.
For me, though, it’s still there in the back of my mind. I put a mental bookmark at the end of Heracles’ last task. Those other myths? They’re a creative seed, waiting for the right moment. I know I’ll return to them someday — but in their own way, on their own terms.Interestingly, the 12 Labours now exist as their own stand-alone project. They’re perfect for publicity, for talking about at events, and for inspiring others. They’ve taken on a life of their own — and in doing so, they freed me from feeling like everything had to be published or perfect.
The lesson here? Not every project needs to be fully completed in public. Sometimes, letting parts fade quietly is just as valuable as finishing them. It gives you space, perspective, and a reserve of ideas to return to when the time is right. Creativity doesn’t always follow a straight line — sometimes it meanders, takes detours, and leaves some things on the shelf. And that’s perfectly fine.
Have you ever worked on a project you loved, only to quietly let part of it fade? How did that feel for you?
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| Finally revealed: the Lambton Worm Seen for the first time. |




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