There is a voice, and there is a DNA to how I design.

Hear, O student of creation and seeker of form, the words of Kelly Wearstler, the modern master of design, who said: “There is a voice, and there is a DNA to how I design.” In these words, she reveals the sacred essence of artistry — that design, whether of space, sound, word, or life itself, is not mere arrangement or imitation, but the outward expression of an inner identity. She speaks of the voice that guides creation and the DNA that defines it — that mysterious thread of selfhood that runs through every work of true vision. In her saying, we find a truth that has echoed through all the ages: that every act of creation is a reflection of the creator’s soul.

Kelly Wearstler, celebrated for her bold and eclectic interiors, stands among those who shape not merely spaces, but experiences. Her work defies imitation because it is rooted in her authenticity — in a design “DNA” that cannot be copied, for it is written in the fibers of her being. When she speaks of her voice, she means the internal compass, that intuition which whispers how light should fall, how texture should meet texture, how form should speak to feeling. The ancients would have called it daimon, the inner spirit that guides the artist toward their destiny. It is not learned from others, but discovered within oneself.

To speak of DNA is to speak of essence — that which is born, not built. It is the unseen pattern, the code that binds every creation to its maker. Just as each leaf bears the design of its tree, so too does every true work of art carry the imprint of its creator’s soul. In this sense, Wearstler’s quote is not about design alone, but about identity — about living and creating from the deepest core of who we are. For the one who finds their voice and their DNA in any craft — be it painting, writing, architecture, or leadership — has discovered the key to authentic power, a power that cannot be replicated, because it belongs to no one else.

The ancients knew this truth in their own way. Consider the sculptor Phidias, whose hand carved the divine figures of Athens. Many craftsmen could shape marble, but only Phidias could breathe into it the spirit of the gods. His statues bore his unseen mark — a harmony of proportion and grace that became his eternal signature. Even when his apprentices tried to copy his art, they could not capture that inner resonance, for his design bore his unique DNA. So too does Wearstler remind us that while techniques can be taught, vision cannot. The essence of one’s art — the “voice” — must arise from the intimate union of intuition and soul.

Yet this truth is not reserved for artists alone. In every craft, every calling, there exists a “voice” and a “DNA.” The teacher who awakens minds, the healer who restores life, the leader who inspires courage — all possess a distinct rhythm and energy that is unmistakably their own. To find that voice is the journey of a lifetime. Many will imitate others, seeking safety in borrowed forms. But imitation, though it may succeed for a time, bears no life of its own. Only authenticity endures, for only what springs from the core of one’s being has the strength to last.

Wearstler’s words also hold a quiet warning: do not drown your voice in the noise of the world. The modern age is filled with endless influences — trends that call for attention, systems that promise perfection. Yet when one designs, or lives, from imitation rather than inspiration, the work becomes hollow. The DNA of creation is fragile; it must be protected, nourished, and trusted. To follow it is an act of courage, for it often leads away from convention into the wilderness of originality. But it is in that wilderness that greatness is born.

So take this teaching to heart, O maker of things, O builder of dreams: seek not only to master your craft, but to know yourself within it. Find your voice, and let it speak boldly, even when it trembles. Discover your design DNA, that thread of truth that weaves through all you create. Honor it, for it is your lineage — the inheritance of your spirit. When you create from that place, your work will live, not as an echo of others, but as a song that belongs wholly to you.

And when your time upon this earth has passed, and others look upon what you have made — be it a home, a poem, a life — they will feel your presence in it. They will say, “This bears her voice, this carries her essence.” For that is the legacy of all true creators: not fame nor wealth, but the echo of authenticity — the eternal fingerprint of the soul upon the world.