- Reading time: 3 minutes
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- Published: 3rd October 2026
- Word count: 662 words
- File format: Text
Personal statement example
Behind the counter of the bicycle co-operative where I work there is a cardboard box of broken pedals. Most of them failed in the same place: a moulded plastic body cracked around a steel axle that is still perfectly sound. When I started keeping the box, I meant it as a reminder to order spares. Over two years it has become something closer to a research collection, and it is one reason I want to study sustainable design at postgraduate level.
My degree was in product design. In the first two years I learned the practical grounding I still rely on: sketching and orthographic drawing, CAD modelling, workshop processes and basic materials science. What interested me most, though, was the gap between how products were specified and how they ended up being used and discarded. For my final project I designed a flat-pack stool made from plywood offcuts collected from a local joinery. The constraint was deliberate. Offcuts arrive in irregular sizes, so I developed a leg and rail system that could be cut from strips as narrow as 80 mm, joined with wedged tenons rather than glue, and taken apart with a mallet. I tested three joint geometries on prototypes, and the version I submitted could have any single component replaced without tools beyond a saw. It was not a finished commercial product. The seat was heavier than I wanted, and I never solved how to price irregular stock fairly. But the project taught me to treat disassembly as a design requirement rather than an afterthought.
After graduating I took a job as a mechanic at the co-operative, partly for income and partly because I wanted to see objects at the end of their first life. The work is ordinary: fitting chains, truing wheels, explaining to customers why a cheap bottom bracket has seized. Bicycles are a useful case study because they sit between two design cultures. Older frames use standard threads and parts interchangeable across decades; many newer budget bikes use proprietary fittings that make a repair cost more than replacement. I now run a monthly repair evening where volunteers help people fix their own bikes. Organising it has meant writing simple instruction sheets, sorting donated parts so they can actually be found, and learning to explain a tolerance without jargon. Watching people work with tools has changed how I think about usability more than any user-testing exercise at university.
My reading has followed these questions. Cradle to Cradle by Michael Braungart and William McDonough gave me the distinction between biological and technical nutrients, which helped me see why my glued plywood prototypes were a dead end for recovery. I have also read about the Ellen MacArthur Foundation's work on the circular economy, though I am wary of how easily circular language can be used without any change to what is made. I want postgraduate study to give me the tools to judge that rigorously, particularly life-cycle assessment, which I understand only in outline, and a firmer grasp of design research methods so that observations like my pedal box become evidence rather than anecdote.
Outside work I share an allotment with two friends and have rebuilt its shed from salvaged pallets and a door from a skip. It is not a design project in any formal sense, but it keeps me practising with my hands and reminds me how much material is wasted in ordinary life.
I am applying now because I have reached the limit of what I can learn from practice alone. I can spot where a product fails and suggest a fix, but I want to work earlier in the process, where decisions about materials, fixings and standards are made. I would bring workshop competence, two years of watching real products wear out, and a habit of testing ideas physically. In the longer term I hope to work on product design for repair and longevity, whether in a manufacturer or with organisations campaigning for repairability.