This final episode of the season closes on a note that feels right for a new year. Honest. Hopeful. A little raw and full of heart. Chris Wilson, the multi-disciplinary force behind Glasgow’s one-man studio Stckmn, joins Katy for a conversation about surviving life's sharpest edges and still choosing to create something good.

Chris grew up working class in Clydebank, a kid who took things apart to understand how the world worked. That curiosity shaped everything. So did hardship. He talks openly about trauma he never recognised as trauma until therapy named it: a violent attack at university that left deep physical and emotional scars. The loss of his dad. Years of pushing pain aside and throwing himself into work because survival sometimes looks like graft, not clarity.

And yet. Through humour, compassion, and the stubborn belief that he could always graft his way forward, Chris built a career spanning product design, graphics, branding, packaging, and beyond. He tells Katy how he learned to reframe fear into momentum, why being a generalist has kept him afloat in changing times, and how a decade of running Stckmn has been as much about resilience as it has design.

They talk about belonging, too. About feeling out of place in creative spaces that can still feel elitist. About the invisible hierarchies that quietly shape the industry. And the joy of realising most of us are just muddling through, hoping no one notices our nerves. It's a candid, funny, deeply human exchange.

Chris also shares the burnout that landed him in hospital, the difficult lessons about boundaries he's trying to honour, and the softer tools he's building as a dad. His son, Caleb, pops up as a recurring theme. A reminder of why slowing down is key. Why healing matters. And why showing up as the gentler version of ourselves is important.

This is a conversation about making peace with your younger self. About the courage to start again, no matter how many times life has knocked you sideways. And about the strange, hopeful power of creativity to stitch us back together. A beautiful way to end the season. A reminder that even in the mess, even in the dark, there's always a way to move forward.