I’ve held tightly onto two things since I started this journey towards a career in design -
#1 PRINT IT - For fear of getting lost in that glowing artboard and soft grey abise, I tether myself with the perspective of a graphic designer from, say, 1963. How would they print this? How would a designer then solve this problem? Even while doing modern work with modern tools, I find that this perspective helps me find a tangibility to the creative process that is very fulfilling.
#2 Yes, and - It’s like a good video game - if the glowing fairy companion is screaming “Hey! Listen!”, I listen and follow it into the cave. When I began learning graphic design, I was faced with a huge obstacle - the belief that I couldn’t draw. Then there came an OG gold and black Liquid Death can with a really cool slimey skull illustration and a style of design I wanted to be able to create. Learning to draw that slimey skull was the logical next step and my previous belief was incongruent. Focusing on one step at a time - one foot in front of the other - helps when tackling imposter sydrome and the overwhelming amount of tools and techniques to learn.
I knew that trying to become a graphic designer at the onset of these ‘20s was a weird idea. I also knew that I’d have a perspective on that field that was unique. I wanted to spend my time having conversations with other creative people and making things with my hands. I knew that becoming proficient and making money would require mastering an ever-evolving swath of digital tools - all born out of a past process or tool, done by hand a time ago. I knew that there would be a constant, ruthless change. That constant need to learn and grow is a wonderful trait for a vocation and something I embrace. I also knew that there was a rising wave of “intelligent tools” that would threaten this profession and provide another way for executives to squeeze out another dollar by cutting labor costs. I did not anticipate that many design contemporaries would lie face down for the provisional convenience and paid promotion of nonesensical regurgitation.
Another truth I chose to hold was that I needed to promote my work on social media. I’d need a way to show that I’m busy and active and vibrant and real and relevant. I’d need a way to connect with the community and to build a network. As Instagram inches closer to becoming a toxic swamp of sexually-repressed, neo-facist bots, I may be driven out by necessity (and not wanting to support a company ran by an increasingly hateful billionaire lizard-CEO). VR-slinging assholes aside, the mind-numbing suck of social media has become a bit too much to stomach, and neutral, if not counter-productive to the perceived benefits of using it for this purpose. Leaving the platform, however, brings up some important questions:
How do we communicate with each other?
How do you show your work?
How will I be known?
Instagram has answered these queiries for many people who are creative, persistent, and know how to maximize its potential. It seems that, even for them, the window is closing. Designers and artists have been asking these questions for as long as they‘ve been around, and maybe the shortfall was believing that they were answered with any finality. It was surely a mistake to put so many key parts of the human experience in the hands of giant corporations. We’re back to rule #1, and it’s exhilerating. It’s a lot more exciting to create a poster and plan on stapling to a pole than to mock it on a fake wall. Where are the best bulletin boards in town? Which bar or cafe does this music scene hang out at? I’m by no means done with new technology - quite the opposite! As one component fades away, in its place is that thrilling moment of innovation. Parallel to this progress is also an evaluation of values and a rememberance of some tried and true methods.
The third question is a deeper looks deeper at our condition and needs as humans. Asking the question also reflects the way social media platforms pry their hooks. We have a desire to be known and reflected back by a community. It’s no coincidence that social platforms seem to attract and bring out the worst in the most isolated people. Ultimatley, I believe that these platforms tug at these needs, but leave the wounds open for us to feel our lack moreso than before. It’s really important to feel these needs and, as rule #2 would say, follow them to true, substantial results. I really believe that those results are found in building community and that we are each other’s greatest resource in times of need. This isn’t a declaration to follow so much as a way to start the conversation -
What does this all look like if what we know of the internet ceases to be?
November 7, 2024
Where I hope to be in 4 years -
Seems like a good time to do some planning.
• Pick an interior for the dystopia truck
• Descend into anger, emerge with the spirit of direct action
• Learn to forge steel and glass - steel’s an obvious one, glass seems fun and might be the niche useful skill that really elevates my survival game
• Befriend more crows - like, really get to know them
• Live deep in the woods
• Go into that big stump in Laurelhurst Park, where the tree fell down last winter - dig down and create an underground home. Dig each day to extend square footage. This will effectively be my city home, anyone is welcome to stop by.
• Liquidate assets and invest in power tonics, elixirs, oils…
• Find a good used cauldron
• Buy a large quantity of old cell phones for periodic smashing