Big Project(s)

I’m still trying to settle on a consistent notion of what I consider to be an optimally sized project. Given how I work, who I enjoy working with, how the teams are built, what past processes have been like, and why timelines have unfolded the way they do.

I’ve always been into the idea of “small is beautiful,” especially with design projects. Small projects seem to come with more freedom, more focus, and better outcomes. Excitement can be pretty high and the work itself super solid. But the project itself is shorter lived. Big projects can afford you more time to explore, more moving pieces to put together, and typically involve more people which often means the work has a higher probability of having bigger impact. 

But big projects do come with negatives, aside from the possibility of the work output being lacking. They can take up too much time in the schedule causing you to miss out on other small projects that may be right up your alley. They can lead to more conflict on teams and the timelines can be more challenging to keep on track. But they do provide some stability. Small projects, as they come and go, can be more uncertain when it comes to knowing what you’ll be working on 1 or 2 months down the line. 

I suppose it’s optimal to have a 1–2 big projects happening with a bunch of small projects to complete the mix of your work week. Too many big projects make for big headaches. Too many small projects can mean too much uncertainty. Best to strike that balance. As with most things, probably. 

If you aren’t able to get into the office, get a wild hair, and just make something new...

...then you aren’t free. Or at least, you’re maybe a little too beholden to the things you have to do rather than the things you’re driven to do. Those things that randomly compel you simply because all the energy in your being says to you “there’s magic here if you give it a try.” If you make this, write this, go do this, or whatever, you could possibly find something new and wonderful on the other side. I’m not necessarily talking about inspiration, more so it’s energy. The burst of vibrancy that moves you in a new way. And if what you do day-in, day-out doesn’t allow you to move in that new way, then I think you gotta find something that does, for the sake of the future and the energy you need to make that future bright and beautiful.

You decide your own level of involvement

I can be a fairly no-nonsense member of a creative team. I tend to fall back on a Fight Club style of collaborating. Very much a “you decide your own level of involvement” sort of thing. How much do you want it? Do you have to be asked? Are you willing to keep going? Will you stay on top of it? Can you really deliver? These questions constantly go through my head on a project. They’ve become a good set of guide posts to make sure my involvement level is high and the work being designed is up to the challenge. No shirking, no short-cuts, no phoning it in.

The city of Seattle

Last week, my wife and I spent a few days in Seattle, WA. My first real visit to the city; part business, part vacation. We were able to see the final project of Joe Sparano (now a Master of Design) at the U-Dub. I reconnected with a TEDActive friend to talk design, foundations, and film. We hit up the EMP (Nirvana exhibition!), went to the top of the Space Needle, strolled through Pike Place, wandered around the Central Public Library, and ferried to Bainbridge Island. And, of course, we toured the new KEXP.

Seattle is quite a city. It was unusually sunny and 70+ the whole time, which was lovely. And the pulse was undeniable. We walked all over downtown, jumped on the light rail, and took Uber when needed. We enjoyed some truly amazing restaurants and had plenty of fine drink. We got a sense of the challenges; a city in flux, large crane development seemingly everywhere we looked, the slow rumble of heavy traffic, and a sizable homeless population. Mostly, we felt the creativity, the vibrancy, and the possibility.

There’s a rattle and hum that bigger cities have. It makes them great and it makes them vulnerable, at the same time. All sorts of people colliding into each other trying to make their way, to make their mark, in whatever way they know. The musician, the construction worker, the waitress, the tour guide, the fisherman, the student. All doing what they do. Rattle and hum, struggle and dream, create and evolve. We can’t stay put, and so we don’t, on a large scale, under clouds on top of concrete. What comes next is anybody’s guess. 

Sometimes the only thing left to do is to get obsessed

To go deep. To get crazy. To stay in the zone and cut off your ties to the outside world. It can be complicated. It can be exhausting. But it also can lead to great things. Get obsessed. Get absorbed. And really get after it. You can watch TV when you retire and you can sleep when you’re dead. Although, I do function poorly on lack of sleep and the thought of pulling an all-nighter is a non-starter for me. So yeah, know your limits and then get obsessed.

Where’s your element?

That place where you’re at your best. Your wheelhouse. The zone. Where you really feel it. And it all comes together for you. When I was a kid, I’d travel with my dad in the semi as he drove truck across America. I noticed something different about him when he was behind the wheel. I now understand that he was in his element out there living the dream of the open road, working hard for a living, in command of his destiny. I’ve seen this with many creatives in different situations—selling it in a client presentation, humming along behind the computer, commanding the elements on a photoshoot, or standing over a sketch pad ordering ideas into existence. It’s really a magical thing to behold.

Every creative has a place where they’re in their element. It’s impossible to be there all the time, but it’s key to know where that special place is so you can call on it when it needs to be called on and you can get there when you really need to deliver the goods.