So what’s my problem with capitalism? I have lots.

With capitalism, your hands are tied. With capitalism, you don’t see a full picture. With capitalism, there isn’t room for much else. Every person in the world is a potential consumer, buyer, or supporter of X, Y, or Z? That sounds terrible, even if it’s in reference to creativity, an industry that I love.

Capitalism leaves us collectively unable to fully address our health care crisis, climate change crisis, or education crisis. All areas in which the crisis being faced has been exacerbated by capitalism.

Capitalism leaves us personally lacking, stunted, or spinning in circles chasing money first and foremost. A mindset focused squarely on capital can only take you so far.

There’s a difference between making a good living in the creative industry and capitalism. I like to think I’m good at the former, not so much at the latter. And I am inherently suspicious of people who are really good at capitalism. Because for people who are really good at capitalism, they fall into a line of thinking that will always answer the question of how much is enough with this very simple word: more.

In a finite world, never being satisfied, always needing more, eventually leaves you with nothing. In body, mind, spirit, and even in your bank account.

Embrace capitalism? Oh hell no.

If we’re going to move forward as a society, to create more equitable economies, healthier environments, functioning governments, and inclusive spaces for creativity to flourish in, then we need less capitalism, not more.

The Importance of Content Population

The reason someone would design and develop a website is for the content he/she wants to share with the world wide web. Hence, the content is pretty important. The most important one might say. 

There has been lots written about content-first web design. It’s a neat concept and one that produces excellent end results. But it’s most of the time a luxury. When we do projects, sometimes we just don’t have it. We have enough to design and develop, but it’s hardly ever been a complete picture.

In our age of web design and development, much has been made about the need for designers to also know how to code. 

Should designers also code? is a question that doesn’t interest me at all. I don’t, and I’m over it. However, should designers also write? is a resounding yes and makes all the difference. Design and writing are more intertwined in my mind than design and coding.

Owner

A breakdown of the different job titles you’ll have, aside from designer, when you own your independent design practice:

  • Project Manager

  • Copywriter

  • Producer

  • Business Strategist

  • Print Production Manager

  • New Business

  • IT Specialist

  • QA Engineer

  • Account Executive

  • Human Resources

And then let’s also throw in Therapist, Spiritual Guru, and Office Manager. Oh, and Runner.

Correction: I forgot Accountant.

Don’t rate it, bro

Found the new Atmosphere the other day, Mi Vida Local. Streamed it a bunch. It was speaking to me; with the groove, to my soul, causing me to do all sorts of thinking. It was completely sounding good when it first hit me.

But just how good is it? Answer: it doesn’t fucking matter.

I found myself searching Pitchfork for the review. Was it good enough for “Best New Music?” (Hard to say!) It wasn’t reviewed yet. That a bad sign? Is it going to be reviewed? His other albums, not the best reviews. Okay, but not great. Except When Life Gives You Lemons, that was a 7.0.

Again, it doesn’t matter.

I’m at a internet impasse. Yes, it is insanely valuable given my business; the connection, the sharing, the access. But it is has some serious draw backs. Most notably, the rating of EVERYTHING. I am really tired of it all. Rotten Tomatoes, Pitchfork, Skip the Dishes, Booking.com, You Tube, Dribbble, Facebook, and the like. Regardless of all the numbers and stars being thrown at me, there are movies, albums, food, videos, and designs I like that have terrible ratings.

Maybe that’s one of the many reasons I love Spotify. It simply presents me with things. For example, the new album by Atmosphere, I search, click, listen. And there isn’t a rating in sight. I’m able to enjoy without being infected by some amalgamation of bullshit clicks by bullshiters who I probably wouldn’t like if I met in real life anyway. That’s how I’ve started thinking about the people behind ratings. Just a collection of jerks and assholes who feel like their taste matters in some profound way. To all those jerks, it doesn’t. Move on from the rating. Enjoy the feeling. Next!

Extreme Media

By utilizing mass media, America has created a most impressive engine of economic growth by way of an army of consumers ready to buy their way to happiness. Sales, bargains, and upgrades for all!

Advertising is a powerful tool in the arsenal of any message maker. So it should come as no surprise the use of mass media by extreme voices in the far right would lead to a radicalized portion of the American citizenry who are constantly exposed to such messages. Whether it’s cable television (FOX News), social media (Facebook), or dark places of the Internet (Breitbart), when the reinforcing message heard everyday is to be afraid, that has dire consequences. It not only leads to terrible debate full of conspiracy theories and outright lies, it can also lead to violence.

Media is powerful. Media shapes us. We need to look at media as engaged citizens with critical thought and due diligence. That’s a must. Otherwise, there’s no telling what we’ll be convinced of. That we need a new LED flat screen, or a caravan of criminals and terrorists is frantically scaling our walls. That a fragrance is the key to sexual fulfillment, or our only recourse to save the republic is to turn to violence.

Open your eyes America, before it’s too late.

Putting the sweet corn in the trunk was a bad idea

My Grandpa Joe was a farmer through and through. My uncle, Joe Jr., worked the farm with him. Every August was time for sweet corn. They would drop off buckets of deliciousness to all the homes of family members. My grandpa would also drive around our small town selling it to people on the street. Everyone looked forward to his delivery operation.

While I was in college, Uncle Joe and I decided to expand the enterprise a bit. Our target was the city of Lincoln. He’d bring me corn from the farm, we’d fill the back of my Dad’s pickup, and I’d setup shop in a parking lot somewhere and just see what happens.

The first time we did this we sold quite a bit of sweet corn. It was a Sunday and I setup in an bank’s lot at a busy intersection. From their cars, people would see my sign and the corn in the back of a pickup truck. They flocked. We sold a few hundred dollars worth. Not bad for an afternoon of sitting around and handing people bags of corn.

The second time was different. It was during the week and I wasn’t able to use my Dad’s pickup. Instead, we thought it would be fine to put the corn in the trunk of my beige Ninety-Eight Oldsmobile. This proved fatal.

I had a hard time finding a place to setup. A grocery store kicked me out of their parking lot and a gas station wanted a hefty location fee for its use. The nail salon I ultimately convinced to let me use was an okay spot. It was on the corner of a busy intersection but with my new setup, selling corn out of the back of my trunk just didn’t add up for folks. I mean, if you want a legit, from-the-farm product, who in their right mind would trust corn out of the back of a car that looked like it was made for selling Mary Kay® beauty products? No one, that’s who.

The purveyors of the nail salon even felt sorry for my sad looking state of affairs. I had given them $20 for use of their lot but when they came out to see what I was doing they gave the $20 back. And then they bought a couple bags of corn out of pity.

This entire episode taught me something important in a very real-world way: when it comes to selling sweet corn, it has to be on brand.

That corn remained in the back of my trunk for a week. Almost all of the corn my uncle had brought me was returned to him. On the day I handed over the unsold corn, we both just sort of shrugged. Deep down, I think we knew we tried to cheat capitalism in brand America. And we both knew we would never do it again.