Since I was a young lad, absolutely surrounded by small-town America, the sounds that have come out of the radio have saved me. As the voice of sober reason, knowledge in the form of news and current events. As an entire world all your own can be carved out with the help of a college station. As the source of hopes and dreams in a world that can seem to be losing itself, for when the music hits, I feel no pain at all.
No dogs, no ponies, and certainly no Billy McFarlands
I don’t pitch. The collaborators I work with, we don’t pitch. There’s nothing any potential client will be exposed to in a pitch that will be any more valuable than simply reviewing past projects and then having an honest conversation about what working together would look like for the parties involved.
I just don’t like the idea of doing a dog and pony show in order to be “awarded” a project. And I certainly am not going to sell you all your hopes and dreams in a neat little package that contains sun, sand, surf, and beautiful women. This ain’t no Fyre Festival.
When it comes to working with new people on exciting and challenging ideas, I like to think we have a track record of working hard, doing solid work, and delivering on budget and (mostly) on time. In the working world of design I want to operate in, I expect that to be enough.
Worshipping at the Altar of Hustle
I’ve been there. I’ve done that. And I’m so glad I’m over it. Honestly, I feel like I can look you in the eye and tell you straight up that I am done burning the midnight oil. I’m done getting after it over and over and over again. I had my time at the altar of hustle. I worshipped at it, big time. And now I’m done with it.
What’s there instead, in the place of all that hustle? Life, that’s what. Not being consumed by work. Not pushing go all the time. We can’t change the world by working only 40 hours a week? I call bullshit on that. I think we certainly can change the world by working smarter, not harder. More intentionally, rather than just assuming work is the answer to all that ails us. More time away from work, away from the grind, away from the hustle. Going slowly in fact, very slowly. So that when we do work, it’s the most productive work you’ve ever seen.
Productive enough that you get shit done with time to spare. And what’s your reward for getting shit done? Well, it’s certainly not more work! That seems psychotic. Instead, it’s more freedom. Which is something I think we’ve more than earned.
Reference: Grim & Exploitative »
Stay in your lane, bro?
At the end of the day, every day, I’m a graphic designer. Type, color, shape, graphics, layout, process. That’s where my expertise lies. That’s what I strive to get better at—to grow, to evolve, to master.
But one key feature of a graphic design career is the ability to work with an endless amount of other careers in other industries. I’m good at communication and I use that skill to help others communicate what they need to in the best way. I’m constantly exposed to disciplines outside of my purview. I’m able to get familiar enough with something and then tell its story even though I knew little (or nothing) about the thing before a working relationship was formed.
That’s my job. Within that, in order to get better, sometimes it’s helpful to push yourself in your own established framework. If that’s coding or animating, that totally fits. But not really for me. I’m more interested in writing. About design, sure. But also topics that fall outside of the world of design. Topics that aren’t in my lane. But with writing, I think that’s okay.
I’ve written a bunch about politics and have put together shorter essays about things that have happened to me. Coming across one of these stories and tying it back to me as a designer probably makes no sense. And I’m totally good with that. Ultimately, I’m trying to get better at writing. I feel a good way to do that is to not only write about what’s in my lane—colors, layouts, process—but whatever I might know a little something about.
Certainly weird things that have happened in my life. And politics, which aligns with the activism-focused aspects of my design practice. Still, it’s outside of my lane because I don’t work day-in, day-out as a political operative of any kind. Again, I’m a designer, I’m just interested in other things. Not as a career, but as something to try to distill in a way that communicates. I may fail at this, which is more than fine. I’ll just keep trying.
Slow, fast. Fast, fast, slow.
You wear a lot of hats as an independent designer. You do a lot of design tasks through any given day, week, month, year. From high level concept to nitty gritty production. All of these tasks you’re more than capable of handling. That’s what got you here after all. But some you’re able to do faster than others. Some take more thought, effort, and time. But the ones you can do with your eyes closed, those you can knock out in no time. It could be a poster you can instantly see before you open your computer. Or going through thousands of photos and finding the best ones lickity split. The slower tasks, while part of the job and perhaps even enjoyable, you do those with the necessary mental fortitude and then you move on when able. Taken altogether as one collection of design day tasks—the slow and fast, the fast and slow—all adds up to getting things done, one thing at a time.
Mad Hatters
Hootin’ and hollerin’, so quick to act a fool. Boys will be boys, yeah? As if offering excuses for a history of poor choices makes the ones committed in the present okay. As if it’s impossible for the adults in the room to provide restraint.
How difficult is it to let boys know that symbols matter? That when you step foot out your door into a public space, how you present yourself is no longer completely in your control. What symbols you’ve brought along with you are read and interpreted. Attached to you, their meaning can be reinforced or not, amplified or not, ignored or not.
Wear a MAGA hat while serving food to the homeless at a soup kitchen, that’s unexpected. Wear a MAGA hat while hollering at young girls, seems about right. Wear a MAGA hat, you have a lot more to answer for than simply your own identity and your own presence. Because you’re carrying with you the weight of a tired slogan many of us now wearily associate with white supremacy, racism, xenophobia, and fascism.
It may not seem fair. Especially if you’re caught up in national outrage. Even more crucial for the kids to firmly grasp the concept that symbols have power, both hidden and obvious. Both for the person wearing the symbol, and those confronted by it.
Walk out your door wearing a MAGA hat, there are real consequences. Just as there have been real consequences felt by the application of the MAGA ethos. For the kids locked in cages, or the soldiers who can’t serve their country, or the workers who trudge on without a paycheck.
I personally have yet to come into contact with someone wearing a MAGA hat. Not sure what I’d do, how I’d react. Maybe I’d just laugh in its face. I’d certainly be disgusted, and I feel like I’d know all there is to know about the person wearing the hat because the symbol has been used so repetitively. That’s the power of branding, the bludgeoning of the senses through hyper frequency. They hit us everywhere, and the meaning of the symbol burrows its way into our brains, forever lodged in between memories of weddings and funerals.
Again, it may not seem fair. But that’s where we are.
Spotify User #126029728
So Facebook bought Spotify, remember? They did, and since I deactivated my account on Facebook, I’m also effected on Spotify. Where now, I’m just a number. A nine digit string of nonsense has replaced my name. My profile photo is still there, so if you’re looking for me and have trouble remembering long strings of numbers, just look for the pink bubble gum.
User #126029728, signing off.
