07/20/11: The Persistence of Stuff
I live in a Brooklyn apartment that by New York City standards might be considered fairly large, but anywhere else, this place would be deemed pathetically small. Living in a small space, one needs to be selective about collecting and accumulating because there are just not that many places to put stuff. Stuff. It’s hard to avoid. We buy it. Someone gives us it. We keep it. We buy more. But some day I’ll die. And my stuff won’t. No matter what, my stuff will still be here, crowding closets, lurking in drawers, bursting out from shelves. Some of my stuff will be easy to dispose (books, recycle; clothes, donation; toiletries, garbage). Then there is the stuff that falls in between and makes the survivors feel guilty for throwing away – photos, personal objects, a box my husband labeled “memorabilia” and hasn’t opened since our last move 7 years ago, etc. 
Recently my grandfather died and we had to go look at his stuff and lay claim to anything we might want. It was a sordid business that made us feel like vultures. Everyone took a painting (my grandfather collected some nice art), but then there was all the other stuff – boxes of photos, plaques from General Motors (he worked there for most of his life), furniture, clothes, and an endless parade of personal trinkets. In the midst of the stuff, I discovered a very cool postcard collection that a great uncle had collected from the 1900s to 30s. Since I’m a graphic designer I tend to gravitate toward interesting printed matter and this was no exception. The postcards were full of strange images and illustrations (see some above and at the right, click to enlarge). For example, there is an inexplicably large collection of images of state house buildings and a huge number of pictures of animals. Some of these postcards were sent to my great uncle Randall and his mother Mabel and contain fascinating messages on the back, but many are simply tokens of a visit. I staked a cautious (and somewhat embarrassed) claim. I did not want to look greedy. No one objected. Perhaps there was even a little bit of relief. Here’s someone who wants some of this stuff.
And then the postcards arrived. The box was big. Suspiciously big. And really heavy. I opened it and inside found the coveted postcard books, but the box also housed a bunch of old family photo albums and scrapbooks. I couldn’t blame my uncle really. He had the miserable task of sorting everything and it was pretty easy to see how he wrestled with chucking out family photos and decided instead to throw a bunch in this grandchild’s box. So now more stuff is mine. Frankly, it’s pretty hard to toss a scrapbook my grandmother made documenting her first year in junior high. It seems cold and unfeeling, despite the valuable real estate it occupies in one of my cabinets.
I like looking at the postcards and I’ve decided the photos are kind of a tax for ownership so I’ll keep them for now. I feel sorry for my son. Some day he will have to decide what to do with these photos and postcard books – not to mention the whole box of high school and college stuff I keep at my parents’ house because it doesn’t fit in my apartment.
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06/03/11: Expert Testimony
Many people have a shared anxiety dream: they arrive at school only to be handed a test they didn’t know about. They look at it and don’t know any of the answers. Panic ensues.
I have a different version of this dream (due to being a teacher for almost 10 years). My dream is this: I arrive in a class for the first day and realize that I don’t know anything about the subject matter. This becomes apparent very quickly and I lose control of the class. Students berate and taunt me. I begin to cower under the desk while they continue their verbal assaults. It’s awful.
This anxiety dream stems from a secret suspicion that my professed knowledge base is a total sham. I worry that I am a total charlatan and at some point, I’ll be exposed. I’ve talked with other people about this and it’s actually a fairly common anxiety among people my age. We now have the age and experience to be “experts” in our fields, but we feel like we’re still struggling in our careers, and after all, high school wasn’t really that long ago, right? (btw, it totally was – I’ve had doctors younger than me).
Twice this past month, I was asked to speak as an expert in my field. Before each engagement, I had the anxiety dream. When I think of experts giving testimony, it’s usually in a courtroom and the gray-haired “experts” exude experience and wisdom. While I’ve found a few gray hairs (immediately plucked out of my head), I was not so sure I could come off as confident.
First, I was asked to speak on the state of printing and desktop publishing to representatives from a huge printing and publishing conglomerate from China. That was it. No real guidelines. All of the listeners were Chinese and there would be an interpreter. (That alone was anxiety inducing! I had to stop speaking every 3 minutes and let the interpretor fill in. What if I was misquoted?)
I was really nervous because the topic was so open-ended. I decided to focus on the direction of the design and printing industries in the increasing digital environment. How could they compete? How could we work together? How could anyone survive this assault on paper? Kind of a loaded topic for a group of printers! As I put the presentation together, I realized that I actually DID know a lot about it. I wasn’t a charlatan, my knowledge base was real, and, actually, pretty comprehensive. Ok, it still was completely weird stopping every 3 minutes for the interpreter, but overall, the presentation went very well and they even invited me to a fancy dinner that week. Score!
My next invitation was from UNICEF as I recently was part of their design team for an exhibit about HIV in Zambia. The exhibit is pretty high profile and just launched. As part of the program, UNICEF is holding a number of panel discussions related to the topic. I was asked to speak on one panel about communicating messages to diverse audiences. Panic ensued. What if people realized I know nothing and am an untalented fool?
Fortunately, this was not the case. The panel ended up being pretty relaxed. Again, I discovered I could speak quite intelligently on the topic. Not so weird considering I did just design the exhibit…
So I’m hoping both of these successful events will tell my brain to end this silly anxiety dream. If I can’t control my subconscious, at the very least I feel confident that I’m qualified to stand in front of a graduate class for another year or at least write a few more proposals.
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06/01/11: Dear Anton…
I’m trying to control the spam. Really. Why do so many spammers think I want a wedding dress or SEO optimization? I guess all spam can’t be as good as the post about fresh genius juice.
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04/18/11: Fourth Time’s the Charm
For most of my projects I provide 3 design directions. In an ideal world, the client chooses one, I refine it, get it approved, and then complete the project using that concept. This works really well most of the time. It’s not just my process, it’s the standard for most designers.
But this year something went wrong. Two of my clients weren’t happy with any of the three directions. It was horrifying. Had I lost my mojo? Did I not understand the project? Was the client unreasonably picky? My first inclination was to blame everyone else (because that’s the easiest solution and surely I couldn’t be wrong!?!) But in both instances it became clear that this wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine. It wasn’t a matter of design skill either, it was a matter of approach. I hadn’t spent enough time on the initial conversation so that the project could become one of collaboration rather than just execution.
These were sobering moments. Because I’m a freelancer, I get very used to humming along and working in my bubble. I realize now that with every project, I really need to take a step back and look at the larger picture. I need to involve the client in the early phase rather than just ramming ahead and doing. Honestly, I’m a better designer now from having my confidence shaken. It’s scary, but sometimes the best things are.
For Project A, the client reluctantly had me pursue one of the initial three design directions and when I provided revisions, she emailed an astounding round of changes that basically had me tossing out everything. I was left with basically a blank page and a logo. I immediately called her and she revealed to me that she was “sad” when she went home after my initial presentation because she wasn’t getting what she wanted and she was frustrated that she couldn’t articulate what exactly that was. I was horrified! I don’t ever want to make anyone sad! I want clients to love my work. At that point, I knew I had to start over and take a different tack, no additional cost. But starting over this time meant having a better conversation about the project itself. What was the goal of the design? Who would be looking at it? What sorts of designs did she respond to? What kinds of things work and don’t in similar settings? What images should be included in the illustration? She ended up providing me with a really helpful rudimentary sketch. This sketch wouldn’t have happened earlier – it was really a result of a good conversation and rejected design directions. Sometimes a client doesn’t know what she wants until she sees what she doesn’t. I submitted a whole new direction, and voila, approved and adored!
For Project B, the client told me that the team just wasn’t “wowed” by any of the designs. Most designers will roll their eyes at this, blame the client, and sulk about how the client just doesn’t get their genius. But I took it seriously. I went back and looked at the designs, and she was right. They were all kind of safe. I offered to try a whole approach and followed my same technique as Project A. I asked more questions, but this time I also used the other designs as part of the conversation. What was good? (Turns out a few things, including an emerging motif and theme that became a springboard for the new design.) What was bad? I told you that already, so let’s not dwell on the negative… Anyhow, I sent the new design, again approved and adored!
As I look back at these projects now I’m really glad that the clients pushed me to my limits and forced me to create something beyond what was simply contracted. Sometimes it takes a good swift kick in the butt to really get you moving! I’m especially grateful that it was by two really nice people and resulted in two lovely portfolio pieces. So if either of you are reading this, thank you! You reminded me why I became a designer in the first place, to solve problems, not to create isolated solutions in a vacuum.
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