Prior to writing this, I re-read one of my essays from last year, “Calling”, about the circumstances and decisions throughout my life that’ve led to becoming a commercial artist. At that time, I also attempted to clarify what my true interests and talents were, in order to work out what the next step in my career should be.

In the previous essay “Five minutes, 10/08/12”, I wrote about the need to further solidify my goals, but months later I’m still figuring it all out.

In the meantime, I’ve been exploring webpage design and have found that I sometimes enjoy writing code. I’m taking on interesting and profitable freelance projects, which has led to greater knowledge of marketing analytics, branding and social media.

I’ve also determined which avenues of the design/marketing field I DON’T wish to travel down. The need to find a place where professionalism is rewarded, and to avoid compromising my values, has led to turning down a couple of interviews and one job offer.

But my future still seems like a blank page, with a faint watermark:

I do realize that the approach of simply waiting for opportunity to knock is foolishly passive, so I continue to read through online job listings, send out resumes, go to the occasional interview, research possible sources of employment, and attempt to establish connections.
I also keep updating my various design portfolios and online profiles.

Being patient and not getting frustrated with the lack of results in a job search can be hard. (I’ve been there a few times before over the years, and keep reminding myself that circumstances were far worse back then.) Overall, my hopeful, optimistic nature and happily busy life has kept me from feeling down.

“It is good to have an end to journey toward, but it is the journey that matters in the end.”
–– Ursula K. Le Guin

I’ve been wanting to describe the overactive, random, free-association multiverse that is my normal state of mind (and that of many other creative types, I’m guessing), but words fail me. Or, rather, there are too many words, and many more images: to sort through and hopefully translate into a comprehendable sentence or any other successful form of communication.

But then I found a recent entry to the online comic strip The Oatmeal, by Matthew Inman. I’ve always loved his “Bobcats” characters, with their hilariously unseemly workplace behavior and familiar feline habits. And that pterodactyl song will probably be stuck in my head forever.

And now “If My Brain Were an Imaginary Friend” is a new favorite. Particularly the fifth set of panels in the strip, showing a woman and a man walking together, his brain floating alongside. The thought-bubble caption above the brain contains a long stream of bizarre, semi-related, inappropriate observations. When the woman asks, “Hey, watcha thinking about?” the man replies, “Oh, nothing really.”

So it was great to discover this very public, well-executed statement that resembles much of my inner image-slideshow and dialogue, and conveys the futility or awkwardness of extracting part of the jumble to let the world know what’s on my mind.

When I do make an effort to concentrate, I’ve always been able to focus my mind into a narrower train of thought, at least for a while. Enough to accomplish a chore, solve a design problem, drive a car, buy ONLY the items on the grocery list, follow the plot of a movie, or give my undivided attention to another person’s words.

But this does require a deliberate shift in my mental processes, and all too often the train of thought becomes derailed, the stream of consciousness branches out into several tributaries at once. Is this perhaps an internalized form of attention-deficit disorder? Or the indication of a ridiculously multifaceted personality, with no clearly dominant mindset?

During my childhood, a few people’s first impression of me was that I might be mentally slow. Once I realized that this was because I’d sometimes be found staring into space with an idiotic grin on my face, I established the habit (after much practice in the mirror) of settling my features into an intelligent, thoughtful look, with the hint of a mysterious smile, whenever I needed to let my imagination run amok.

In addition to the creations of my own consciousness, and the pictures, songs and experiences that live in my memory, there’s often a fascinating sensory-overload of observing and absorbing everything going on around me. So at least I’m rarely bored, though I may appear to be.

I’m starting to suspect that this mind-clutter is actually fairly common, but it’s just that nobody talks about it much, for fear of seeming to lack composure and focus or even being considered insane.

“Cobalt Blue is the perfect color for a Vespa. My hair is tingling. Fish! Wow… what if cats had gills and fins? And wings? I’m sad. No you’re not sad, you just need to go get some fish. Square things! Oooh, tetrahedrons. If Tigger was a leopard, I’d name him Pongo. This project is due tomorrow. Tomorrow is Friday! Happy Happy… did I take my vitamins this morning? I hate Excel. What is that noise? 5/18/13. Lunchburgers? I’m so fat. Blue nailpolish. And Jaguars. Let’s go shopping! Command+Alt+Shift, drag drag drag… It’s too shiny in here. Good hair day. Oh, new e-mail I’m ignoring you. Why are my feet cold? We don’t need no ed-u-cay-tion… I think some antelopes are extinct. Master Media Plan: all systems go. Go, go cornholio! Grab keys go drive get fish nom.”

According to the Human Resources Department, my job title is “Graphic Designer 1”.

Other designers would probably describe me as “the one who creates and keeps track of all the magazine ads and builds the sailing catalog every year, and is always ready to jump into any of our other projects as well.”

The Media Manager, the Production Manager, the Art Director and the Marketing Vice President have expressed gratitude for the many times I have taken care of things which are technically more in their arena then mine.

Four feet above my desk, our department’s sign hangs from the ceiling: “Creative Services”. (A decent earthquake would probably have the thing landing on my head.) Now and then, someone will come to the doorway of my cubicle and peer in, saying, “Are you Creative Services?” I’ll reply, “Sure! What do you need?”

Resumes I’ve sent out (or online profiles I’ve created) attempt to succinctly convey the range of responsibilities and skills I’ve acquired over the years. I could be a “Marketing Coordinator and Advertising Designer” for instance.

Yet perhaps the best title ever was when co-workers at the photo lab, where I did image manipulation 10 years ago, would to refer to me as the “Digital Goddess”. (Except that it kinda gives the impression I’m composed of pixels.)

There are certain factors that I think have primary value in a design, a layout, a presentation. Some are quantifiable, and others more subjective.

(Since my focus is on commercial art and advertising, I have chosen to limit this essay to that arena, rather than exploring the impact and value of fine arts such as painting or the professions of architecture and fashion design. I do draw inspiration from those fields, and may explore such related topics in the future.)

So then: What has value in a design? Usability, effectiveness, relevance and relatability, balance, and creativity are the guidelines I use when evaluating both my own work and the creative projects I come across in everyday life, where multimedia design is encountered at every turn.

*****

Usability in design is quantifiable. A test group of website visitors can be a guideline as to how sensible the navigation would be for the average user. Is it easy to locate and view the information you are interested in? Do you immediately comprehend the purpose of the page, the products or services offered, the identity or mission of the company whose web-presence this is?

When a clearly defined “call to action” is directly tied to the presentation itself, the number of individuals who view the design layout and then follow through with the desired response (by perhaps purchasing products on the site or providing an e-mail address to sign up for a newsletter’s mailing list) can be measured as the quantifiable result of an effective presentation.

In a print media example, the layout and copy of a magazine ad page is most user-friendly when it is highly legible, easily processed and understood. A quantifiable response for a compelling print campaign could be tracking how many customers bring in the coupon included in the ad when making a store purchase.

Therefore, as designers, having insight into the thought process and likely actions of the viewers of our work is crucial in deciding how to present content for maximum usability and intended results.

So while starting the work on any project, prior to presenting any stage of the results to other individuals, there should be an exploratory stage which includes forming an understanding of the potential audience. Research and an openminded discovery process is the professional approach to beginning any commercial art project.

Developing a clear idea of what is relevant to your target market, what design concepts might resonate, and what copywriting and presentation styles would be approachable, are the keys to creating a workable solution. During this time, many trial concepts might be prepared, reworked, or discarded before a design strategy that is truly appropriate is found.

Effective designs should serve as a springboard. Once your eyes land on the printed page, the website, the packaging, the billboard: Are you compelled? To go forth and buy the product, or investigate the source of this intriguing presentation? Do you want to read further, and know more? If you can’t imagine that what you’re offering might be energizing, fascinating, satisfying, or thought-provoking, the design may be missing the mark. It would then have little value, no matter how appropriate it might seem for your client’s brand identity or their shareholder’s preferences. So it’s worthy to consider whether the look and feel of the project reflects both the company’s identity, and relates to that of the intended audience.

Whether the design is eye-catching, appealing, startling, soothing, or has visual impact in any way is highly subjective. We all have different outlooks and personal tastes. For instance, one individual may value conservative colors used sparingly to highlight important details, combined with well-known fonts and serene landscape photography. Another may see a vividly colored layout with action-oriented images as an exciting invitation to become part of the latest craze.

While these preferences definitely affect our sense of what a balanced design is, it is fairly universal that people will respond negatively to a crowded, jumbled page layout. Knowing when to incorporate symbolic elements such as lines or differently textured backgrounds to separate or highlight certain areas are skills of the experienced commercial artist. Providing a few key areas of interest, while keeping layout principles (including well-distributed visual weight, symmetry, and careful use of asymmetry) in mind, will often result in a favorable reception to your work.

So as a designer, I endeavor to strike a balance: between dynamic and static, positive (filled) space and negative (white) space, copy and imagery, pleasing and informing, provoking and reassuring, questioning and problem-solving. It’s all part of the challenge to create something useable, relatable, interesting (and perhaps even innovative) with content and the way it is presented.

As artists, we often long to bring forth something new, different, a twist on the familiar. While it’s said that all art is derivative and we learn by copying, design work which is notable usually brings something previously unseen to our attention. Creativity has great importance in the field of design, but artistic expression shouldn’t be the primary consideration in commercial projects: the focus is on presenting an effective solution, our goal more than simply putting the images of our imagination on the page for their own sake. There will be some projects where it is appropriate to bring your own voice to the design, if it will be in alignment with the brand identity or established guidelines. But it is valuable to remember that in every instance, even when your creations do not reflect your personal preferences or give you a chance to use ideas that long to see fruition, your design will still be a voice (for an idea, a product, a cause). Figuring out what form of creative problem-solving and artistry is suitable requires careful contemplation of both the project specifications and your own goals and values as a designer.

In the wake of the recent elections and political scandals, I’ve been thinking about integrity, honor, and values even more than usual. Not only in our personal lives, but in the stance we take in approach to our vocations.

I work in the marketing/communications and graphic design field, and it’s a world where straight talk and truth in advertising can give way to concepts involving dubious buzzwords such as “spin”, “draws”, and “hooks”. “Whatever it takes to make a profit” is an easy mindset to fall into. And with a focus on expediency, it’s common to have poorly conceived projects and sloppy work as a result. We also encounter shady contracts, unreliable clients, untrustworthy co-workers, and unethical business practices.

To give every task your best effort, while promoting integrity in all relationships, seems to be an unpopular path at times.

So with the conviction that we should all have conveyable values in our professional lives, I’ve decided to set down my own thoughts on what I strive for as well as what I hope to see in the individuals and situations that I encounter in my design career.

Uncompromising standards.
• Commitment to creating a quality product, while meeting deadlines, without cutting corners.
• Attempting to lead by example, and showing appreciation for colleagues who place a similar importance on delivering their best work.
• Solid judgement in determining which projects, clients, causes and goals to become involved with.

Established boundaries and responsibilities.
• Realizing the importance of a well-defined process, which includes effectively communicated obligations.
• Being able to OWN a project or have control over certain aspects, but also having awareness of when collaborating or delegating is appropriate.

Personal integrity.
• Honesty, directness.
• Being trustworthy with information, and dependable: always following through on promises, not making excuses.
• Admitting when mistakes have been made.
• Properly crediting and acknowledging the contributions of others.
• Not always having to be right, being openminded and thoughtful regarding others’ viewpoints.

Balance.
• Endeavoring to have grace under pressure.
• Having the ability to work rapidly and efficiently, but also knowing when to relax and reflect.
• A proper sense of priorities. Avoiding procrastination.
• No feast-or-famine workflow, and sensible scheduling.
• Knowing when to say “no,” and being prepared to clarify your stance rationally, preventing negative consequences.
• Appreciating the value of communication and fellowship, yet having enough “alone time” and privacy to be absorbed in work or simply engaged in brainstorming of an introverted nature.

Creativity, imagination, and bravery.
• Striving to be innovative and achieve new ground.
• Being able to translate ideas and concepts into finished results.
• Willingness to learn, to grow, to leave the “comfort zone” of familiar skills and proficiencies.
• Having the courage to take risks and create something unconventional or shake up the established procedures.

Contribution and Community.
• Providing useful, appreciated information and products to the world.
• Adding to the knowledge and abilities of others, helping and inspiring colleagues to achieve and learn.
• Bringing beauty and objects of value into being.

Design ideas can come from the oddest sources. Today I was looking at a glossy red cardboard take-out box and the yellow curry chicken salad inside it, and realized I’d found the perfect color combination for a Victorian-style poster.

A muddy sidewalk puddle reflects the signs on buildings above it, and I discover that a company’s logo looks more captivating upside down and in a muted palette. I stare at the water for a while to lock this interpretation into my mind for future inspiration.

The outboard motor of our boat is idling roughly, with a gravelly rumble that rises and falls in pitch. I start imagining this as the voice of a disgruntled customer. Then I contemplate an ad campaign with copy that promotes above average customer service, high quality products, and easy return policies. With an eyecatching image of a well-kept boat on a placid lake at sunset.

So I’ve come to realize that one of the most valuable skills of those who create for a living is the capacity to absorb. The sights and sounds of everyday life are rich with potential inspiration. Sometimes I’ll deliberately slow down. Extend all five senses while calming my hectic thoughts for a bit. Or I’ll imagine being someone who’s completely unfamiliar with whatever environment I’m in, and guess what their impressions might be.

Often I’ll type intriguing words into the web browser and see where they lead me: giclée, portmanteau, bespoke. Or I’ll go to the mall, do some people-watching, and walk into stores that sell stuff I’ve never bought before. Such as skateboard shops. Or children’s books and clothing. I like going to the household goods section of department stores and staring at the china patterns. Or observing the makeup counters from a distance.

Many small corners of this wide world are rather fascinating when I’m in the right frame of mind to take it all in. Fresh ideas can spring to mind immediately or maybe I’ll store my observations for later pondering.

Even the mundane objects of daily life can be seen in a different light. For instance, I’ve just noticed that the underside of my mousepad here has a neat texture. I think I’ll put it in the scanner and see what sort of image that creates. Maybe it could become a web page background?

Calculated risks are often part of the designer’s decision-making process. We determine whether to try an unproven marketing strategy, or when to use bold imagery and word choices that have a chance of provoking a strong (positive or negative?) response.

A few other areas where risk has come into play, in my own experience:

Stating bald facts instead of putting a “spin” on information can be frowned upon rather than being interpreted as refreshing honesty.

Tests can lack conclusive results, and investments can fail to have a return.

And in the creative fields as well as many others, taking the leap to quit a job and start fresh at a new company is a gamble.

In the past I’ve been an overly cautious person, in life in general as well as design. I’ve created a lot of “safe” work that is almost bending over backwards trying not to offend the tastes of managers or clients. I regret many times that I sacrificed novel ideas in favor of a conventional approach, or feared to speak my mind.

So in an attempt to be the sort of designer I admire, I’ve started to deliberately take risks and worry less about consequences. So very not easy, but I’m slowly learning not to envision worst-case scenarios all the time.

A gamble that has paid off:
I suggested that magazine ad layouts didn’t need to resemble flyers and catalog pages (which display sales promotions and a range of products) but could be used as more of a brand-identity statement. This “less is more” concept was too novel for some, but I made gradual changes to the designs, explained my reasoning carefully, and crossed my fingers that I wouldn’t be viewed as a rebellious smart-ass. The new ads were praised by executives at my own firm and editors at the magazines. Customers are now more likely to see the brand as modern and high-quality. My reputation has gone up among my co-workers, and I’m given more authority these days.

And a risk that didn’t pan out:
I once left a low-paying job with stressed-out employees, only to discover that my new position and new boss were much more intolerable. “Out of the frying pan, into the fire” seemed the theme of my workdays for over a year before I finally found a better company to work for.

So over the course of my career, I’ve learned from many mistakes. I’ve acquired the judgement to rationally consider possible outcomes, and make better decisions. But there are still times that fear of the unknown is holding me back. I need to trust my intuition more.

Recently, I am feeling so grateful.

To the online design community, for all the insights, resources and camaraderie that have made my world so much larger. For the push towards professionalism and higher levels of competence instigated by my peers and those who have achieved far more, giving us inspiration and guidance.

To my Love, Stephen, for understanding the frustrations and complex issues of everything computer-related. For being helpful in problem solving and commiserating. And for insights and fresh ideas to try in my marketing and design projects.

To my grade school teachers Nicolette Doiron and Susan Russo, who encouraged me to write. To art college professors Floyd Martin and Norman Kaupang who taught me how to see deeply and translate my interpretations and concepts to the page.

To all the bosses and co-workers who championed my work, and met their own responsibilities while striving to do the best job possible: excelling even in the face of trying circumstances, office politics, and ridiculous deadlines.

I put myself through college, I’ve always found work on my own, I am self-taught in the majority of the software programs I use. But no career or success is entirely self-made. I think it’s a necessary aspect of a well-rounded professional life: to acknowledge the debt while being available to contribute similarly to up-and-coming designers, artists, writers and others who aim to succeed while preserving integrity.

Today I’m contemplating goals. Charting a course is tricky, when my interests lie all over the map. Sometimes it seems like I’m sailing around in circles.

But I’ve arrived at a few conclusions:

I want a work environment that allows me to have a higher degree of autonomy and authority. I don’t often get a chance to delegate tasks or instruct others, and I’d like more opportunities to be a leader.

I’d like to use a greater range of my skill-set (including web design, social media marketing, and writing) during the workday, instead of mostly on side-projects or experiments during free time.

Of course, I’d like to earn a lot more money. It’d also be great to have an office someday, or at least a quieter and more private environment.

I might need to move to a different town, or consider a longer commute, since the job market here is limited.

I will continue expanding my general knowledge while figuring out which paths are worth exploring further. Although I’m interested in everything from webpage layout strategy to establishing a sense of community for a brand, I’ve been narrowing it down to a few topics to focus on at a time.

Hmm. I tend to live in the present, so coming up with ideas for what I want my life to be, and planning for how to get there, requires shifting my brain into a forward-thinking mode that I need to use more often. In the future.

A designer who hasn’t acquired a sense of balance can end up creating a page layout that’s cluttered up with photos, copy blocks, headlines, logos and icons, different fonts, colors and textures all over the place. And sometimes they end up with awkward blank spaces as well. The eye doesn’t know what to focus on in a chaotic page. I look at my work from the past, and realize how much better I am now that I have the knack of refining my designs.

Similarly, I seem to have figured out so much in recent years when it comes to bringing focus and balance to my life. I remember being overwhelmed with all the projects, chores, obligations and hobbies that had me rushing around short of sleep while feeling lost. But gradually I pared my side-projects down to those I really cared about. Decided which chores were vital to get done and what I could just let slide. Started to set time aside for relaxation and exercise on a regular basis. Also, I’ve come to see the importance of turning my mind away from work and all my fascinating hobbies more often, and paying attention to the people around me.

It’s so tempting to take on additional freelance jobs, or start learning yet another CMS, or sign up for more social media sites, or get back into doing origami… but then I force myself to reflect on all that I’ve currently got in the mix of the 16 awake-hours I have in a day, and seriously consider what I really value and what would upset the balance.