The Value of Creativity

For much of my life, I grappled with the value of design. At times, I even prioritized business acumen over my creative skills.

I came up in a world that was comfortable discussing things in terms of logic and numbers, disregarding emotions as irrelevant, indulgent, and inferior. The clarity of logic provides a sense of security while emotions are changeable, intuitive, and complicated. Generations of parents have told their creative children to pursue "smart careers" for stability and prosperity, shunning them for being foolish if they chose to pursue their art. The starving artist is a very powerful archetype.

No wonder so many professional creatives struggle with their worth.

Most designers are comfortable estimating the cost of a project by the number of hours required to complete it. But determining an hourly rate means determining a subjective value for something that can't be easily measured with numbers, and for most professional creatives that's dicey territory. Cost follows a logical formula, and value is emotional.

But the advent of AI is turning this age-old way of thinking on its head. AI will soon be faster and more efficient than humans at solving and producing things in the realm of logic and numbers. The number of roles and jobs it will replace is paralyzing to consider. Even STEM jobs are at risk – for math or logic-based jobs AI could replace humans and likely will do so. Roles that commanded high salaries will be done cheaply.

But designers excel in an area where AI can't overtake us – emotional intelligence.

Sure, AI can create adequate images at an astonishing rate but they quickly feel flat. Meh. That may be adequate for some things, but they're cheap because they don't really mean anything. And there has always been a market for low-quality design that no one aspires to. A lot of my fellow designers are scared because they view their value solely in the execution of design work, as a commodity. They view peers who incorporate AI into their work as traitors, or sell-outs. But they're missing our true worth.

Professional creatives rely on our gifts of intuition, discernment and empathy to connect with our audiences on an emotional level. Our talents are rooted in how we see and perceive the world in unique ways. AI can only create iterations of what has come before, it can't innovate on an emotional level. History may inform and inspire us, but we envision the future.

I believe there's a great opportunity for designers to use AI as a partner, not a driver. It depends on us to feed the ideas, prompts, and objectives. We focus on the bigger picture and provide insights, while it can help us iterate and explore. It can’t make critical creative decisions, we do.

The true value of creativity has never been in the mechanical execution – it's in the emotional resonance that makes people feel something. When I create a brand identity that makes a client truly feel seen, that's not just pixels arranged on a screen – it's an emotional connection made visible. When I design an environment that makes people want to linger and engage, that's emotional intelligence at work.

In this new world, perhaps we'll finally recognize that the ability to understand, interpret, and evoke human emotions is not a "soft" skill to be undervalued, but the most essential human capability we possess. As AI handles more of the logical and technical aspects of creation, our emotional intelligence becomes the differentiator – the thing that can't be algorithmically generated.

So I'm no longer grappling with the value of design. I now see clearly: my worth isn't in the hours I log or even the technical skills I've mastered. It's in my uniquely human ability to feel, to understand emotions, and to create work that makes others feel something too. And that, no matter how advanced AI becomes, remains invaluable.

Emotions are Everything

I'm convinced that everything of value comes down to feelings.

When I was grappling with the value of design, my business coach introduced me to the Elements of Value Pyramid from Bain & Company. It's a tool that divides the fundamental elements of value into four levels of need: functional, emotional, life changing, and social impact. The more elements provided, the greater the customer's loyalty and the higher the company's sustained revenue.

Design lifts a functional commodity into the realm of emotions, increasing its worth exponentially.

Take office space for example. An overwhelming array of real estate meets the functional objectives of providing physical space for workers to meet, provide efficient IT services, ensure security and safety, streamline operations, and create a physical legitimacy for an organization. Logically, it's adequate and serves a purpose. But employees aren't motivated by it. They may even feel negatively about it, affcting their feelings towards the job.

Add thoughtful space design to the office and you get an atmosphere that engages people on an emotional basis — inspiring focus, collaboration, pride, and aspiration through color, form and texture, space flow, lighting and a myriad of architectural approaches. Bringing people together in a space they enjoy tells them they matter to the organization and have value beyond what they produce. It engenders loyalty and a sense of belonging — high elements on that Bain pyramid.

Behavioral economic theory further supports my insights. Daniel Kahneman's work on System 1 (fast, intuitive, emotional) and System 2 (slow, deliberate, logical) thinking shows how decisions are typically led by our emotions, followed by rational analysis. The power of emotions is evident in consumer behavior everywhere, from luxury brands to health care enrollment we base our decisions on how the choice feels. Even those who claim to make decisions primarily from logic do so because logic makes them feel good about themselves - more in control, more intelligent, more rational than the "emotional masses." Their commitment to logic itself has an emotional foundation.

This doesn't mean logic has no role — it's vital for implementation and verification — it's needed to play. But our values and what we ultimately care about are fundamentally emotional in nature.

When we strip away all the justifications and rationalizations, what remains is how something makes us feel. That stunning home with the view? It's not about square footage or property values — it's about the sense of awe you feel each morning looking out the window. That expensive coffee ritual? It's not about caffeine delivery — it's about the comfort and small pleasure in your daily routine.

As a designer, I've come to embrace that my true value lies not in technical skill alone, but in my ability to understand, anticipate, and deliver on the emotional needs of clients and users. When design succeeds, it's because it connects on a feeling level that transcends the merely functional.

Everyone is a Storyteller

I’ve jumped on the LinkedIn trend of design professionals positioning themselves as some variation of professional “storyteller.” I get it, it’s a buzzword that increasingly appears in job postings and may be key to ATS filters. And it sounds elevated and interesting. But at first it made me feel cringey, like a code word to fit in. After some marinating on it, I developed my own meaning for that title.

When I call myself a visual storyteller, I see it as part of my process. Design can imply story, or more accurately support it through identities, settings, and props. I create the world that the story exists in. Or more accurately, that a family of stories live in — stories created by the customer, participant, or users. These stories evolve and change outside of my control.

As a brand strategist, I help clients think through their brand values, mission, key touch points, and ideal customer profile. We articulate the behaviors and relationship we strive to nurture with them through potential stories of how those interactions could occur. When presenting concepts, I use story to frame designs and help clients envision our intended impact of each direction. These stories are internally focused — not expressed directly to the audience.

Everyone is a storyteller — we all weave the narratives of our lives, writing our own story every day. It’s how our brains work and why it’s effective in branding and marketing. Good stories get and hold our attention, especially in a fast-paced world. But no two people experience things in exactly the same way. A brand story is multifaceted and built over time by the people it attracts. They build the community behind the brand. As an effective designer, I adjust and support that evolving brand as I become a story listener and story farmer reflecting their voices.

What Defines an Experience?

There’s a lot of buzz about the design of experiences and placemaking. The isolation of the pandemic lead to a universal desire to connect with our communities in person, and that desire keeps growing. At the same time, technology is speeding up our lives and shortening our attention spans. I’ve noticed a common interpretation of “experience” being primarily about what things look like, with an ever increasing appetite for the new and different. Something that can be captured in a handful of images posted on social media. With a quick scroll, these experiences become trendy, then common, and quickly obsolete. This visual churn misses the point of true experience.

After watching several SEGD conference presentations, I find myself diving deeper into the meaning of the word experience. The graphic designer in me jumps immediately to aesthetics — color, light, physical space proportions, typography, identity, and style. The strategist in me focuses on the targeted outcomes we’re aiming for, budget constraints, and media options. The communicator in me considers the key stakeholders, messaging, and challenges. The event host in me thinks about sounds, tastes, and smells. As effective and important as these things are, they’re essentially surface effects.

Paula Rees of Foreseer defines the designer’s role as placesetting vs. placemaking. The set is not the experience. It’s not the story. The experience itself is actually created by each participant. At its core, experience is about emotions and interaction. We may have intentions, and certainly we can guide people thoughtfully through a space or event, but every person has a unique lens and filter that creates their perceptions. Behaviors and a sense of connection come from those feelings. The most impactful environmental designs I’ve witnessed take time to go through, whether they’re public spaces, parks, restaurants or museums. A visual experience is just an appealing image without depth.

Connection and belonging require informed collaboration between creator and the participant. The best experiences inspire us to be present and engaged — to savor, share, and indulge on a deeper level.

Palm Springs

After a wedding in the desert this weekend, I stole an hour to indulge in one of my guilty pleasures: shooting images that capture a unique sense of place.

Most people’s vacation albums are full of images of friends, family, & famous landmarks. Mine are a collection of details most people don’t even notice: architectural details, typography, way finding, signage, textures, landscapes, & color palettes. I’ve been building my souvenir library of placemaking images for decades. I’m obsessed with documenting the elements that build each location’s unique identity. I love how each combination of images creates an emotional profile, a visual story that reflects my experiences.

Palm Springs evokes a sense of swingy, mid-century modern optimism and freedom. Historically, it was a popular get away for celebrities due to its proximity to LA — old Hollywood contracts had stipulations that actors remain within 2-hours of studios when in production. Their presence built an elevated yet playful mystique that is still present today. It’s a living museum of MCM homes that are meticulously maintained. Art, design, and culture are just embedded in Palm Springs’ DNA.

So what was I able to collect in one hour to convey this desert haven’s essence?

1) Color

The natural light in the desert is crisp and clear, giving color the perfect stage for the bright, cheerful colors associated with this western city. Mid-century tones of mint green, mustard, flamingo pink, sunset orange and aqua that would be kitschy or garish elsewhere feel happy and welcoming here. They’re colors that could feel overly dated but here they still manage to feel fresh and current. Almost classic. They just work.

2) Typography

As a graphic designer, I have a special affinity for typography. Signage has always been one of my favorite things to hone in on. The different fonts and the way they’re composed for roadside recognition is incredibly powerful. Each location shows trends that subtly dot the landscape, giving it a unique voice. In Palm Springs, there’s a real penchant for playful, casual script typefaces that give off a relaxed resort feeling. Even the more modern san serif treatments have personality. Helvetica would feel uptight in this environment.

3) Patterns

While iconic mid-century modern homes are the undeniable star of the show, the patterns achieved in breeze brick around them are key elements to creating that MCM effect. They’re everywhere in endless variation, reminiscent of the playful forms from Rae Eames and Alexander Girard. They provide a sense of depth and rhythm to the simple, minimal lines of the modern architecture they adorn. I kept wondering where they were sourced, and if there are still local vendors producing this dazzling array of styles. Is it difficult to replace vintage ones when they get damaged?

4) Textures

The California desert is a study in harsh extremes where only the toughest survive — stone, sand, cactus, blacktop. Palm Springs is a man-made mirage — a lush mix of tropical palm trees, manicured lawns and golf courses, and coiffed boxwood hedges. The dramatic contrast between the natural and built environments has created a unique sense of place, different than other western desert towns.

5) Sky

I can’t close without acknowledging the one constant in Palm Springs - the glorious blue sky. Dominating the landscape, its a dramatic lead character that reduces even mountains to supporting characters. In most urban landscapes, our view of the sky is obstructed by deciduous trees and evergreens so that we often don’t even notice it. But in the desert, you just can’t miss its presence. It lifts your spirits — the perfect backdrop for a playful escape. It’s a critical component to the Palm Springs experience.

Blue

Blue is the color of water and sky, associated with serenity, stability, inspiration and wisdom.

It has a positive effect on our wellbeing, giving off a feeling of calm.

HISTORICALLY

• In Ancient Egypt;

• During the time of the Roman Empire,

• Chinese culture,

• In Japan

• In Africa

SPIRITUALITY
Blue symbolizes different things across spiritual traditions:

• Buddhism =

• Christianity =

• Hinduism =

• Islamic =

• Judaism =

MARKETING
Blue connotes stability, reliability and wisdom, so companies that depend on customer trust and loyalty .

Common phrases using blue include:

• The blues/feeling blue = depression sadness

This list just scratches the surface, but underscores the importance of really knowing your target audience. Its wise to understand cultural impacts of colors as we expand into an increasingly global society.

Pop Tops

Have you ever noticed that plastic water and soda bottles are recyclable but their plastic tops are not? That really annoys me — why can’t the entire package be reclaimed?!

On a 3daysofdesign podcast episode, product designer Øivind Alexander Slaatto made a comment that stuck with me. When asked about his inspiration, he said he reflects on everyday life, observing people and his own frustrations. I really appreciate how he framed his work as first solving something irritating, instead of starting with making or selling something beautiful.

On a parallel track, LEED and BREEAM effectively measure and assess the sustainability of built environments. But what if there was a scale rating the varying degrees to which all design can solve problems? It could be similar to the global farm animal welfare standards, where each level builds on the previous:

• Level 1: No cages or crates

• Level 2: Enriched environment

• Level 3: Outdoor Access

• Level 4: Pasture-raised

For sustainable design, the levels could be aligned with the number of problems solved, for example:

• Level 1: aesthetic improvement

• Level 2: clarifies information

• Level 3: reduces waste

• Level 4: is regenerative

Of course aesthetics matter, but they are a basic requirement for good design. As the number of solutions increases, so does the design value… and my interest. I want to do more than “decorate”. I want to improve the world around us, and elevate how we feel.

I tentatively accumulated some plastic bottle lids during the pandemic, but had Level 1 ideas to use them for some kind of outdoor art. It wasn’t inspiring enough, so I moved on to another project and abandoned the whole idea.

Now, I’m revisiting this frustration and material with expanded curiosity. How can I use them to solve multiple problems with an elevated aesthetically result? Focusing on the garden, what other problems would I like to solve? Can they be combined to create screens or trellises for produce? Garden tools? How about supporting endangered insects by giving them shelter or nesting opportunities? or water receptacles?

This exercise may never make it past my own backyard, but you never know.

Design Hero: Natalie Chanin

On an intense business trip to Chicago, I stumbled on a designer that would influence not only my design sense but my mindset for decades. Her thoughts on slow fashion, the value of craft and sustainability were foundational to the experiments that eventually resulted in The Green Goat Project.

I’d had a long, depleting day of meetings, sonI escaped into the iconic Barney’s department store for a much needed dose of joy. Barney’s was unique — very well-curated, elevated and creatively inspiring. Catering to an affluent and culturally curious clientele, it was the perfect place for me to soak up style even if the price tags were above my budget at the time. Both the escalators and prices rose as you ascended floors, and they championed progressive, unique designers.

I’ll never forget seeing that Project Alabama jacket: it was constructed from layers of printed t-shirts, appliqued, stenciled, embroidered almost like graffiti, but also in a pattern. It was elegant but it also had the comfortable, friendly quality of a quilt. It was precious, yet made from common discards. Something a rock star would wear, and something I instantly wanted to learn to make. So I went home and did my online research, discovering Natalie Chanin —- the creative genius behind the work. There wasn’t a lot of info out there about their technique or philosophy. I tucked it all away in my mind as I got sucked into my job and day-to-day demands. But I never forgot her name.

Eventually, I found her online sewing course teaching the techniques used by her studio, Alabama Chanin. I dove in. I’d been doing needle crafts since I was a child. My mother taught my sisters and I to make clothes, curtains, cushions, quilts… anything we were curious in was learnable. I gravitated to embroidery and creating my own surface designs, so Natalie’s approach was a great way for me to inject my traditional skills with a new, modern sensibility. Overtime, I designed some of my own surface patterns and color palettes for my own wardrobe. Drawing inspiration from each book she wrote, I embraced not only details about her story, process and materials but also her philosophies on sustainability and Slow Fashion.

The underpinning of the studio is inextricably tied to her home town of Florence, Alabama, a former giant in the American textile industry that had fallen on hard times. She established a full studio, hired local quilters, and built a thriving business that creates high-value, high-quality garments. She also opened a school that teaches her beautiful techniques and sustainable clothing philosophy to students around the world. Her work sustains more than the planet — it sustains her local community by bringing tangible work and income. For the lucky people who have discovered Alabama Chanin School of Making, it sustains the creative spirit of thousands of home sewers and contributes to an increased sense of value in their needlecraft work.

Natalie Chanin’s story made me think about my own clothing choices. It challenged me as a designer and as a concerned citizen from a region reinventing itself. She gave me courage to try techniques that may fail, to experiment with colors and textures. The beauty of her work opened my eyes to the ideals of elevated recycling. She inspired me to reach beyond the predictable design of haphazardly combining pieces of wool to create a crazy quilt, to use my design skills to create something beautiful from discards.

Her evolving design work, her story, philosophy and values continue to inspire me and I am so grateful that she shares so open-heartedly.

#nataliechanin #designhero

A tale of three spaces

One of my strategy clients is looking for new office space and called me yesterday to get my input. A therapist and a corporate HR consultant, she’s looking for a professional environment that works for both types of client and gives her separation from home.

After listening to the features, benefits and drawbacks of her three options we talked to through the tactical pros and cons of each. One has a charming feel and nice downtown location but there are parking and access issues for clients with mobility challenges. Another one had great parking and professional decor but no windows. The third was significantly more expensive and required her to invest in a significant rebuild but would be very cool when done. All had good points and downsides. Any one makes sense on paper and would “work.”

Then I considered her brand and the perception she was building. Her initial key brand attributes include understated authority, safety, security, trust, openness, joy, inspired, confident, adventurous and hopeful.

For a counselor focused on mental and emotional wellbeing, how her clients feel is a key consideration for her brand. I challenged her to consider how they’d feel in each of the spaces. Her consulting clients rarely meet at her office - she goes to them. And the majority of the individuals she counsels prefer in person sessions to virtual. So they’re really her core audience when it comes to her built environment.

The tone of her space should feel safe and comfortable for people dealing with anxiety, depression and life crises. Natural light is more than a luxury here. Studies tell us daytime sunlight exposure has positive effects on mental health, and reduces the symptoms of various mental health disorders, including depression and anxiety, while reduced sunlight exposure can trigger feelings of depression and anxiety. The windowless space would be working against her goals.

As baby boomers age and retire, she’s seeing an increase in patients with physical challenges that make stairs problematic. One of the spaces was on the second floor of a charming, historic building with narrow back stairs. Clients with canes and walkers would feel the opposite of secure, safe or confident before they get to her office, and after they leave her session. Not a match to her brand goals at all.

Looking deeper at the emotional impact of each space gave her a new layer of clarity. The choice of professional space is more than a real estate contract and location issue. She didn’t necessarily see it as a brand issue, and I didn’t frame it as strategy. But that’s what it was. Ultimately, we narrowed all three spaces out as they are and came up with other options to explore.

Office Space

As the new year kicks off, I’m finding myself thinking a lot about work environments.

When I talk with my former HR consulting colleagues about the future of work, I hear about the struggles large organizations have bringing employees physically together. Business philosophy and generational differences often come up, and the focus tends to be on willingness to comply and ways to encourage or entice staff to come back to the office. Real estate costs and profitability loom large. Plus there are certainly some roles that are task-focused, and workers who prefer to be remote or need to travel. Then there’s the opinion mill: “This generation just refuses to come to the office…. that generation is lazy… People will never want to go back to the office - why should we?”

On the other hand, I hear something slightly different in the trenches. The people I meet at live networking events are searching for in-person ways to consciously connect with others, collaborate and learn new things. Conversations with colleagues at my coworking space challenge the traditional assumption that professionals of different generations demand different things from their work arrangements. Increasingly, I’m seeing that even roles or industry don’t dictate preferences as much as they did pre-pandemic. It’s more personal now. There’s a desire to balance a paycheck with emotional wellbeing. Many people choose to pay a hefty monthly fee to work among other humans in an engaging place. Some coworking colleagues even work for large corporations, preferring the energy of a coworking space to their corporate office.

Employment is and always has been a relationship, not simply a transaction. The quality of any relationships is based on feelings, not logic. How people feel about the company drives more of their behavior than the paycheck does. And work environment plays a big part in how employees feel about their jobs. Open floor plans aimed at flexibility and efficiency resulted in cold, loud spaces that led to feelings of frustration and alienation. “Hotelling” meant no personal space and eroded a sense of belonging. When the pandemic drove people to the comfort of home, we felt safe and at ease. We could focus without struggling to tune out office banter.

I think the RTO (return-to-work) challenge is increasingly about a sense of place — one where employees feel comfortable, valued and connected. A place they want to be in. It's not about efficiency, complying to company rules or checking off the number of days onsite — the long game is about culture.

The big picture around work space is clearly evolving. A large number of people, regardless of age and profession, seem to gravitate toward work environments that provide more than their home office can – focus, social connection and inspiration. They want to connect with other people for impactful work and projects, not redundant meetings that can be done virtually. No one wants to waste time, energy or gas. Succession planning has eroded, and younger people are actually curious about business processes and recognize the need to be present to build relationships and opportunities to advance their careers. More senior folks long to share their knowledge and mentor people one-on-one. All of this is enhanced by communal spaces to gather in.

Leveraging the power of the work environment can be a powerful tool to build, foster and maintain a thriving culture. Brand strategy is key to developing an authentic culture that resonates with the right people for an organization, whether its employees or customers. Adding work space design to a robust brand strategy can be a key element to attracting and retaining key employees, which in turn improves innovation and profitability.

Office design is no longer a luxury — it’s a strategic business need. Coffee stations and lounge areas provide more than comfortable places to gather and exchange ideas — they create a sense of community and ease. Quiet spaces do more than block out disruptions, they set the stage for flow state and a sense of accomplishment. Windows do more than provide natural light — the views provide an expansive space for minds to wander into and distill information strategically. Color, lighting, and texture all affect the human experience and our potential.

How we feel matters, especially to the bottom line.

Constant Craving

I’ve been escaping into the nostalgic comfort of 1990s music, over the past couple of weeks.

Over the weekend I bumped into k.d. lang’s Constant Craving, a 1992 hit in the U.S., and started thinking about the lyrics. On the surface it sounds like a haunting love song. But I’ve heard its actually about all human desire and longing. Eventually it led me to considering those concepts in the context of modern design and branding.

Not that long ago, branding was really focused on selling. We highlighted features and benefits to consumers. Design was focused on aesthetic, differentiated styling. Products fed a consumer’s craving for status, practicality and newness. But it seems like our constant cravings have evolved and in response, modern marketing and advertising have expanded past profit into the realm on intention.

Why is brand story telling so essential to success now? Maybe because we want more than stuff - we want to feel more, find meaning in things and connect.

Don’t get me wrong — I crave the quick dopamine hit of McDonald’s just like everyone else. I don’t need a deep story or meaning from that, sometimes I just want a break from a stressful day.

But more and more I hear people of all ages talking about how they crave live connections. The pandemic certainly gave us the time and space to consider the things that really matter to us. Live, in-person experiences with other humans seem to be priorities for many of us. Brand stories are beacons that resonate with increasingly specific audiences, building culture and communities.

Seeing, doing, hearing, eating, moving… our value of connection with other people is on the rise. The places we gather in — restaurants, stores, work sites, public gardens, museums — are ripe with opportunity to elevate the human experience, and successful brands are embracing placemaking.

Look, our world is increasingly divided, and I know negativity and tribalism is a profitable and easy way for brands to increase profitability. But I’m an optimist, and I believe by crafting conscious products, events, spaces and experiences that genuinely connect us, they can also enable us to satisfy our craving for belonging. At least until the next craving hits.

Emotions + Branding

I’ve been thinking a lot about the power of emotion, lately.

Between the political climate and the upcoming holidays, emotions are getting stirred up. And it’s only human for us to want more of those that feel “good” and to avoid the ones that feel “bad". I’m learning to get more comfortable with my shadow emotions that feel negative, because pushing them out of sight doesn’t really solve anything. But when I stop and think about what they’re telling me I can own them and deal with whatever issue they raise. Sometimes they can even transform into a positive lesson.

Emotions play a massive role in branding. A brand’s effectiveness and authenticity is tested in the shadows, and the way they issues are addressed is often tested publicly. A solid brand strategy should bring up both positive and potentially negative market perceptions, with honest dialog about the most authentic way to manage issues. I find working with archetypes to be a great entry point to these discussions. Emotions are key to articulating the character makeup of the brand and target audience.

I find both clients and colleagues are really uncomfortable identifying and talking about the shadow aspects of identity. And its tempting to focus only on the aesthetic aspect of brand identity — to make it pretty and just get it checked off the to-do list. It’s common to see admitting challenges as admitting weakness. I think it’s a sign of strength and wisdom to fully know yourself, so that when the inevitable crisis hits your solutions come from a place of humility and authentic values. There’s nothing like corporate speak and spin to damage a brand reputation. We can all smell it a mile away.

Progress is an Antidote to Perfectionism

Graphic designers are notorious for being perfectionists. When we’re inspired and really in the flow, we have a strong drive to create work that completely expresses our vision and our potential. It’s intoxicating when you create something that feels spot on. And because there are aspects of our work that are very technical and detailed, we can get bogged down striving to do everything just right.

The devil is in the details.

That quote has been attributed to Mies van der Rohe, and I probably first heard it in art school. It was meant to focus us on the importance of getting the details right, since visual design can be thrown off by very small mistakes. I have heard that Mies may not of said it, or that the real quote is God is in the details. Either way, this is a great foundation for training future perfectionists. Add in Instagram and glossy media images and down the yellow brick road we go.

Now I interpret that phrase to mean too much focus on the details can kill progress, slow things down, create paralysis and blow the budget.

I still find myself intent on creating excellent work, but I’m far more aware of the line where perfectionism becomes a hazard. I’m able to weigh the value of time spent in perfecting details and make a conscious choice.

An example is around creating Photoshop mockups vs. developing new pattern concepts. I get great satisfaction from seeing my work applied in a 3-D rendering, and I often use existing mock-ups as a starting point. But sometimes I need something that doesn’t exist yet, so I create my own. I always get a sense of accomplishment when I’m done, but talk about time consuming!

At the same time, I’m feeling inspired to start a new pattern collection and that requires a ton of focus and time — plus I love the process. I’m at the sketching point and have good ideas floating in my head that need to be manifested with pencil and paper.

The key for me is to determine what my main goal is: perfection or progress? If I choose perfection, I’d invest a few days to get the mock up perfect then move to the next project. Problem is, at the end of the week I may get one project done yet lose the flow of inspiration on the patterns. If I choose progress, I’d ask myself if the mock up, in its current state, achieves the goal of communicating the concept. How much more value is there in the technical detail - is it really about pride? insecurity? fear of judgement? And what is the value of exploring the pattern designs? Inspiration is a gift, and when I’m in the flow it feels very expansive and alive. Creative exploration leads to pride, security and courage for me.

I’m choosing progress.

My Value Proposition

Over the past couple of years I’ve been in a career transition phase, giving a lot of thought and energy into determining what I want to do in my next chapter. I’ve explored several creative disciplines, indulging myself in things that I’m passionate about. I’ve met a bunch of interesting and very authentic people who have shifted my perspective on what is possible now.

A couple of things have become clear to me:

1) Beauty has an incredible power to connect us and improve our overall experience.

2) My mission is to serve the world by contributing my creative talents to elevate wellbeing through tangible experiences & environments.

I’ve applied my design skills to many arenas over my career, from corporate campaigns to editorial design to cycling jerseys for athletes to legal presentation exhibits for high-profile national court cases. I’ve leveraged my creative talents to educate, entertain, and build cases for justice. All of those are valuable and valid ways to apply design to improve the human experience and I’m proud of my accomplishments. But I want to do more than serve logical, intellectual purposes. I want to do more, impact people more emotionally and spiritually.

3) Beauty is an antidote to the ugliness around us all — I’m not referring to surface or cosmetic ugliness. I’m talking about the challenging aspects of our lives.

The world has changed — both the external world and my internal world. There’s a great deal of ugliness around us all. Politics, media, technology fears and social unrest seem to be growing. The level of distrust, cruelty and contempt is more palpable than any time I can remember. Yet internally, I sense there’s more to this all than meets the eye. The old paradigms of command and control are breaking down. Chaos brings an opportunity to quickly make lasting changes.

I intend to contribute to the positive, beautiful experiential aspects of this world. I’m most curious about exploring how design can improve environments - whether it’s for office design, restaurants, shops or gardens.

I’ve been very practical most of my life, accepting and adhering to the conventional belief that one has to choose between financial security and following their heart. That doing work aligned with one’s purpose is a luxury and even foolish. What if that belief is wrong?

This all feels a bit rebellious, risky… and very satisfying.

Compete vs. Collaborate

I feel like most companies are motivated by one of two underlying principles: competition or collaboration. Sometimes this is articulated and sometimes its more subtle. I don’t believe one is inherently better or worse. But I think its wise to know which one you’re dealing with; whether it be with a client or your own employment situation. And its important to know which fits you best.

The most common one I have encountered from a corporate perspective has been a competitive environment. Perhaps that’s a very American way of approaching things - after all, capitalist markets thrive with competition. By having rivals, some companies and individuals are pushed to improve in areas they wouldn’t without outside influence. Consumers benefit by getting better pricing and new features when companies vie for their business. Marketshare grows by conquest of your competitors’ audience. There’s a lot of money to be made by the dominant company - the winner. This is a bit of an established, old-school way to operate.

From the inside, companies that encourage a competitive culture also benefit by pushing people to improve in ways they may not without that push. When your pay increases are positively impacted by beating your coworkers or outside companies, the strongest contributors tend to deliver. Those with athletic backgrounds or personalities that love competition thrive here — its very motivating to be “the best”. The downside is that it can create an environment of distrust and obstructive politics. Winning means there’s a winner and a loser. If you’re not a winner, you’re a loser on some level. That’s means part of the workforce feels superior while the rest may feel inferior. The superior group has trust in the company and their managers, the rest can become leery in general. That’s a tough thing to manage and motivate. I drive for economies of scale can result in valuing quantity over quality.

A collaborative environment is one where all parties bring different strengths to the table and are open to sharing. It requires a significant amount of trust in your partners and sometimes feels a bit risky at first. But once you do a couple projects together and everyone wins, a momentum builds. Innovation can thrive in this environment of trust. I’ve experienced this culture more in small design firms. Designers, writers and illustrators work as peers on projects, each contributing their strengths; and if they are aligned they get a great flow going. This does require a certain amount of chemistry and that can take a lot of trial and error. The individual rewards and pay may not be as high as they are in a competitive environment at the outset. But over time, the competition in these situations is between the clients — if you’re a small team with in demand skills doing quality work you can only serve so many clients. Its easier to value bill as well. This feels like more of a win/win situation. There’s a good a mount of faith required.

The world isn’t black and white of course, and I am making generalizations. I’ve been in competitive environments that expect coworkers to collaborate and even build it into goals. Maybe it is possible, but there has to be a certain level of trust to truly be successful. If the underlying company culture includes distrust of your peers there’s an internal struggle going on for colleagues. People tend to build a trusted circle of peers that they stick with and new connections take time to build. Once those alliances are set, there can be a cap on growth and innovation.

I’ve never been a big competitor — I’m not athletically gifted and I don’t really care to be “better” than anyone else. I have always believed everyone has their own kind of genius, and superiority is an illusion that divides us instead of connects us. At one point, I took up tennis for exercise and to meet people. I knew I’d never stick with it when I started feeling bad for my opponents who were so disappointed when they lost. It wasn’t that important to me to win — I just wantd to have fun. I used to see this as a weakness, but now I see it as a strength.

And there’s a strength in being a great competitor, too. One isn’t better than the other… Life isn’t really a competition…

Green

Today’s post is inspired by the emerald green grass growing out my window today, brought to life by the first thunderstorm of the year. That iridescence makes the downpours and gloomy skies worthwhile.

Green is the color of nature, growth, renewal, prosperity, Ireland, ecology and money (in the US, at least). On the shadow side, green is associated jealousy and inexperience.

It has a positive effect on our wellbeing, giving off a feeling of calm and serenity. A walk in a green forest can reduce anxiety and ground us.

HISTORICALLY

• In Ancient Egypt; the god Osiris, king of the underworld, was depicted as green-skinned.

• During the time of the Roman Empire, people would soak items made of copper in wine, which caused a chemical reaction that resulted in a colored pigmentation referred to as verdigris

• Chinese culture, green corresponds to wood and represents the color of growth and development in the Five Elements ideology.

• In Japan on the 29th of April every year, they celebrate Greenery Day on the birthday of Emperor Shōwa.

• In Africa green symbolizes and fertility, the abundant and vibrant natural wealth of Africa

SPIRITUALITY
Green symbolizes different things across spiritual traditions:

• Buddhism = balance, youth, harmony, vigor and karma. Buddhists believe that by meditating on green, your jealousy will turn into wisdom.

• Christianity = life, resurrection, new beginnings

• Hinduism = rebirth, new beginnings

• Islamic = paradise, nature, heaven, bliss, beauty, fertility. Allah described the people in heaven as wearing green silk garments.

• Judaism = renewal, hope

MARKETING
Advertisers use green on food packaging to imply freshness.

In North America, green is a commonly used as a brand color for financial institutions due to its association with money, growth and prosperity

Green is slang for environmentally aware practices, sustainability and climate improvement efforts so it used increasingly to signify climate-friendly products.

Greenwashing is a term applied to companies that try to appear more environmentally friendly than they really are.

Common phrases using green include:

• Green-eyed monster = envy

• Greenbacks = US dollars, prosperity

• Getting the green light = approval to move forward

• Green around the gills = feeling ill

• Going green = efforts to improve climate sustainability

• Being a little green = inexperienced

• Green Party = a political party based on the principles of green politics, such as environmentalism and social justice.

This list just scratches the surface, but underscores the importance of really knowing your target audience. Its wise to understand cultural impacts of colors as we expand into an increasingly global society.

Personal Archetypes

Although we use archetypes in branding, marketing and storytelling, Carl Jung originally studied them as tools of psychology. Their real power lies in how they influence and reflect the full human experience, not just our shopping profiles. If you consider your own habits, identity traits and ambitions against the universal human archetypes you can see the bigger picture of how you navigate the world.

This is more about personal development than it is personal branding, which has been a pretty trendy topic. We run into characters throughout our lives and we react or respond to them from the lens of the characters we have chosen to identify ourselves with. We all do it, and some of them are obvious: devoted wife/husband, singleton, nurturing mother/father, obedient or rebellious child, competitive athlete, gardener, artist, cook/chef, gambler, mentor, and ambitious entrepreneur to name a few. Then there are the less flattering ones like bully, dictator, victim, servant, people pleaser, and vampire. We all have some of these, and they show up in our relationships at home, at work, with friends and especially on social media. These characters can define and run our lives if they remain in our unconscious. And for a lot of people they do.

My life shifted when I started to really look at the story I had written for myself, and the roles I had embraced, both positive and negative. When I was totally honest with myself, I realized that some of my story had run its course, and I didn’t really want to continue some of those roles. The story was ok, but it wasn’t going anywhere satisfying. And life really is short, so what’s the point of settling for a storyline that doesn’t interest you? Playing roles you don’t enjoy? Why NOT be authentic? Once I waded through that mental muck, I learned the best part: we always have choices and the ability to write a twist into your story.

If you pay attention to your archetypes you realize that they evolve over time. You can choose to retire some of them, either because outgrow your need for them (obedient son, apprentice) or they no longer serve you and you want something more (victim, bully). You can thank these identities, be honest about how they served you and then bid them goodbye. They may pop up for a visit from time to time, but they no longer have the power to define you.

Who are you showing the world? showing yourself? or your family and friends?

And who do you want to be?

Visuals vs. Words

A picture is worth 1,000 words, right?

Well it turns out that an image is read by the brain 60,000 times faster than text. People are more likely to remember information conveyed with graphics vs. words alone, and consider images more engaging. Hence the effectiveness of infographics to convey complex processes and ideas. Icons transcend language and are understood across cultures.

Some writers argue that text is a visual too. But it takes the mind longer to translate the text characters into concepts than it does to recognize an image and trigger everything it associates with that image — positives and negatives.

To “illustrate” is to “throw light on something” — illustrations are often more effective ways to help people understand complex concepts, while photographs are more likely to depict a single example.

Archetypes 201

Leveraging archetypes is a common component in brand strategy and identity development. The 101-level focus is usually on articulating the personality that differentiates the brand in the market. But its also very important to identify the archetype mix of the ideal customer — and its not always a mirror of the brand identity.

Brands essentially have relationships with their customers or audience. And like any other relationship, to be satisfying both parties need to get to know and care about the other party.

So, after articulating the archetype mix of the brand itself, its only logical to identify the archetypal mix of the ideal audience as well. Sometimes, we even start with articulating the audience’s archetype mix first and auditing the existing brand against that.

The days of a product successfully marketing to “everyone” are long gone. - we are now a bunch of demographic islands with overlapping preferences. We don’t buy things anymore based solely on the features they offer and the price. We want more from our purchases, be it goods, services or experiences. Behavioral economics have made it clear that humans make most decisions from an emotional standpoint, even if we think we’re being logical. What we purchase say something about us, and we are increasingly aware of that. Brand identity isn’t just about the company behind the product — it’s increasingly about how the brand makes the purchaser feel about themselves.

Having an accurate and authentic read on a product’s key audience is critical for the bottom line. Building a long-term, trust-based relationship with customers takes ongoing efforts by the brand team, including refining and correcting as dynamics change.

Learning is an Antidote to Apathy

A couple months before my sabbatical, I started signing up for all kinds of creative classes that I had always wanted to take but never had the time to. In person or virtual, I just wanted to be back in that environment of exploring new things with other curious people. I was a bit overly ambitious and forgot how much time it takes not only to attend classes, but to experiment and do the assignments well. I admit to being overly ambitious, and not being able to devote as much to every class. But I did realize something about myself after awhile: I not only like learning, I feel more engaged in life when I’m studying something new, diving deeply into a subject.

I studied some topics via formal course over multiple months, like illustration and surface pattern design. But I also attended live lecture series on architecture at Cranbrook Museum of Art, the Detroit Historical Society, and public libraries. Sites like Creative Live, Skillshare, and LinkedIn gave me really fast, self-paced ways to learn new skills. I found YouTube videos to help overcome issues in a pinch when I was wrestling with some new technique in Photoshop and Illustrator.

For the past 10 weeks, I’ve been taking a Foundations of Gardening course. With weekly readings, classes and tests, its been a lot more work than I expected. I felt like I was back in college in a lot of ways. Over the past three weeks or so, I got overwhelmed and was ready to finish this up and take a good long break. Tonight was the last live class, and now I just have the final exam to take.

Funny thing is, I don’t really want that good long break anymore. It’s been awhile since I took a cooking class — maybe Korean or Thai is next up!