In response to The Siren Song of the Personal Project

Armin suggests that the only benefit to the “personal project” is the “develop[ment] of a process of thinking and analysis with execution as an end goal”. Such exercises, goes the theory, do not prepare the young designer for his first job out of school, and as such are generally a waste of time. But the aforementioned thought development goes by another name: creativity. Surely, creativity shouldn’t be dismissed in such a fashion, least of all in an artistic profession. Here, Armin ponders why someone in our field would be drawn to a “personal” project:

“…I’ve been thinking about what makes a “personal” project such a desirable exercise not only for students but for practicing designers as well. Perhaps it’s the need to cope with the limitations of graphic design’s client-designer dynamic that trumps designers’ odd desire for self-expression.”

“Odd desire”? Perhaps artistic self-expression peaked in the 20th century, but the history of visual art has always been shaped -defined, really- by personal expression. Expression separates art from craft. Art has the ability to express that which language cannot (with the exception of poetry and poetic language; in short, written art). And lest I venture too far from design, the graphic arts themselves derive their power from their ability to express ideas more effectively than language alone.

So expression is important, you allow, but the message is always a given, and the designer’s job is to translate it visually, or at least to execute a pre-ordained visual idea. So at our best, we’re artists without a vision; at worst, tradesmen. I agree to an extent; the “message” usually descends to us from marketing, PR, or some such external source. And it is true that creating a work depicting someone else’s commercial aspiration doesn’t often require a fountain of self-expression.

But I dismiss these realities, for they are a reflection of our commercial society, not our identities as artists. We still value artistry, if only in a commercial, cynical way. This may dictate how I must earn my living, but it does not rob me of my identity as an artist, or my very natural desire for self-expression.

So should “personal projects” be reserved for those who’ve paid their dues? The lucky few who earn an income as designers? I think not. Artistic development should be encouraged at all stages of a designer’s career, unless the designer in question is not, in fact an artist. My point is that artists who wish to make a living must make compromises as designers. There is much for the graphic designer to be proud of, but let us admit- there is also much to lament. The limitations placed on us, the demands, the compromises, the insults…these things may help define us, but we should never praise them as good. Doing so forces us to lose hope, and settle for mediocrity in our work. After all, we’re just designers.

I was proud of this. I had to email a pdf of a barrel fold self-mailer, and the flat document just didn’t convey the finished piece. Heck, you wouldn’t even know what you were looking at, so I included a little graphic to show how this thing works.

Well, it’s that time again. I’m moving to Middletown, this time into a multi-family dwelling with several Wesleyan students. How did this happen, you ask? Gather ’round, kids. I graduated from Eastern CT State University last spring, after which I got a job in East Hampton. Since I was doing the Eastern/Willimantic thing, it was ok, until Jill left for graduate school in North Carolina. I’m pretty well situated here in CT, but there’s really no reason for me to stay in Willimantic. I love the town, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve heard too many “black hole ” tales wherein an unsuspecting individual enters Willimantic and never comes out alive.

So I charted a radius around East Hampton, then researched interesting communities within commuting distance. I came up with Middletown, and took the first (relatively) non-sketchy, affordable place I found. I hope I didn’t jump into this- I’ve yet to meet one roommate. I guess I don’t really care (I’m not picky), but social anxiety is wreaking havoc on me. Thank heavens I have Alex to help me move tomorrow. The van, lifting power, and extra set of hands all help, but it’s the company I’m truly grateful for. Wish me luck!