Book title page with title, Volume and Number information, and abstract of content

Placebos and fear of rejection

At one point in his career, Mike Mills published a small body of work in the form of a catalog (really more of a ’zine — thin, saddle-stitched, a coated cover stock protecting matte-coated interior pages) with Nieves Publishing titled “Fireworks”. He wrote that it was a time in his life when his doctor suggested he take anti-depressants. His refusal to comply was accompanied by a body of drawings that were simple in form, linear, graphic, and apparently absent of meaning.

I yearned to be creative, for years and years I was too scared to even try, so I did nothing… — David Rakoff *

He later explained the drawings acted as a placebo of sorts, a method for dealing with personal issues, justifying the creation of the works. They were collected, published within a small saddle-stitched catalog, and eventually, a copy found its way to my desk. Upon studying this body of work I began to seriously consider the more remedial aspects of an art-making practice — the potential health-related benefits embedded within the process of making. Traditionally, visual work is judged upon its visual and formal competencies (creativity, acuity of material manipulation, emotional effect, originality, expression of personal voice, etc.). These are the aspects of visual work that excite me as a designer and cultural producer. Lately, however, I have been considering other aspects of creative practices that, for whatever reason, present positive returns from the process of making.

Book page spread with essay

I have long dreamed about developing a body of work based on personal interests. For the majority of my career, I have been designing and producing goods for companies and clients situated around business interests and initiatives foreign to my own. Positive ROI projections, favourable cost-benefit analyses, strategic alignment with forecasted trends, and (as a previous work colleague I recently met with) the fact that MVP used to mean “Most Valuable Player” but has recently be reduced to “Minimum Viable Product” is a significant red flag for where we are as a ‘creative culture’. From Most to Minimum… All of these foreign interests have served as precursors to determining the viability of whether good design is “a requirement”, and these types of considerations have influenced the decisions behind much of the work I have been able to produce.

The most important thing you can possibly do is to do a lot of work. Do a huge volume of work.—Ira Glass*

Design is often seen as a business-led activity, and because of the very significant up-front costs associated with bringing a product to market in tandem with design fees, time required to produce quality work, R&D, through to the technical acuity required within the production process, there is little-to-no allowance within the extensive duration of design development for artful exploration, risk-taking, or chance (I prefer the term ‘serendipity’). The result is often a highly controlled process from start to finish where far too many stakeholders have a hand in the process and as a result, exert far more extraneous restrictions and redundancies with how design is allowed to bring forth something nobody predicted. Because of this hesitant approach from stakeholders towards the creative process of design on the part of industry, the mere thought of a personal practice towards making has continuously hovered as a personal dream somewhere off in the dark, misty background for longer than I care to admit. I eventually came around to take the leap. Why has this decision taken so long to make? The quick answer: fear.

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Within an episode of This American Life authour David Rakoff reflects on his early reluctance in submitting his creative writing to publishers.* His fear of rejection freezing any meaningful action or agency of any kind both postponed what was to become a stellar career as a cultural producer of the written word, elongating the grim circumstances of a life in question. “Lying flat against the tile of my kitchen floor listening to someone else have sex is essentially my twenties in a nutshell. I was robbed in that neighbourhood twice, there were days when it hardly seemed worth it to live in a horrible part of town just so that I could go daily to a stupid, soul-crushing, low-paying job. Especially since as deeply as I yearned to be creative, for years and years I was too scared to even try, so I did nothing…”* The decision to start somewhere — anywhere — with an idea or interest to be developed over time can be a physically- and mentally-challenging venture to get one’s head around. Will the venture be taken seriously? Will its effects be negatively life-altering? Can one’s credibility be jeopardized? Financially, will it be ruinous? Will it be enjoyable?

It’s weird when you see [the work] in the gallery sense, but in my head it’s more about the making of it, the process and what’s going into it even though you never see that because you see it in a white box.—Cody Hudson

A considered approach, but really, enough already

In chapter fourteen of writer Cal Newport’s So Good They Can’t Ignore You, the concept of ‘mission requirements for little bets’ is introduced, in which the argument is made that “…great missions are transformed into great successes as the result of using small and achievable projects — little bets — to explore the concrete possibilities surrounding a compelling idea.” [1] These little bets can be staged as baby steps, the process of inching forward by testing the waters while paying close attention to feedback loops and responses. These little bets need not break the bank or consume lengthy amounts of time. In fact, they should be built upon agile processes, nimble in speed and light in required resources. Experiments built upon agile thinking can be initiated quicker, with far less stress and commitment, and if successful, will leave few negative impacts that are impossible to recover from. Newport writes that in today’s world of highly connected networks and digital online tools, it is easier than ever to broadcast a message, exhibit a body of work, and reach interested audiences. The ease of access through the democracy of today’s accessible tech provides the means of production and distribution to a much larger pool of makers.

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Cautiously proceeding forward can be a good strategy. Assessing the context and one’s comfort level with risk versus reward can influence the nature of exploration into new and uncharted territory. Rakoff admits to this truth even while confident of his skill working as a writer within the field.

The important thing about little bets is that they’re bite-sized.—Cal Newport

Host of the podcast This American Life Ira Glass contributes an important insight. In a viral online video, he discusses his perspective on what one needs to be doing when embarking on any new creative venture. Where Rakoff may have taken a more passive route, Glass aggressively lays claim to a highly motivated and proactive stance. “Because it’s only by actually going through a volume of work that you are going to catch up and close that gap. And the work you are making will be as good as your ambitions.” [2] It is in the making that good things develop. Skills, craft, and efficiency of influence progressively improve with each successive attempt. He’s saying, Stop worrying and start making, knowing full-well that what you are about to do is not going to be good or easy. I have embraced this line of thinking, as I believe in hammering away at anything I feel merits attention. This approach to new ventures is most likely built within my DNA. I have always thrown myself completely and forcefully into initiatives that interest me. For me, it is the only way. The result might not always be favourable, and certainly not always successful, but the conviction and passion funnelled into a personal project will usually carry with it a healthy amount of inertia that when tested, will exhibit a force containing enough energy to push me through to the conclusion of the process.

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Hold the line

It was at my first design job out of college where I was told that I was not to be engaging in freelance design projects outside of work. The rationale was that we as employees were to arrive fresh and well-slept in order to pour all of our energy (our given souls) into the jobbing projects that found their way through the door onto our desks. This was the worst and most destructive advice that I was ever to receive while tip-toeing into my burgeoning practice as a designer. As a result of these draconian, uncreative, and ill-advised restrictions, I was left without any personal voice, and no laboratory in which to explore or entertain speculative ideas of my own. It was not until I left that office four years later for another much more progressive agency around the corner that I found the absolute pleasure and cathartic release of having multiple outlets for creating, researching, and collaborating around the prospect of doing great work. I found a world appreciative of the kind of work that I wanted to see more of in the world and, guess what — so did the world! Toronto Marlies. Toronto FC — Canada’s first professional footy club. NIKE! Working on these projects with Rick Amaral (a Toronto design and strategic-thinking legend with impeccable pedigree) was a fun, fast, enjoyable dream! It felt good, and natural. I began teaching design at OCADU, Canada’s most prestigious art and design university! Reflecting back, all of the creative individuals that I had been looking up to were developing both art and design skillsets: Mike Mills, Mike Perry, Cody Hudson, Margaret Killgalen, Ryan McGinness, Jim Houser to name a few. Cody Hudson cogently explains his multi-disciplinary practice: “The way I’ve set myself and the studio up is that there are two halves, where I feel that if it’s a painting, it’s a painting by Cody Hudson. Or if it’s an artist t-shirt series… to me that’s a Struggle Inc. project. It’s coming through the design studio, it’s ending up on a computer and getting sent off. To me it’s such a straight line it’s really not a problem.” [3] The ability and willingness to work in a multi-disciplinary capacity provides many opportunities to both assume the role of “content creator” and open up space to reach wider audiences through design. Here, art and design combine through clearly-defined roles. Hudson’s work is cohesive. The work that he produces in his studio bears similarities to the works produced in paint and exhibited in galleries. There is a seamlessness within his practice: he possesses the ability to move from one form of making to another with ease, and his trace is left throughout all of the mark-making and outputs. His work over the course of his career has continuously expressed a strong identifying hallmark of the artistic creator, which is intriguing looking back over the extent of his portfolio considering the breadth of the work. I have always admired this ability for working broadly, of being able to interface with a range of work, media, and context that — ultimately — creates solar systems of autonomous pieces completely united within a defined vision. Some designers simply understand the application of visual language.

Book page spread with illustration №1 and №2

The work contained within this first book of mine serves as the initial tentative steps made into the process of defining a personal practice. They were created at a point of considerable personal difficulty, and exist as records of having survived it all. The making of these drawings require considerable time, and this time spent focussed on the complexity of detail approaches meditative practices. They were created between August and November 2015. They were originally developed with the intention of being adapted into the medium of a book.

Jayson designs, draws, writes, and documents his world at jaysonzaleski.com. He can be reached at [email protected].

References:

1. Newport, Cal. So Good They Can’t Ignore You: Why Skills Trump Passion in the Quest for Work You Love. (Business Plus, New York), p.111.
2. Ira Glass on Storytelling Part 3, Public Radio International, current.tv
3. Art Talk, 2011 Vice Media, Inc.