Is there a silver lining in this otherwise cloudy state? Yes. What often gets overlooked is design and the role it has played in defining who we are as a state. Michigan has a robust history woven into the fabric of it’s existence. We are a state defined by design and innovation: Henry Ford and the assembly line, Cranbrook and the roots of graphic design post-modernism, Hermen Miller and furniture design, just to name a few. Although Hermen Miller continues to be a bright spot in an otherwise gloomy economy, Michigan is in a rut. Does innovation exist anymore? Many prominent firms are downsizing due to a reliance on the antiquated automotive industry. Agencies are outsourcing work to the east and west coast because they are want “cutting edge” solutions. Yet, we have extremely talented students graduating from some great local programs and entering a market that is not quite sure how to handle them. We also have a strong core of studios bleeding talent and expertise. What is it that’s keeps us from reaching new levels of innovation? Are we dwarves standing on the shoulders of giants unable to cast a new vision for ourselves? Why can’t we look beyond what we currently have and capitalize on our potential. Having just finished a book entitled “Good to Great,” the author Jim Collins states “Greatness is not a function of circumstance. Greatness, it turns out, is largely a matter of conscious choice.” I realized after reading this passage that although he was talking about companies this philosophy could easily apply to a town, city or state. It definitely can apply to Michigan in general and Detroit in particular.

So my premise for this article is this: what can we do as students, educators and professional designers to contribute to the rise of the Michigan design economy and make design a powerful tool for economic transformation? How do we get people to stop and notice that Michigan design is still relevant and powerful? No, it’s not naive to think that our design community can instigate change, but I do believe that it will take the effort of many and the vision of a few for us to make our collective design voice heard.

The next question needing to be addressed is how do we get there? It would be an impossible task for me to tackle such a large topic in one small article. If I have one piece of advice to give, it would be to create opportunities. Let me explain. Like death and taxes, paying off student loans is inevitable. As higher education costs continue to escalate, students have to maintain one, two and sometimes three jobs to avoid a devastating amount of debt. Unlike other countries who recognize the value and the strategic future of design, the United States has not historically embraced it. Having traveled to the Netherlands the past couple of summers, it’s both inspiring and frustrating to hear that government grants are readily available for recent grads to pursue their work and develop their skills without the pressure of having to get a “regular” job. The benefit is two-fold: students are able to pursue jobs that wouldn’t normally pay the bills but challenges them as designers and allows them to develop a critical voice. In most cases they are also able to build a base of clients that sustain them after their government funding has dried up. Second, the government has invested in the students future. In return, the students stay and the government benefits from their expertise and money that is injected back into the economy. We don’t have the same options here, so we have to make opportunities. I encourage designers to seek out collaborations with like-minded designers and artists. Strength is in numbers. Looking to classmates who share similar ideologies and seeking out relationships with artists and designers that share a geographic proximity will not only be a practical networking tool but will motivate us to greater things. It’s not always easy to work a full day and then come home to begin working on other projects. But with motivation and a group of colleagues pushing you towards a similar goal, side projects sometimes considered cumbersome can quickly turn into inspiring initiatives that fund themselves and present new career options.

Another strategy is to start projects that benefit other individuals and/or organizations. Whether it’s donating your design fees to a local non-for-profit or creating your own projects with proceeds benefiting a worthy cause; design can become an ambassador for goodwill. It can also educate a general public that generally lacks a sophisticated design palette. It is not my intent to bash the non-design population, but it is a fact that design can be seen as an elitist activity that the public generally does not understand. This is our problem to fix. The more exposure we can generate the greater level of public design literacy we can achieve.

And finally and most importantly, we need to promote our design community. Even though it’s not a design organization, GLUE (Great Lakes Urban Exchange) is a great model for us to follow. It was founded by two twenty-something Great Lakes residents, as a multi-media documentary, networking, and creative research effort to encapsulate day-to-day experiences in “declining” post-industrial cities and answer the question: what’s right and what’s wrong about my post-industrial city? What would happen if we applied this model to our design community. We need to tell our stories but lack the effective mechanisms to do so. We need less pessimism, more optimism and people to step forward and make change. When expectations are low, impact can be high. Whether large or small, if we collectively work together we can begin to shift the design paradigm.

We have reached that interesting point in the semester. Time is running out. The semester is ending, and deadlines are fast approaching. As time disappears our days get longer, and before we know it the line between dusk and dawn becomes blurred. We begin to shoot coffee by the gallons and intake sugar by the pounds. Projects must be complete and there is no room for error; not from the individual or from the accompanying machine.

For many of us, these remaining weeks in the semester become the seemingly ceaseless road that we must travel in order to reach the final payoff of rest and relaxation. For others, these next 300 hours are nothing new, as the adrenaline/caffeine fueled routine that success seems to require has been inherent in our processes all year long. We all work very hard, and by this point, we’ve built an incredible endurance and unaltered acceptance, (or at the very least a tolerance) for the grueling routine needed to complete our design educations.

Yet something concerns me. Students in the first portion of their undergraduate education brag to their friends about having to stay up all night. They proudly where yesterdays clothes, as if their unchanged outfits signify endurance, and carry bottles of energy drinks like some sort of weird, rightly earned trophy. (If you’re skeptical of my claim, ride the elevator in the ACB once or twice. Many weary-eye students will boldly tell you of their arduous nights, or just how incredibly demanding their major is, as if they’re the only one experiencing such strain). They haven’t yet learned. But by the latter part of our undergraduate education something disappears. The fun characteristics often associated with sleepless nights turn to fits of rage. The caffeine trophies we once carried proudly have literally lost their effect, and our repeat outfits only remind us that we lack the time to do laundry, adding to the fury. For many, it is here where design ceases to be fun. This is the point where we begin to compare our hectic lives to the lives of our “other” friends, and gripe at the unfairness. We have all reached that point, and simply put: if we’re still awake we’re good and burnt out.

Yet it seems pointless to rant about how much our lives suck or how mind numbingly exhausted we all are. It’s worthless to place the blame on our so-called “unsympathetic” teachers, as they too have rightly payed their dues to the rigor of a design education. I think the question to address is WHY design culture, both academically and professionally seems to always be racing the clock? When did graphic designers become 24 hour slaves to client deadlines and/or self proclaimed workaholics, who would sell their soul if it meant reaching that deadline on time? This isn’t an argument against productiveness or deadlines. One cannot deny that ultimate feeling of accomplishment when you’ve successfully completed a lengthy and grueling project, “on time.” I am more concerned with the seemingly constant demand placed on designers to follow unrealistic timelines.

In her article Cult of the ASAP (http://www.designobserver.com/archives/027657.html), Meredith Davis writes that many designers, “who promise unrealistic turnaround on projects” are at risk of “closing down any time for reflection” on the work they’re creating. Our ability to examine our own work as it relates to the world around us ends up being sacrificed to get the thing out the door. Not to mention, when one works with severe intensity all the time, they’re often sacrificing their own health and well-being for the sake of a project. We talk about better design coming from everyday observation. We discuss the need for designers to pull themselves away from their computer screens every once in a while and focus their attention on things outside of design. But with such high demands expected from designers, who has the time?

Of course to change the face that graphic design has established for itself, will take a lot more then this author’s singular opinion. Perhaps then the key for all of us, in the meantime, is to establish a balance for ourselves. As we leave school and transgress fully into the world of professional practice we each must individually establish our own set of priorities…call them life priorities. Graphic design, no matter how wholeheartedly devoted to, or 100% focused on we may be, is merely a small component of a generally bigger picture. Figure out how graphic design fits into your life…not how it controls it.

Megan: I have drawn my own conclusion, based upon both observation reading other sources, that many design students today focus their attention solely towards graphic design.They’re looking at books, blogs, and mags, all of which are exploding with various forms of the most recent visual communication. Though I recognize the importance of staying “current” with so-called design “trends,” I am concerned that young designers are limiting themselves by focusing on such a small part of our culture. Rarely do I see a design student reading a science journal, an architectural annual, or for God’s sake, even a newspaper, and more often then not, liberal arts classes are treated as the “fillers” between are “more important” studio courses.

I am wondering if this is something you’ve noticed among your own students or perhaps even other students around the globe. Are students today too focused on only design, and if so, how is this effecting the work being produced within design institutions? If you do indeed see this as an issue, how are design educators responding, and how might
this issue effect the future of the profession?

Ellen: I think it depends on the student. Some students are very well-informed and stay abreast of world events as well as design world events. Others don’t know nothin about nothin. I haven’t done any formal surveys on this matter, but I’d venture to generalize that those students who are eager to read up on design are also curious about the larger world. But maybe not science….

M: Well yes…I’ve always favored math over science myself. The issue of cultural literacy among design students has been frequently addressed, and certainly is an issue under constant scrutiny. At the 2003 AIGA
National Design Conference in Vancouver, William Drenttel and Jessica Helfand suggest that among students, “intellectual diversity,” is often discouraged in favor of “formal skill development” and the cultivation of “conceptual ability.” They argue that for design to matter, “designers need to think and know more about things beside design.”

You suggest that some students embrace learning with open arms while others simply don’t. Is it safe to presume that this has been, and always will be, the norm in any educational program? It would seem then that a design educator can only foster a certain amount of literacy in the classroom, and that at some point students must take
responsibility for their own cultural advancement. Perhaps then the “call for literacy” should be directed towards students and not their educators, if young designers are to ever acquire the vast body of knowledge that many suggest we need to advance the profession???

E: Perhaps there’s a difference (generally) between students who go to an art school and students who choose a university setting. The art school setting by it’s nature is more focused exclusively on art and design. I’ve talked to students in universities who really value the broader education they are receiving.

Myself, I enjoy teaching in an art school. The intensive environment lets
students develop much farther as designers and artists within the four-year
span of college. But their general education is weaker.

Talks to some kids at U of M?