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.

Recently, I spent a solid half hour in the school cafeteria, chatting away with another student. We were table mates by default really, she approaching me and my unoccupied seats in a desperate attempt to find for herself a place to land and enjoy her lunch. I introduced myself, she did the same, and we proceeded to talk about a variety of topics ranging from Detroit to the over-priced sandwiches offered in the cafe. As we casually spoke to one another, I remember thinking to myself, “Wow…how nice; how exciting to be interacting with a student from another discipline.” Then, as we both described the structures of our respected curriculums, along with the type of classes that we each take, something happened. This girl, this seemingly pleasant girl, looked me dead in the eye and said: “You see, the thing I don’t get about graphic design is that you’ll do anything to make money…it’s like you sell yourselves out.”

I’m not certain, but I would venture to guess that my mouth dropped wide open, and hung in that position for several unnoticed minutes. I couldn’t believe it! Why would someone say such a thing? Where would one get such an exaggerated idea? Not wanting to cause a scene nor let the ignorance of my “new friend” upset me, I made a stupid joke, (something about designers as prostitutes) hastily finished my lunch, and removed myself from the table.

Since this amusing little episode, I’ve spent a good deal of time dwelling over this girl’s comment. I have begun to realize that this wasn’t an insult from a malicious or arrogant student, but rather an insult from the uninformed. If she, an art student herself, hasn’t the faintest ideas what a graphic designer does, what does the rest of the world think? I certainly know what the majority of people in my world think: My dentist thinks that I design buildings, my next door neighbor is certain that I design cars, and even my own mother brags to her friends that I make “billboards and stuff.” If design surrounds us, if it truly is everywhere, then why do so few people seem to have an understanding of what it is?

I am less concerned with how the design profession has gotten itself into this predicament, (perhaps I or another interested party will explore that bit of history in another post) and much more interested in how we may be able to change the skewed view of design that many hold. Truth be told, there exists no miniature pocket pamphlet that describes for the general public, in 100 words or less, “What is Graphic Design.” In fact, if such a leaflet did exist, it would be very difficult to sum up the broad, and continually evolving field into a concise and decipherable paragraph. And how on earth, might we be able to present a comprehensive definition of design to the general public, if designers themselves cannot even agree. Conflicting ideas constantly surface among design students and practitioners, sparking sometimes heated debates on almost every thinkable design issue. One only has to look as far as the next up and coming blog to see the plethora of differing viewpoints on a variety of different topics. Indeed there seems to be very few common agreements found within the growing design discourse. Yet, I would defend the wide range of viewpoints, the countless number of diverse voices, and the continual questions designers like to throw at one another. Design discourse must uphold this critical nature if design is to continue shifting and adapting within the existing culture. Disagreement simply comes with the territory.

This, of course, still leaves the problem of defining ourselves to the non-designing public. With the birth and growth of DIY culture (see PERSPECTIVE magazine) everyone can be a “designer” these days. Its plausible to think that someone may design their own logo, stick it on all of their collateral and presume that professional graphic designers do the same thing. Anyone with a design background or knowledge of the profession and its history knows well enough that design has just as much to do with the “why” behind the creation of things as it has to do with the creation of the thing itself. Yet to the general public, this question of “why” along with all of the research and thought that forms the basis of our design decisions, gets overlooked. And really, when you think about it, how could it not? One cannot physically SEE the creative process develop, but they can see the logo you’ve made for them, which was really all they asked for in the first place. The focus rests on the tangible; the logo, book, website, poster, or billboard that you’ve created. The creative process, the inherent part of design that we politely ask our clients and teachers to trust that we’re doing, matters only to the design creator, not the design consumer. Perhaps here lies where things must change. If designers themselves, begin to describe their work in terms of the “why,” the “how,” and the “because of,” moving deeper then just a physical result, then perhaps designers and non-designers alike can head towards a direction of common understanding. Though designers may not all agree on issues of sustainability, or have identical methods in client relations, or use the same typefaces, the one thing that we all share is a common understanding and respect of the creative process. We must move away from defining our profession by the things we make, and instead focus on the significant ways we get there.

What is Good Design? Aubrey and I started to address this question in an earlier conversation, found here. In typical ichat fashion, we began to pose simple questions while exchanging impromptu ideas, barely scraping the surface of what could have evolved into a complex discussion. Our conversation resulted from the aggravating circumstances we deal with “on the job,” where “good” design boils down to one thing: Sophisticated color palette, elegant well-kerned type, simple-structured modular grid, and plenty of white space. Add some iridescent glitter, send it off the the lasar-cutter and you’ve got yourself one “well-designed” greeting card, good enough to sell for at least $3.95. My intention here is not to discredit my place of employment. (I think I’ve done that enough over the past few weeks) My point is simply that “good” design for some merely implies a style. If it looks “designy,” (or rather like it was born straight out of the Modern era), then it must be good. Plain and simple.

This question of “good” design has led me to think about the role of design in society, what it can be used for, and who can be effected by it. Is good design merely a subjective call on style? Is good design, responsible design? Is it socially conscience? Does it reach a broad audience? Can it make a difference? As developing graphic designers, we’re harnessing talents that can be used to greatly effect the way that people perceive the world. Who we choose to work with and what we choose to do with our skill will depend on the individual. But I would suggest that social responsibility has become an inherent part of design; an issue that cannot be neglected, like it or not.

At this point, I have nothing but questions regarding this complex topic. I’m interested in sharing some ideas with one another, and developing the issue further. I’m anxious to learn where others stand on this topic, and how, if at all, you see social responsibility shaping your role as a young designer…

The above quote is from Denis Leary, one of the great comedians of my generation turned network tv darling. It’s from about 1994, when my generation was embracing 70’s cool. Bellbottoms. I wore them, in 1994 they were available for two dollars at Value Village and they were “sweet.”

When I was in high school in the mid 90’s, and for a little while after that when I spent time with the hippies of the Ypsi/Ann Arbor area, our music, our look, and our um, “recreational activities” were straight out of the 60’s and 70’s. Jam bands. Think Rusted Root and Blues Traveller. Ugh.

I was born in 1976, which means I lived through Pretty in Pink on beta, Flock of Seagulls, and multicolored “jams” (look it up). Imagine my horror when I first saw high-waisted pants on women in the past year. They’re called Mom Jeans, nothing else. I recently heard someone poorly imitating my Talking Heads on the radio and felt, well, just dirty.

I programmed my TRS-80 Home Computer to flash random colors and sounds using Basic, and I nearly passed out blowing into my game cartridges when Duck Hunt would not mount on my original Nintendo system. I remember what that looked like, and now I see this aesthetic emerging in some recent design.

We are all guilty of Retro, but we do not realize how much Retro actually dates us. I believe there is a very distinct Retro Ratio. It seems popular culture works on about a 25 year cycle, and we seem to want to imitate the styles of about 5 years before our birth. Think about it, do the math, and mark my words: 8 Ball jackets will be seen in our own halls of CCS within a few years.

If this Retro Ratio is applied, the age and influence of a designer, musician, or otherwise purveyor of culture can easily be figured out, and what one may think of as a tricky attempt to cop and apply an older style only reveals the imitation of a current trend.

Going Retro is not a way around blindly following a trend. Be original, let the process guide the design, and please get rid of the puffy high-tops.

If I ever see this again, I quit.

I think it’s fair to say that I’ve developed the reputation as one of the more nervous graphic design seniors at CCS. I know that I am not alone, and that things are not all peachy for some of the rest of you as well, so I feel like it is my duty to take a look at things from this angle. Call it a sacrifice.

It is becoming quite clear, through personal discussions and the writing on this blog, that some students are having an easier time at school than others. Some of us are struggling to remain motivated and positive down this final stretch, while others claim to be breezing by in a state of pure design bliss. I’ve decided to expose this gap because I don’t want the rest of us to feel alienated or lose hope. I want us to share our anxieties, and I want those of us who are able to handle them better to offer advice beyond “just relax.”

One might think that the anxieties that I am experiencing are just my own personal problems that should be left to my own sorting out. Some may dismiss them as universal anxieties held by most college seniors. I do not think this is the case. I believe the confusion and pressure we of the nervous persuasion feel are uniquely attributable to the field we are trying to crack into and the overall weirdness of our chosen path. If you disagree, try relating this stuff to your friends studying accounting at Eastern Michigan University. Exactly.

In other words, we have come together at CCS in a very unique situation. We’ve taken a brave leap that few could even come close to being able to handle, and we should be damn proud of that. We are a privileged and intelligent bunch, genuinely in search of “something more,” and we have been given free reign to express ourselves in a cozy and nurturing environment. This is our time to get into ourselves and have some fun before the “real world” comes crashing down on us in May. For some of us, quite frankly it just isn’t fun anymore.

So what is it about this field that is so damn terrifying? As of this moment, I do not have any answers, and I can barely articulate the questions. I want to open this up to everyone to use this space as a place to work some issues out for each other. Where do the blockages exist that keep some of us from enjoying design? How have some of you fought through The Fear? What gives you confidence? What are some of you afraid of?

Please, let’s help each other out.