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.

Somewhere along the lasting line of design school history, it was declared that life after graduation was the end of the world as we once knew it. The blissfully invigorating freedom we’ve all come so accustomed to, slowly sinks away when we enter the world of professional practice. Life after love is rooted in this restrictive world; a world where clients exist as the people to please, and our original and innovative design ideas vanquish in the face of subjection.

I find this particular way of assessing life after love a bit dispiriting. If love is supposed to be a formula for deep affection and intensely passionate feelings, then where does that leave one without it? In the absence of love, are we to be continually miserable? Are we to dejectedly mope around mourning the loss of what we once held so close, desperately longing for anything to fill the void in our loveless hearts? Is that what life after love really is? Is that what life after design school truly looks like?

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I was recently perusing our school’s library when I came across a book entitled, “Life After…A Practical Guide to Life After Your Degree.” Flipping through the contents, I quickly learned that this book was outlining, in 150 pages or less, how to best put a newly earned degree to practice, while acquiring and retaining the job of your dreams. In a carefully spelled out, step-by-step guide, this publication would help ensure its reader that they were on the right career path, help them learn how to keep their motivation levels high while searching for various positions, guide them through the wonders of networking, and explain the proper way to make the transition from “scholar to worker.” Of course, following these easy steps is guaranteed to ensure any candidate a fulfilling and “good life.”

How incredible, I thought. What a wonderfully convenient resource! How nice it was to have found this handy, travel-size life manual to help guide me through, the long and miserable path towards my loveless life. Of course, this book, like many others of its kind, assumes that current graduates will earn their degree, prepare an impressive portfolio, find a job, and live happily ever-after in a nice new office, supplied with nice new macs, working for well-paying clients. Indeed this is one scenario. But, on the other hand, what tends to be omitted from guides like this one, is the advice that tells a recent design school graduate how to adjust to professional surroundings after spending four exploratory years within a rigorous academic environment.

Perhaps this portion of life after our degree is left out on purpose? After all, the real world, I’m advised, can be somewhat discouraging. An instructor once told me that I better enjoy the freedom that I have while I’m still in school, for once graduated I’ll be at the mercy of a client and their design “expertise.” As a rather young student back then, I remember thinking, how awful of a thing to say to someone. It was just so pessimistic. I assured myself then that I wouldn’t be THAT type of designer, and remained convinced that I would surely be able to find a job that would give me maximum control over all my design decisions. However, as I’ve advanced further and further in my four year program, I too am leaning on the side of pessimism. As students, we continually hear about the “client driven world” we’re about to enter. We’re assured that the late nights and long hours still exist and that original work often gets disregarded in favor of the trendy or cliche.

Sometimes I feel like design students are subject to a massive prank. We’re taught how to think in new ways, and are exposed to innovative work around the globe, but are subsequently told that our authorial rights end when we leave school. If life after school is indeed all about succumbing to clients, budgets, and consumerism, then why do we spend four long years of our young adult lives, killing ourselves to create smart, idea driven design? What’s the point?

In the three and a half years that I’ve been a college student, design school has become a great love. Regardless of common opinion, I tend to believe that life after school will provide me with just as much satisfaction. To ensure that we’re all more apt to reach this fulfillment, I suggest that we instigate a new optimism into design culture and practice. Life after school mustn’t be viewed with such negativity and despair, but rather with fresh hope and expectation. Designers have a unique talent, granted the ability to alter the way we utilize, view, and experience the things and ideas in our everyday lives. Perhaps our next step should be to change the way society uses, views, and experiences designers. As class after class of young designers receive their respected diplomas, they are given a responsibility to fulfill. Rather then moan and groan about the way professional practice operates, why don’t we change it? Lets start believing in a different life after love.