But now, the semester is over! The student show will soon be coming down, students are finalizing summer plans, and we’ve all caught up on that long awaited, and much needed, rest. It should be easy now, one might suppose, to complete the many tasks that simply just weren’t urgent enough to be done during the semester. I should be able to sit down comfortably at my computer and write this silly essay that I’ve been postponing for months now….but for some reason, I have less motivation now, this third week into summer, then ever before. My ideas are all here, precisely organized into a series of lists, and I’ve even developed some ideas into seemingly cohesive outlines, detailing the many points I’d like to address. But yet and still, no paragraphs, no rough drafts, and no post on Pixelgawker. I just can’t seem to retain enough focus, nor find the right time to write the thing.

So as I sit here this morning, drawing up yet another list of everything that I must get done today, (”email boss,” “schedule dinner with brother,” “venture to Apple store,” “archive last semester’s work,” “etc,etc, etc”) it has occurred to me that there may never be a “right” time. I may never get the chance to lull around inside all day, dreaming up the perfect topic to inaugurate a masterful essay, and frankly, I don’t think I really want to.  But throughout all of this personal stalling, my trepidation to write something in a rush, and this need to just plain WRITE SOMETHING, there comes forth an interesting thing for us all to consider over these next few summer months, and on into the upcoming semesters: That is, there is a profound difference between imagination and motivation. Think about this for second. We are all creative individuals, who have this wonderful ability, (and desire) to dream up wildly innovative ideas. But an idea is nothing more then a hopeful thought until someone musters up enough focus, or possesses enough motivation, to test it, try it, break it, challenge it, explore it, and develop it to its fullest. So whether your ideas arbitrarily fill sketchbooks, or exist well-ordered and in meticulous lists, these contents of your imagination will remain as such until met with a sufficient dose of motivation to bring them life. I may very well have a list of topics I’d like to write about, but until I find the time and discipline to sit down at my desk and compose something, I’ve actually accomplished nothing. Zero. Zilch. 

I suppose, if there is a point buried within this commentary on my own procrastination, it is this: Balance imagination with motivation. Understand that personal initiative is just as important to the enhancement of an idea as the idea itself, and realize that the best designers are not just great thinkers, but also possess enough ambition to develop their thoughts into something more. As for me, I’ll be working avidly this summer, to keep my motivation high and posts on Pixelgawker higher. But for now, at least for this week, I can finally cross “WRITE FOR BLOG” of my list.

Yet it wasn’t too long ago that I myself cringed at the idea of using ichat, while simultaneously belittling the community of flickr users for what seemed to be their over-zealous concern with their own self-exposure. I argued that excessive use of such programs was the main reason why so many students felt that they never had enough time to finish their class projects. Along with all of our everyday responsibility, how can one expect to be productive if they’re constantly clicking from site to site, checking for “new messages,” “new comments,” and all the like?

Then, as they say, peer pressure got the best of me. I began using ichat during my internship out of neccesity. It had become the most proficient way to send files back and forth, and even a better way to provide instant feedback on hurried projects. Soon after, I opened a flickr account, signing up for “pro” status almost instantly. These days I email, I ichat, I video chat, I audio chat, I flickr, I youtube, and I del.icio.us. Amazingly, I still get my work done…and on time.

There has been mention on this blog before about the use of technology in the classroom. In an interview originating from the Schools of Thought Conference 3, (see here) Chad Reichert talks about the importance of utilizing certain technology in design education, talking especially about the community it can facilitate outside of the classroom. He talks about the ease in sharing information, the peer-to-peer exhange, and the classroom time that can be saved when students are interacting and critiquing one another outside of our designated class times. Students agree. Some say that being connected into our own little self-governed digital community is the motivation that they need in order to stay up late and put the long hours into school work. Since we don’t have 24/7 access to a studio space, using this type of technology is the only real way to keep the dialogue going outside of class, and it seems to be working effectively.

As one of the newly converted, I too would advocate the use of this technology for peer-to-peer exchange. However, I would also like to suggest that ichat et al not become our only outlet for critical discussion. Being connected all day, everyday, means that our peers get to see the various stages of our process, providing feedback in stages along the way. Though this can be valuable, by the time our work makes it to the classroom wall, what else is there to say? Herein is where I find the problem. Yes, perhaps we’re taking full advantage of the technology placed before us, but it worries me that this technology may be eliminating opportunity for useful classroom discussion. That is to say, we mustn’t forgo classroom group critique simply because we’ve already put in our two-cents via ichat the night before. Technology must be used to supplement our in-class education, but not replace it.

Classroom critique is a neccessary part of a progressive design education. Hanging our work on the wall in front of our instructors and peers is a privelage, and should be treated as such. Though instant messaging may arguably provide instant feedback, this method eliminates one of the most important components of group critique; the group itself. Certainly, an online network allows for several users to comment in tandem, but only in a real physical group situation can group members comment, and subsequently feed off of each others ideas, almost simultaneously. How many times has a comment from Student A, struck a chord in Student B, and lead to new ideas that may have otherwise never even surfaced?

Finally, and what I consider to be the most important part of group critique is the chance that it offers each individual to develop a clear way of articulating their ideas and defending their position. Yes, CCS students have been ridiculed in the past for being incapable of cohesively explaining their work. The upcoming career event will test this notion, as each of us will be required to clearly explain our concepts and forms to individuals unfamiliar with us or our projects. Group critique allows us to practice, to get in front of our class, to explain our reasoning, and more often then not to clarify ideas within our own heads. A digital critique simply cannot offer this.

I intend not to bash the use of technology as a design tool. I’m far to immersed now. But I urge us all to continue developing our classroom critique skills. Develop a voice. Speak up already!

]]> http://spirit3design.com/pixelgawker/2008/03/21/supplement-not-substitute/feed/ 5 http://spirit3design.com/pixelgawker/2008/02/26/the-rise-of-the-michigan-design-community/ http://spirit3design.com/pixelgawker/2008/02/26/the-rise-of-the-michigan-design-community/#comments Wed, 27 Feb 2008 03:51:49 +0000 chad reichert http://spirit3design.com/pixelgawker/2008/02/26/the-rise-of-the-michigan-design-community/ I’m a transplant. I was born and raised on the southside of Chicago. Until I moved to Michigan 3 years ago, I didn’t know a tremendous amount about the state. Sure, I spent time at the beaches on the “west coast,” I knew that a place like Frankenmuth scared me and Detroit was a place that I thought I would never want to visit. I now work in Detroit and call SE Michigan my home. I commute downtown every day and live in the shadow of a city struggling to rediscover itself. To outsiders, Detroit is defined by high crime, misery (see Forbes) and a sinking automotive industry. To those same outsiders, Michigan is characterized by foreclosures and the mass exodus of unemployed individuals. Unfortunately, I have learned that most of these are accurate assessments. What I have also learned is that many of these characterizations can be applied to other states throughout the country. The difference is Michigan has done a better job of mismanaging their economy and a poor job of diversification.

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?

More…

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.

Failure. To lack success. To cease all function. To fall short. Failure is that doomed state that human beings, from all walks of life, indefinitely attempt to avoid. For many design students, failure is the unwelcome condition that we tend to block from our minds. The thought of being denied the personal or creative success that we all feel we deserve, is enough to send us running home to our parents in tears, straight to the local bar, or at the very least, to consider dropping all design related courses and enrolling in a business and accounting program at the closest state university. For some, the fear of failure becomes so prominent that the afore mentioned scenarios inevitably become the final “fix” in failure avoidance. But for others, all of us who are still here, still progressing forward, and still loosing every ounce of heart and soul in every single project that we complete, we’ve somehow managed to successfully suppress our fears of failure, and/or figured out how to still be productive when the possibility of defeat looms nearby.

I began to piece together the following essay towards the end of last semester, only drawing my final conclusions when the semester was over and I had time to reflect on my experience.This is not an step-by-step guide in failure avoidance. Nor is it an essay that will tell it’s readers how to succeed in this, or any, graphic design program. Rather, it is a personal reflection on a very personal fear of failure, addressing how such anxieties can limit progress, and ultimately confine one’s creative development.

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After three consecutive semesters of existing within, what I’ve called, my ‘”design plateau,” I’ve come to realize that the fear of failure has kept my creativity from advancing forward. As I sit here reflecting upon the semesters that were, I’ve come to conclude that this lack of progressiveness, has nothing to do with laziness, has very little to do with lack of effort, and even less to do with a poor attitude or overall “I hate design, I hate my teachers, and I hate this school” viewpoint. Rather, it would seem, that I’m simply afraid of failure.

Of course, failure means something different to every young designer who happens upon it. Student A might be afraid that her low grades will require her to retake some required courses again, while Student B might view her low grades as the factor that keeps her from making the Dean’s list. Student C may think that his mediocre final projects will make it difficult to develop a complete and presentable portfolio, while Student D might worry that his underdeveloped public speaking skills will keep him from presenting his pristine portfolio the way he knows it should be presented. Failure, no matter how it is interpreted, or what role it plays in one’s life, has the ability to instill some serious complexes within each of us.

In my personal design process, I attempt to avoid failure by sticking to what I know. I only use typefaces that I’m familiar with, I choose conservative modular alignments, allowing the computer’s grid lines to tell me that I’m correct, and I often prefer a simple black and white color palette, completely underutilizing the plethora of other colors in my swatch menu. Indeed, it would seem that I’ve never really left the cut and dry world of Type 1. My peers on the other hand, seem to have moved past their basic lessons in composition and typography, developing appropriate and visually stimulating solutions for complex concepts. Their work draws attention and engages the viewer, while mine sinks slowly into the background amongst the other “tastefully” designed pieces. It is as if somewhere along the path of my design process development, I skipped an important step. Or perhaps I just never inherited that “risk-taker” gene; that heriditary unit possessed by the roller-coaster riders, bungee jumpers, and, apparently, “grid breakers” of the world. (Indeed, roller-coasters are not my forte.)

I generally think that I avoid the risk of failure, continually opting for the safe route, in order to ensure that I complete my work “successfully,” and on time. We are very lucky here at CCS to be given the opportunity to experiment both conceptually and formally, as we develop our ideas. But when its all said and done, our experimentation and play is only that until we’re able to mold our new discoveries into a practical piece. Naturally, we’re expected to deliver a final “something” by the end of the semester, and a subsequent collection of these final “somethings” by the time we’re handed our diploma. So for me, as much as I strive to push my work formally, I seem to continually end up back in my safety zone; the comfortable place that ensures me a satisfactorily completed final project.

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As I mentioned, I wrote the above jumble of thoughts towards the end of last semester. As I sat looking at my final projects and comparing them to the work of my peer’s, I felt as if somehow I had fallen behind everyone else. I felt like my work was fairly plain and simple, and even a bit boring. I wondered how others were able to add so much visual interest to their pieces, and began to ask myself questions: Perhaps they were using a different process? Perhaps my design process was flawed? No. That wasn’t it. I’ve always been fairly confident in my ability to work through a problem. I begin with lots and lots of reading and reserach, then move into a brainstorming/sketching phase, then sometimes go back to more research (often at this point more visual), eventually deciding on a direction that I’m comfortable executing, and continue with the actual production through until the end…so what was it? Why and how was my work ending up so stale by the time it reached its final completion?

Then it hit me.

I realized that my process lacked a key factor. It lacked my own personal trust. Instead of trusting that my process will take me to new and exciting solutions, I bail out before I ever get there, falling back on my tried and true methods. By utilizing what I already know works, I greatly reduce my risk of failure. Or so I thought.

When one disallows their process to take them somewhere new, its only natural to rely on the basic methods we’ve been taught from day one. But what fun is that? If one already knows what they’ll end up with when they start, what good is a design process? Not knowing exactly where you’re going is a scary thing, but sometimes it is this very uncertainty that can help breath life into our work. Attempting to plan out every single aspect of a design process places limits on the possibilities, can deprive results, and eliminates room for chance or spontaneity.

I’ll end with a piece that I recently stumbled upon, written by Umberto Eco, the great philosopher, novelist, and semiotician. He writes about the principle of fallibilism in modern day science, stating that, “science progresses by continually correcting itself, falsifying its hypotheses by trial and error, admitting its own mistakes – and by considering that an experiment that doesn’t work out is not a failure but is worth as much as a successful one.” (1) Perhaps designers should start to look at their process is this way. I know that I certainly will. Failure is an inevitable component to what we do, but fearing these mistakes, and placing limits on ourselves and our process, might be the greatest failure of all.

1. Adrian Shaughnessy, How to be a Graphic Designer Without Losing Your Soul, (New York, Princeton Architectural Press), 2005, p. 145.

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?

CCS is not an easy place. It can be suffocating with large amounts of work and little or no time to do it. Each semester has a distinct life cycle that includes birth: the beginning the semester; celebration: creative inspirations; disappointment: getting hammered in a crit; milestones: the end of one project the beginning of the next; and death: pure exhaustion at the end of the semester. We (and I do include teachers) experience the same issues. I know the pulse of my class. I see their trepidation to experiment, their struggle to develop a process and their frustration when their results don’t meet expectations (theirs and mine). It is the academic cycle that controls us, beats us up and spits us out. It is also that same cycle that matriculates a CCS graphic design student able to respond to a design brief, articulate a vision, develop a smart concept and create amazing visuals. This latter part of the cycle gets lost in the fatigue-driven haze of school. As this semester begins to wind down I want to discuss the annual “OMG it’s almost break and I am freaking out because my insane teacher wants me to do so much in so little time.”

The key word here is time. Time is our enemy. It’s unforgiving and always works against us when we need it most. Time-management is a difficult concept to grasp when your day planner is 50 items deep. As I interact with students, talk about projects and critique results, time is always the complaint and/or fact. There is simply not enough time. So, I would like to briefly address two relevant and timely issues that I think students struggle with.

Technology
Your computer is plugged into the internet, you are not. In an earlier post I discussed the importance of online tools. I talked about the need for an online community to facilitate the transient culture of CCS. I stand by those words. But, as I have seen work habits develop (particularly over this past semester) I see students tethered to the internet. I see students spending so much time online that the definitions of productivity and futility begin to blur together. Focus is a problem. I depend on the internet as much as anyone. I read the news on my laptop every morning, download (legal) music every week and in the course of writing this post I have checked my email 4 times and went online 6 times. But I also make sure that when I have a pressing deadline I turn off my connections to my online apps so I can focus on the task at hand. It’s very hard to believe students who say they didn’t have time to finish their work yet when I walk by their desk, they are on AIM. Eventually students must realize they need to balance their online consumption with the demands and considerations of everyday life.

Internships
I am very disturbed by the demands that are placed on students by companies and bosses. In the past 6 months I have talked with almost a dozen students whose time is dominated by their internships. Yes they are necessary and you need money, but no you should not compromise an education that costs you $841 per credit hour or $25,230 per year so you can make sure the boss is happy because you logged 30+ hours. I have heard from several students that their bosses wanted to hire them and even offered them full-time jobs knowing they were still in school. Your education is priceless. Jobs will come and go, but if you don’t have that diploma and the full experience of college, it will hinder you career development. Please note, I am not advocating that everyone quit their internships but, I am strongly suggesting that you set limitations and don’t let your work, boss or peers pressure you into work. School should be your focus and the better your conceptual and formal skills are the better the opportunities will be for you upon graduation. I advice that you set a schedule and stick to it. Make an agreement with your employer that you will work a set amount of time and when it’s over, you walk away and shift your focus back to school. If employers do not understand or appreciate your dedication to school then you should reassess your situation. Finally, you must be realistic with the demands you place on yourself. There are not enough hours in the week, no matter how much sleep you say you don’t need, if you are interning more than 15 hours and carrying a full load of classes that include multiple studios.

This interview originated from the Schools of Thought Conference 3 where I presented on the use of technology in the classroom and how it will change graphic design education. This following exchange happened between myself and the moderator of my panel. Megan and I thought it would be relevant to revisit as she has contributed her own questions to supplement the conversation.

What do you teach?
C: I teach typography, time-based media, visual communications and graphic design history.

What technology to do you use in the classroom during your classes?
C: In the class, I don’t use any particularly special technology. The usual suspects include the erasable whiteboard and digital projector.

What technology to do you use to extend the classroom experience?
C: It’s outside the classroom where technology really helps me deliver content and facilitate community within the classroom. In particular, I use instant messaging, meta-tagging, bookmaking, file sharing, ftp, blogs and remote file storage. Currently, these tools and techniques manifest themselves in programs like adium, aim and bonjour or online communities such as flickr, delicious, feedmelinks and youtube.

Why did you start using these particular tools?
C: I started using these tools out of necessity. I began to realize the ease in which the students were sharing information. I also realized how increasingly frustrated I was getting by using the technology that was available to me a teacher working for a college/institution. I am very familiar with technologies such as blackboard and d2l and how they reflect the best and worst in content delivery. They certainly have the potential to be powerful, but unless the developers begin to acknowledge the lack of intuitiveness and poor design and work to fix the interface, it’s hard to rely on them in the classroom. These online content-delivery systems are not best practice. I am part of a department that teaches students a core of both interactive and print media. Simply put, we need to practice what we preach.

What’s so special about these tools?
C: They are inexpensive (if not free) and the learning curve is short. Most importantly, these tools are peer-to-peer. They don’t need a teacher or moderator to “control” the exchange of information. Rather, the students can interact however or to whoever they wish. Honesty and trust are important aspect of online communities. With someone facilitating the site or community, responses and interest will not be truly genuine: the students might be afraid of retribution.

What exactly are you doing with the tools?
C: I’m an advocate for the sharing of information. I am developing tools that help the students get the information in formats they are comfortable with. I am creating dynamic syllabi and project sites that students can share information. I enable my students to edit my bookmarks while adding their own research to the class content. I am not only sharing isbn numbers so they can buy or check out books, I am sharing online text, bookmarks, videos and images that are relevant to their topics. And most importantly, I am shifting the teacher-student model of learning so the student are more responsible for the content they are learning and in turn, they become more vested in the class.

M: So, it sounds like you rely on new technology more heavily outside the classroom then within. If you rely on these means to “deliver content” and/or “facilitate community,” are your students absolutely required to familiarize themselves with these means in order to “keep-up” or be an active participant in your class? Is it a “necessity?” If so, is it the student’s responsibility to learn how to use these new methods of communication, (if they don’t already) or does it become the instructor’s role to teach these new methods?
C: Outside the classroom, where most of the students work is completed, is an important time for the incubation of ideas and experimentation in form. Students need a sounding board that allows them to seek criticism and validation for their ideas. Online technology allows for such interaction to occur. At CCS, the dedicated students understand this and incorporate it into their process. They also realize that the reality is that there is simply not enough time during class to discover all the answers. The majority of thinking, doing and refining is completed at night and/or weekends. I can encourage interaction by using the tools in class and discuss the power of collaboration, but I certainly can’t force the students to utilize the technology if they don’t care.

Do blogs work for teaching design? Why/why not?
I think blogs are extremely relevant in teaching design. But they are just one form of online communication. As I said earlier, education blogs have a tendency to be a top-down structure. If they are to be used then they must be a safe community that fosters the exchange of ideas regardless of how ridiculous or mundane.

How is it affecting your relationship with your students?
C: As previously stated, this digital approach to teaching makes information delivery efficient and effective. It also allows the some information to be accessible 365 days a year. Without setting boundaries, some students believe that you should be available anytime. For example, I have just recently started to have one hour of office hours a week online. I establish a time and make sure if they want to talk they either send me a link where their images or photographs are located or they send a file directly. This way I can give specific feedback to a project. Otherwise I am talking about an idea that doesn’t exist and that is a waste of time for both parties.

How is it affecting the students’ relationships with each other?
C: This is the most exciting of online tools. Students are growing closer to each other because they depend on communication outside the classroom. Without a shared studio space, interaction is limited. Having surveyed my students online activities and the number of peers they interact with doing homework, I find it very encouraging that students are seeking each other out. And the dialogue outside the classroom is a reality.

Do these tool replace any “face time” with your students?
C: They certainly don’t replace, but they do facilitate the exchange of ideas. I encourage my students to have a dialogue outside of class. Even a simple conversation or quick online crit of a peer’s work will point out obvious strengths or weakness, That criticism, whether good or bad, makes the classroom time more valuable because for example, less time can be spent talking about basic composition problems and more time spent on appropriateness and concept.

Is distance learning viable? Does it really work? What about the quality of this type of education versus the traditional classroom experience?
C: My intention is to use technology to create a peer-driven dialogue. Of course, distance learning has its place and is appropriate for certain kinds of teaching. But for design, the most valuable aspect is the face-to face communication with your student and having an exchange of ideas. Being able to watch how a student reacts to a critique is an important aspect to understanding the psyche of a student. Body language and facial expressions let you truly know how a student is dealing with a problem. Web cameras are a good alternative, but until resolution and bandwidth increase greatly, nothing will replace the intimacy of a face-to-face critique.

M: Do you think students who don’t take advantage of, (or are unfamiliar with) online methods of communication are missing out on a critical part of the design process?
C: Yes, I do. But I do think it’s dependent on the situation. For CCS, our environment is quite transitory. The classroom is the meeting place to present our ideas. But the bulk of the work is completed outside school. Students need a mechanism that allows them to share ideas. If CCS had dedicated workspace then online communication becomes less important. For example, in grad school our communication took place in our studio spaces. Even when others weren’t around we could look at our classmates desks and see what they were looking at and how productive they were. Creative energy became tangible when we were able to see visuals pinned to the desk or taped to the walls. We worked hard and developed a healthy but competitive environment because we didn’t want to be outdone by our peers. Students in grad school who didn’t work in their studios tended to have sub-par work because they were unwilling to share and be an active participant in the creative community. We don’t have the luxury of physical proximity at CCS so a virtual studio must exist. Most students realize that this exists, but whether they decide to engage is up to them.

How have students changed (or not) since you began teaching?
C: Students are always seeking out new technology and they are not afraid of embracing new modes of thought. I don’t think students have changed, I think they have always been adaptable and with the proliferation of technology available at their fingertips, students remind us who the real media savants are.

Do your colleagues use them? Why or why not?
C: Yes. I can’t say all of them, but a good number of my colleagues are willing to try. I think it has to do with time. Just like with any tool, you must learn how to effectively use it. Otherwise, the user is prone to making mistakes. Being unfamiliar with new online tools breeds doubt, but once teachers get beyond the obstacle of learning how the tools work, they realize that good tools can actually speed up the delivery of information. Thus making their job easier.

M: Yes, I’ve had some instructors who encourage these methods of communicating, and several others who prefer more analog methods. In some situations, it would seem that students may have more knowledge or be slightly more “technology savvy” then their instructors. If this is the case, does it become the instructor’s responsibility to “keep up” and learn how to use new technology, so as to not hinder the student’s progression?
C: I don’t think instructors can afford not to learn new methods. That being said, technology is constantly changing and keeping up with software and applications can be daunting, not too mention expensive. But that is the good part about the aforementioned methods, most of these applications are free and easy to use. An effective graphic design studio integrates all forms of media and must be savvy in their use to compete in today’s workplace. The inability to adapt can lead to a complacent classroom. And yes, you are correct, the students consume media and technology at an astonishing rate. Some of the tools I utilize I learned directly from watching my students. They are a great barometer of technological trends and I am constantly asking them for feedback.

M: Do you see any downfalls to student’s excessive use of online communication?
Many students live online and don’t know how to unplug. Others lack the discretion of knowing when being online is appropriate. During presentations or crits, I’ll have students trying to sneak back on their laptop or cell phone to check messages that are not relevant to the class. It becomes a distraction and is disrespectful to their classmates and teachers. I now must stipulate on the class syllabus that cell phones need to be turned off. I also need to instruct students to turn off monitors or close laptops during presentations.
These bad habits are starting to carry over to the workplace. Employers are now starting to stipulate guidelines that applications like instant messenging are not allowed during a typical workday. Work habits are suffering because those who live online, by nature, can digest lots of different information but often are unable to focus for moderate periods of time. Eventually students must realize they need to balance their online consumption with the demands and considerations of everyday life.