Work, in Plain English

I’m continuing to explore surface design on the Spoonflower site, and just received new fabric samples for an oak motif I’ve been developing over this past summer.

The quilting weight 100% cotton fabric in these photos is $18/yard. Some other fabrics they carry are sateen, knit, twill and canvas. Click here for a description of all available fabrics.

Spoonflower is a “fabric printing on demand” service, allowing users to purchase and sell designs that they upload to the site. I’ve always wanted to learn more about surface design, and this turns out to be a fantastic way to do it. The process is slow, since swatches take about 21 days to be shipped, but that helps me pace myself. I spend more time researching and thinking, putting together collections of ideas, and less time churning out a million permutations of a new motif.

Here are a couple of designs that just came in the mail. I’m still deciding on the best way to photograph these. Coins and pen are to show scale.

Anders Toxboe has put together a beautifully organized thinking place for web designers and user interface designers. Go there to reference screenshots, design patterns and practical articles. Better yet, join the community and upload your personal favorite user interface screenshots.

Very similar to this site is Pattern Tap. I suggest you check out each of them and decide which is your favorite (or join both).

Other good design pattern sites are:
Janko Jovanovic’s Janko at Warp Speed
Peer-written journal, Boxes and Arrows
The venerable Yahoo! Design Pattern Library

And finally, spend some time with (and bookmark) this delightful Smashing Magazine post on mathematics in web design.

The other night, we got a last-minute chance to see our friends perform in a neighborhood production of Les Miserables.

I had a blast shooting to the rhythm of stage lights and beautiful kids.

See the rest of the Flickr set here.

I found Alex Beard’s Face to Face a few weeks ago, and it turns out I like it a whole bunch more than my 11-year-old does. It’s a highly visual game, and he is a highly auditory-kinesthetic processor. Fortunately for me, we’ve got friends who are more in the visual spectrum, and I’ve had a couple of chances to play—and then document—this interesting game.

The delightful collection of eyes, mouths and noses are all turned upside down and players choose eleven pieces each, which they may then see, and hide from their opponents. Taking turns, players match eyes to noses and mouths to noses, and colors must match. Eyes can’t match with mouths, nor eyes with eyes or mouths with mouths.

That’s as much detail as I’m going to share. Learn more about it by clicking the links above. You might also like to check out the original 72″x48″ piece the artist painted for the game.

A key part of getting yourself inspired is noticing when something is dragging you down.

Reading a creative journal (such as a design annual) can spark ideas, but not always. Sometimes it can be a weighty tome of trendiness, or worse – mediocrity. Bottom line: Hold to what you know inspiration feels like, and keep up the search until you get that feeling.

To paraphrase the provocative (read: can of worms) definitions over at Dictionary.com, to be inspired means to be brought to the state where we can and will bring something into being. (It also means to inhale – to breathe. Is that why a simple walk outdoors can get the proper juices flowing?)

So check in with yourself. If what you’re doing to seek inspiration is not getting you moving (and breathing), do something else.

Very important: I didn’t say resist. If your day presents you with an uninspiring situation, deal with it. Example: I just found out my son’s swim class wasn’t canceled due to rain. Bye-bye $25. I was stuck in Grinch-mode until I remembered to just be ticked off: From there, it took another minute or two to admit it was my own fault for not reading this week’s class email. Again. That made the blame bit an easier bridge to cross, back over to curiosity, a sense of humor… and look! I’m thinking about inspiration again.

We’ve been living in Southern California for three years now, and I finally took my 10-year-old son to Disneyland for his first time last week.
For the first two years, I was either too busy or too cheap, but the guilt was building. After all, I was born and raised in SoCal, and trips to Disneyland were something I could take for granted.

This last year, it occurred to me it might be a good thing that until now, he hadn’t experienced the picture-perfection I had been immersed in growing up with both Disneyland and Hollywood. As it turned out, there were plenty of good things about the day I finally parked our car in the Donald Duck section.

We had a fantastic afternoon, and a magical evening, staying at the park until past closing time. That allowed us to experience a second, line-free and creepy-cool trip through Pirates of the Caribbean (got our own boat, and no one in the boat before or behind us), plus a semi-cooks’-tour of the Jungle Cruise.

One unexpected perk was that I got to do something together with my son that helped me see him as the young man he’s becoming, rather than the little boy he was. After all, we have no shared Disneyland Past. As for the boy, he got to exercise and strengthen his pre-teen critical thinking skills (“How did they build that?” “They don’t miss a chance to sell us souvenirs, do they?”), along with plenty of wide-eyed wonder. That park still utilizes all the secrets of creating an immersive environment, and hypercrafts a world you can lose yourself in.

He’ll never see “Maisy & Bill’s Walk Through Time in Georgia” the same way, but he’ll be eleven in January. He’s already leaving much behind: It’s about time I caught up.

I’ve been asking myself this question lately, and thought I’d hash it out in a way that might be meaningful to others. The more you ask those sorts of questions, the more answers you tend to find, but I’ll just give you three, because it’s a nice, round number.

I design because it’s the main lens through which I understand my world.

That’s really a lot less cosmic than it sounds. I think.

I mean it more like, “This is how I live my day-to-day.” I get up in the morning, I am presented with new information, new experiences, and I process them by finding or creating the composition that best expresses how those things fit in my universe. It’s an ever-expanding universe, so the compositions have become more complex, more subtle—but there is always a pattern, which I lay out visually, if only in my own head.

A little later, I head for the office (or the wi-fi cafe) and continue to do what I would do anyway, with the added challenge of integrating the understandings and goals of others.

In the evening, my son regales me with a massive report on the latest wii/playstation/online game arsenal and the powers of each weapon. It’s a lot to take in, and I can only make sense of it if I can get to a paper and pencil. We make an illustrated list: Womp Chunkers lob fireballs, Double Blasters fling missile rings and Whirling Laser Cannons shoot in a double helix. I made that up, but I think you get the point.

I design because there is nothing like seeing someone’s face when you’ve exceeded their expectations.

Sometimes, clients have very specific expectations. When the picture is super clear—pretty much a mandate, when they’ve done the design and want nothing added to it, I generally try to send them elsewhere.

I live for clients who prefer conversation. Maybe they bring marketing wisdom, business know-how and their unique creativity to the table. Maybe they bring a new product or service, and the burning desire to give it a voice. They provide the background story, objectives and vision. They provide loose design ideas, market/user requirements or examples of designs they like.

I listen and ask questions, and then respond with a first round of concepts.

It usually takes a couple of rounds, back and forth. More wisdom—more questions. More vision—more concepts. Some struggle, some doubt, and then… the moment when the project seems to transcend itself.

The process is synergistic, so the whole really does emerge as something much greater than the sum of its parts.

I design because I believe people are basically good.

I always aim to tell the truth with design. I’m not interested in making something look bigger, sexier or more valuable than it really is. Instead, I “fall in love” with the object of my work, tuning in to the bigness/sexiness/value/whatever that is in it, even if it’s not showing yet. From that place, I come up with ways to tell the world about it.

Most clients sense this in a finished project. It’s really exciting for everyone involved when not only the true amazingness of their business is given form, but also its true potential—a wide, sunny vista of its future self.

I can see at least a couple of other reasons gurgling out of these, which is a good thing. I suspect there are more than three times as many reasons to design as there are people who do it.

PS: Numeral art is the work of Fay78, whose delightful line drawings I’ve found excuses to buy (via istockphoto.com) and use often.

I’ve got nothing against low-priced design. You generally do “get what you pay for”, but there are exceptions, and really, it may be all you need.

Morgan Lynch, founder of Logoworks, tells a story of the disappointment and expense that led him to start the company. Designers should read it, and his criticism of the traditional design process, to learn some important lessons about providing exceptional value for clients.

Why do so many designers charge more? Because, if they are doing their job right, they’re spending time and resources to give you a symbol that will be pivotal to growing your business. When your business grows, the value of that symbol will grow tremendously. Experienced designers understand that value from the beginning, and provide abundant sweat equity to give it a voice.

What are they doing with all that time and effort?

1.
They’re asking questions, and listening – to you and to your industry. What’s important to you? How does this project fit into your long term goals? How do you expect to use and reproduce it? And hopefully, how might you unexpectedly find yourself using it?

2.
Another important element is research. It overlaps listening, but includes the leg-work involved in finding out: What attracts, inspires or offends your target market? What’s the smartest way to produce your materials (printed brochures, coded websites, etc.)? And what’s new – what couldn’t we do before that we can do now?

Finding a good design studio that won’t vaporize your budget takes some careful poking around. There are also a lot of talented, hard-working people out there who are not charging enough to cover their own overhead (if you choose this route, make sure to be gracious, and to pay them promptly).

Lower priced designers often don’t have the time to do much listening or research. They must produce and bill quickly to make a project worthwhile. On the other hand, lots of people have wasted ridiculous amounts of money for poorly researched work, or an identity program that completely missed the mark. You may be one of many businesses who’ll have plenty of delight and success with their $99 logo. Before you click the buy button, though, read this article on the USA Today site about how to work with cut-rate logo services.

If you decide to go with the traditional and more costly designer, find someone that you sense will really believe in you and your project (more of my thoughts about outstanding design are here). Find someone you personally like, because that makes it easier to ask for and get the level of involvement you want. Most importantly, be willing to give and take time with it. It’s kind of what you’re paying for.

Feedback is central to collaboration. This is true for any size project, but truer and truer the bigger it gets.

No doubt, it’s a two-edged sword that can cut a project to pieces, fracturing its focus and gutting its spark.

Designers have been complaining for years about decision-makers who request outrageous changes at the worst possible moment, rather than taking the time to catch issues during the review process.

Still, we need feedback, and we often need feedback from people with wildly varying ideas about what it is we do and how we work. It’s up to you, not only to clarify your role, but also to reconsider it often, because it will change and evolve.

One way to do that, and make the most of all that review power, is with a Review Guide:

At each presentation, at each phase of the project, tell the review team what kind of feedback you need, and explain how honoring this will save time and resources. I predict this will never get old. Every time, at each phase, provide a list of exactly what is expected, and provide it in a checklist form. And every time, at each phase, inform the reviewers that skipping the items on this list is likely to result in delays and expense.

Keep in mind that this puts the onus of achieving ideal results squarely on you. If you neglect to include an important item on the checklist, or include it at the wrong phase, it becomes your responsibility.

That is, of course, if everyone completely honors the Guide.

I’ll be sharing more thoughts about how to create Review Guides in the weeks ahead, so if it sounds like a tool you can use, please stay tuned!