16th
Searching for a Problem to Solve: From A to D
When I was five-years-old, I proudly announced that I was going to be an artist. It felt so in synch with my being I knew there was no other alternative. Until the response, “That’s wonderful, darling. But what will you do for a living?”
Right then, the wonders of adulthood suddenly became the anxieties of future survival. My mouth dropped and my heart sank. Art now seemed frivolous and time-consuming and lost a bit of its magic.
I didn’t set aside my crayons and watercolors and vow never to touch a single sheet of paper with a curved line again, but that moment did lead me to a desire for purpose in everything I created. Art for art’s sake (sadly) wasn’t enough. It needed to answer a question—to have purpose—and ornamentation was not purpose. Because at a young age I didn’t exactly know what this purpose was, the act of creating was insatiable.
My “awakening” came years later when I discovered graphic design. Here, visual expression of thoughts and ideas served to communicate, inform, and—in its most commercial uses—to persuade consumer decisions. Design varied from art in that its very existence came about as the direct solution to a problem. Today, I still have a visceral reaction to design that fails to solve the problem—that only exists for aesthetic pleasure. A chair, for example, with sleek lines and simple forms, having stripped away all unnecessary embellishments, is only considered successful design if it maintains the features that make it comfortable and maintains structural support.
As designers we are more than informers—we are inventors, innovators and storytellers. Whatever embellishments we choose to add are integral to the story we tell (or the message we sell). Today’s clients are perfectly capable of articulating their own messages for public dissemination (they simply lack the time to do so). As a result, they dictate and we produce. But, when we design with the intent of solving the problem identified, we are better equipped to defend our decisions and compromise only where needed. It’s too easy to point the finger at the client. The client-agency relationship is a partnership, which shares responsibility equally. Perhaps our failure then, is not so much in the client’s myopia, but in our inability to persuade—which is, after all, what we’re paid to do.
To revisit my childhood self, I’ve recently started moving away from the computer and back toward art—hoping to pursue the pleasure of loving art for art’s sake—and possibly incorporating it into my design. If you have any advice on how to help accomplish this, I’d love for you to share it.
