A Note for Frank Chimero
Frank Chimero posted a long, honest, beautifully-worded reflection yesterday about his love/hate relationship with his career in design and the frustration that he feels on a cyclical basis. While I am clearly stepping out of my league here, as a fan of his work (design, writing, and thinking), I feel compelled to respond. Perhaps Frank will find some value in these thoughts. The quotes below all come from Frank’s post, which you should read first.
“I think about quitting it all every so often: each 18 months, or so. Giving up design, stopping work for clients, maybe going back to school and studying something that people would understand.”
I too think of quitting my career (school teacher) every so often, even though I am fortunate to have summer breaks (usually filled with summer school and/or school-year prepping). In fact, I did quit teaching a few years back. I spent time working on some projects with my family, traveling, and reassessing my career. After a year, I returned to teaching—this time choosing to work at a progressive school, one that is much more suited to my educational philosophy. During that year away, I also realized that I need a creative sabbatical from time to time to reflect and recharge. Since then, I’ve heard Stefan Sagmeister explain that he does the same every seven years.
Another way that I justify this sort of break is that most people wait for a retirement that cannot be guaranteed—they might die before retiring or die immediately after. So, I look at these sabbaticals as taking my retirement piecemeal throughout my career, knowing that will most likely mean foregoing an actual end-of-career retirement. I image that the frequency and length of these sabbaticals depend on the individual. Maybe Frank needs a month or two of retirement after every year-and-a-half of the grind. Maybe that’s his rhythm. Maybe not. I can’t say that I’m even sure what mine is.
“Maybe I should do something with my life and teach kids how to add and read or about evolutionary biology.”
Frank mentions teaching as a possible alternative career for himself, probably rhetorically rather than seriously. But, since teaching is what I know best, I’m going to comment anyway. Just like Frank, the most valuable teachers that I’ve met have frequent doubts about the value of their work. They often feel like the best that they can do is to do no harm. They constantly wonder whether they are really making a difference. They feel like frauds and worry about being found out. This self-doubt is what drives them to constantly reflect on their work, look for ways to improve, and invest time and energy in honing their skills. And that dedication, in conjunction with the other stresses of the job, is what leads to the fatigue, the frustration, and the need for a break. These are probably symptoms felt by people who are conscientious about their work, regardless of their field.
“Are we really to the point where we can’t understand what one another do for a living?”
Why don’t Americans understand what designers do for a living? Here’s one place where, I think, education and design cross paths. We need to make art and design a greater priority in our schools. The arts are important for many reasons, not the least of which is the development of appreciation, an understanding that quality art and quality design have little to nothing to do with talent, and almost everything to with attention, preparation, and dedication—hard, time-consuming work. People don’t understand design because they have not been sufficiently exposed to the process. People don’t understand each other because there is often not time for empathy in our classrooms. These misunderstandings and misconceptions will only get worse if our education policymakers continue to place greater value on what is testable, tangible, and calculable, than on what is immeasurable, thoughtful, and important, what really matters.
The problem extends beyond our school system. American society has its priorities out of order. We place way too much emphasis and monetary reward on things like finance. We do not properly address issues of poverty. We can’t seem to get our energy policy right. We have subsidies that encourage the wrong sorts of food production. We allow privately held, yet essentially closed markets to control health care. (We seem interested in turning our schools over to the markets too.) It’s interesting to note that countries that have those priorities straight, also seem to have a deeper appreciation for design.
“What is all this stuff for any way? Is it even worth it?”
Oh, yes, it’s worth it. Among other things, it’s for the joy it brings to our lives. That’s what we feel when we happen upon Frank’s work. It’s the reason non-designers curate Tumblrs with design themes, even when they don’t understand the process involved with each of the designs that they admire. While many may not understand the time that goes into design or be willing to pay a fair price for the work, they recognize beauty and wit when they see it.
So, Frank, enjoy your break. And if you happen down to San Diego, you’ve got an open invitation to a drink. I can probably also arrange a chance for you to try on teaching kids too.
