Riding the Elephant - A Journey Through the Jungle of Commercial Art

The best thing about being born with a creative soul is also the worst thing.  What gives us designers the ability to read a client’s mind and create award-winning solutions is the same thing that makes our life wrought with tragedy– we’re way too sensitive.  We feel in extremes. When we’re happy we bath in the glow of a euphoric high only to find ourselves sinking into a cold dismal abyss of sadness.  The world affects us dramatically.  We are easily inspired and often discouraged.

My father took an early retirement from his career as a Creative Director in an advertising agency. Each evening after work just before dinner he would sit on the terrace with my Mother, a glass of Jack Daniels in his hand, grumbling about the frustrations of the day.   He complained about compromising great ideas with those dictated to him by a client’s wife or aspiring nephew.  He also had problems with over-accommodating Account Executives agreeing to impossible deadlines and making unrealistic promises to clients. If it wasn’t about the incompetence of one of his associates or disruptive office politics, it was about the egos of budget-driven clients. He often referred to the business as “the elephant”.

Those who are willing to expose their soft underbelly and place their most precious creations in front of a client’s critical gaze often find themselves contemplating a career change into something less painful like teaching computer-aided design or drawing caricatures in a mall.  Life as a designer is not for the weak-hearted.

Fortunately, for most of us, the compulsion for creative expression combined with the desire to have three meals a day propels us into the thicket of commercial art.  Even though we complain that we’re prostituting our talent as Graphic Artists and that our clients are like “Johns” without aesthetic taste, we are hopelessly addicted to the vibrancy of Pantone swatch books and the latest Macintosh Operating System.  Since our identity is largely based on our craft, we refuse to imagine doing anything else for a living.  We develop a defensive philosophy that justifies our struggle and keeps us begging for more. It’s a survival thing.

Not so long ago you could find me huddled together with a small band of randomly dressed designers in a dimly lit Honolulu coffee shop. Our hairstyles were as wild as our ideals. We would spend hours redesigning the world, debating the superiority of Illustrator over Corel Draw and criticizing the practices of upper management. Like self-possessed teenagers sneering silently at their parents, we knew that running a design firm was a piece of cake and, if given the chance, could do a far superior job than our respective supervisors.  We had the answers because, after all, we were designers.

Today my ideals are a bit more realistic and the style of my hair is determined more by the lack of it.  Having survived 20 years in this business of graphic design, I truly understand my father and why he bailed out at the age of 55.  Even though I’ve come face to face with “the elephant” many times, I keep plugging away, living for that one project that will earn an award or a flattering article in a trade magazine.

I watch young designers enter the business just out of school. They’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed– ready to take on the design world by storm.  Not all make it.  Some go back to school and get their teaching certificate. Others survive an occasional trampling and become better designers. It’s like natural selection.  Those who push on despite the weight of the beast become stronger for it and don’t mind the loss of “cool” and “totally” from their vocabulary. They’re the ones who become great.

I may sound a little cynical but I’m not, actually.  I’m just realistic. I may dream about living on a small island selling oil paintings to tourists but I have to admit I still get a tremendous high when I land a big project or receive an approval on a design concept.  I try not to dwell on the frustrations brought on by a cranky client or the fact that Frank is getting promoted over Susan just because he owns a boat. I’ve been overlooked and I’ve been under-appreciated. I’ve even been the victim of office politics.  But I’ve learned that my mental survival depends on patience and adaptability. “This too shall pass” has become a favorite mantra of mine. I live for the infrequent standing ovation for a job well done or the citation for design excellence awarded by my peers.

Experience is a good teacher if you’re willing to endure the lesson. In time, one learns how to ride the elephant instead of standing in its path.