written by Scott Robertson

Every now and then, when I create something - be it a painting, a drawing, a story, an article, or a design - I sit back and nod my head in admiration. "Such genius!" I say, pleased.

This lasts a minute or two, until I find myself no longer sure. I proceed to hold on tight to my creation, not wanting anyone to see, subconsciously knowing that their opinion may shatter my confidence and the clarity of my greatness. They couldn't possibly understand why this is so good! Especially if they tell me it's garbage! Alas, my fear reveals the truth. Though hard to face, the truth is what could take my creation and turn it into something great. The Noble Critique shines the light and the truth is revealed.

The Light

The Noble Critique - thoughtful and honest feedback delivered with grace - sees what I could not. Learning is a constant process and accelerated learning comes when the Noble Critique is allowed to poke in its head. Seeing and hearing the thoughts of others can bring your work to a higher level faster than anything else. As you allow yourself to listen and to engage the thoughts of another, you open yourself to your greatest potential.

Trust a Must

Creative work by nature is meant to push boundaries. Letting in the the Noble Critique isn't about listening to everybody. Great work is often disliked by many. But without any thoughtful feedback, self idolization can stunt growth. Good work misses the opportunity to become better. Most of us, however, find it convenient to shy away from any feedback at all, as our creative confidence is easily fragmented. Our fear seals an open mind. Trust must first exist to open the passage of communication. The Nobel Critique is selective, and chooses those whose opinion is valued most. It finds trusted advisors whose experience offers value to a project and whose knowledge is respected. The Noble Critique must reside on mutual trust.

More Specifically

When someone says, "I just don't like it," you are left with nothing but a yucky feeling inside. An effective critique must come with reasons and suggestions. The Noble Critique is specific: "The color here isn't working because it is in competition with the central focus of the image. The type choice is not effective because its personality feels disconnected from the context." Specificity allows for clarity. The Noble Critique doesn't make decisions for you, but it clearly guides offering specific suggestions and actionable steps that might be taken to make a creative piece better. It offers possibilities, not judgements.

A Kind Blow

Anytime you put your work out there it can be frightening. Especially when it's fed to the wolves of Art or Design and is ripped into shreds. Often, this approach can do more harm than good. The creative spirit can be fragile. The Noble Critique is honest, but kind. True, it must point out the flaws to push a piece further. The creative spirit must toughen up a little if improvement is sought. But never does this require harshness or rejection. The Noble Critique commends the positive and gracefully points out the negative, opening doors to learning and growth.

Another Level

Great creative work is born from the Noble Critique. Rooted in trust, honesty, and kindness it offers an opportunity. For without a keen outside eye and an honest evaluation important adjustments and slight variations are missed. Without trust in the wisdom of another's point of view, self-idolization limits creativity. Without kindness, doors of communication are unnecessarily closed. Without specificity, spirits can be dampened and steps are not taken. A good piece misses the change of being great. Great artists know they always needs a little help from the Noble Critique. Though its sting may hurt for a moment, its benefits will take you and your work to new heights and new possibilities.

written by Joseph Cofone

Frank Young, a teacher at the School of Visual Arts, challenges all of his students to join what he calls the 100 Club. "All one has to do" is make 100 posters in a week, each derived from a single theme, for a solitary project. Inspired by his challenge, I've done 100 logo thumbnails and taken notes during the process.

1-10

The first few came quickly. Fresh ideas, cliches waiting to be dumped, the logos popped out like Tic Tacs in a barrel. People often say that their first idea is usually their best, but how many versions did they go through before they reverted to the original? It's too early to tell unless we explore more ideas and find out whether or not our initial concept is inane or insightful.

11-20

The next ten were a little harder, but still relatively forthright. Once the initial few were done I made a mind map to come up with concepts that hadn't immediately popped into mind. As exciting as the original ideas may be, we can’t deny the power of pushing further, diving into the creative process headlong and snorkeling our way through abstract relationships.

21-40

Now I'm starting to push. I found myself beginning to take ideas from the first 20 and manipulating them to see how they’d look with a different layout. It’s important to be aware of our tendency to lose momentum and counteract it by consciously working on coming up with something unique for each.

41-50

The halfway mark! At this point I sensed I was becoming mentally fatigued, I began to think I'd worn out all the best ideas. As I scraped through the 40s, I couldn't help but wonder how I was going to do another 50. Before I moved on, I took a moment to pat myself on the back. I made it to 50 and it's important to acknowledge progress.

51-70

The next 20 seemed like looming knights in black armor, clones of the first 50 I managed to slay with the edges of my wit and knowledge. But now my blade is becoming dull and the knights are as daunting as ever. I begin to combine my best ideas from the previous 50 and make unique combinations that begin to reveal the power of 100.

71-90

It seemed like every idea had been exhausted, my mind grew weary, I wondered if I'd be able to make it. As I continued the exhaustion gave way to desperation, which transformed into lightheartedness. Something special happened at this point. I began to come up with wild ideas, perhaps even ridiculous ones, but as I fleshed them out I realized how un-ridiculous they could be. Creativity churned, silly shapes reacted with one another and created sensible solutions.

91-100

Ten left! The end in sight, I became excited, momentum picked up. All 90 ideas had become personal experiences that empowered me with knowledge. At this point I was deeply acquainted to each element of the logo, every shape and letterform, they become extensions of the mind as they're manipulated in concordant symphony. The last ten combine the obvious, the refined, the fatigued, the desperate, and the ridiculous. Finally, I finish!

Initiation, Graduation

I've pushed myself further than I thought possible. Hopefully I've come up with a pursuable idea. As Frank says, you’re lucky if you get one you like. If not, then do another 100.

written by Scott Robertson

Ronnie the III of Rolling Square, born on the fourth of November, had lots of ideas. Since the day he first uttered a word, it seemed his mind was onto something - something more, something new, the next big thing. An inventor, a scientist, an artist - Ronnie dreamed of being great. He dreamed of changing the world.

From an early age of five or six, he sketched up plans. Ronnie drew trains, planes, and traveling machines that he envisioned would fly faster than anything the world had seen. He was not afraid to think big and to imagine what could be. By the age of nine he could be found pondering, deep in thought - every moment, everywhere. "I can make this work better!" he'd say aloud to his mom and dad as he examined the dishwasher, the computer, the toilet, the closet storage, the foundation of a house, the gardens, the sidewalks. And off he'd go to sketch up plans. "Someday," he'd say, "someday when I'm a bit older - you'll see."

By twelve Ronnie had read over one hundred books. He soaked up more and more as his ideas expanded. He read and he tinkered in his little mind, imagining concoctions, merging the left with the right: science with art, technology with nature, business with creativity. Oh the things he would do!

By the age of seventeen Ronnie's ideas had become much more sophisticated. He worked out every detail of the ins and outs of his inventions and creations. He'd tell his friends and his teachers of the "whats" he was going to do. "I just have to get everything in place," he'd say, "you'll see. All I need is this and this and this first, then I'll be on my way." So he sat. He thought and thought. He sat and he waited.

Ronnie was twenty-two, graduating from college, with a breadth and depth of knowledge on his back that could enable to him to build mountains. He wrote essays and filled notebooks with plans of changing the world - the education system, the transportation system, the government. "Things will be different," he'd say, "Just wait and see! Soon I'll be able to begin. Very soon!" And so he waited, and he sat. He thought and thought, but he waited for just the right moment, for just the right circumstance.

Ronnie's ideas would continue to evolve and to change as time passed. His twenties came, and then his thirties All the while he'd tell friends and family that things were nearly ripe. He just needed more money, more resources, and the right people at the right time. "Everything has got to be just right," he'd say. "Soon! Soon! Wait and see!" And so he thought and thought, but he sat. And waited.

His forties came, then his fifties. His mind still churned, but his body began to tire. His sixties and his seventies passed with Ronnie still sitting. Still waiting for the just right circumstance. He thought and thought, but he sat and waited.

Ronnie the III of Rolling Square, born the fourth of November, sits in his chair at the age of 82, wondering what might have been, what could have been. He sits and thinks, wishing he'd done something. He pages through his sketchbooks and notebooks, filled to the brim with so many ideas and so many thoughts. But nothing tangible to show from it.

written by Joseph Cofone

Creativity is the artist's mistress: a thing to be loved, yearned for, and constantly stir inner debate as to whether or not she will show her beautiful face once more.

The Infatuation

Creating is a passionate experience: the mind and body meld, then fade away. Nothing matters save the task at hand when the artist is with his Mistress; he's not connected to her, but is her, dropping from his own consciousness and fully appreciating the reality of the present. What's left, the creation, is the residue of the spirit in the moment.

The love of the Mistress doesn't last forever, unfortunately; eventually the artist comes down from his passionate high and finds himself sitting on the mushroom of serendipity in a forest of fog. Fleeting feelings of fortune skip about his peripherals, teasing his temperament like tiny fairies daring him to look, to be caught, if only in a glimpse. With fading enthusiasm, the moment is no longer as beautiful as the past, time is back to normal in its foreign irregularity. The Mistress has disappeared, but not without leaving a token of her love:

Art.

Gripschesoteque

The artist must come to terms with what's happened to him; his Mistress has come, art has been created, time has warped - and then nothing. He looks at what's been done, art, the aforementioned residue of the spirit, and already feels disappointed detachment. Fear creeps through his cheeks, into his eyes, takes captive his soul: will he ever see her again? will his muse, the creative spirit, visit him once more?

What now? he asks himself. Is there a method to summon his mistress? To wait for her to return would be sealing her removal; action must be taken. The artist must believe that she will return if he invites her back. In essence, he must believe in himself, that his process is sound, his abilities are controlled, and his spirit is clear. Work becomes a love song, calling her from the depths of what is yet to be known (not the unknown; think with positive action). Slowly, and with dedication, he bridles his creativity, controls it with passionate swooning. He has built the door, unlocked it, and left it open for his Mistress to return.

Fear, the Fickle, Fiendish Friend

If creativity is the artist's Mistress, then fear is his guide. Fear shows him where he needs to go next, the place of pure challenge, an area where failure hangs from every tree. Discomfort should be embraced. The unfamiliar illicits discomfort, brings the artist into the moment, makes him feel his actions, connects him with his spirit. Here, he is treading new paths. It's in this place, with the ever-climbing mindset of Sisyphus, that the artist becomes consciously connected to the present, to himself.

Some artists shirk the things they fear, but if an artist wants to see his Mistress once again, he must attack his insecurities and work at what he finds most difficult. Without perpetually pushing boundaries there can be no newness, no creativity - no Mistress. Fear is the guide; he reveals the challenges and thus, the direction with which the artist must head for growth and creativity.

Requited Love

When the present, the Now, is valued, when all other thoughts and worries fall behind, when the challenge is accepted, the artist creates. It may happen gradually, it may happen suddenly, but if the artist can calm his spirit and act, the Mistress will make her return.

written by Scott Robertson

Where do you take your shoes off? What do you call home? Do you live where nothing goes right and everything is against you, conspiring for your downfall? Or do you live where encouragement AND discouragement are your friends, your allies, your family? It is a choice. There are always two ways of looking at things. The fullness of our experience exists in our perspective. As we alter the way we look at the world and the way we look at the discouragements (bumps in the roads, roadblocks, mistakes, and failings) they become family and a catalyst towards our success and our greatest ideas. Creation stems from imperfection. Take off your shoes in the home of opportunity.

Bumps, Blocks, and Bruises

A mishap, a misstep, an embarrassing moment. A bump in the road. A closed door. Feeling belittled, finding nothing, failing, and failing again. Bumps, blocks, and bruises can hurt. Wouldn’t life be a bit easier, a bit happier if the roads were always smooth?

Perhaps - if we play it safe. But even so, we still may come across an unexpected pot hole. We remain powerless. But if we embrace each bump, each block, each bruise we can transform it. We can awaken to life and step into into the world rather than running from it. Here opportunity is born. Ideas are born. We can get up and go for it.

The Risky Tortoise

I won’t deny it. Risk can be frightening. Going for it might mean things don’t go as smoothly as planned or as hoped. Pain could come. People may laugh. People might not understand. But the risky tortoise is steadfast and focused.

Change comes when we look beyond and then move beyond - one step at a time. We don’t need to jump. The way of the Hare is tempting. He goes so much faster! How will we ever keep up? How will we get it done? Yet like the tortoise, we are not concerned with what the Hare is doing. Our race is our own. We remain focused simply moving - steadily forward.

Mishaps create millions

Steps lead to more steps. Steps combined make great steps. Along the way we may run into more bumps on the road. But those bumps need not deter. Like the tortoise we must persist. And as we persist, as we trip and fall, our vision becomes clearer. Our mishaps can lead to our greatest ideas.

Steve Jobs, famed CEO of Apple Computer was ousted from the company he founded in the mid 80s by a man he hired. This didn’t deter him. He’d go on to become chief executive of Pixar Animation Studios (until Pixar’s merger with Disney in 2006) and concurrently would usher in a new renaissance for Apple that has spanned more than a decade.

Early in his famed career, Walt Disney lost nearly his entire animation staff and all rights to his studio’s popular character Oswald the the Lucky Rabbit - in one fell swoop. On the train ride back home (from New York to California) he had an idea for a mouse.

Dr Seuss, known amongst readers young and old for his rhyming and illustrative genius, was turned down by nearly 30 publishers with his first book.

Steven Spielberg was rejected on 3 separate occasions to the School of Film and Television at the University of Southern California. Some years later USC awarded him an honorary degree and he became a trustee of the university. He also made a few films along the way.

The list could go on for decades. Mishaps create millions for those who focus not on “no” but on “yes.” They don’t see roadblocks, they see opportunities by looking elsewhere. The Jobs, the Disneys, the Suesses, the Speilbergs - they focus on what's ahead and not on what's behind. Everything that happens and that comes to them becomes more data that feeds their vision. The bumps along the road are their catalyst to a stronger desire to create.

Take your shoes off and Dance

Where do you take your shoes off? Do you embrace whatever comes your way looking for the good, looking for the opportunity? Every negative is a chance to create a more exciting positive. The negative and positive become friends, working together and allowing existence to be one of celebration and creation. As we dance our way through the ups and downs we grow, we learn, and we change for the better. There will be walls of fear to face and tidbits of pain and embarrassment, but the risk is worth it. Take your shoes off in the home of opportunity and dance.

written by Joe Cofone

You've heard of Glaser, Sagmeister, and Carson, but have you heard of Phelps?

I'm talking about Michael Phelps, the olympic swimmer. In 2008 he won eight gold medals at the Beijing Olympics and he currently holds thirty-eight world records. To top it off, he's only twenty-five. At first glance his tremendous success is intimidating, almost inhuman. At second glance ... well, not much changes. But at third glance (and if you elongate your glance into a gaze) we can take time to rationalize his success and learn from it.

Der Wunderschwimmer

Phelps is arguably the best swimmer on Earth. He's probably the nearest a human has come to experiencing life as a fish (SCUBA doesn't count). How is it possible that he can destroy the competition so completely, so definitely, that his success almost becomes guaranteed? It's an obvious answer. You may not like it (you probably won't), but here it is: Practice.

Seven days a week, multiple times a day, Michael Phelps practices. On most days he swims in the morning, works out in the afternoon, and swims again in the evening. In between workouts he eats monster meals that range from one to three thousand calories each. By the time he goes to bed he's eaten over ten thousand calories. (The average human being - read: you and I - eats around two-thousand calories a day.) Every facet of his existence is meticulously tuned for swimming.

Put on Your Design Swimsuit

Can you say that every facet of your day is precisely tuned for improvement? Forget that we're "Artists," because, let's be honest, we're sometimes not even sure what Art is, let alone what being an Artist is. Instead let's consider ourselves people who study technical skills: a technician, if you will.

Technicians hone their craft through years of study, just like athletes. Both have to chisel concepts into their minds and mannerisms into their bodies in order to perform tasks. Runners have to train their cardiovascular system, their muscles, perfect their breathing, but they also have to sharpen their mental awareness, understanding of the sport, methods for improving times, and so on. Painters have to study the interactivity of colors on canvas, learn how to draft, understand the material complexities of paint, but also have to learn how to physically control the brush and pencil, achieve careful precision, hold their arms up for extended periods (it's more difficult than it looks!), and so on.

All the training that Michael Phelps endures doesn't solely lie in the realm of athletics. Just like any other physical or mental endeavor, practice is paramount to advancement and success. As a technician we have a responsibility to our craft (and to ourselves) to train every day.

Swim, Swam, Swum

Working out our Design muscles doesn't produce visible results like working out our physical muscles does. If that were the case then Milton Glaser and Steven Heller would look like Andre the Giant and Shaquille O'Neal. While we will never have a Schwarzenegger-like physique from designing, our works can be Titan in presence. To achieve Promethean stature we have to work our minds in two ways: conceptually and technically.

Technical muscle building is somewhat simple. There is knowledge about our trade that we either know or don't know. Take time every day to read a book or watch a tutorial. Make a goal to learn just one new bit of relevant information every day. Over time all the little bits add up to large chunks and before you know it you're stealing Fire from the gods.

Conceptual muscle building is more abstract. It's thinking with a purpose. Every time we face a new challenge it's up to our creative thinking to come up with a solution. If we don't practice being creative problem solvers on a regular basis then it becomes harder for us to come to the podium when we need to. Instead of waiting until problems are presented begin solving daily design challenges. For example - if you like coffee, come up with a coffee logo every morning, while you drink coffee no less!

[Insert/Imagine Sound of Gunshot/Whistle]

Michael Phelps isn't straining himself any more than the other swimmers in the pool. Sit on that thought for a moment. If everyone in the pool is pushing themselves 100% why does he keep winning? Because every day he physically and mentally pushes himself further than his competition. His wins aren't earned in the race; they're earned before the race.

Like swimming, good designs aren't islands of effective effort; they're the culmination of technical and conceptual practice derived from experience. So if we want to design like Phelps then we need to eat monster meals of design deliciousness and perform hundreds of creative laps. Every day.

written by Scott Robertson

How could I miss it? How could anyone miss a Singing Yellow Elephant? Easy. When sitting in a crowd of thousands of talking, rhyming, and humming mammals of various brightly colored hues, a singing yellow elephant just becomes another member of the crowd, lost in the mayhem. Nothing stands out and nothing can capture your attention because everything is competing for it.

The Singing Yellow Elephant teaches a valuable lesson. Whether it be in film, painting, or design we don't want to let our compositions be a cacophony of colorful singing mammals. Unless our intent is to confuse our audience or to depict mayhem (which usually is not the case), we as artists and designers are bestowed with the responsibility to direct our audience to what is most important. We can make their viewing experience more enjoyable by guiding them through the image using a hierarchy of visual cues.

Mindfulness is Magic

Before we can make any mindful design and compositional decisions, we need to know our intent. What is the story we are trying to tell? What is the intent of our composition? What is the message we are trying to convey? Our intent/story may be abstract, it may be simple, it may be complex. Whatever it is, we must start here so we have a direction from which to base our compositional and visual choices. When we are mindful, we create visual magic. Magic that eases the viewing experience for the audience and guides them through the piece - establishing a beginning, middle, and end.

Whether they realize it or not, if the image hierarchy is not clear, then unnecessary stress may cause the viewer to move on or to miss what is most important. The magic is lost. As artists and designers we have tools at our disposal to help us strengthen our work. Tools that can be mixed and matched, combined and explored in various ways that help direct our viewer's eye. What are these tools? The Singing Yellow Elephant knows the way.

Bigger, Brighter, Bolder, Bang

Our elephant friend has three things going for him. He is big. His is bright. He is bold. Herein lies three visual tools we can use to establish clarity in our art and design work. Bigger, brighter, and bolder draws attention. The bigger something is (visual space), the brighter it is (the more saturated it is), and the bolder it is (visual weight) the louder it is visually. Bang! It calls for attention.

Remember the mayhem of the loud brightly colored animals? Everything was calling for attention. Everything was big, bright, bold and loud. When we use size, color and weight thoughtfully, we can draw attention to what's most important. Reserve you brightest colors for the most important parts of your design. Reserve your bigger bolder and more emphasized text for what's more important. Establish a visual hierarchy that leads your viewer through the image. But let not the big Singing Yellow Elephant and his friends make you forget the most important tool of all: No matter how big, how bright, or how bold, contrast will always reign.

Cue the Contrast

Where there is the greatest amount of contrast there is the greatest visual draw. Contrast is about difference. Sameness brings about unity in a design. Contrast is the bit of anti-unity, the bit of variety that brings interest to a design. It has the power to make what is most important really pop. Everything in your design may be big, but it is the the the smallest part that may stand out - the part that breaks the pattern. And when you combine the power of bigger, brighter, and bolder with the power of contrast your message is loud and clear. Your story is engraved in the mind of your viewer.

Stick to the Story

Your design decisions begin with the story you are trying to tell. This is your guiding voice to what color choices, what text choices, and what layout choices you make. Design with the story or message in mind and help your viewer hear what you are trying to say with an established visual hierarchy. Use space thoughtfully. Use color mindfully. Use weight carefully. And remember ... pay a visit every now and again to the Singing Yellow Elephant. He'll remind you of the way loud and clear.

written by Joseph Cofone

Children are synonymous with creativity. The older we get the harder it is to hold on, as if our intangible creative spirit seeps from our slowly emerging wrinkles. For those of us that create for a living it becomes a lifelong challenge to retain the spark of curiosity that children overflow with. Visual artists can reignite it by exploring artistic expression through music and other forms of art.

Cross Pollination

A good friend of mine is a professional drummer. He teaches several days a week and when he isn't teaching he's either practicing or taking master classes in the city. In the struggle to always improve his skill set one of his teachers (we call him "The Budda" because of his ability to unite drum lessons with life lessons) suggested that he take up another instrument in order to help him improve at drums.

We may ask ourselves, "How does playing another instrument help him get better at the drums?" But exploring a different perspective (guitar) on the same concept (music) enables him to apply new ideas to his old methods of thinking. Understanding harmonies allows him to create rhythms that better intertwine with the melodic instruments in a band.

In addition to giving him a new perspective it also allows him to explore a realm of art that he hasn't studied and isn't comfortable with. This can lead to interesting artistic interpretations - all from playing around - that can be brought back to the drums.

We can apply this technique to our own artistic expression.

Do What We Don't

Let's step away from the computer for a while. If you're a graphic designer like I am it's time to pick up a paint brush or maybe have a go at silkscreen printing. Already do that? Then find something you don't do and have a go. There's so much to choose from! We can try collaging, sculpture, illustration, and so on.

We can use the ideas we get from exploring unfamiliar mediums and apply them to graphic design.

Being a graphic designer shouldn't limit us to visual art. Instead of trying to get creative with the same tools and perspectives we always use let's do what we don't normally do and pick up a musical instrument. Since we have no intention of becoming world class musicians (or even getting paid) we will put less pressure on ourselves and just play.

For the last six months I've been playing with the guitar, and when I say "playing" I mean it in a childlike sense, not a musical one. I'm not playing the guitar or playing music, but playing for the sake of playing. Sure, I've gotten better, but my only goal is to have fun; there's no deadline looming over my head and no magical dream to work towards.

Resurface the Spark

When I play my guitar I try to express myself through it. Knowing little to nothing about music, it's a challenge to be at peace with not having an understanding of what I'm doing. I do my best to feel through the instrument. Most of the time it sounds dissonant, cacophonous, and just plain ugly, but every so often I fiddle together a few notes that sound great. That's the spark.

It's the spontaneous combustion of creativity. Beautiful things happen when we don't search for them. Children let their curiosity and enjoyment fuel their fun, regardless if they know what they're doing. We have to remember that it's okay to do things without goals. By playing an instrument we can remind ourselves of the feelings we get from playing for the sake of playing.

And Bloom

Take that feeling, that whimsical light-footedness, and bring it back to visual art. Use musical exploration as a reminder of the importance of playtime. Let the surprise we get from stumbling over ourselves in music inspire us to stumble over ourselves more often.

We may trip and fall - hopefully we will - and land in a beautiful puddle of creative newness.

written by Scott Robertson

I fancy effortlessness. For quite some time now I’ve explored the many tributaries of effortless experience. People have a certain connotation when they hear the word. Some think of an athlete, musician, or skilled craftsman who is able to gracefully perform difficult tasks with incredible ease. From others I get: “So you just want to get by doing nothing, huh? You love the lazy way?”

Is it laziness? Is it greatness? Perhaps it's a little bit of both.

Think

Effortlessness is a perspective of the mind that allows one to do more with less. Perhaps compelled by laziness he/she who walks effortlessly takes the time to stop and think, asking: Is there an easier way? Can this be done faster, better? Rather than going the usual right, they may turn left. They break out of patterns by taking a different approach. New patterns are formed, yielding better results. As we broaden our vision, we see the whole picture. We have the clarity to make more thoughtful choices. Rather than barreling through the wall, we see the door that was always there.

Listen

True laziness is a numbing of the mind that avoids unchecked feelings and stress. The lazy way hates change and refuses to pay attention. Effortlessness embraces emotion and listens. When we are aware of our struggles we give ourselves the opportunity to reevaluate. We can ask ourselves: Why am I struggling? What current mindset am I holding? Often our stress and struggle, stems from our skewed perception. If your feet hurt, then try on a different pair of shoes.

Persist

Effortlessness is a place of possibility. Any grand dream we may have, will remain just a dream if we stare upon it from afar, overwhelmed by its impossiblity. Impossibility is just an illusion created when we think we have to jump too fast and too soon. Fear smothers us. With small and slow steps, we move quicker than we could have imagined. As momentum is built magic begins to happen. Effortlessness happens. Through continual and constant application towards any goal, our efforts seem to multiply. Like the athelete or great musician, we ride the wave of our subconscious learning, and we flow gracefully through seemingly difficult tasks. The race is your own. Be the Tortoise and take life one small step at a time.

Be the Tortoise, Grab Your New Shoes, and Look for New Doors

It may take a lazy man to come up with the idea, but it takes thoughtful action to bring the idea to life. With a little mindfulness and persistence, we create effortless experience. And the path need not be is difficult as we may fear it to be. As we think, listen, and persist with small steps, the ride to effortlessness begins to feel effortless itself. Remember.... You need not barrel through the wall, there is always a door. Struggling? Try on a new pair of shoes. Forget about the race and follow the way of the tortoise. Soon you will be on your way to effortless success.

written by Joe Cofone

Simple design often results in beautiful design. An effective blending of character and elegance delivered with simplicity is an art most designers strive to master, but sterility is an unfortunate side effect of shooting for such an aesthetic.

What is Simplicity?

We could get philosophical and say that simplicity is undefinable, and that subjective reality is the only realm art and expression exist within (and these claims are mostly correct), but I think we're better off at least attempting to define it in order to move on. So let's define simplicity in design as using the least number of elements to express the most amount of information. Essentially, design sans superfluity.

Think of James Dean in his jeans, white t-shirt, and leather jacket. He exuded simplicity while cleanly avoiding sterility and ended up as an icon, or symbol (dare I say: logo) of an era. When designing we need to James Dean-it - or JD-it - and put together a collection of simple elements that work together.

The Danger of Sterility

Designing with simplicity in mind isn't all cheesecake and sparkling wine - the danger of keeping it simple is that we may end up with a sterile design; in other words: a lifeless, uninteresting, completely passable piece of pusillanimous putridity. Or, to be less poetic: boring garbage.

How does this danger come about? It happens because the fewer elements there are the more each one has to be worth; if they're not speaking to each other then there's no way they'll speak to the viewer, which is the ultimate goal. If a design isn't well thought out then there's a high chance that it will lack originality and character, which are undeniable features of attraction.

Avoiding Sterility

Number one: Think. Number two: Think more. Every now and then we need to sit back and take a look at what we've done. What draws our eye? What doesn't? Is there anything unique about our design? There's no right answer to avoiding sterility, or more precisely, there's no right way to create and deliver originality.

Come up with a set of questions that address ideas that are important to you or recurring issues you have and run through them frequently. It's good practice to write them down and force yourself to take the time to read and address each one. Eventually they'll become so ingrained in your thinking that you won't need to read them anymore.

Some questions that I ask myself regularly are, Would I look at this if I came across it? Does my imagery parallel the imagery that first comes to mind when I think of my subject matter? Does my design radiate the right amount of energy for the topic at hand? Am I using a new combination of techniques or have I done this before? And so forth.

Another way to prevent our work from being sterile is to get uncomfortable. That's right, uncomfortable. Discomfort arises when we're not used to something, so if we're feeling it while designing then it's likely that we're heading down a path that we haven't traversed (cue Robert Frost quote), and while that may not mean universal originality it does mean personal originality, which is always a step in the right direction.

There's only so much one can do alone, so if we're still unsure about our design after exhausting all ideas it's time to ask Regis of we can phone a friend. Don't just ask anyone for their opinion or we'll really get confused. We need to seek outside critique from people we trust; more likely than not, the person should have some kind of design experience. After all, an architect doesn't ask a hairdresser for technical advice, nor does a glass blower ask a painter - we all have different experiences in life, so if we need advice on a subject then the people we ask should have knowledge on said subject.

Remember James Dean

Simple design can be extremely effective if done right, but sterile if done wrong. Remember to think, get uncomfortable, and ask a trusted friend if you need to. When it comes to simple elements of design, it doesn't take many to be unique, just a few done right.