One Trick Pony

Dear reader,



One truth has become more apparent as I grow older. The more I learn about a certain thing, the less I know about it. Typography, life, love, design, people. I feel like I'm actually growing backwards. Like Benjamin Button, only on the inside. I must have the knowledge of an average 10-year-old by now.

Oh well. "Just keep swimming", as a wise fish once said. Actually, as a wise fish's scriptwriter once said. But there were probably a few writers, and of course, the director played a part. And the fish couldn't have said anything if the animators hadn't made her mouth move. So, it's more like: as a fish's director, animators, scriptwriters, and voice actor once said. Sigh.

When one receives a design problem, there are two possible outcomes.

Outcome Number 1: an epiphany from heaven. It basically goes down like this. You receive the brief, read the parameters and are subsequently struck down with sudden inspiration. In a glorious moment of clarity, surrounded by the fluttering of a myriad of angels' wings and cherub-trumpeting, you know exactly what to do. You do it. And all is well with the world.

Unfortunately, Outcome Number 1 is exceedingly rare. You can never plan an epiphany, after all. Which leads us to Outcome Number 2: the creative process. People usually forget that creativity is not simply a talent. It is a muscle. It grows stronger with exercise and continued application. Brainstorming, mind maps, sketching. All techniques used to get your stupid creative muscle to churn out a solution that's actually worth putting on paper. A few days of this, and then you're down to the execution. You do it. You finish. And all is well with the world.

Until the next assignment comes along.

Lately, I find that I'm more comfortable with human-generated design. You know, hand drawn typography, illustrations, drawings, paper cut-outs, etc. The computer has been more of a hindrance than a help these days. Is it a phase? Or have I finally found a niche for myself? Whatever it is, I hope I don't turn into the one trick pony of design.

On an unrelated note, M.I.A. once described herself as the "retarded cousin of rap". At the risk of offending anyone out there in the void, I think that makes me the "retarded cousin of design".




Well. I suppose that's it from me. Goodbye, all.




Yours,

Figgy
the Retarded Cousin of the One Trick Pony of Design

smother their hunger and their hatred

Dear reader,


Have you been on Facebook recently? There are so many people out there. Even if you only count the ones here in my little Equatorial city, which isn't exactly a bustling metropolis. I mean, there are billions of people on this planet, all going around doing their own thing. This awes me. It humbles me. To think that I am just a speck in the vast, ever-expanding Universe is just...mind-boggling.

This seems to be a recurring theme for me, dear reader. I live most of my life in a bubble, concentrating on me, my friends, my family, my work, what to wear, what movie to watch. But every once in while, I rediscover this infinitely awe-inspiring truth: we are not alone. No matter how cut off from the world we sometimes feel, there are about 6 billion others just like us, with their own hopes, dreams, yearnings and sorrows. And there is this unyielding connection that binds us to each other, as human beings, as citizens of this earth. A rapport, a loyalty. A respect one immortal soul shows for another. That's what's missing from this world, I think. People have stopped being people. They are numbers, statistics. Soulless and empty. There's just so many of us that we sometimes forget other people are people, too. It might even be some sort of defense mechanism. To think that all of these individuals have lives and jobs and original, creative thoughts is overwhelming and terrifying.

You start entertaining thoughts like, "If everyone on the planet is unique and capable of creativity and innovation, then what do I have going for me? What makes me, me? In the grand scheme of things, do I even  matter?"

I've been there. And I have decided to try and not care. Recognition, fame, genius. I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that I have none of these, and probably never will. And I'm okay with that. What I really want, I've come to realize, is to be able to touch people's lives, to make a difference for mankind. As corny and cliche as it may sound, I want to help other people. Certain kinds of statistics that are often overlooked or glossed over are the negative ones. The ones that first-world citizens would rather not think about. The starving people in Somalia, genocide in Cambodia, girls forced into child marriages in India, natural disasters, refugees, poverty, sickness. I want to do something about this. I just don't know how. I feel that I am destined for something bigger, better, more profound than what I am currently doing. I want to stretch myself over everything, to envelop the world's needs, to smother their hunger and their hatred.

Did you know, dear reader, that in 1989, UNICEF publicized a statistic stating that less than half of the world's economy would be enough to eradicate the worst problems of poverty and meet basic human needs for the next 10 years? That was more than a decade ago. Why hasn't anything been done? Less than 0.5 % of the world's total economy. That's all it would have taken.

In other words, there is no deficit of human resources--the deficit is in human will.

- Audrey Hepburn, UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador, Statement to the Members of the United Nations Staff for the 1 Percent for Development Fund, 1989

I just think the entire world could use a wake up call. Not to sound preachy or pessimistic, but we need a different perspective. We need to see that who we are, or what we look like, doesn't really matter. We will be remembered by our actions and our convictions. Question is, what sort of legacy will we be leaving our children? Selfish and shallow, or generous and profound?






Yours,


Figgy.