Nothing more is required of the pupil, at first, than that he should conscientiously copy what the teacher shows him.

- Zen in the Art of Archery, Eugen Herrigel

It’s necessary to do the work first. And I’m beginning to think that more than that, it’s necessary to enjoy the work first. The work is the thing. The tips and the tricks, they are just dressing; they come from expertise they don’t lead to it. Even when people talk about the 10,000 hours it takes to master something, it’s as if they are saying “I just need to get these 10,000 hours out of the way and then I’ll be done”.

Some designers may like the idea of being an artist, of creating art, because the idea of art is somehow grander than the idea of being a craftsman. But when I need a chair, I need something that keeps my arse off the floor, I don’t want your re-interpretation of what it means to be elevated by four legs. Granted some people may make a better chair, a better-looking chair even, but you can easily distinguish those people by looking at the chairs they’ve made before. I don’t want an exploration of the idea of a chair, I want a solution to the problem of sitting at my desk.

A designer solves problems. And the problem is not “what’s the cutest shade of pink?” or “how big should I make my logo?”. For the average designer, these problems are practical and straightforward. How do I sell more widgets? How do I get more blog subscribers? But for the really great designers, the problems are deeper and more emotional. How do I make someone laugh? How do I create trust? How do I make a screen full of words and colours and shapes feel intimate?

Spec work doesn’t answer problems. It can’t. It doesn’t know you or your customers. It’s an explosion of colours and funky typefaces and drop shadows and gradients. It says: look at how many Photoshop tutorials I’ve read!

The convenience of spec work to the client is twofold. First of all, they know that the designer can produce work of a certain standard. But that’s what portfolios are for. Secondly, it gives them the illusion that they are choosing the best designer. They are deathly afraid of making a mistake, of being lumbered with work that doesn’t fit their needs and that makes them look out of touch, or dated, or boring.

And yet, that is exactly what they will avoid if they engage a designer in an ongoing process of collaboration. The design becomes an iterative, evolving masterwork and not a one-off afternoon’s doodling.

The benefit to the designer is that there is a chance that they will get paid. After all, someone has to get the job don’t they? This is the same thinking that gets people to play the lottery twice a week. Even if the odds of winning are higher than spontaneously bursting into flames, there is always a winner so why not me? And the more often I take part, the greater my chances right? Except none of these assumptions is true. And the only definite outcome is that the idea of design will be cheapened and misconstrued, not only to clients but to up and coming designers.

In an imaginary future where no one paid for music or film or games, things like films that require massive investment up front would no longer be possible. Or at least the way they are made would have to change. Producers invest money because they expect a return, it’s a business decision but that idea of investment is separate from the art.

People write books and make music because they want to express something. Being paid for it is a pleasant side effect. It’s not the career choice for people who want to make money because making a living is hard and unlikely.

Great talk. I’m totally behind the idea of the “give a fuck” economy.

At each stage of the play he gets new information which causes him to reassess his position, but nothing is actually done.

It’s counterintuitive to think that more information could be bad for you or that acting quickly and with conviction could be anything but rash. And yet in some situations this is exactly what is needed.

So that said, I’m making a to-do list app.

You see it occurred to me that a piece of paper can’t tell me to stop writing, but a web page can remind me that I need limits. This isn’t true of the web apps I’ve already used. I tend to add more and more things until the list is very long. The longer a list becomes, the less inclined I am even to look at it, never mind do any of the tasks. So it has to be short. Restrictively so.

Putting a deadline on things can be useful, but I find that I don’t feel any guilt when they zip by. So marking overdue items doesn’t change my behaviour. But I do like to split tasks into chunks – usually of about 30 minutes or an hour. So it might be good to only accept tasks that are substantial enough to warrant writing down but small enough that they can be completed easily within an afternoon.

So what I’m doing is making a to-do list that will work for me, not one that will necessarily work well for other people.

I overheard someone describe their website as being like a brochure for their company. Personally, I think that’s a big mistake. Brochures are something you deliver to someone, websites are something that you visit. I don’t know many people who go out of their way to hunt down a brochure.

But it’s not a good idea to throw out the brochure idea without knowing what the website was made for. Maybe being a brochure is exactly what it needs to be.

The difficulty comes in when you start thinking that your website is always something. Because then you stop yourself from ever imagining that it could be anything else. Different sites fill different needs. And a metaphor is only useful if it makes things clear. If it doesn’t serve its purpose, be ready to throw it away.

Steve makes the point that companies have to spend 10 years and a hundred million dollars to associate a logo with a company in the customer’s mind. And this is the key thing that is overlooked in most discussions about logos. It’s there to create an association.

Paul Rand’s approach was not to provide different choices that could be judged on their aesthetics but “to solve a problem”. The logo serves a purpose, it is not there for its own sake. It is not there because it looks good or is visually witty or at least not only for these reasons.

Changing a company’s identity is a way to refresh its image, but it also leaves behind the associations that customers have with the company. Every time you change, you reset customer expectations. This was useful for Windscale which became associated with the word “disaster” but can be harmful if you want to preserve your image.

Redesigning your logo is rarely the answer to any problem. The logo is only the sign you hang on your reputation. If the sign is ugly it doesn’t make a terrible company. Conversely, a terrible company can’t change by hanging a new sign.

Why do so many web recruitment ads ask for gurus? CSS gurus, Rails gurus and so on. Gurus are fine, if you can get them, but where are the jobs for beginners? For intermediates?

A good indication that someone is using this term too loosely is when it is accompanied by a low salary offer. Why is someone who has transcendental knowledge in their field going to work for what you’re offering? Firms are bad at selling themselves, at the simple act of making an offer, often because they think they are in a seller’s market, but the true gurus are not scrabbling to take any offer.

One of the interesting parts of Zen Buddhism is Shoshin or Beginner’s Mind. This idea is that an expert will treat a subject very much like a beginner, with an open mind and an eagerness to learn. In this aspect, beginners can be as useful to a company as experts. In fact, an expert can be stuck in a routine way of thinking, resistant to new ideas and not the kind of person you want to hire.

In practice, recruitment is a kind of witchcraft, producing wildly unpredictable results. But it is worth thinking about the qualities and values you want to invest in and not be so quick to demand a high level of knowledge or experience.

(photo by Bhutan-360 on Flickr)