: the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative.
Inspiration can also be defined as the drawing in of breath, or inhalation.
I think that I stopped breathing.
Don't worry, still alive over here. Just been suffering from something potentially considered worse for the creative individual: a serious creative block.
Maybe I'm burned out, maybe I've been going too long without a break, maybe I'm homesick, maybe I'm just stuck. "Balance" has always been sort of mythical to me; if I'm super invested in my school work then it's likely I'm not sleeping or eating like a normal human, have no social life, haven't done laundry in God knows how long, and my room's a wreck. On the other hand, if all of those things are slightly in order then you could probably guess that something's lacking on the academic side. Honestly, I just can't figure it out. And right now my room's pretty tidy.
The beauty of it is, I'm 21 years old and am not supposed to have it figured out.
All I know is that after turning in two big projects about two weeks ago, projects which I really poured all of my energy and efforts into, I'm afraid a mental check-out occurred.
As any writer or creative person may understand, hitting an actual wall might be more pleasant than hitting one figuratively. When it's time to start brainstorming and gathering up a huge offense to attack new projects, you either have the most energetic, exciting time, or the most discouraging, disappointing struggle.
I am a person very inspired by immersing myself in new and different things, whether that be cultures, places, or homes. So you'd think a blank slate would be consistently thrilling, but sometimes it's honestly just terrifying. Sometimes, when I haven't been anywhere different, seen anyone different from the handful of people I spend the majority of my time with, or even switched up my daily routine whatsoever, defeat takes over.
But what do you do when you're stuck? As invigoratingly tempting as it seems, this wanderlust simply cannot move forward at this point of my life. So, instead, why not go backwards?
By backwards, I mean back to the roots. The integrity, honesty, simplicity, and clarity achieved by those before us on which the foundation of an entire industry lies.
This past Thursday I along with a few other classmates skipped class and headed to Atlanta for a good dose of exactly what I know I needed: inspiration. The day began with an afternoon lecture geared toward students by Steven Heller, respected art director, author, and editor pertaining to graphic design. Otherwise known as the man in the green pants up there, really overwhelmed by the onslaught of enthusiastic college students wanting a photo with him when he tried to escape the room after his lecture.
Heller gave a presentation on "Eccentric, Eclectic and Erotic Type"—a reminder of every aspect and beautiful purpose of typography that I learned in Graphic Design History last semester but may have overlooked recently. He talked about telling stories, pushing boundaries, and implications with typography, and it was a really nice review.
Following the lecture we ran across the street to the Museum of Design - Atlanta to view their latest exhibition, on graphic design icon Paul Rand.
Paul Rand is probably best known for his corporate logo designs, IBM, UPS, Westinghouse, ABC, and Steve Jobs's NeXT, to name a few. But the man just really GOT it. Exploring this exhibit I found a deep sense of humor, a charming playfulness, confidence, goodness, timelessness, and universality that I can only hope to ever achieve half of as a designer.
I can't say it any better than he said it himself: "Without the aesthetic, the computer is but a mindless speed machine, producing effects without substance, form without relevant content, or content without meaningful form."
That quote means a lot to me because not only does it clarify my role as a graphic designer, as the actual, physical hands behind visual communication rather than a nameless minion of a computer program, but also because I had to do an entire project on it in Typography I. Sometimes we forget the very elementary things we've learned, which happen to be some of the most important. It's nice to be reminded. Guess what? I'm not a robot.
The idea of simplicity comes into play just as much as these fun colorful shapes in a little interactive display they had set up. I find often that dwelling on "keeping it simple" is ironically too overwhelming. Rand's thoughts on the matter opened my eyes to the fact that simplicity is not the goal, but usually only achieved with great effort. And I was super excited that fate led me to see and play with these colorful shapes, because that was actually solidifying the idea brewing in my head for my next project: an advanced, Tangram-style shape-by-shape puzzle game. We had fun making up little compositions and I for one probably spent too much time lingering in this area of the exhibit, looking specifically at a children's game Rand had designed the aesthetic for. (Life tip: if you ever want to get rid of or shut up a designer for a while, give them something to do with their hands.)
Aside from visiting the Museum of Design, we had a packed, interesting day in Atlanta, including some deliciously fancy southern cuisine, a trip to Little Five Points to scour the record store, and a one-of-a-kind live performance by the one and only Cat Power.
Every person needs a little resurgence of mental stimulation every now and then. I know I do. People like me are designed to be forced to take breaks. Sometimes, it sucks. Sometimes it feels like there is immeasurably more potential than possible to effectively communicate and live up to. Sometimes hearts and brains just feel heavy within all the not-quites, not-yets, can'ts, and nevers. Sometimes there's no time. But take a break. Take it all in. And try to be good.
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