Graphic design is not my passion

I see a lot of job descriptions seeking passionate graphic designers to join their awesome team of equally passionate designers. I see designers displaying their passion for design with zoomed-in pixel perfect shots of vectors made with sexy bezier curves. May their passion carry them to great heights. Meanwhile, I am wondering what role passion plays in design and in my own practice.

When I was in college, I would have said I was passionate about design. I would have said something overly zealous like “design is life”. I still get butterflies in my stomach when I see a delicious color palette, I feel truly excited by the potential of a wild mood board, I feel a sense of camaraderie and joy when I get the pleasure of collaborating with truly talented individuals. But somewhere between 2014 and 2021, I let go of passion for design itself.

Design is not my passion. If I have passion for anything, it’s for its own sake, which is suffering. Ok. That sounded dramatic… hear meowt... 🐈‍⬛

Passion is synonymous with emotions

A basic af definition of passion is “a strong and barely controllable emotion.” As a designer, I can’t think of the last time I cried over a failed project or because someone delivered harsh criticism. Maybe this is because my moon is in Aquarius or maybe it’s because I was trained to give and receive feedback like a professional. Sure I might be dying on the inside, but I can’t show that in a meeting. Instead, I listen, ask questions, and try to improve next round. All designers are trained to do this. To give and receive feedback by detaching ego from output, passion from reason. Why then, do so many designers undermine this crucial ingredient of their making by saying they are passionate?

In our culture, the emotional and the strategic are wrongfully perceived as mutually exclusive. The more designers align themselves with emotional, or aesthetic motivations, the less they may be perceived as also being motivated by logic or reason. This false dichotomy undermines the designers role and purpose on a team. In an ideal world, a designer is brought in early to help do what they do best — define and solve problems creatively. Instead, non-designers loop in designers far down the line to “make the thing look cool” after it’s been planned out. Understandably so, wouldn’t the person who is passionate about her own craft, only care about that part of the process? Some designers are happy being the cosmetologist of a project, but some are elbowing their way into those early meetings to reclaim the purpose and potential of what a designer is capable of.

Passion is for artists

Is a designer an artist? I can’t say for sure, but I can confidently state that conflating a designer for an artist has negative consequences for the designer at work. Whether it’s true or not, artists are often perceived as being mysterious, emotional people driven by their own inner desire to express or create something. They work in isolation, or with other artists. At it’s worst, art feeds its own elitist culture. At its best, it evokes an emotion or inspires action and meaningful change outside of itself.

Designers, on the other hand, must choose transparency over mystery. Method over magic. They can’t work in isolation, they need collaboration and feedback. They must put the needs of the client above their own desire to build a perfectly polished portfolio.

The more designers separate themselves from artistry, the more they may be understood and recognized for all their non-artistic skills. Until then, designers will continue to be treated like caricatures of artists. Not invited to strategy meetings, forced to work reactively in isolation rather than proactively with the group, relegated to making it look good, and are withheld feedback out of their coworkers fear of “hurting the designers feelings”.

Passion is suffering

Beyond the basic af definition, Passion has its etymological roots in suffering and life is full of both. These three are triplets and I think design has a meaningful relationship with all three. Understand, when I say suffering I don’t necessarily mean mental and physical anguish. I mean anything from menial inconveniences like socks gone missing in dryers to true atrocities, poverty, slavery, capitalism. Designers have a role to play in understanding and solving all forms of suffering because they can find solutions that balance seemingly opposing concepts: passion and dispassion, emotional and strategic, conceptual and practical.

The human experience is great and all, but there’s a funny little catch: we know we’re going to die and we’re going to experience suffering with varying degrees until we do. As a designer, I am interested in all those troubles because Suffering is a reliable job creator. Your neighbors dog won’t stop barking when he’s gone—the designer can create a jacket to calm its nerves. Fig Friends Inc. are losing customers because their customers don’t understand how to purchase online—a designer can help with the UI. A local congresswoman needs to convince city council that the police’s budget should be defunded—a designer can create a campaign to do that.

The designer who adopts passion for suffering itself (rather than design) will approach any problem with curiosity and empathy. They might adopt the client’s passions and problems as their own and design from a place of empathy. They will collaborate with others, bringing to the table all their experience and abilities, knowing it is one piece of the solution puzzle. They will learn from, rather than be threatened by, the puzzle pieces non-designers bring. They’ll be inspired by everything and everyone around them. The designer who adopts a passion for design itself, limits their capacity to the confines of their own craft and contribution.

Graphic design is not my passion

Chuck Jones, the great animator, encouraged all his animators to read when they weren’t drawing. Therein was an infinite well of inspiration. I agree. When I’m not designing, I’m reading, having a conversation, making absurd claims about the human experience, overanalyzing a movie, or walking my dog. I’m not scrolling through Dribbble, I’m not saving my disposable income for a ticket to an overpriced design conference, I’m not watching Abstract on Netflix.

That’s not to say I don’t deeply appreciate good design. But true inspiration, the kind that inspires me to be a better designer, doesn’t come from the Land of Design. My creative heroes aren’t designers, some aren’t even human. Shostakovich, Sisyphus, Hesse, Maria Bamford, Clancy from Midnight Gospel, Bruce Lee, Marina Abramovich, Buddha. All discovered creative ways to transmute suffering into something beautiful and/or functional. Their stories have helped me be a better human, and therefore a better designer. I believe sitting comfortably with suffering, experiencing it without passion, equips people to accept their own suffering and begin to help others through theirs.

I am not passionate about design; I am passionate about helping others navigate their suffering in creative ways.

I am not attached to how I make that happen. If my ability to visually design was abducted by aliens in the night, I would still consider myself a designer. Without Adobe Creative Suite, I would still be deeply motivated to creatively help people in other ways through writing, planning, or deep conversations like what is the source of your suffering today? What are you passionate about?

RG+B