Dramatically depressing
Depression (/dɪˈprɛʃn/) noun; Symptoms of depression include feeling unhappy or hopeless, low self-esteem and finding no pleasure in things you usually enjoy.
It’s been a subdued start to what promised to be a scintillating start to an otherwise new new year. I found myself wanting to write about the down side of being a designer, a creative director and business owner. But that felt too depressing to contextualise.
I wanted to write something to mentally exfoliate (see Coping Mechanisms below). Having written and read it I realised I was at risk of sounding overly dramatic about feeling depressed about a sequence of events that on the face of it don’t appear to be depressing. At risk of belittling a serious, clinical disorder.
Except, unless you’re in it, feeling it, it might not sound or feel like much to feel depressed about. Perhaps you’re right. I’m right, we’re both right. Either-way the endorphine infused conclusion to 2022 has been somewhat quashed by forces beyond my control. Like an amazing White Dove (circa.’98) followed by a dud. Mid dance-dancefloor-come-down-city.
What’s the problem?
A huge project we’ve been working on since September for a new client has been temporarily paused. Like an emergency stop you didn’t even know you needed to make until you came to an abrupt, tyre-screaching stop. We’re like a long haul flight joining a busy Heathrow holding pattern. Endlessly circling off the coast of Sussex, breathing deeply in to a metaphorical travel sick bag.
We were (and still might be) on the cusp of creating a first for my design agency: our first advertising campaign. The full kit and kaboodle. Outdoor, online, on the radio and the telly.
It could all turnaround, and positively. You’re right, and I know. But I’m an optimistic pessimistic cynic. It’s a thing.
There are some real, potentially serious implications to a project being placed on an open-ended ‘on-hold’. Let me explain. Cocooning myself and my team on the project with no time to consider doing anything else means the irons in the fire… need re-lighting. Bills, mortgage, builders, removal companies, life et al still needs paying for. Death and taxes and all that.
I’m also a danger to my creative in these moments. Like a caged zoo animal whose found themselves free from the safety and security of the cage, full of excitement at being outside, suddenly clueless. Unsure where to go or who to eat first. So eats nobody and just sits under a tree, patiently waiting. Alone. Tapping my fingers. Wishing I had my swing tyre and bananas. Instead planning on how I can tear it all up and shred it.
‘I’m at my best when I am busy, feeling useful, creating my best work.’ I said to my writing partner Hannah on a call yesterday that turned in to an hour long, joint therapy session.
My friend Camilla Petty wrote a brilliant piece about what happens when a project gets binned, cancelled or put on hold. You should read it, it’s better than this drivel: Never Gonna Happen.
Creative Curse
Work. Life. Balance. Have three other words ever represented a better example of seemingly endless losing battle? Am I depressed? Most of the time, I think I suffer mild symptoms. I muddle on, through varying states of the Creative Curse.
Creative curse (/krɪˈeɪtɪv/ adjective, /kəːs/ noun); the relentless pursuit of implausible perfection; simultaneously battling self-doubt, self-loathing and the selfish-seduction of success; loving an idea the moment it blooms from a firing neutron; hating it the moment it’s passes its sell-by-date.
Never happier complaining about myself, my work, my frustrations than when I am in it, neck deep. Up against it, is where I create my best work. Then hate it as soon as it’s approved, released, live, printed, uploaded, WeTransfer’red.
I always doubt my ideas, my work. I want to make it amazing. Better than anyone else has ever done it. I want it to be the best. I would like to be the best. Make work I am proud to put my name to. The reality is, all-too-often I convince myself the work we make isn’t any of the above because there is a better, more creative, better written way of doing it. That’s already been done, my inner monologue on repeat.
Three is the magic tumbler
I have three projects running currently. The first is for the Royal Borough of Kingston-upon-Thames Council. A project we’ve been chasing to complete since October. A project we’ve been paid for; the money for which is sitting in our account awaiting client participation and approval to pay for the printing. Odd times.
The second is a beautiful project for Syv mil, Norway. Called SHIFTIT — a new online marketplace for the Norwegian performing arts sector be sustainable. Beta released to our user group recently and the site is officially launching in March. We were completed with our work in August 2022, waiting for the client to populate and learn how to use the site meant we’ve been tweaking and picking at it like vultures over a carcus. This is danger territory for me. I already dislike all of it and want to redesign it. Chris, our Belfast-based technical partner/guru advises (wisely) against it, on a daily basis.
Our third project is with Harwoods Group, ‘a privately owned automotive retail group based on the south coast of England, serving customers from across Hampshire, Surrey, Sussex, Kent and beyond.’
We were commissioned to create a launch campaign to celebrate their beautiful new e-commerce website, designed and built by DEPT. We delivered an exciting campaign that will feature at its core no cars, no website or showrooms. We went further and presented a suite of other ideas to build on the brand. And they love them all.
We brought onboard Mark Jackson from JKO as media planning partner, Generation Press as print partners, Josh Jones as editorial partner, Tommy Melville as composer. Excitement was abundant at the prospect of writing and directing our first TV spot. We enlisted Associates Management representing the talented DOP/Director Giles Harvey. Copywriter, PR practitioner and fellow therapy provider, Hannah Layford. An actual dream team of talented folks at the top of their game.
Our smorgasbord of additional communication products will add brand value far beyond the lifecycle of a campaign. We got the green light from the marketing director and the whole team, ready to present to the CEO, and then… Jan 9th we were hired to write the press release for our client, announcing a big change to the business (Hannah is a talented chartered PR practitioner too, so we can do PR for clients). A new CEO and some resrructuring means their immediate attention is rightly on this transition.
To support the marketing team between the launch of the launch campaign I sold in an interim campaign which went live before, during and post-Christmas. We started it on Dec 19th and delivered it at 19:00 on Dec 24th.
Unfortunately (for the time being) what with the economy, a new CEO and a company restructure means we’re temporarily (he says, hopefully) on-hold.
Speaking with my wife, ever the pragmatist last week she commented, ‘but you got paid, so that’s all good?’. Well, yes. And no. I can’t sell a bank balance. That’s not something I want to share on our homepage or social channels (it’s not a balance worth shouting about).
I make my living making great work with great people for great clients. I don’t get new work by being paid for work that gets cancelled, postponed or binned. You’re only as good as your last project, they say. I’m being dramatic. Nothing is cancelled yet. Just on hold. Hold, I tell ya!
‘Whatever the reason, everyone who contributed to the work has to find the silver linings, of which many can be found. Experience, creativity, gainful employment, teamwork… it’s all valid. But it’s not what we’re in it for. We’re in it to create change and bring people together and do something meaningful.’ –Camilla Petty
Holding patterns suck
I’ve spent twenty-two of my twenty-five years working for myself, running a design agency, Plan-B Studio. When the goings good, it’s great. When it’s tough, it can feel like a dark, solitary cell.
That was another dramatic bit, incase you weren’t already sensing it. Perhaps it is? But when you’re in it, it’s far from dramatic. It’s anxiety-building, panic-inducing, fear-mongering, stress-sapping, self-loathing hell.
After twenty-two years you would think I’d learn how to cope. Devised clever coping mechanisms? (see below). Those twenty-two years have taught me that things usually have a way of working out. Not by accident, or by sitting back and thinking it will be ok. It requires punishing levels of perseverance, tenacity and hard work.
It’s this knowledge of the effort required that exhausts and depresses me. Not the doing. The knowing. The fear that as the ticking time bomb called ‘finances’ ticks on, awaiting no man, I know I’ve got to get on and do it, again.
Coping mechanisms
I talk openly about whatever’s troubling me. To those I trust. Close friends, colleagues, my wife (sometimes), my dogs. The guy that posts crap through my door. To any sentient being that’ll listen quite frankly. I’m joking, kind of.
To those I work with, so that they are aware of how I’m feeling. I’m as honest as I can be. I listen to them. Give and receive advice to help calm myself.
I walk my dogs a bit longer in the mornings and lunchtimes. I try to focus on my breathing. I stretch. I clean the house. Empty the dishwasher. Paint that wall to cover the kids scuff marks, dog snot and who knows what else. I hoover. I go for a drive. Anything that breaks me from the aching I feel sat at my kitchen table looking aimlessly at my laptop screen.
I write, poorly constructed, grammatically incorrect sentences, paragraphs and post them on here for zero people to read. If you’re still reading this I’m emptying the dishwasher or similar. Thank-you. Breathe, be kind and take care.
Or shout ‘FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKK’ like a boy, in to a microphone in a popular stock photograph.
p.s. If you’re thinking this ‘article’ was a bit chaotic, welcome to my head.
