As an art director in the advertising world, I rely almost entirely on computer programs to execute ideas and tasks for clients. And this is a great thing! Capitalizing on this technology allows for efficiency, control, and the ability to refine and revise quickly – which we all know is important in a client-based business.
However, at the core of it, I don’t believe designing on a computer makes me a better creator. It’s the tool I use to execute my skills, but maybe not always the best one to drive my creativity. Instead, I believe that things like knowing about music and wine and riding my bike can make me a better designer. That the creativity behind my ability is more about experiences and storytelling and creating with my hands than it is execution. And that forcing myself to slow down outside of work will actually improve my design skills.
One of my favorite ways to slow myself down is by getting my hands dirty. Smudged in ink. Covered in paint. Cut by the slip of a carving knife (okay, so I don’t actually love that but its the risk I’ll take). Working with my hands forces me to slow down because almost anything handcrafted takes time. So. Much. Time. And that can be frustrating for me, but it’s also a really beautiful thing to learn to be patient in the process.
Most recently, I’ve taken up letterpress. That’s right, I’m woodblock cutting and setting type. I’m using centuries-old technology and equally as old equipment (as well as some vector based art – I can’t help myself!) to create broadsides and greeting cards and messes. I select images and letters from type cabinets, pull inked proofs of them by hand, assemble full type forms, and print editions using ink colors I’ve mixed myself.
It’s time consuming and challenging at times, but I’m taking great delight in the art of printmaking. And it’s teaching me some things that I never expected it to – most notably how to think through making.
Any time I make something by hand, I find that it forces me to think more strategically. From the beginning of a project, my thinking about what it will become is no longer just informed by other work I’ve viewed or even what I can imagine, but rather benefits enormously from the hands-on experience of physically creating something. I can’t think of a process in which this has been truer for me than letterpress. And the results are really unique and fun pieces of art. Besides having these tangible end results to give away as gifts, sell, or keep – I have a totally new appreciation for the artists who keep letterpress alive and well.
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