You Suck and I Rock!

If you've ever had a great teacher or mentor, you can probably understand how powerful their words can be. A compliment can lift you up and make the rest of your day. A harsh criticism or a rebuke can dash your hopes for a whole week, sometimes sticking in your brain for years.

You might begin to see that as a teacher or mentor you carry a lot of power.

I have an uncle that I looked up to as kid. Still do in a lot of ways, even though we don't communicate as much as we used to. He's also my godfather (those Catholics out there will understand. In a nutshell, he's responsible for my spiritual guidance).

I learned things from Uncle David that I still use to guide me today. I also remember a few harsh words that hurt but ultimately taught me something.

Uncle David probably didn't realize it, but he carried a lot of sway over my sense of self-worth and what I thought of as important. He shaped my environmental morals and showed me that exploring spiritual paths outside the religion I was born into was not only okay, but a good idea.

As much as he was likely unaware of his influence yet knowing how much I admired him, he never abused his position. The feeling I always got was that he was just a guy sharing his experience; experience that I would someday have, mistakes and all. His humility and sense of caring allowed him to play the Big Adult Mentor but treat me with respect, even when I did stupid stuff.

Why am I bringing this up? It's not my usual style to get so personal on the blog, but here we are all cozy now and sharing the uncle story. I'll explain.

There's an artist of some note (in illustrator circles, anyway) that I really looked up to as a sort of mentor-type guy. His work is definitely to be learned from and admired. In fact, he is an educator in the world of illustration and design. Many artists look to him for advice, guidance, and instruction.

Recently he started a web site dedicated to showing bad design examples and how he "fixed" them. On its own, the idea isn't negative and I can see the benefit of learning from others' mistakes. I've learned in groups that way.

In fact, in my last position as Director for a graphics company, it was sometimes necessary to call out an artist's work to show what not to do. The Art Director and I had some unwritten rules about this practice, because we respected our co-workers and weren't out to demoralize anyone, just to educate. The unwritten rules were:

• Talk to the artist first. Give them the opportunity to improve or change the design.

• If they can't execute it, show them how to change it personally.

• If the other artists in the company could benefit from the lesson, arrange a group discussion.

• Make sure the originating artist is part of the education process and not singled out as a failure.

It wasn't perfect, but our intention was that no matter how bad the work, there was respect shown for the person. At the end of the day, we kept our position as Big Shot Leader Guys without losing the respect of the artists or alienating anyone. Yay everyone.

What disappoints me about this new site and this person is his approach, which is the opposite. In a very public format, he takes designs (created by people) and explains how horrible they are. Then he shows how he reworks them, resulting in excellent work and happy clients.

In one example, he calls out a middle school secretary for her (?) bad drawing skills and shows how with his advanced drawing skills he creates a piece the school can be proud of. All well and good on his part, but what about this secretary person? As I read the "debriefing," I felt terrible for this person. Who is she? What's her story? Is she possibly a secretary with aspirations of being a designer? Is she just venturing into an art career? What happens when she finds this web site and reads how an "important," successful artist blows apart her drawing so he can look great on the internet?

As I looked closer at this artist's writing and communication (Twitter, blogs, etc), I could see a negative trend pervasive in other areas of his influence. I had noticed it before, but pushed it aside in favor of making myself feel smaller. I don't blame him, it's my own fault for letting it push me down.

I closed my browser and became depressed for the rest of the day. It was an awful feeling.

I thought about how hard it is for many people to explore their artistic side, let alone think about art as a career. I feel very fortunate that I get to do this for a living. It's a gift that I sit in my studio and make crazy art for my clients. There were times when I doubted I could do it, but thankfully I had only encouragement from people I admired and not chastisement.

I've always felt that once you reach a certain point in your career where you have the opportunity to teach, mentor, or otherwise share your experience, you have to bring your humility along for the ride.

Of course there's feedback and constructive criticism. In any type of educational environment there's got to be an arrangement of testing, grading, and assessment. Of course! It's the way the feedback is communicated that pushes a student ahead, inspires them, or squashes them into a small space where they feel miserable.

If you feel confident in your skills, you have a successful career, and people admire your work, then humility should be easy to conjure up. Shouldn't it?

I feel very sad about this. I'm not one to rip apart my heroes for every mistake, so it's significant that I've decided not to follow this person any longer. There's a sense of loss here.

However, I did learn something (or get reminded) about how to treat people I might have the opportunity to influence, whether I know them or not. The internet is a big place (umm, sort of global, you might say) and I never know who's listening or paying attention.

I guess I should pretend that everyone is and act like the big shot I am... not.