3 Lessons From The Designer I’m Trying To Be

Like many folks nearing 30 on this platform, I am a lost creative yet to find my stride. I did a Masters of Architecture (and burnt out), a job in furniture sales (got bored), a “dream job” in an interior design firm (burnt out and became filled with resentment), then I started my own modelling agency (which I’ve now realized is misaligned with my true interests).

A calling to creativity can feel like something of a curse — doomed to jump around, pursue promising leads, and get disappointed. Sometimes I dwell on the curse, but today I am lit up with excitement and optimism. Why? Because I had a two-hour coffee chat with an independent designer that I admire.

I cannot recommend this enough. If there are people in your city/area that are doing what you want to be doing, talk to them! They know exactly what you are going through and chances are likely that they would be happy to sit down and talk.

Here are my reflections and why it has lit me up. For the purposes of this essay, we’ll call my coffee date SD.

The prescribed design trajectory a confidence killer. Architecture school crits left me in tears, lost in comparison against my peers. That “dream job” demanded more, more, and more unpaid overtime, leaving me feeling stressed and worthless. The direct path to design is filled with discouragement. Those that bypass the whole system are often better set up for success — because they believe they can have it.

SD exampled a couple that are not designers but won a design award for a stool. They didn’t even design the stool, they hired designers and fabricators; but they had the confidence and belief in their vision to submit it for an award — and they won.

Design itself is honestly not that hard. What is hard is shedding the belittling instincts that society has injected into mainly women and marginalized peoples since birth. These instincts can kick in at any point in your design process and stall you (even from starting) or they can stop you from advocating for your work once it’s made. No matter what, they’re a barrier to success.

It all comes down to the tried and true: believe in yourself. It’s completely cliché, but sometimes you need to be reminded of the true consequence of confidence in order to recognize that it’s always available to you.

Just because something is hard does not mean that it is valuable.

Often, when presenting an architectural project, I would highlight the drawing or model that was the most difficult for me to produce. It’s instinctual! “Look at this, it was really hard to do”.

The most challenging piece for me, however, was usually not the best. It did not do the best job of explaining my ideas, nor was it the most beautiful or engaging. Looking back on past projects, it’s more often the quick drawing I threw together in half a day that actually sings. Though it took moving through some of the more challenging parts in order for that drawing to flow freely, the easy part was the most valuable.

So how do you assess value in your own work?

1. A flow state can be an incredible clue. If something flows right out of you quickly, then it was begging to be in the world. Famously, Lady Gaga wrote Born This Way in 10 minutes.

2. Seeing your work from an outside perspective is critical as any creative. This could mean getting actual external feedback from a friend, mentor, or peer. Alternatively, time and space away from the project can cleanse your palette — the more time and space the better, but even a short walk can work. With fresh eyes, you can assume the role of your own outside perspective.

This advice applies to my own approach to Substack. I’ve spend weeks polishing researched essays on art and design, but this one flowed right out of me and will likely hold more value. I will still share my researched essays because research is my love language, but I will lean into my flow state when it happens.

A solid partner with whom you align with in terms of ethics and drive, but misalign with in terms of skillsets is ideal. You have to share a why and a how, but if they are bringing skills to the table that you don’t have and vice versa, then you’ve just unlocked a whole new world.

Partnerships are a clean, lean way to run a design business. You get the skill range, accountability, and collaboration of a team, but you are nimble and free from the complication and cost of actually having one.

It goes without saying to choose a partner wisely. SD herself separated from her business partner after disagreeing on management style. Another friend closed a 7+ year old business because her partner’s life priorities shifted. I, myself, plan to partner with my soon-to-be husband — a historically risky but fruitful collaboration.

Perhaps there is an essay for another day on what you should discuss with a potential partner before going into business with them. My advice for now is to start small — do one project together, then if it works, another, and so on.

My chat with SD completely fueled my fire. I was and still am considering taking on a full-time job in interior design, but I feel truly called to an independent creative life. For years, I’ve sitting here wondering if I can do it, how I can do it, and what other things I could do to support it, while neglecting the golden ticket: actually just doing it.

I shouldn’t have needed SD’s permission to take action, but it worked. I’ve been spending so much time looking inward: journaling, planning, forecasting; when all I really needed was to express it to someone outside of me and my circle, to hear her grounded and experience-based feedback. Mentorship is an invaluable resource on the path to independence and it can be mutually beneficial — in telling her story, SD made some discoveries that could be serving her creative practice as we speak. Here’s to helping each other find the way.