I was recently asked to be a presenter at PechaKucha Toronto. Of course it was an honour and, telling myself that these sort of challenges lead to discovery and reward, I happily agreed. As the day grew near I started to fret—OK, I was freaking out a little. Not only was I struggling to find a topic suitable for the evening’s theme of “Design + Think + Passion”, but I hadn’t ever done a PechaKucha talk before and found the format surprisingly challenging. I was nervous.

For anyone unfamiliar with PechaKucha, it’s a presentation format where each speaker is permitted exactly 20 slides, and allowed to speak for 20 seconds per slide before it automatically advances to the next—whether you’re ready or not. It’s a terrific platform which forces speakers to make their point quickly, resulting in succinct, on point presentations the audience can digest easily.

I’ve done plenty of public speaking in my career, and I love challenges that scare me (it forces growth), but I found the restrictive parameters of PechaKucha uncomfortable. Anyone who knows me can attest to how much I enjoy talking and storytelling, but when you have less than seven minutes to take a crowded room full of strangers from “Hi my name is Mark…” through an entire story arc leading to an intelligent final point the audience will remember is a hard thing indeed. But beyond the confines of the format, I still had no clear topic idea and needed help. That help came from an unexpected source.

The week before my presentation, I joined my friend Ryan for a drink one evening. As we hadn’t seen each other in a while, he asked how life and business were these days. I described my PechaKucha woes briefly, but then found myself surprisingly whining a little about worries over the economy, sales and revenues at work, my income and poorly performing investments. One of my smartest and more successful chums, Ryan neither suffers fools nor tolerates whining, so it wasn’t out of character when he brazenly told me to “Give your head a shake!” But I was caught off guard when he leaned forward and asked, “What did you invest in last year?”

Not seeing an obvious connection to our previous conversation about my presentation, I thought for a minute and struggled to form an answer. Between the umms and awws, I said something about a GIC, RRSP and TFSA contributions, and was starting to bitch about crappy mutual funds and the insane real estate market in Vancouver when he stopped me abruptly, shook his head, and said he wasn’t talking about money at all. What the what now?

He then told me about a friend of his who, after a particularly good year with his business, instead of putting a chunk of money into savings or investment vehicles like real estate or the stock market, decided to invest in friends, relationships and community this year. To his accountant’s chagrin and disbelief, he had chosen five people he believed in and was spending his money to go visit them, travel with them to conferences and seminars, and set up meetings with influential people and potential mentors. His theory being that these people were on career trajectories that he could not only positively influence, but benefit from in the long term. He believed that spending his time, energy and money on them would open doors otherwise not opened and be far more profitable (for both parties) than conventional investments. A fascinating story leaving me feel a bit humbled, but I was still confused about the connection to my PechaKuchasituation.

“It’s simple,” Ryan continued, “you may not have the financial means to invest thousands of dollars the way my friend did, but you’ve been making similar investments all year long—and these pursuits will be profitable for years to come. You have significant reach and influence via social media, you volunteer for various community groups doing excellent work, you’re an active member and leader of various industry associations, and you frequently either attend, host, or speak at events and conferences each year. There’s your PechaKucha topic—a new way of looking at investments that others can consider and be inspired by.”

These certainly cost me money, but that wasn’t what he was driving at. As I sat there and listened to a friend’s objective perception of me and my activities, I started to understand. He was arguing that where I spent my time and energy was as (or more) important than where I invested my money, and could equally produce profits in social currency and capital. I started feeling mildly foolish and arrogant for whining about money, but also better about myself as I considered this line of thinking.

Ryan continued, pointing out the various industry events I’ve helped produce or host in the recent past, such as Salazar student design awards, Practivism sustainability speaker series, Graphex national design awards, and Icograda Design Week Vancouver.

He asked me how many pro bono or charity projects I’d participated in, bringing to mind many examples, such as Canstruction (benefitting Vancouver  Food Bank), Half The Sky Foundation (helping orphaned children in China), Dodson Neighbourhood House (providing safe, affordable housing for DTES) and Room To Read (building libraries in developing countries). I hadn’t really considered how participating in charity work could be viewed as a profitable investment.

Ryan went on talking about the leadership and organization skills I lend organizations like DOXA, SIGGRAPH, and Barcamp Vancouver, reminding me also of the various informative articles I’d published, the teaching and lecturing I do for various design programs and professional associations, and the mentoring I provide for students and young design professionals. He complimented me for being the driving force behind inclusive business networking groups such as Likemind Vancouver, which brings creatives together for coffee once a month, Interesting Vancouver, an annual “unconference” featuring interesting people talking about their hobbies, passions and obsessions, and Foodists, a collective of like-minded food worshippers I co-founded with some foodie friends.

Ryan wrapped up his argument by expressing appreciation for the way I volunteered my time and energy to serve as leadership with the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada, and for bringing the breakfast lecture series CreativeMornings to Vancouver, reminding me how many friends, collaborators, staff—even clients–had emerged as a result of all of these efforts—not to mention the positive impact it had on my reputation, network and influence.

My friend’s point was more than suitably made, and I felt great. I had never really considered all the various activities that I engaged in terms of an investment, but he was right: I had muddled the meaning of words like “investment” and “profit” by confusing them with money.

The truth is, beyond any feel-good sense of fulfillment, I was indeed profiting from my investments of time, energy, creativity, leadership and unpaid hard work in ways that easily outstripped most financial vehicles available. And in practical business terms, my company receives numerous inquiries, recommendations, new clients and projects, and in fact PROFITS from all of these indirect investments.

So how’d my PechaKucha presentation go? Well, it was still a challenge to put together and delivery succinctly, but as usual the challenge motivated me to step up and overcome my own fear and I think it went OK. According to coverage of the evening, the event was a success and my presentation was well received and memorable. Here’s a link to the audio and slides, so you can judge for yourself, but I feel like the effort was a good investment.

So now I ask you, what are you investing in this year?

CreativeMornings is being brought to Vancouver, by our very own Mark Busse.

CreativeMornings is a breakfast lecture series started in New York by Tina Roth Eisenberg (@SwissMiss) for creative types happening the first Friday of each month. Each event is FREE of charge (thanks to sponsor support), and includes a 20 minute talk, with the added bonus of a proper hot breakfast and coffee.

Events in mornings don’t normally work for me as they tend to run from 8–9am (I’m a busy guy and mornings are normally crazy taking my daughter to daycare) but CreativeMornings/Vancouver is from 8:30–10am, so not even the parents among us have an excuse to miss this inaugural event (September 2, at W2 Media Café).

Logistics aside, Stewart Butterfield (the co-founder of Flickr and named by Time Magazine as one of the 100 most influential people in the world) will be talking and telling his story, followed by a  20 minute group discussion. This is going to be a very engaged and rare opportunity to see such a speaker in Vancouver and in such an intimate setting (and remember it’s FREE). The tickets will be released on August 29th and are limited to 150 seats (register at: http://vancouvercreativemornings.eventbrite.com on Monday, August 29th).

It’s awesome that Vancouver’s creative community is getting the credit it deserves and thanks to Mark for bringing this event to our city.

For more information read the article in Design Edge or visit www.creative mornings.com

UPDATE: At precisely 11am on Monday, August 29th 150 tickets for CreativeMornings/Vancouver’s first event became available to the public. By 11:02:50, less than three minutes later, they were completely sold out, with 130 disappointed people on the waiting list. The lesson? Vancouver’s creative community is hungry for this sort of event, and if you want tickets for the next one, set a reminder alarm and be ready!

An article titled Substance over Style by our Design Director Mark Busse was recently featured in the latest issue of Business In Vancouver’s Adpages Magazine about how businesses can more effectively attract, evaluate and select a design partner. The article (reproduced below) argues that procurement strategies such as RFPs can produce unrewarding outcomes and offers some tips and guidance for businesses seeking a relationship with creative firm.

Substance over style: How to find the best design partner for your business
by Mark Busse

With graphic communications increasingly recognized as critical to success, it’s important to find the right design firm for your company.

Yet many in business struggle to attract, evaluate and select design partners. One might hire friends or family, while another might create a contest with a prize for the selected submission. Many others rely on archaic requests for proposals (RFPs) for transparency and objectivity in arriving at competitive pricing. The resulting relationships can be as unrewarding as the outcomes.

Is there a better way?

Seek help in your search

Recommendations from within your own industry or from design experts will almost always be more effective than online searches or RFPs. Consult with design associations on identifying qualified candidates from their certified ranks. Are the candidates thought leaders in design, respected by industry, peers and clients? Or consider delegating the search to a marketing consultant with experience procuring and managing design.

Look beyond portfolios

In addition to evaluating a design team’s portfolio, investigate the company’s skills in business and project management. Don’t judge only on æsthetics or descriptions of process. Challenge candidates to express what was behind their design choices and how their particular approaches solved clients’ problems. Visit their studios and speak to them in person to judge fit. You needn’t become friends, but you should share similar perspectives, goals or ethics and enjoy collaborating together.

Ask for case studies and testimonials

Request comprehensive case studies that outline goals, context, and approach to reveal whether processes are results-driven. Ask for testimonials or contact information for specific clients. If candidates don’t willingly offer these, move on.

Who will do the work?

Investigate each firm’s current employees and in-house capabilities. How many long-term, full-time designers do they employ? How much design or development do they farm out, and are they transparent about this? Inquire how direct a role the senior members will play in your project.

What’s included?

What is and isn’t covered in candidates’ fees? Do they provide working files? Do they use proprietary or open-source solutions? What’s their stance on ownership and copyright, and how do they handle cost overruns?

Will candidates be there for you in future?

The real value of a relationship with a designer is in his or her repeatable process and creative thinking applied to your problem, not merely to your final product. Since the worth of this relationship often emerges over time, inquire about candidates’ plans for growth. Look for indications that firms have been and will be around long-term.

Are candidates asking questions?

Do candidates spend most of their time selling you on themselves, or do they seem genuinely interested in your problem and goals? The best practitioners will be hungry for the details underlying your situation and may push you to reconsider causal factors and solutions. Speak openly about your business needs and expectations.

Seek a consultant, not a proposal

Avoid the temptation to require designers to provide firm cost proposals up front on the basis of your description of deliverables. Instead, share your problem, goals, budget and timeline and engage a qualified designer to work with you to prescribe strategic solutions tailored to your unique situation. After this initial discovery, create a project plan that outlines the specifics of the solution. Write a contract after arriving at an agreement. As to hourly rates, you get what you pay for: prices will reflect experience and efficiency.

Like hiring a senior employee or taking on a partner, choosing the right design firm can be a critical moment in the growth of your business. The best candidates won’t give away strategy to prospects – certainly not before doing the research and diagnostics they’ll need for understanding the situation fully – so don’t ask for it before hiring a team. If the initial discovery phase doesn’t impress you or you dislike working together, discontinue the relationship and move on.

About 20 per cent of our business at Industrial Brand comes from clients who hired design providers ineffectively and have had to redo their identity systems or websites, didn’t understand what they were paying for or found themselves with limited options after their designers vanished. Don’t fixate on deliverables and costs before choosing your partner. What you’re really paying for is a well-considered process. Use the opportunity to start a long-term relationship with a partner you trust.

Mark Busse is design director of Industrial Brand, a Vancouver-based brand, communication and interactive design firm he co-founded in 1997. He’s a certified professional member and B.C. past president of the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada as well as member of the Association of Professional Design Firms.

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This article is from Business in Vancouver Adpages 2011, which you candownload as a PDF here. Adpages contains numerous other practical tips and informative articles for the business community and we encourage you to support BIV and buy a printed copy today!

Business in Vancouver has been publishing in-depth local business news, analysis and commentary since 1989. The newspaper also produces a weekly ranked list of the biggest companies and players in a wide range of B.C. industries and commercial sectors, monthly features and industry-focused sections that arm its subscribers with a complete package of local business intelligence each week.

From Adpages, published by BIV Magazines. Copyright © 2011, BIV Magazines, a division of BIV Media LP. Reproduced with permission.

The below opinion article was featured Applied Arts Magazine’s website in November 2010:

Design is in chaos, and leadership is sorely lacking.

It’s time for those with the ability to take the reins of power and haul the industry into the modern world.

So often I hear experienced design professionals tell younger designers to get involved or join the local chapter of a design association. Good advice, right? Of course it is.

Wait a minute. I’ve been heavily involved in our national design association for almost a decade now, and when I look at the best and brightest in our field, most of them are not even part of that community. Not only do the experienced among us generally not lend their time and energy as leaders, but most don’t even see the value of membership. What the deuce?

We all love to wax poetic about “back in the day” (a term I only now feel old enough to use), but it’s scary how much things have changed in the last 20 years. Another phrase I find myself using these days is “in the real world,” when talking to design students about the realities of what we deal with in our day-to-day profession. It occurs to me that I haven’t been giving my students the whole story about our industry. And it occurs to me that the opportunities for learning, networking and advancement via design associations aren’t what they used to be.

Enough of that. We need to tear down the walls of complacency and lead by example.

Times Are Changing

When I entered this profession, the designers I learned from illustrated with brushes and paint, drew typefaces by hand and set type on a Linotype machine. Looking back, it felt like at that moment (1989) everything began to suddenly change. I remember the fear and trepidation so many of us felt as we realized how much of our training was already obsolete. Thankfully, we brought with us new skills and perspectives as well as our classical training, and together with the established pros, we forged ahead, evolved, and kept the design community afloat.

But times are changing once again. And nobody likes change. It’s scary as hell. But change is a constant in the design field—like it or not.

Some say that Canada’s reputation as a leader in our field has waned. Many argue vehemently that design has radically evolved beyond “graphic,” with designers around the globe adopting a new perspective and identity. And yet despite all this, Canadian graphic design associations cling desperately to old paradigms, terminology and mandates.

It’s time we told the younger designers entering the highly competitive (and saturated) communication design industry the truth about what skills they’re going to need to thrive—or even survive.

Stop Whining

I’m guilty of it too, but really—let’s grow up. I’m about as sick of hearing about spec contests and crowd-sourcing as I am talking about it. And the debate over what we call ourselves and describe what we do? An important discussion, but god I’m bored of it.

Sure, we can stomp our feet in protest every time a government ministry engages in a practice we view as disrespectful, but have those that represent us adequately secured the attention of Canada’s federal government, educating and collaborating with them? Not so much. Have regional association chapters stepped in front of the various legislative assemblies in the provinces across Canada? Nope. Have we even reached out to our local boards of trade with the message of the value we bring to business through design? Not to my knowledge.

The reality is, the immaturity with which we’re viewed will never go away if all we do is whine about everything among ourselves, resorting to the equivalent of shooting spitballs from the sidelines. And seriously, do you think the best and brightest among us get caught up in discussions about what they call themselves? Or about the quality of typeface choices in James Cameron’s latest movie or how much they love or hate the latest logo designed by Peter Arnell? Of course not. Who cares? Are we artists or are we business strategists? Or perhaps both? Do we really even know anymore?

We need to start looking beyond the ivory tower of design. There are more issues at hand than the improper use of Trajan.

The Associations Are Failing Designers

It’s been an exciting few years in the design industry. But when I look at the broader industry and the leadership within its ranks, I am ashamed. The associations are bursting at the seams with young designers, but there is an embarrassingly low percentage of experienced, successful design professionals among our leadership ranks.

For the most part, Canada’s best designers don’t seem to understand the value of membership anymore, let alone feel compelled to step up and volunteer their expertise, intelligence, creativity and influence.

In this time of change, made worse by economic uncertainty and the threat of overseas competition (when I was in China last year, there were nearly one million students studying design—one million), we need brave leadership, now more than ever. We don’t need the status quo, and we certainly don’t need to cling to old ways of thinking, trying to rebuild cosmetic meaning in an industry that has fundamentally changed.

What we need is unity. Let’s be honest with ourselves, Canada’s national graphic design association isn’t really national at all. Until old differences are set aside and Ontario and Quebec properly join the leadership of this industry, we’re going to be burdened by fractured administration and provincial thinking. If we want to truly make change, we need to quit bickering and navel-gazing, band together and get to work.

There are a growing number of professionals in our field who believes that unless our national association radically alters its trajectory, the only answer is to form a new group. This is a risky approach that would mean discarding more than 50 years of history. But this is the design industry; old things die and new things are created in their place. I’m not sure it’s the right path, but at least somebody’s making an effort—and if things don’t change soon, I’ll be right there with them.

Designers Are Failing The Associations

Most of these well-known designers who have abandoned the associations have elevated themselves beyond the level of merely producing graphics. They’ve acquired business acumen, expanded their professional networks and accumulated significant influence. They’re too busy producing results for their clients to get caught up in issues that don’t seem to relate to them anymore. Few of these successful designers turn their attention, time and energy to leading the Canadian design industry forward.

To fix this, there needs to be constant change at the head of our national organization. There should be a number of candidates in the running for leadership positions. No one should be able to park in a position for years on end and win the same spot by default. Change is healthy for an organization, and I would argue it’s required to keep our broader industry evolving and moving forward.

We need leaders who won’t get caught up complaining about how little money the association has, but who will set in motion a plan to fix that. We need leaders who not only recognize the importance of getting our message in front of big business and government, but who have the experience doing this already—successfully. We need leaders who have evolved beyond graphic design.

So where are these leaders?

I suspect that most of the really influential designers in Canada have become distracted by the allure of fame. Many designers who could bring a lot to the table have opted instead to self-promote, pursuing speaking engagements at design conferences and/or publishing books of their ramblings or works, instead of giving back to their industry in its time of need. Many will offer their design services and create posters, reports, even websites for the promotional opportunities, but these often seem more in the service of exposure in their quest to become the next Sagmeister. Good for those who enjoy this kind of professional success and notoriety, but what about those who follow? Who will be their mentors?

So this is a call to those who have “arrived” and enjoyed success in their design careers. Instead of merely becoming opinion shapers worshipped by young designers, these leaders should step forward and use their experience, position and influence to create real, positive change.

Winners Don’t Make Excuses

By now, many of you are probably thinking, “He has a point. If we want things to improve, we need to put in the work. But I just don’t have the time.” Hogwash.

This issue has been on my mind a lot lately as I consider my own future as a volunteer leader within the Canadian design community. I too have struggled to find a balance between running my own busy design studio and serving on the executive board of my local design association chapter. I recently posted a thread to Facebook that read, “Why do most of Canada’s best and brightest senior designers refuse to serve their national professional association?” I wasn’t surprised by responses claiming successful designers are busy, sometimes timid and often even elitist, but seriously, give me a break. This is not the time for timidity or elitism.

I’m not negating the importance of family commitment or life balance, and we all understand the need to focus time and energy on work itself, but I asked why the upper tier of designers is absent. From my perspective, the people at the top of this game are always busy, but they’re also extremely efficient, tremendous problem solvers and often have deep resources.

The responses that resonated most with me were those centred around the confusion about the value of design associations, which seem to be run by the “old guard” (a term that makes me cringe), which has collectively lost a sense of the state of the industry. Many senior designers replied that they have little interest in lending their talents to a community that still calls themselves graphic designers—a term few of those at the top use any more. And finally, some argued that the way the design industry networks and supports itself has changed and become much more fluid, global and instant, using online tools such as Behance, Cargo Collective, LinkedIn, QBN and Motionographer.

Fine. Things have changed. We can all sit behind our computer screens and feel a sense of community via our Facebook pages or LinkedIn groups, but that’s not community. We need leadership. We need those who’ve come before us to guide and mentor us by sharing their tricks of the trade. We also need those who are enjoying success in the newer areas of expertise, such as interaction design, user experience design and brand design. They can bring to the table their unique experiences, so those who still think like graphic designers can look at the bigger picture and expand their ideas of what we do.

We need winners to put their hands up and say, “It’s my turn—allow me to help out for a while.” Just imagine how many new designers could be inspired to band together as a community if even 10 or 20 influential design leaders stepped forward to compete for a term on the executive board of our national design association?

I’m aware that my ideas don’t jibe with everyone’s point of view, but I believe in the power of design. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that a coalition of the best of the design industry can bring about radical positive change, once again positioning Canada as the bright North Star of design leadership it once was.

To do that, walls need to be broken down, and tough decisions made. It’s time to tell the next generation the truth about the mess we’re leaving them, and work with them to build a better future for us all.

Will you join me?

We just received the Call For Entries for Graphex 2010—GDC’s biennial national design awards. The concept is “A Reflection Of The Best Designers In Canada”, so I photographed myself reflected in the shiny mirror postcard. Does this mean I’m now among the best designers in Canada? No, but maybe it’ll bring some luck as we get ready to submit a bunch of work from the past couple years. Fingers crossed!

I see GDC has created a public Graphex 2010 group on Flickr, so hopefully more designers across the country will post similar photos of themselves.

Mark Busse gives his final speech as President of GDC/BC in January, 2009.

GDC/BC‘s President, Marga Lopez, recently asked me to submit an overview of 2009 from my perspective as a GDC Executive. After a little thought, I jotted down the following, which I thought I’d share here.

I’ll never forget 2009. As far as my career goes, it was filled with breathtaking highs and terrifying lows. I’m not ashamed to admit that my own company suffered when the economic crisis hit and I was gravely concerned when numerous friends scaled their design firms way back or even found themselves without a job altogether.

This was my mood as the year began, but I’d have to say this was a rather good year for GDC/BC—and for me. Deciding to not run for another term as GDC/BC President was difficult for me as our team was gaining momentum and there was much work left to do. But in retrospect it was the right thing to do as Marga Lopez has blossomed as a leader we can all rally around. My hope is that Marga will not make the same choice and decide to run for another term. I would follow her into battle blindfolded.

Beyond supporting Marga as Past President, my duties included serving as Co-Chair of Design Week have kept me busier than ever. Sometimes my role seems to be one of catalyst and conduit, generating ideas or fostering relationships, other times I seem to be the voice of dissent, expressing strong opinions about issues that can rub people in the wrong ways at times.

Money was tight for our chapter this year, but we budgeted smartly and kept our eye on expenditures. Sponsorship has been a struggle as companies are reticent to spend money on marketing when they are laying off staff, but we also managed to create a new partnership with Rogers that brought enough savings to members to offset annual dues—and I finally got an Apple iPhone!

I was encouraged to see our public image gain traction this year, with improved PR efforts and the press interviewing GDC Execs, industry speakers, and running stories about the efforts of GDC in British Columbia, such as the “Vancouver’s Ambassadors of Design” article in Design Edge Magazine. Having been on the receiving end of interviews a few times this year, I have much to learn before I feel “media savvy”, but I’m getting better at navigating those trecherous waters and feel it’s an important thing for the GDC to be aware of in the coming years.

I really enjoyed this year’s events. Michael Strassburger’s hilarious presentation at the AGM in January, Michael Osborne’s irreverent yet enlightening talk at the 2009 Salazar Awards, the eager students I met at POGO ’09, and watching people gorge themselves on my moose chili at the association BBQ were all memories I’ll cherish. Our professional development breakfasts were spot on and well-received, the Graphex exhibit in China was a resounding success, and Practivism was once again the crown jewel—who would have thought our little idea to make a design lecture series about using design as a practical approach to activism?

Serving as a co-chair on the Design Week committee has been terrifying, exciting, challenging, and rewarding. It’s hard to believe this all started with a casual comment to an Icograda colleague at the 2007 World Design Congress in La Habana, Cuba. I think I said something like “What would it take to bring Design Week to Vancouver?” Another lesson in being careful what you wish for perhaps. Planning for the conference has progressed well and we have been truly blessed that so many world-class speakers have agreed to be our guests and contribute their time and energy toward this dialogue about defining the value of design.

Speaking of Design Week, leading a GDC delegation to China to promote our conference was an experience I’ll never forget, and one I owe a debt of gratitude to my colleagues in GDC (especially Patricia Xu) for helping make happen. I truly believe that the Graphex exhibit, combined with the lectures and presentations that Rod Roodenburg and I gave to universities, general assembly and conference audiences helped improve the reputation of Canadian communication design internationally. I’ve already received invitations to return to China, so at least I didn’t offend anyone. :-)

This year included some sadness for many of us who lost friends and loved ones. The sudden passing of my friend Leo Obstbaum left me shaken, but I am glad his community has chosen to honour him in death by inducting him posthumously into our fold. And learning that our mentor and friend Jim Rimmer was struggling with throat cancer was a shock. Thankfully Jim is fighting back and the prognosis is positive, and witnessing Hemlock name their new scholarship fund in his name was a high point for me this year.

As the year winds down, our struggles are not over. Many of us still seek work and worry about the year ahead. But I am hopeful. The last year has forced me and my company to really look inward, make sacrifices and refocus on what we’re best at. By not compromising and working harder than ever to be examples of the GDC ideal, we’ve not only survived, but thrived.

So too with the GDC/BC community and executive. Some have disappeared from our ranks, while many others have recognized that this is exactly the right time to be involved in our professional association. In fact, those generous souls who sit around the GDC/BC executive table each month have grown in number—with more passionate professionals than ever committing themselves to a term of service to our industry. For them I am deeply grateful and proud.

Each year we write these reports to summarize our recollections and thoughts about the year. This year I find myself asking what lessons I learned? My answer is twofold.

First, our situation—that being the struggle for recognition, fair pay and respect as design professionals—is really our own doing. There is no one to blame but us and the sooner we realize that, the better. We aspire to be experts in branding, positioning, and messaging, yet our own lack of business and marketing acumen has led us to drift off course. Instead of focusing our learning on become better skilled business specialists and communicating our value to business community and public we serve, we have been (poorly) marketing to gain more membership and self-pleasuring ourselves on design fodder—designsturbation. This must stop.

Secondly, change and improvement in the communication design industry will only happen when if we want it to and actually DO something about it. We need more passionate leaders within our community to step forward and lend us their brilliance. We then must celebrate those among us that excel and learn from them. Together we must boldly infiltrate non-design networks and demonstrate our value by the things we DO, not the things we SAY. If we want government support? We must meet with government, give presentations to their ranks and convince them that the future of our province depends on design thinker like us. If it pisses them off, so be it. And if we need more revenue, we need to not only seek more sponsorship by proving the value to those who want to do business with us, but seek other ways to create revenue for our chapter so we can operate more like the businesses we work for every day.

Here’s wishing happy holidays to all my friends in the design industry and a prosperous new year to you all!

When I was a much younger man studying fine art in university, we spent a lot of time practicing how to interpret and describe artwork, its meaning and how it made us feel. Later, during my business administrations studies, writing essays, case studies and briefs emerged as a key component of a successful business professional’s toolkit. So why then is writing proficiency—even  very rudimentary grammar and spelling—such a surprise to so many young design students I meet?

While visiting China recently to attend Icograda’s World Design Congress, I was honoured to be invited to lecture at four of the top universities in the country, each with respected design programs. Not surprisingly, their emphasis on art and craft is without compare, and their technical prowess is reknowned, but their design curricula seemed lacking much training in business, strategy, or communication. There was no shortage of calligraphy training—a beautiful craft I adore and wish I could do—but writing (in English certainly) was not emphasized in their programs.

Following is an email I received from one of the 4th year students at China’s Central Academy of Fine Arts in Beijing:

Hi Mark. My name is Sam, we met at CAFA in Beijing. I was at your lecture. You said something that I didn’t quite understand and I hope you can expand a little bit more on it for me. You said that we need to, as visual communicaters, articulate well, write well, spell well. My question is WHY? I’m not sure I understand. Could you just go a little deeper for me? Thanks. Also is there any book, especially ebooks (being in china and not being able to purchase english books and all), that you could reccommend that could help me in my studies? Thanks again.

Wow.

I often see the fear in the eyes of young students when I explain the importance of writing to them as a designer, but I must admit this type of reaction always surprises me. Perhaps after 20 years in the business and 12 years running my own design firm, but it seems obvious to me that writing well is a crucial aspect of the business of visual communications. Success in the highly competitive design industry requires it.

Unless you fancy yourself an old school graphic designer, our job does not primarily involve drawing beautiful illustrations, picking pretty colours or choosing and setting beautiful typography. Rather, visual communication design is concerned with the creation of ideas and meaning through a variety of means—including words and language to a large degree. I hope all readers of this agree on that point.

The business community worldwide uses carefully crafted written communication as a cornerstone of its daily operation. I can’t tell you how much time I spend each day writing business emails, proposals, briefs or corresponding with remote clients in writing via Skype or instant messenger. If I didn’t write goodly, what would these often well-educated professionals think of me and my company?

In my experience, key decision makers (clients) often require clear explanations of strategy and meaning behind our proposed solutions as they often lack the visual language literacy we posses as trained designers. If we truly want to be respected and place designers in corporation boardrooms around the world, we have to use language they understand—at a competency level they’re used to.

I have found that those designers with superior writing skills are more often those enjoying the highest degree of success. Not do they use writing when developing winning project proposals, but offer this valuable service to their clients alongside visual design and production. Many designers offer illustration or photography as well as graphic design, but being able to write copy and edit content provided by a client is almost expected these days.

In terms of self-promotion, writing is a powerful tool when communicating the rationale behind your design solutions in presentations, case studies, and promotional materials. Too often I’ve seen beautiful (looking) work ruined by poor writing and what would otherwise have been effective portfolios and websites fall flat due to poorly composed written explanations.

Furthermore, our communication skills—both verbal and written—are a reflection of our work ethic and professionalism. As clients are most often found within the business community, then isn’t it imperative we demonstrate our superiority in an increasingly competitive industry? Having *pretty* looking work in our design portfolio isn’t enough anymore—clients want to know about strategy, approach and results. Uh-oh, that means we need to write again.

The reality though, is that a talented graphic designer who lacks advanced writing skills need not fail or suffer as long as he recognizes the need for excellent writing and collaborates with an experienced writer who understands design and the project at hand. At very least it’s the designer’s responsibility to make sure the copy is checked carefully by a competent (and briefed) writer before committing layout designs to production.

Just like some communication designers who admit they can’t even draw or code, it is possible to enjoy success by partnering with those who can, though I’d argue it’s always better if done by the designers directly. While outsourcing to writers is common and often required, it is also the old paradigm and writing should be, in my opinion, a key step in the design process itself.

It boils down to this: Words and message are a major part of what we use and deal with every day as communication designers, so we should be experts at using words ourselves—don’t you agree? Being a skilled writer isn’t as much about being a successful communication designer as it is about just about being a successful professional. Period. If you want to succeed in your career, regardless of the specific trade you specialize in, written and spoken communication will always be important.

I worry that so many young designers abandon any interest in composition, grammar, spelling, etc. once they start pursuing visual language. And to be honest, we design educators need to take some responsibility for this too. Design is hard work kidlings. And the business world is glued together by words, not pretty logos. Learn how to write and you will enjoy success. Fail to recognize this and it will hold you back.

This whole discussion reminds me of a Canadian designer, GDC colleague and friend, named Eric Karjaluoto of SmashLab, who wrote a good article on this topic called Designers Must Write arguing that being able to write was as important being able to draw—two skills he argues are critical for designers—both taking practice to master and keep up. Eric’s writing has become such a large part of his own design practice in recent years that he has just published his first book called Speak Human.

Blair Enns, author and founder of Win Without Pitching, has recently been preaching about the merits of writing as a communication designer, claiming that writing makes you smarter and gets you found—especially in the online age. As a respected speaker and consultant to marketing and advertising agencies and design firms around the world, Blair argues in an article on his site called Four Reasons to Write that writing is a powerful differentiator for communication professionals.

My response to the Chinese design student Sam was essentially what became this article, and I’m happy to report he fully understood and agreed, even deciding to take this to his teachers to ask them for help in this area. I didn’t really have many book suggestions for him, though there are a number of decent options available on Amazon.com as well as some suggestions from Google. I did mention the e-book Writing For Visual Thinkers from PeachPit which seems worth checking out. If you have any recommendations, please add them to the comments below.

Oh, one final thought: The international language of business and design is now English—although obviously Chinese is crucial for a Chinese student who pursues a career within China—so correct spelling and grammar in English has become another key factor in presenting yourself as a professional to potential clients and the public. Lucky for those of us who were taught English as our first language, but I have a warning for you all: China is not far behind us. They are all learning English at an early age and they are working hard to become the next global design superpower. There was a lot of talk about the dynasties in China’s history while I was there, but when I left, after witnessing an impressive show of support by the Chinese Government for its burgeoning design industry, I felt like I had been present at the dawning of a new era in Chinese history: the beginning of the Design Dynasty. Soon we won’t be seeing “Made in China” on products, but rather “Designed in China”—and the writing that accompanies them will be as impeccable as the production quality.

[Thanks to tnarik for the photo]

Leo Obstbaum, Design Director for VANOC 2010 Olympics

My friend and colleague Leo Obstbaum, the creative mastermind behind the designs of the Vancouver Olympic Games, died suddenly in his home of natural causes in the early hours of Friday, August 21st. He left behind his beautiful wife Monice and young daughter Dakota. He was just 40 years old—the same age as I am.

Leo and I spoken numerous times that week and even had plans to meet that day after work to catch up over drinks and discuss a presentation he’d been preparing about his work on the Olympics. It was a talk he hoped to refine and present during Icograda Design Week Vancouver 2010 next spring. I’ll never forget hearing the tragic news and trying to come to terms with the fact that my friend was suddenly gone. It really shook me up. As devastated as I felt, I couldn’t imagine the feeling of loss his family was enduring.

Click here to read the entire article on GDC/BC’s blog.

Those who argue that plagiarism is the sincerest form of flattery are full of crap and deluding themselves. Plagiarism is taking someone’s original material and pretending it is your own for your own gain.

I was recently informed (thanks Chuck Wilson) that some of my writing had been plagiarized by a designer and blogger named Moey in Amman, Jordan. Shame on you Moey. Did you think because we are separated by a long distance that no one would notice? Are you familiar with this thing called the Internet? Tsk, tsk.

I could list line-by-line a comparison between my original words written in early 2007 and his article more than a year later, but I won’t bother. I’m not even going to link to Moey’s website as I don’t want to contribute to his search engine page rankings, but you can find him easily enough on Google. Or take a look at this screen capture of his article and compare it to my original post “I Am Not a Graphic Designer”.

I wonder if this is how he creates “designs that produce results?” I wonder how many Industrial Brand design knock-offs are in his portfolio?

A design student asked me to rant on video for a project she was working on and asked me to speak about the topic of speculative design work. So I agreed and showed up to present the following diatribe on camera—you should have seen their faces!

I’ve been asked today to express some thoughts about a contentious subject of much debate within the design industry—an issue that all young design students will eventually come to face and need to make a decision about for themselves: that dreaded word “spec”.

Spec is short for “speculative” or “speculation”, meaning in a design context, the creation of work based on conjecture without any agreement for pay unless they like the final product. Spec contests are the same, with the winning design being the only one remunerated. So, what do I think about participating in spec work?

I think spec is awesome!

Spec competitions create unique opportunities which bring out the best in people and can lead to terrific solutions. Just think about how wonderful the freedom of spec work is. There are no restrictions of a creative brief or the hindrances of planning, client research, rationales, or even contracts. Spec opens up tremendous opportunities for creativity!

And as has been demonstrated by the superb results of various spec design contests, where anyone—regardless of qualifications—can participate, spec work is an equal opportunity situation! Without spec opportunities, how else would self-taught amateurs be able to demonstrate their new-found abilities?

Another advantage of spec is that the client gets so much input, and has so many options, from numerous sources. Options from which they can pick and choose aspects from their favourites and combine into one fantastic solution. Some amazing discoveries can be made in this manner, wouldn’t you agree?

Some argue that engaging in spec work is a waste of time and disrespectful of our time and craft, but I say no! Spec is awesome practice! If you frequently engage in spec projects, imagine how good you will eventually become! In time you would get so good at it you might even win some paying clients who value your eagerness and willingness to earn their business.

A wise master artist once said “We all have at least 100,000 bad drawings inside of us. The sooner we get them out and onto paper, the sooner we’ll get to the good ones buried deep within.” Think of spec design competitions as a way to expunge bad work, bringing us all closer to being great masters!

Design is art, right? Isn’t it? And art is expression, so any medium that allows pure freedom of expression without the constraints of client demands is a terrific opportunity for growth as a creative person. How many artists do you know that get paid well? Exactly! If you love it, you’ll do it regardless! So don’t get hung up on pay or respect for your profession!

Beyond the tremendous exposure it could provide for you, think of the untold wealth you could earn by doing spec design! iPods! Computers! $500. Maybe even $5000! That’s some serious cake up for grabs!

Let’s not forget those poor customers suffering during the recession. It’s hard times friends. And spec provides terrific value for the business community, providing an army of designers working on their behalf for next to nothing without the headache of doing research or hassle of giving long explanations about goals and objectives. There’s a reason why hunters use shotguns—a wide spread works! And what better way to make a client happy that pepper them with a myriad of solutions—they’ll know what they like when they see it, won’t they?

So what if all those terrific logos you designed on your own time don’t get chosen in a spec contest? No problem! Put them into your portfolio anyways! It’s still killer design, right? Or recycle them! Go online and find websites like logotournament.com and toss them in the mix—someone’s bound to like it! Remember, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure—unless of course the contest stipulated that ownership and intellectual property rights were forfeited by participating—but even then, that’s what makes it so much fun and exciting! Who knows what could happen!

In the end, do you really want design associations (AKA “the type cops”) who forbid their members from participating in spec contests to tell you what to do or who to work for? Of course not! Another reason to participate in spec! What do they know? They act like this is a profession that should follow a code of ethics or something! They’re clearly out of touch with reality.

There are no guarantees in life—it’s filled with risk, also known as speculation. Life is speculation friends! So dive in and participate—spec work is awesome.