Managing Creative Differences


Guest Author: Scott Oldham, Creative Director

I was recently contacted by a writer for Signature Magazine to answer a few questions about managing creative differences between designers andโ€ฆpretty much everyone else. Itโ€™s not a happy thought: the reputation of designers is so fundamentally bad that itโ€™s assumed a priori that we will disagree with our non-designer peers as our default position. Is there truth in this? I donโ€™t know, but you certainly wonโ€™t find me disagreeing with it. Not me.

But respecting the writerโ€™s premise for the sake of argument, whatโ€™s the answer? How do designers navigate the creative differences that invariably arise between themselves and, say, editors or clients?

Let me put the question into context, however: itโ€™s not as though creative differences are rareโ€”or even occasionalโ€”occurrences. Theyโ€™re part of our job. Theyโ€™re omnipresent, so navigating them becomes as reflexive an activity as breathing. Without pushback, Iโ€™m not sure Iโ€™d know I designed things for a living, rather than as a hobby.

But, to take yet another stab at actually answering this question, hereโ€™s how it generally goes. 1) Designer submits solution; 2) Someone objects; 3) Designer asks the only question that matters: why?

This seems obvious and facile, but itโ€™s a surprisingly uncomfortable conversation to have. I donโ€™t mean itโ€™s uncomfortable for designers, though Iโ€™m sure almost all prefer an audience that declares love for our work and tasks us no further. No, the discomfort comes from the source of the objection.

The fault for this isnโ€™t an absence of consideration or education, on either side. Itโ€™s a failure of language. Words werenโ€™t designed to convey visual information. Itโ€™s frustrating to cram visual ideas into a medium wholly unsuited to represent them. And this frustration almost always translates into the five least helpful words in the English language: โ€œI just donโ€™t like it.โ€

Too often, this is where the process breaks down. Everyone believes theyโ€™re entitled to their own tastes, but nobody likes to be challenged about them. For example, we might hear something like: โ€œOur executive director doesnโ€™t like red,โ€ which is patently, nakedly absurd. Your executive director doesnโ€™t dislike red. Itโ€™s as perverse an affectation as disliking sunlight. Suddenly, an intellectual examination is transformed into a dispute over flavor: โ€œI donโ€™t like serifs,โ€ or โ€œI hate circles,โ€ or โ€œI have a thing about dotted lines.โ€ Thereโ€™s a story behind each of those, and the good designer knows they must be teased out if thereโ€™s any hope of providing a new solution that might also crack the original problem.

Thatโ€™s another key to managing this experience: the abiding belief that thereโ€™s more than one way to skin a cat. This genuinely trips up designers. We have a flaw: we fall in love too easily. Our designs are so beautiful and perfect and correct that an assault on them feels like an attack on our children. This is clearly indefensible within a professional context, but whatโ€™s a designer to do?

Hereโ€™s how I recommend handling it:

1) React honestly. Thereโ€™s no shame in feeling pain, frustration and even anger when good work is rejected. Just keep it to yourself.

2) Grieve. Your design may have taken an hour or a day or a week to execute; youโ€™re not expected to give it up at a momentโ€™s notice. Let the sad truth sink in while you concentrate on something else for a while.

3) Drop it. Forget it. Pretend it never existed. Donโ€™t try to adapt it or salvage it in some way. Move on. Thereโ€™s a better solution out there and itโ€™s your job to find it.

I didnโ€™t think to say most of that to the writer who called me, but I made a related point: the process is all. The end result is important to someone but it shouldnโ€™t be to the creative team that developed it. Itโ€™s the processโ€”the brainstorming, the give-and-take, even the argumentsโ€”that earns us whatever credit and remuneration we deserve.

Full disclosure: no one has ever actually said to me, โ€œOur executive director doesnโ€™t like red.โ€

It was yellow.

 

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