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Polygon for meaningful ambiguity
Wonderful assignment. It doesn't get any better. But what's it to me? A blank paper crisis (or, in other words, when inspiration has left the city and you need it here and now) has not come my way in a long time (hm, really?). Boy, do I really love parentheses, somehow all of that subconscious text seems to fit just right in them, they are like a polygon for meaningful ambiguity. Well now, concerning the assignment, or actually, the given theme (that word 'assignment' just has a little too much of a socio-realistic feeling to it): "Write a column - something about us, about what we do, about our work." Wow! If that sounds like a given theme, you're terribly wrong. A given theme is always somehow easier to swallow (unless you have to write about nuclear physics when you've skipped all of your classes of pure and simple elementary and secondary school physics). This is not a given theme - first of all, it's a broad topic and, second of all, it implicates emotional involvement. What's closest to home is always the most difficult (I call on the one about not seeing the forest from the trees and all similar expressions). Ah, I'm cool, I can do it in the blink of an eye, just like that (self-confidence is an important factor in this business, and training for it with autosuggestion and visualization is the most frequent sport we engage in. It comes as a mandatory extracurricular activity).
And to call this job a job is to walk a thin line. Because the combination of design, marketing, project organization, writing, photographing, communicating with clients, finances. really isn't just a job. We often like to say that design (which is actually a main activity, but so closely and indivisibly related to the other mentioned activities that every marriage would be envious of its coherency) is not a job - it's a way of life. You simply can or you can't, it's like when you're a declared. something, anything - either you are or you aren't. There's no other way about it.
It functions in the manner that the official working hours are the period of time you spend sitting in the studio, beside a (fixed) telephone, computer and so on and so forth. And the remainder of your time, you're also working in a sense, although you're mostly not in the studio. You're reading magazines and books, staring at billboards, surfing the web, watching commercials on TV, movies. Your brain is working non-stop, always calculating, creating, mulling over something. Ideas come to mind in the oddest of places. One of my favorite places of inspiration is the bathroom (but it's not necessary). This column is looking to me more and more like a full strip. Without the poker - pure denudation. I've started revealing (carefully guarded) secrets. However, let's get back to inspiration attacks. Scene 2 - you go, let's say, for a coffee with friends, and your 173rd brilliant idea that day comes to mind and you can't help immediately sharing it with friends. During the course of unveiling your own brilliance and after the pallid looks on their faces, you realize that you've made a boo-boo. You're talking about work again and it's quite obvious that your brilliant idea was not so brilliant whatsoever. Either they didn't like it or they didn't get it (either way a defeat - for you, because they are very intelligent. you verified). Sorry guys, I won't talk about it anymore.
What is damning about this job is that you get hooked. Hooked on the adrenaline. Crisis and panic are guaranteed no matter how hard we try to avoid them. There's always some kind of deadline - those related to campaigns, magazines, taking photographs or whatever. You're working yourself to the bone, you stop noticing the transition from day to night, and after a few, let's call them, intensive 24 hours, on the last night, you don't even remember how you got home. It's as if you've partied yourself to death. After this, you sleep all day long, then the following day you contact all of your dearest and closest friends you haven't been in touch with as of late (that day you usually go out looking for where you parked your car on that night when it was erased from memory) and already the third day you're twiddling your thumbs because it's too calm and quiet. And then you realize just how much of an addict you are. Luckily this addiction is still considered socially acceptable. Well, I've completed the plot and demonstrated what the term adrenaline means from our perspective. And, according to the tried and tested recipe - the best is saved for last. As in all stories - the days go by. The crisis and panic are gone and so is the day of addiction crisis due to a lack of adrenaline. And then come the best days. When you enjoy the freshly printed copy of what came to be at the time of crisis and panic. When you look at IT full of love, you flutter due to happiness, which is really fantastic. And you're as proud as can be. Of yourself and the others who helped you complete the project. Truth be told, you're already well into working on something else (another identification sign for those who do this type of work - there just never is enough time to really catch your breath), but that's the way it goes. That's the way our fate is written in the stars (or wherever it is written). Or maybe this does not seem like fate to you? Well, we think that it is, and no matter how much at times it's hard to admit it (first and foremost to ourselves) - we like it just the way it is!
colUMn
Polygon for meaningful ambiguity
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