February 09, 2005

Being young on Tuesday night.

"So i guess you can't really ever make that much money doing what you do." she said to me.

she said it at the same time she realized it.

she said it without cynicism or exaggeration.

she said it like it was true.

and it was true.

"What I do." I thought. The conversation ended. I closed the phone.

"What I do", referred to being a designer. A graphic designer, to be a little more appropriate. at least for that conversation.

"I could make money being a designer", i thought. but it would never be doing the kind of work that is exciting, innovative, fun, or engaging. It wouldn't be cool. But i could have money.

The type or work i like to do as a young person does not make money. At best, it profits other, older people.

At best.

Young design is cool. Young design does not make money. Young design firms, young publications, youth sports companianes, music, and the bloated genre of youth lifestyle companies who profit from the idea of being young (i.e. "cool") are all owned or backed by, and therefore profit....... old people.

Truly genuine young design - that is, young people designing with energy directly for other young people - is not a profitable venture. Designing and producing projects for photographers, musicians, and other designers is fun, exciting and allows for less constraints and yields more provocative results, but young (i.e. "cool") design does not make money because i do it for other young people, who, in turn , have no money to pay.

The solution: design for financial institutions. Design for pharmaceutical companies. Design for the companies whose names are horribly sterile and ambiguous. Design for old people. They are the ones who have the money.

The best i could hope for, i thought, is design for old people who want to look young.

I sat at the table thinking about it all while looking at an issue of surfer magazine. The people surfing, the people taking photos of them, and the people who were writing about it all are the least paid in the process, Yet they are the ones who make the magazine what it is. They are the ones who make it cool. They are the ones who sell the magaizne so the owners of the companies who advertise in it can make money.

Suddenly and realized the equation was really simple:

You can be young and you can be cool, but can't have money.
You can be young and you can have money, but you can't be cool.
Young can be cool and have money, but you can't be young.

"how much do you charge to design business cards? I want you to do it up sweet." My roommate Zach, a self employed real estate appraiser, asked me as he skateboarded across our living room floor and crashed head over heels in wool lumberjack socks and bright red crocs across the threshold into the hallway.

The drain has been clogged for 3 days and the bathtub is nearly full of water. The landlord hasn't come over to snake the drain yet. Each shower raised the water closer to the top of the tub. None of us have taken a shower in the last two days for fear of being the one to overflow the tub and flood the bathroom.

Ryans Adams, "Note to Self: Don't Die", was playing on the house stereo.

"i tell you what," Zach said as he picked himself off the ground, "i will trade you for your design. if you ever decide california is where it's at, and you buy a house, i will trade you for an appraisal."

by the time that comes around, i thought, we will both be old enough to pay each other. and old enough to wish we were cool again.

[*addenda: 1). There are, i think, exceptions to the equation. (i.e. My pal Woody. But he is not a designer. and he is really isn't young.) 2). I hate the word 'cool'. 3). About 1:30 am Zach feverishly began plunging the bathtub. By 1:40 am the water had drained.]

Posted by Todd Roeth at February 9, 2005 12:44 AM