Confession time: I used to be a staunch defender of unpaid internships and advised fellow firm owners and young design grads alike to engage in this time-honoured tradition. I was wrong. So wrong. And I feel quite lousy about it.

There is nothing new about this practice or the debate surrounding it. And it’s not unique to the creative workforce—it’s endemic in a bad economy. Some very notable and respected leaders in the design field have endorsed its use for years and continue to do so. But they’re wrong and the practice is harming our industry. Let me explain why.

Internships can be an amazing way to break into an industry, and young designers all think they’ll do such a good job that they’ll be offered a paid position afterward. Most I’ve spoken to think they don’t have any choice, so they do it.


But the industry has profoundly risen up against speculative work in the last few years, establishing that earning work by pitching free creative devalues our industry. Many even argue that dangling the carrot of exposure or a potential future job is actually immoral, which is exaggerating the situation in my opinion. There are other more practical arguments that are worth discussing though.

The argument I always used to defend unpaid internships was that it was a vital bridge between education and work, and that it also was a costly, time-intensive commitment for any design firm. As an educator, I felt it was part of a young designer’s education akin to an apprenticeship.

Well hold on there. Even apprentices of old were provided with room and board. It didn’t matter if you were rich or poor, if you had talent and potential, you were given an opportunity to learn while earning your keep. These days, typically the only people able to accept unpaid internships are the privileged young supported by their family. How is a young designer buried in student loans, working part time just to survive supposed to show up five days a week for months without pay? That is unreasonable and leaves qualified, hard-working candidates behind, ultimately contributing to class divide.

Furthermore, a culture of unpaid internships results in a vetting of candidates who are unwilling to work for free, potentially resulting in candidates not actually being the most qualified. That sort of defeats the purpose, no?

Most unfair is that young designers likely aren’t strong enough to take a stand. Nor should they be. The “If you don't like it, don't accept the internship” argument puts the onus on them, and that is cruel.

Lastly, most of the above is a moot argument. It turns out that unpaid internships are illegal anyway.

Vancouver-based social media company Hootsuite was lambasted for its three-month unpaid internships. Critics quickly pointed out that according to the Employment Standards Act, unpaid internships are illegal. Not a “grey area.” Not “up to a person if they want to volunteer.” If a BC company is a for-profit enterprise, the practice is totally, unequivocally illegal. The same goes in Ontario and elsewhere, although according to the Canadian Intern Association, there is no clear law governing this across Canada. It’s time there should be, in my opinion.

That these interns are there to learn doesn’t matter. The law says that only a company working directly with an educational institute in offering hands-on learning, as a required component of a formal education, can be considered a practicum and thus not “work” requiring compensation. But unless the opportunity never involves working directly on any client projects and the intern makes no contribution to the company whatsoever, then it is indeed work.

I’m not arguing that *real* school internships require payment. That’s different. And that’s legal. The lines between the two can blur but this is clear: it’s B.S. when agencies take advantage of young people, claiming their internships are some kind of learning experience when really they are exploitative.

This is why companies have junior positions, and I reject any claims that firms can’t afford to train juniors. If you can’t fork over ten bucks an hour for a young designer to contribute to your success, then it’s completely inappropriate for you to lure them with hope and false promises of exposure and experience. Give your head a shake!

The good news is Hootsuite’s leadership quickly owned the situation, apologized, changed its policies, and even offered back-pay to current interns. Good for them for doing not only the right thing, but the smart thing.

The fact that there is a long line of willing design students and grads doesn't make it right. And the fact that the economy is terrible doesn’t make it acceptable. It’s plain laziness if a company doesn’t take advantage of the many government wage-subsidy funding options available. Employers, especially visible leaders in our community, are obligated to demonstrate best practices and need to think hard about the real value of unpaid internships: Are they really in the best interest of the company and our industry?

Employers, I implore you to rethink your policies and do the right thing by joining me in protecting the next generation and most vulnerable among us. And for goodness’ sake, pay them at least minimum wage.

If you are a young designer feeling like you have no alternative in this hyper-competitive industry but to offer yourself as an intern without adequate recompense, think again. Don’t be afraid to ask employers to outline what you’ll be doing, learning, and gaining if not pay. Take the time to identify and pre-register for wage-subsidy funding and offer that to potential employers to make the choice easy for them.

Beyond that, be ready to demonstrate how you are precisely the right person for the job and how you can bring value to the organization while learning and paying your dues. If they insist it’s no pay or no opportunity, know that you can take a stand and politely decline.

Mark Busse is a founding partner and managing director of the Vancouver-based strategy and brand design firm Industrial Brand, a past president of the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada [B.C. Chapter], and a design writer and educator. You can follow him on Twitter at @MarkBusse

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.”—Mark Twain
 
I don't care what prestigious school you attended; your design education is incomplete without travel. Lots of it.
 
My industry friend Nick Black, who leads the team at Concerto Marketing Group, recently told me his company strongly prefers hiring creatives who are "third culture kids"—a term I admit I wasn't familiar with. Similar to what sociologists call "global nomads"—those who hop from one place to another without a permanent home—third culture kids are people who have spent a considerable portion of their formative years outside their parents' country or culture. They typically have relationships with multiple cultures, often without entirely fitting into any of them, resulting in a unique way of interacting with the world. Perhaps you've met a military brat or diplomat's child who grew up abroad—those are third culture kids.
 

I immediately knew Nick was right. In fact, I realized we've been favouring third culture and similarly well-traveled kids at Industrial Brand for years! I've met and worked with all kinds of designers from a variety of cultural backgrounds, but cultural transplants frequently possess a broader base of life experiences and bring a unique psychological perspective to their work as creative problem solvers. Often more curious and open to experience, they tend to behave more like outsiders looking inward—even when they have assimilated and lived somewhere for many years—observing more intently, asking better questions, unhindered by assumptions and cultural biases.
 
So what can those of us with little experience outside of our original countries and cultures do to acquire some of this perspective? Travel, of course—and travel with purpose.
 
There's nothing wrong with taking a break to reset someplace warm, lying poolside and sipping cocktails—everyone benefits from rest. But if you are a creative professional, especially if you are a designer of visual communications, opening up to new experiences creates new connections and spawns powerful thought patterns you may not even be aware of, contributing to enhanced creativity you can apply in your work and career.
 
Please understand that I am not specifically talking about how graphic designers need to be aware of what is considered rude or bad luck in other countries, or what brand attributes appeal to other cultures. That is important and something that travel helps with, but I am talking more about the personal benefits—mental, emotional, and even spiritual—that come through diverse life experiences.
 
Living in North America is a blessing, but I am convinced we have too narrow a worldview, and an ignorance matched only by our western arrogance. I recently spent five weeks exploring five countries in Southeast Asia and was struck by how little I really knew about the world and the people and rich cultures within it.
 
Did I learn new skills or bring home design process tricks I can apply in my studio? Maybe not—not yet anyway—but by choosing to engage with these foreign cultures with intent and curiosity, I learned a myriad of lessons, saw numerous breathtaking examples of beauty, and returned feeling humbled, with a new perspective on my own country and culture. My travels helped break down barriers to perception, reset my ‘empathy meter’, allowing me to view the world through fresh eyes. I returned feeling inspired, energized, with clarity and focus unlike anything I've ever experienced after a week poolside.
 
As Nick explained, "being a great traveler and a great creative both require psychological flexibility and divergent thinking—a willingness to deviate from what's normal." You need to be prepared to take a risk, break your routines and step away from what you know. And what better way to boost your creative ability than through travel?
 
Digital product designer Cennydd Bowles believes “genius design” has no first-hand research phase. To anticipate user behaviour, a designer must draw upon stockpiled experience, imaginative analogy, and psychological fundamentals. I'm convinced my own recent travels have added to my stockpile and will benefit me in my design career for years to come.
 
The world is rapidly shrinking as it becomes more digitally connected, and one could even argue that everyone can access global cultures with the click of a mouse. But there is no substitute for the analog experience of immersing yourself in a foreign culture, exploring its language, history, architecture, art, cuisine, and traditions. That feeling of being a little lost, on the outside, struggling to communicate with locals, forces you to think on your feet. It changes you, leaving you more open, more aware, a better person even.
 
I can't believe I am going to wrap up a design article with a Steve Jobs quote, but I can't help it. He was very vocal on this topic, famously stating in a 1996 Wired Magazine interview: "Creativity is just connecting things…A lot of people in our industry haven’t had very diverse experiences. So they don’t have enough dots to connect, and they end up with very linear solutions without a broad perspective on the problem. The broader one’s understanding of the human experience, the better design we will have."
 
If you're a third culture kid or have a stamp collection in your passport, congratulations, you have an advantage. The rest of you, please carefully consider the limitations of a sheltered design school education and get out there and see the world you're going to be designing for. Curiosity and discovery are fundamental to design, and travel helps us master the art of discovery itself.
 
I understand that many of you are still in school or just starting out and probably can't afford to travel right now, but if you're serious about being a successful designer, and knowing that firms like Nick's (and mine) prefer hiring well-travelled people who view the world and think like third culture kids, how can you afford not to? Travel IS school.
 
Have any tips for traveling on a budget or know of any international design internships? Share in the comments section below.

Mark Busse is a founding partner and managing director of the Vancouver-based strategy and brand design firm Industrial Brand, a past president of the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada [B.C. Chapter], and a design writer and educator. You can follow him on Twitter at @MarkBusse

By: guest blogger Oliver Oike

Students, start practicing and say it with me: "It's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault..." Because when clients don't "get it," it is your responsibility to add clarity and order to the process.

"If you are involved in something that goes wrong, never blame others. Blame no one but yourself. If you have touched something, accept total responsibility for that piece of work. If you accept responsibility, you are in a position to do something about it." — Paul Arden

That new design smell
We were ready. We had wrapped up the design of a new identity system and accompanying awareness campaign for a new client, and our team was confident that we had uncovered a thoughtful solution to address their wide-ranging audience segments. I had carefully crafted a presentation to walk our client through the ideation process and resulting work. In my mind, it all made sense, and there would be celebrations to follow.

Something smells fishy
On the day of the presentation, our primary client walked into the room with a colleague — someone we had met in passing at the beginning of the process, but who had not been actively involved throughout. It isn't out of the ordinary for something like this to occur, but the body language and visible tension between the two of them caught my eye and for a brief moment I wondered to myself what should be made of it.

Blindsided
We proceeded with the presentation. I made my case as I revealed the process and work. Our main client was enthusiastic and pleased, but her colleague sat stoically until I had finished and then leaned across the table, looking directly at me. "I thought we would have something that looks a little bit more like this..." With a mild look of derision he gestured for my pen, then flipped the presentation package over and proceeded to draw his own idea for an identity.

I held my breath, momentarily confused. I glanced over at our main client, who had a look of both embarrassment and fear in her eyes. She caught me looking her way and then shifted her gaze to the activity occurring on the paper in front of us.

At that moment I knew that we had made a critical error.

Don't be so stupid, stupid
It was later revealed that this person was the source of the company's startup funding and had final approval of the work. We should have known this from the beginning — it was an embarrassing, catastrophic oversight, and it still stings to think about today.

Say it again: “It's my fault”
Scenarios like this occur every day in design studios: you run headlong into a client who doesn't "get it." Or, late in the game, you're introduced to a new person who holds a position of influence over the project. Or, after a presentation, you hear a variation of "I don't know what I want, but it's not that." In all of these common examples you may feel frustrated and want to point fingers, but it is a situation that you are responsible for: you and your client have been trying to co-exist in an unclear, undocumented and assumption-filled design process. It should have never gone this far, and it's your job to fix it.

A kinder, gentler process
From the beginning, put your client at ease by demonstrating the level of care, attention and professionalism that you put into all aspects of your practice. Some important steps to work through with your client before beginning a project:

• Document all members from each team and what they are and are not responsible for.

• Be specific and clear about each step of the process.

• Establish a schedule that moves the project forward at a consistent pace.

• Agree to keep feedback loops short after presentations, and agree on the specific kind of feedback you are looking for.

• Ensure they understand the impact that "feature creep" will have on the project.

• Have a fair, transparent sign-off and payment mechanism in place.

Detail all of this in a well-written legal document that protects both parties equally. This is your playbook and safety net. Keep it handy.

It's your show
Before reviewing work with your clients, be empathetic to their frame of mind when they arrive for the meeting. Maybe they have a pile of other tasks and responsibilities waiting for them back at the office. Maybe the meeting they just came from went badly. Maybe they have a sick child at home.

Presenting work is an opportunity for you to remind them why you were the only choice for the project. Prepare them for what they are about to see. Describe in detail what you've shown them previously and what you discussed with them in the interim. Restate the agreed-upon goals of the project and the specific audience it is speaking to. Then, when they appear ready, guide them through the work in a measured and deliberate manner. Don't show it all at once. Pick and choose specific elements to focus on, and use those elements to reinforce ideas or relate them back to the overall goals. Think of it as a storytelling exercise, with you in the role of narrator and facilitator. Impress them with your intelligence, thoughtfulness and humility.

Be indispensable
"What do we owe clients? Loyalty, honesty, dedication, tenacity." — Michael Bierut

This is all motivated by the desire to do great work. Sometimes the design process goes well with a client; other times, like the scenario described above, it goes very badly. While you cannot ultimately control the reactions and decisions of your clients, you can build structures into your process that clear a path towards a successful outcome. When such structures are combined with a healthy dose of professionalism, humility and empathy, great work has a chance to take root and you may start to find yourself moving down the path past the role of service provider to that of indispensable, trusted partner.

Filling in for Mark Busse this month is guest-blogger Oliver Oike,  graphic design instructor at Red River College in Winnipeg and past-president of the Manitoba chapter of The Society of Graphic Designers of Canada. You can follow him on Twitter at @oo
Mark will return to this blog next month.

It’s never been more challenging to land a design job. Competition is fierce—especially for fresh-faced newbies with shiny new portfolios tucked under their arms looking for their big break. Where does one even start these days?

You’ve heard that it helps to get to know people and make your face recognizable, but how do you get the attention of a time-strapped manager of a design firm, ad agency, or corporate marketing department? How do you demonstrate what makes you special?


Below are a few common assumptions, and some challenges to those assumptions. They aren’t meant to be scary; rather to show you that it’s about much more than your portfolio.

Assumption #1: You need to show your portfolio to art directors and creative directors at thriving design studios.

Reality: Unfortunately, the people you really want to work for probably—no, almost definitely—will not have time to meet with you. Think of them as the highly guarded tower at the top of a huge castle: you have to get through many guards and levels before you reach the top. Do this by making industry friends and alliances. Take your focus off of simply getting a job, and get to know people for the sake of getting to know awesome people. Your authenticity and genuine interest will eventually lead you to meeting the leaders you wanted to know in the first place. I cannot tell you how many times I've offered opportunities or referrals to young grads who I got to know as GDC volunteers.

Assumption #2: A clever self-promotion piece is required to break through the clutter.

Reality: Gimmicks rarely impress anyone, contrary to what many instructors tell their design students. And if you are perceived as making trendy work because you think that’s what design is all about instead of actually being able to provide real world solutions, that can be a turnoff. Instead, flaunt a project with a strong idea and strategy and combine it with thorough process, good typography and attention to detail and results. But don’t take yourself too seriously: relax and let your personality and genuine interest in the company shine. That said, occasionally a really well-conceived leave-behind or mini portfolio sent as a follow-up after meeting a young designer—too good to throw away—inspires me to consider them when an opportunity presents itself.

Assumption #3: Your portfolio and a well-designed resume are crucial to open doors.

Reality: Admittedly, this is true, but stop thinking of them as extensions of you and start thinking of them as standalone pieces. Your portfolio should speak on your behalf when you’re not in the room, so make sure it includes context via case studies: objective, approach, process—the stuff that demonstrates strategy leading to tangible results. Put yourself in a business owner’s shoes: what would convince you that the applicant is capable of solving problems, producing results, and ultimately making you money as part of your team? Resumes are for applying to Starbucks. If you don't have a personal brand expressed online via Linkedin, About.me, or your own domain, then you’re missing the ticket to the dance. And don’t spew dumb shit on Twitter and Facebook—if you post personal drama, drunk photos, inappropriate "selfies" (a la Rihanna), or hateful slurs or rants, that says heaps about how you will behave or fit within a team. Create multiple portfolios including your own website, Behance, Cargo Collective, your GDC profile, and even your personal Facebook page! Personality, behaviour, and personal network trump a diploma and portfolio every time. The applicants that stick in my mind were those who were confident (without being arrogant), doggedly determined (without being stalkers), had a spark in their eye, and followed up after first or even second encounters.

Assumption #4: You must communicate what’s unique about your design process in order to differentiate from the competition.

Reality: Nonsense. There’s virtually nothing you can offer that will be particularly unique—unless you specialize, but that’ll come later in your career. Think about it: the most unique thing about you is YOU. So own that. Add to that the specific work you have done, whether it worked or not (be honest), and back it up with what your colleagues, partners and clients say about working with you. That’s all you are armed with. Don’t waste time trying to describe or illustrate how special your process is—focus on you. Maybe even kill your portfolio and move towards comprehensive case studies. That way you can prove that you know how to make design solutions work and not have to struggle to prove that your use of typography is revolutionary. The best portfolios I've seen include research and sketches that shed light on how a designer created and produced the clever ideas, expressed through visual language.

Assumption #5: You must take every opportunity you can get—even if they’re not a good fit.

Reality: Avoid trying to please everyone. Yes, it can sting like crazy when you work hard to convince a new client or prospective employer to like and trust you, only to have them go with somebody they like better. However, try not to get too emotional about it—there will always be other doors opening. Take rejection as an opportunity to listen and understand where you may have gone wrong, and improve on those issues next time. Also, the sooner you realize that your job as a designer is one of listening, clarifying, gaining consensus, and translating—not just picking fonts and Pantone colours—the faster your brilliance will shine through. When you do get that job, work hard on being outstanding in a few particular areas, and create solutions based on approved language and concept. Then emphasize that process in your portfolio to explain how you arrived at the pretty solutions.

Will your portfolio express enough to a potential employer when you’re not in the room? Share your tips or tricks others might consider as they face gaining employment in this competitive industry.

Mark Busse is a founding partner and managing director of the Vancouver-based strategy and brand design firm Industrial Brand, a past president of the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada [B.C. Chapter], and a design writer and educator. You can follow him on Twitter at @MarkBusse

The purpose of this column is to challenge some of the assumptions that many young designers and future firm owners may have entering this profession. If I can help a few of you avoid learning even one or two of these lessons the hard way like I did, I’ll have met my goal. Here are some of the most important lessons I’ve learned after 15 years of managing a design firm, in no particular order.

Pretty isn’t always the best choice.
It took years of running a design business to realize that making the right choices to solve business problems doesn’t always result in the prettiest aesthetics. I now derive more reward from creating solutions that help my clients succeed, than from creating exquisite graphic masterpieces that I’ve tweaked endlessly in ways the client or audience would never notice or even care about.

Ideas are a dime a dozen.
I’ve heard the phrase “a high tide floats all boats” my whole life, but it took a long time before I really understood how it applied to myself and to the industry. Don’t cling to ideas, methods, resources, or anything else you think might give a competitive advantage over the other guy. I learned that sharing my experience and knowledge with peers—I call this ‘coopetition’, a hybrid of cooperation and competition—only makes the whole industry better, and giving ideas to potential clients as gifts of insight into their situation only makes them want to work with me more. Ideas are a dime a dozen—it’s execution that sets me apart as a designer.

Project management is as important as design skill.
For years, we thought we could oversee production management in our studio ourselves. But even with years of production management experience prior to launching my firm, it just wasn’t realistic, and asking the designers to manage their own production led to chaos and disappointed clients. Never again will I underestimate the need for a carefully crafted production system, managed by experts equipped with the proper tools.

Full-service is foolish.
After chasing any work we could get and using rhetoric like “full-service design studio” to describe our offering, we realized the benefits of specialization. This doesn’t mean because we specialize in branding and corporate identity for professional services companies that we won’t take on a packaging project if the opportunity is interesting, but it makes marketing ourselves easier and allows us to avoid competing against a multitude of other firms where price becomes a driving factor.

Consensus is king.
After years of wasting time redoing work the client “didn’t get,” it became clear that consensus is crucial—especially with multiple stakeholders, each with its own opinions and agendas. By showing moodboards, styleboards, and sketches early and often, and having the primary contact sign-off to establish agreement at every stage, we save everyone time and money and also learn what each party really means by the language being used. Also, by including them early in the idea process, clients feel as though they contributed to it, thus owning the idea and supporting it later during production and launch.

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.
Who you’ll partner with, how you’ll grow, who your clients will be—the decisions required to run a successful firm are innumerable, and everything is constantly changing. As romantic as owning my own business may have seemed, I soon realized that the buck really did stop with me, regardless of how uncomfortable or tedious the task—from firing someone, to managing the books, to even buying toilet paper for the office.

Shut up, listen, and get on with it.
When I was a young designer I developed a bad habit of filling in silence with rambling diatribes about stuff I thought was important, interesting, or clever about my design solution. But like how a good joke shouldn’t need an explanation, a good design presentation should be succinct and the work should mostly speak for itself. While they may work for Don Draper, theatrics typically don’t work. Most of our clients respond better if we just ask smart questions and then shut up and let them do the talking. Being prepared to explain in detail is good, but succinct presentations not only demonstrate confidence, they allow time for discussion—where you’ll get another chance to listen.

Who you work for can be more important than the work you do.
Starting out, we felt we had little choice but to take any opportunity that came along until we built up our credibility and portfolio. In hindsight, I wish we were as picky about clients as they were about us. “Remember, you are defined by your clients,” said advertising legend Dick Lord. That warning never rang more true than after taking on clients who not only were not enjoyable to work with, but who also proved to be shady businesses or producers of products we didn’t believe in. We now use a carefully considered set of criteria that we review every year to help guide us in taking on clients.

“Follow your passion” is terrible career advice.
Like many, I was encouraged to “follow my passion” and hence left a terrific job to start my own design firm, only to realize years later how much work was required to survive, let alone succeed as a business owner. If you’re as lucky as I was, you may eventually find your passion in the work itself, but it’s called “work” for a reason and you shouldn’t feel entitled to enjoy it all.

Profit can be defined many ways.
I’m not getting rich quickly and I don’t think I’d recommend my career path for anyone motivated by money. We are experts and deserve to be paid for our services, but money is only one method of payment. Be cautious of offers of ownership or deferred profit sharing (they’ve never worked out for us), but remain open-minded to creative payment alternatives that could be beneficial. We’ve agreed to a trade of services, products, discounts, in-store credit (great with restaurant clients), and even use of a client’s vacation home as payment for our services.

Word of mouth is a terrible marketing strategy.
Many designers I know have viewed ‘marketing’ as a dirty word, instead relying on referrals to bring in new clients. And many more have aimed outbound communications efforts at their own industry instead of the communities in which their clients reside. I don’t even want to tell you how those firms have suffered during the last few years of economic turmoil. Brand building, marketing, and communications are crucial to running any sustainable business.

I started in this business a bit late, and the end of my career is already in sight, and frankly, I wasted a lot of time, energy, and money doing things the hard way. The above are just a handful of the lessons I learned through trial and error. I’m sure there are many other lessons worth discussing; if I’ve left out any major points, please let me know in the comments below.

Mark Busse is a founding partner and managing director of the Vancouver-based strategy and brand design firm Industrial Brand, a past president of the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada [B.C. Chapter], and a design writer and educator. You can follow him on Twitter at @MarkBusse

In the pursuit of information, inspiration and ideas for graphic design solutions, designers too often ignore one of the most powerful and rich resources available: the local library.


When was the last time you visited a library? No, I don’t mean your library of bookmarks in Safari, or the shelves of design annuals and logo books at your studio—I’m talking about a real library. One with books stacked to the ceiling, with the rich smell of paper and ink enveloping you, with the much-loved book spines and fingerprints on the torn and folded pages. If you’re like most people, myself included, you probably haven’t been in a while. After all, we have the Internet now: it’s much more convenient to read up on stuff online. Convenience is king in our digital world, but be warned: if you ignore libraries, you might be ignoring the opportunity to increase inspiration, greatly improve your design solutions, and differentiate yourself from your peers. And it’s a helluva lot cheaper than buying more design books.

My design team was recently engaged to develop a name and identity for a restaurant that offered gourmet, hand-made pasta and other traditional Italian comfort food. The owner wanted to emphasize the warm, friendly service and ambiance he’d created in his much-beloved firewood oven pizzeria next door while serving as the neighbourhood deli like in the old country. It was a delicious project to say the least. But after a thorough briefing process, exploring similar restaurants, extensive online research, scouring various resource books in our studio, and even interviews with potential customers, we had a few ideas and sketches, but nothing felt right yet.

Realizing that I was in need of a change of scenery, some inspiration, and a little help frankly, to the library I went, spending most of a day and into the evening there. It was such a great experience, reminding me how powerful these places of knowledge are—literally like having your own giant archive and paid research team at your beck and call. And funded by taxpayer money, they essentially work for you! Here are some reasons why you, as a designer, should be using your library as part of your research process:

Librarians are pathologically helpful. Google could care less.

Google is a great tool every designer should use and master. But it’s only one source. Libraries are filled with living, breathing search engines called librarians, eager to help you. It doesn’t matter if you’re not really sure what your question is, or if you think there’s no way they’ll be familiar with the topic you’re asking about. No matter what you say, that librarian is trained and ready to help you find your way. Instead of wandering the stacks aimlessly, ask a librarian a few questions and they’ll be able to expand your research options more than you could ever imagine, and that kind of catered human resource simply cannot be matched on the Internet.

Libraries are so much more than books. And offer much more information than Google.

Libraries are becoming increasingly valuable places for sourcing cultural exploration and inspiration, and they are filled with much more than books. Libraries offer designers special collections that include historical photographs, moving images, recordings, objects, and even ephemera such as antique postcards, stamps, posters, etc. Once you’ve been given more research options than you ever thought you would have, remember that rich and useful information exists online, but only to a limit. Many terrific sources of information useful to a designer are often hidden from search engines or only accessible via paid subscription. Libraries have access to these. And beyond the dictionaries, directories, almanacs, annuals, atlases and bibliographies, there are millions of academic historical articles, images, diagrams, and videos that have not been digitized. The only places you can access them are libraries. These resources map years of history that can offer you more inspiration than what’s been put online to date. If your project has to do with a foreign culture or incorporating historical images into your design work, for example, you can pretty much guarantee that a quest for information online will leave you pained to find as rich a resource as a book would offer.

And beside numerous magazines and books, libraries buy industry journals relating to design, so why spend money on something that’s sitting on the shelf, waiting for you to come in and read it?

Libraries are places of focus, study, and inspiration. Design studios and the Internet are not.

It’s a shame to admit it, but sometimes the least productive environment is a bustling design studio. Not to mention the allure of digital distractions like email, chat or social media. It can be incredibly difficult to focus on a task and actually get work done when you’re sitting at a desk, staring at a browser. When you’re in a library, on the other hand, you set yourself in a new work environment away from those distractions—one reminiscent of when you were a student. You completely immerse yourself in the task at hand, allowing your ideas to develop and your brain to retain knowledge.

Still not convinced? Libraries are accessible online too!

Many libraries offer resources such JSTOR, EBSCO Host, Google Scholar, and Art.sy as alternatives to actually physically visiting a library. Most libraries also offer online catalogues and databases which can be very useful during business research that are otherwise unavailable online without expensive subscriptions. So, if you still just can’t make it out to a library, you at least have a few alternatives online that are better than even the best Google search.

Assumptions kill good design. Libraries kill assumptions.

The final reason you should visit a library instead of your laptop is a bit philosophical. If you’re Googling something, you’re Googling something specific; it means that you have made an assumption and are looking for specific sources of information that will enhance or prove your assumption. As a designer, you have to open up to as many sources of influence as you can to prove that your assumption is true, or to find that it doesn’t work. Find an assumption that does. Nothing helps you achieve that like standing in front of a bookshelf and being exposed to a varied array of books and theories. Never forget the magic that happens when you deviate your research a little toward perhaps seemingly unrelated or tangential topics, finding just the right inspiration in unexpected places. That can happen online, sure, but there’s nothing like flipping through the pages of books for this.

During my recent day at the library, I was given terrific direction by the librarians I spoke with, who buried me with resources about Italian food, restaurants, culture, language, history, art—even a book on Italian slang and dirty words. Touching the paper was magical and transported me back to when I was a student, reminding me in fact that I AM still a student. It’s one of the best parts about being a designer.

What did we name the restaurant you ask? Vicino Pastaria & Deli. “Vicino di Casa” in Italian means “next door neighbour” which we shortened to Vicino, or “neighbour”, a play on both the fact that the pasta restaurant was literally next door to its sister pizzeria, and the role it played within the neighbourhood.

We owe it to our clients and ourselves to dig deeper and use better research techniques. So next time you feel stuck, I suggest heading to your local library and ask for help. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed. And you’ll make a librarian’s day.

By the way, when I started prepping for this article, guess where I started my research? You guessed it, the library. Thanks to librarians Mark-Shane Scale, Cecily Walker, Tara Robertson and Alexis Greenwood for their insights.

So, tell me how you augment online research. Do you spend time at the library when working on design projects? Got any tips to share?

Mark Busse is a founding partner and managing director of the Vancouver-based strategy and brand design firm Industrial Brand, a past president of the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada [B.C. Chapter], and a design writer and educator. You can follow him on Twitter at @MarkBusse

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come across terrible grammar, spelling or punctuation in correspondence from young designers. And designers’ portfolios, case studies and websites are frequently filled with confusing prose worthy of a grade nine school report. It’s baffling. And it frightens me.


I realize that you studied graphic design because your passion was to create visual graphics, not to be a poet. But that doesn’t mean being a competent writer isn’t an important skill to possess. On the contrary, I would argue that the best communication designers work hard to become as skilled at expressing their thoughts and opinions in words as they are at massaging images and type.

If you brush off writing as beneath you or something not worth mastering, you’re a fool.

At the core of the designs we produce are words. Lots of them. From the proposal to the brief, from research to the content in our projects, and of course the rationales behind client presentations and case studies are all glued together firmly with writing. Write badly, and you run the very real risk of being dismissed as a hack.

We all know this, don’t we? I’m stating the obvious here, right? Then why do I witness an increasing amount of God-awful writing these days?
   
Writing builds trust.
We’re not “artistes” and must remember that we’re in the business of servicing business. You must communicate very well, in writing AND verbally, if you want to land that big client or job opportunity. Expressing yourself and supporting your ideas as you present or defend a rationale behind your design work requires careful writing indeed. And this takes practice. Chances are, you will not do as good of a job with that unless you leave them with a clear, written document that tells them, in plain English, why your work is awesome. Also, don’t forget that having a good relationship with a client requires consistent and clear communication. If you ever come across as an incompetent writer, your client will immediately judge you and doubt your expertise in other areas—regardless of how pretty your design work is. If your plan is to be an art director, creative director, or run your own studio—and let’s face it, it’s everyone’s plan these days—then you MUST be a masterful writer. Like others in our industry, my firm assesses designers' writing ability and won’t even hire people who use poor grammar.

Your job is not what you think it is.
Anyone who has spent five minutes in an actual job that requires some sort of mental awareness knows that no job is what the job description says it will be. Ever. Especially in a smaller studio, writing will be one of those duties probably not emphasized in your job description. To succeed as a designer these days, you require as much business acumen as aesthetic skills, and will often be asked to participate in sales, marketing, administration and client communications. To grow and learn, you will be required to write. A lot. For example, if you need to clearly summarize a concept for a client online because no one else has time to, what do you need to do? Write. If you need to quickly add three pages of content to a presentation because no one else has the time, same deal. There is no escaping the responsibility of writing in your job, so you'd better get used to it.

Communication design is firmly rooted in language.
The best examples of graphic design are centred on words. The most successful identities are defined by meaningful taglines as much as any logo, and the most memorable advertisements are crystallized into our cultural fabric by carefully crafted copy. And think about a key characteristic of the most successful branding or advertising: a personal story. How will you incorporate a realistic, personal story that resonates with your audience into your design work if you don’t understand what kind of writing works with your design in the first place? Design is a combination of elements that communicate a message, and it is your job as a designer to understand those elements. Ideas are at the core of great communication design, and ideas are expressed by words as much as visuals. At a recent talk in Vancouver, Canadian type design legend Rod McDonald claimed that over 65% of all graphic design content was based on type.

Marketing yourself requires writing.
To say this is a saturated industry is an understatement. With so much competition, promoting yourself and your firm to potential clients is more important than ever. It used to be that pretty portfolios were an effective way to show off your talents and get noticed, but these days firms and clients alike want to know who you are, how you work, what you stand for, and whether you will be a good fit for them. Pretty pictures can’t tell that story, so you have to. One of the best ways to do that is through case studies: your work documented by photos AND a written explanation. Sure, you can get other people in your studio to write those for you, but will they understand the rationale behind every little thing in the project better than you? I doubt it. And what about proposals? Or project rationales? Someone has to write them, so why not you? Also, unless you have been living under a rock for the past few years, you know that everyone has a blog now. This includes design studios. Designers and studios that regularly post quality content on their blogs show potential clients their expertise and capability, building their reputation and credibility. If you avoid hosting your own blog because you can’t write well and don’t feel like making the effort, then you’ve missed a terrific opportunity to stand out from the crowd.

In the spirit of transparency, I’ll admit that I find writing hard. Sometimes I hate it and struggle with it. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it's that writing only improves with practice. Anyone can learn to write if they set their mind to it and put in the effort—even if it doesn’t come naturally. One of the best designers I know struggles with dyslexia, yet has developed strategies to write competently. And committing myself to writing and risking putting my prose out there to be judged by all has been one of the most beneficial choices in my design career. I dare you to do the same.

Do you find writing a key part of your job as a designer? Got any suggestions or pointers for those who fear writing?

Mark Busse is a founding partner and managing director of the Vancouver-based strategy and brand design firm Industrial Brand, a past president of the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada [B.C. Chapter], and a design writer and educator. You can follow him on Twitter at @MarkBusse

I’ve heard a lot of young designers talking about trends lately and I must admit I don’t get it. Where in school did you learn that it was vital to create something so new and original that it serves as a harbinger for a new graphic style? On the other hand, I’ve noticed a plethora of very familiar visual styles and concepts coming out of design programs the last few years. I’m not sure how many more hipster craft logos, nonsensical ad campaigns, or swirly, flourished typographic illustrations I can endure.


But here’s the deal: Who cares? No, really. The bigger question is whether these examples of design style work for the clients and audience. Right?

I asked Young and Rubicam associate creative director Dave Tupper this question, as he recently addressed this topic for a student talk in Toronto. Tupper argues that while referencing or working within design trends isn’t always a bad thing — even sometimes appropriate — it’s foolish to try to innovate or create something new or different that will go viral. “You can’t just start a trend!” exclaims Tupper. “Good ideas founded on solid rationale, purpose and craft is what wins the day.”

Trends are an intrinsic part of society and we’re all influenced by them. Why then, are trends considered such a faux pas within the design industry? Or are they really? Shifts in technology, culture, fashion, even politics and economics all result in visual manifestations of style — also known as trends — that stand as an archive of the zeitgeist. (Yes, I said zeitgeist, I’m sorry.)

A common goal for most communication design is longevity, so following any graphic trend immediately introduces the risk of a shorter shelf life. Not to mention that trendy design is often gimmicky and inauthentic, and when it comes to brand identity design in particular, much of what is visible to the public is only the tip of the iceberg, the rest of the foundational work unseen beneath the surface.

So what? Where’s the wisdom here? The point I’d like to make is that creating a new design trend is about as futile as trying to light a match under water. That’s a designer’s ego getting in the way of problem solving, and with it comes risks you may not be seeing past the project at hand. Let me explain.

Briefs like “Draw us one of those flourishy monograms like you did for Saks Fifth Avenue” can wear a designer down. Suddenly being at the heart of a new visual trend can paint you into a style box — most successful professional designers work hard to constantly reinvent themselves and their craft, avoiding the curse of style.

Consider the difference between a quick hit consumer facing campaign that has a shorter shelf life than, say, a corporate identity system. One might be born of the visual vernacular of the day, while the other needs to be longer lasting. And frankly, I doubt many of you will meet too many clients who can afford or are willing to take bold design risks anyway; those are rare opportunities. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be practicing this type of design thinking.

I love what my passionate designer friend Valerie Elliott from iD2 said to me while discussing this topic recently, saying her firm “almost always provides the futurist option, while the majority of clients don't choose this option. We always feel it is appropriate that we are PRACTICING communication design in all our work so providing the options make this happen and keep us creating. We don't settle for less.” Did you catch that? She says that when a client comes to her for design solutions — and remember, clients are always in pain when they arrive — she always attempts to create something new, something different, something forward-looking, even though the majority of her clients typically choose the more conservative option. Probably the option that feels more familiar.

There are of course situations when a client will allow designers to lead them into unchartered waters. The 2012 London Olympics identity system comes to mind as an obvious example. Was it successful? If the goals of the design brief included bucking trends and striving for unexpected visual language in order to spark conversation and get attention, well then it was a smashing success! (Please don’t let it become a visual trend though...)

If you’ve done real research to understand how best to connect with an audience by developing solid ideas and visual language to communicate them, then problem solved. Following trends or pulling your hair out trying to create new ones instead of focussing on solving problems are both rookie mistakes.

Oh, and one more thing: if you’re looking for a job, then consider how many portfolios we potential employers see. If yours is filled with hipster craft logos, flourishy monograms, shiny Apple knock-off websites, and quirky ad concept crap, you'd better be ready to explain exactly why they were the best choice.

What are your views about design trends? Do you track them and allow them to influence your work? Have you had a client specifically ask you to design something in the style of a current trend?

Mark Busse is a founding partner and managing director of the Vancouver-based strategy and brand design firm Industrial Brand, a past president of the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada [B.C. Chapter], and a design writer and educator. You can follow him on Twitter at @MarkBusse

I am flattered that so many young designers ask me for advice about what they should do after graduation. Truth is, my opinions hardly matter as everyone is faced with a unique path that they must follow. But I am truly baffled by how many choose to go solo or even start new design firms. I understand the urge to follow your dreams, but that just sounds like a nightmare to me.

I was reminded of this recently when Top Chef Canada winner Dale MacKay announced he was closing his two Vancouver restaurants after less than two years. Mackay publicly admitted that he now realized how bold he was to go out on his own so soon, unaware of how saturated the market was or how high operating costs really were. Although he was an award-winning chef, Mackay lacked the experience, financial backing—and I would suggest a unique enough offering—to operate a successful restaurant business.

Recently I heard from two former students of mine. As they entered the industry a few years ago we had some honest talks about their options, and against my advice they decided to skip internships or junior positions—which they felt were beneath them—and went into partnership together with another classmate to form their own design studio. After some early success working for friends and family, their studio quickly fell into chaos, the partnership dissolved, and the company folded, leaving their clients in rough shape. They recently visited me and explained how their own hubris had led them down a path of disappointment and hurt not only them, damaging their careers and reputation, but the clients that they served.

These are common stories unfortunately. I suspect there are a number of reasons why young designers feel so compelled to strike out on their own so early these days. Besides a crappy economy where creating a job for yourself might seem easier than finding one, over the past 20 years I’ve increasingly heard encouraging statements like “follow your passion” or “do what you love and love what you do” which of course feeds right into the “we can change the world” millennial ethos of those entering the workforce now. With the fairytale of the freedom, flexibility and personal reward that comes with being your own boss—especially with stories of startups making millions for their young founders—combined with the bold problem solving and confident communication skills that come with a design education, it’s no wonder 25-year-olds think they should be a creative director or studio owner!

Of course there are legendary success stories about young designers making it big, but those are exceptions—and by that I mean exceptionally talented and lucky designers. I’ll spare you the customary lecture about the need to possess a deep understanding and knowledge of business fundamentals like finances, accounting, management, and marketing required to succeed as a business owner. You can just Google that stuff, right? I’ll even spare you my story of how running my design business has still not brought the freedom, flexibility or financial reward I’d hoped for after 15 years—and I have a business degree—and how I often miss the days of just working for someone else. Instead, let’s talk about how lazy, short-sighted and dangerous starting your own business can be.

You heard me: lazy, short-sighted and dangerous. Think about that for a second. There are few choices more self-indulgent than starting a business because you don’t want to put in the time to earn a position at an established company and invest the time to learn from experienced experts. Businesses that survive their first few years—less than 15% by the way—are those that have something unique to offer their customers. Are you so sure that your design business will have something special to offer its clients, or are you just thinking of yourself? A young graphic designer’s motivation should be to solve communication problems using creativity, design thinking and production skills, not feeding their ego by playing the role of young entrepreneur. Ego and impatience are a designer’s enemies. Are you really so confident that you feel you’ve not only mastered our craft but can also already manage a profitable business? If your own ignorance or inexperience lead you to fail, then your own selfish needs just potentially harmed someone else. Are you ready to take responsibility for that?

Your job after design school, is to master design. No wait, it’s to get a job, Hang on, it’s both!  It may be harder than ever to land good designer positions these days, but that should be viewed as a challenge to overcome. Much like any client design project, your career is now your design project and deserves even more time, effort and energy than school did. Do the research. Invest the time to get it right. And slow down, for God’s sake! Give yourself a little time to look around, see how others do things, and fail a few times without ruining yours or anyone else’s business.

Oh, and that “do what you love and love what you do” paradigm? Uh, that might be a little messed up kidlings. I may not agree entirely with David C. Baker’s perspective on the issue, but it’s worth a read and a deep think. It’s called work for a reason, and if you got into the design field because you thought it was going to be fun and easy, you’re in for a bumpy ride with a nasty ending.

I’m sure Dale MacKay will survive this bump in his career, and ultimately gain wisdom and experience from his own arrogance. But he will forever have this failure on his CV and attached to his professional reputation, not to mention the impact it made on his friends and family who trusted him with their investment money. And my two former students both learned valuable lessons and are now back on track, a little behind schedule perhaps, but destined for success now that they’ve renewed their commitment to their careers instead of their egos.

There are literally dozens of other motivations for starting a design business, and dozens of other reasons why that choice might be foolhardy.

What are the issues most important to you? And what steps have you taken in the pursuit of your dream to own your own design business?

Mark Busse is a founding partner and managing director of the Vancouver-based strategy and brand design firm Industrial Brand, a past president of the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada [B.C. Chapter], and a design writer and educator. You can follow him on Twitter at @MarkBusse

You don’t need to join a design association. What’s the point? Your time is tight as it is—you have Mad Men episodes to catch up on—and money is even tighter, so why give any of it to a club of stodgy old designers who don’t get it anymore anyway?

You don’t need to join a design association. I suppose it demonstrates the level to which you are committed to your career and community, but so does that tweet you sent to @JessicaHische last week. I’m sure she hasn’t responded because she’s super busy right now. #pleasenoticeme

You don’t need to join a design association. You are young and have huge dreams. You need to focus on discovering yourself, plus your personal blog needs your attention. Being in a room with people who could mentor and inspire you is a waste of time when you could be working on your kitten-themed tumblr. Cute glitter font.

You don’t need to join a design association. These groups can be snobby cliques and you’re way cooler than they are. What will you talk about? What if you bump into that art director you like so much and spill your Negroni all over his awesome black skinny jeans?

You don’t need to join a design association. After all, you’re a young designer with dope computer skills in the Internet age of hyper-connectivity. You just acquired a killer education, have a very pretty portfolio and über-clean website, and you network like a fothermucker.

You don’t need to join a design association. Sure, the economy sucks and there’s more competition than ever before, but you’re a self starter. You’re entrepreneurial! You have The Google. Screw an internship or a ‘junior’ design position — who has time for that? You have Moleskins filled with wicked sketches, big plans and words like “zeitgeist.” You’re good to go.

You don’t need to join a design association. A bunch of letters after your name based on some accreditation status won’t make you stand out against the crowd — wait, what? Hold on now. Yes it will!

If you’re thinking this is all based on unfair Gen Y stereotypes, you’re right. It is unfair. It should be infuriating. So do something about it. Stop whining anonymously on blogs like this and take action.

The industry has changed. Business has changed. The perception of the VALUE of design has never been more muddled. The design industry has never needed an army to stand together more than now.

I get it. I really do. Design associations are part of your parents’ paradigm and I understand completely why a young designer full of piss and vinegar might not see how being a member could result in a professional advantage. It’s easy to access events, information and bargains these days, so those aren’t particularly compelling draws either.

So don’t join a design association for perks or discounts. Don’t expect your local chapter of volunteers to produce consistently awesome events. Don’t show up expecting to show off your portfolio and be offered jobs. In fact, don’t join at all if your motivation is to GET anything. Join your design association to GIVE.

If being employed as a designer is all you seek, then you may never need to join an association. If you wish to achieve significance in your design career, you’ll need to understand we never stop learning. Those who engage fully in their community with the humble attitude of the perpetual student will benefit the most.

Mark Busse is a founding partner and managing director of the Vancouver-based strategy and brand design firm Industrial Brand, a past president of the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada [B.C. Chapter], and a design writer and educator. You can follow him on Twitter at @MarkBusse