Subscribe to my newsletter
I create a newsletter called GrowthCandy. Each issue shares one idea to help build and spread your work, delivered as a short comic. Fast to read. Easy to apply. Hard to forget!
What it takes to make excellent work with taste, care, skill and consistency. There are 1108 posts in this topic.
I sold my DJ equipment last week.
It was really emotional, seeing it go. Original vinyl equipment, beautifully looked after.
Sad, but mixed with a sense of optimism that they’ll see live music halls again in the future.
I’m not done with music. But I wasn’t serving that equipment by holding it back from experiencing more environments it was made for. As my mediums are now online, with cartoons and playable experiences, it was time to say goodbye to the decks.
As creatives, we should honor our tools, and give them the opportunity to create great things. And we should honor ourselves, and give ourselves the opportunity to create the right things for us.
Creating is always an intimate experience with our tools, so it’s hard to say goodbye when we part ways with tools we love. But we have to say goodbye eventually, and it being difficult is a sign we’re deeply invested in our craft.
Thanks for everything, decks. Fly.
Disney’s greatest work came from when animators led the company, making and selling cartoons, profitably, so that they can make and sell more cartoons, which made fans happy.
Like a car that produces its own gasoline while driven.
Disney became “safe and boring” when businessmen led the company, making and selling cartoons, profitably, so that they could make returns for investors, which made those investors happy.
Like a car that keeps stalling due to its own gasoline being redirected from the engine before it gets a chance to combust.
The sad thing is, the former version would probably be a safer investment.
This isn’t shade on Disney.
It’s a reminder to let artists lead.
If you want to improve code, ask a machine, or a person who can think like a machine. That’s what programmers do.
If you want to improve art, ask an artist, or a person who can communicate through images and sounds. That’s what artists do.
What you probably don’t want to do, is try to improve art by thinking like a machine.
Because while code gets better when it conforms to spec like things that came before it, art does not.
This is why we see so many tech firms dumbfounded by the pushback around generative visuals, wondering why people “feel nothing” when, to a machine, it looks the same.
Because it doesn’t feel the same.
“You need to let little things that would ordinarily bore you suddenly thrill you.” — Andy Warhol
I found this in a book, “Life in the Sloth Lane, Slow down and smell the hibiscus”, a coffee table book we have on… our coffee table (my wife loves sloths).
It may be true of sloths.
It may also be true of Apple, when they decided to make the Apple II.
Or maybe of Teenage Engineering, when they decided to make the OP-1 Synthesizer.
Or maybe of Braun, when they decided to make the (silent) AB 1 alarm clock.
Or maybe you, when you decide to pursue that niche interest with such infectious enthusiasm, that we can’t wait to try it just so we can get infected, too.
Infected is a good word for it. Infect people.
Why did Apple’s latest Mac Mini ad create such a stir?
People thought it was AI generated, but it wasn’t.
Apple showed the world a behind-the-scenes video exposing the production process.
Some cheered for human creativity.
Others sneered, saying AI could have done it, trying with their own tokens.
I know which “side” I’m on, but the “side” isn’t the point.
The point is: it being human-made made it remark-able. If it was generated, it would not be.
And commercial creative’s job is to be remark-able.
“Should” is an enemy of “Creativity”.
“We should raise our prices because economists say so.” Maybe? Or maybe not: maybe being sought after with a waiting list around the corner is part of your appeal.
“We should have more clients like other agencies.” Maybe? Or maybe not: maybe a handful of excellent relationships suits your team far better.
“We should use Slack because everyone else does.” Maybe? Or maybe not: maybe you have a way of doing things that suits your collaboration style better.
“We should use that new tool my peers are using.” Maybe? Or maybe not: maybe what you’ve mastered is better for your craft than the new-fangled thing.
“We should be doing more outbound, or inbound, or JVs.: Maybe? Or maybe not: maybe doubling down on what serves you and your customers is a better path.
Perhaps “Should” benefits from “Maybe” whenever it shows up in our vocabulary.
As “should” can be a fast-track to blending in with all the others, and “maybe” is an invitation to explore your unique curiosities.
One way to ensure you’re doing a good job, is to check your email twenty times daily, just in case something’s on fire.
Another way is to do such a good job, the only emails waiting for you are thank yous.
Which are you doing this week?
Some great ideas take years to form, and years longer to produce.
Others take a few months and release to near-immediate windfalls.
I’ve experienced both first-hand. You’d think the latter is better.
Most of the time, the former is vastly more fulfilling.
Most of the time, I’d take the former over the latter.
Which do you prefer? The answer may reveal something about what you value more: making great things, or what making great things sometimes results in.
If AI can make “pretty good” posts, ads, pages, emails, and code…
At the hands of anyone who will push the button and claim the output as their own…
Then “pretty good” loses a lot of value in the market. Because everyone has that button now.
And if you think “pretty good” is going to be enough for your market, just because you think it looks “kinda cool”, you may be in for a rude awakening, today, or tomorrow.
But if you decide that “pretty good” isn’t good enough for you…
And you strive for something greater…
(Whether that means matching that same quality by hand but with a better story, exceeding that quality, or both…)
Then you may find fortune sees favour in your contribution.
Not all at once. Maybe not today. But your odds exceed the alternative, don’t they?
One of the joys of our studio’s “talent network” is the number of people involved.
Corporates tend to ponder how few people they can get away with. People are often treated as expendable, replaceable cogs in a machine. Fewer people to deal with.
But the reverse is far more compelling: the more caring, creative human beings you involve in a process, the more ideas, agency, and value is added.
The talent network’s beautiful for this, because whenever a specific need comes up, there’s a caring, creative human being who adores that very specific thing, desperate to sink their teeth into it.
This is vastly different to the typical studio scenario, where specific needs are met with a homogenization of creative, a regression toward mean, a “how can we get this approved without deviating from our usual process” solution that marginalizes the opportunity to delight those it will exist to serve.
One of my great joys is to be a creative, an artist, who cares so deeply about my craft. Another great joy is to collaborate with those who feel the same way.
This week, I spent hours wrestling with personality quirks of characters in a show I’m working on.
The areas they harmonize, the areas they disagree.
The outfits they won’t need until future seasons, but are worth knowing in advance for continuity of design language in other objeccts.
In the culture of their world, what came before that will never be seen, to make a coherent world-view that influences how they walk, what they reminisce, and what they hope for.
Why?
Can’t you just draw a cool-looking character and call it good?
You can…
But any old machine can do that.
People don’t connect with cool pictures and novel stories.
They connect with something deeper than that.
The human work of caring more deeply than that.
The feeling that someone wrestled with the nuances for a long time, pulling together worlds worth getting lost in.
Many won’t even notice it, consciously. But they’ll feel it, unconsciously.
This is the human work of making things that matter for people who care.
It’s worth every struggle, especially when nobody’s watching.
AI wins on speed, and average output.
Machines will always win those metrics.
So don’t compete on those metrics.
And don’t seek customers who shop based on those metrics.
Some storyboarders are using AI specifically to come up with more ideas, faster.
Some storyboarders are practicing their craft specifically to come up with more ideas, faster.
They’re both faster.
One of them is smarter, more skilled, more committed to their craft, and more likely to create stories no one has seen before.
The other is de-skilling, more committed to ease than quality, and more likely to rehash the median of what came before.
The same is true in so many industries at the moment.
Fascinating to watch!
I’ve used Adobe products since 2002. I’m far from their biggest fan.
But they taught me something when I last visited their homepage.
When listing their verticals, they detailed “Creativity and design” as their first one.
Makes sense.
Followed by “Content creation”.
Huh. (Then PDFs and all that other stuff they do.)
Creativity and design. Totally different to — and not to be confused with — content creation.
For “Creativity and design”, they describe industry-leading apps for design, photo, video, and… “creative AI” (whatever that means).
Then, for “Content creation”, they describe how you can “quickly” create and edit images with “creative AI”, “easily”.
The former is focused on using top tools to do great work (with occasional slop).
The latter is focused on prioritizing fast, easy slop (without a creative bone in your body required).
The lesson I learned: Don’t think of “content” as “creativity”. Don’t think of “content” as the discipline of creating things that matter for people who care. Think of it as empty banalities offered at the altar of algorithms, designed to direct your attention toward those who didn’t earn it.
Duly noted, Adobe.
The “savvy entrepreneur” tries to do less.
The “passionate artist” tries to contribute more.
I know which I’d rather be, and work with.
I own more art books than I’ve read (time!)
And I keep on buying them.
Silly or smart?
I argue smart. Because spending $10–20 here and there to signal to your subconscious how much you value your craft is smart.
It’s watching, and it influences your behavior based on what it understands about you, so show it what you’re all about.
I give art and design feedback every single day, as part of my work.
And I wondered what it’d be like if I didn’t. Do I actually like it?
So I went to Discord and left feedback in channels designed for artists to request feedback, and left some. Not work-related at all, just unsolicited feedback in places where people were looking for some.
Some were really, really grateful for the input. To be seen. To be invested in.
I love how it feels to help others, in areas related to my craft.
That right there is the litmus test: is it still enjoyable when you do it for nothing?
Art is supposed to be hard.
The blank canvas you’re writing your script in? Figuring out how to assemble those ideas? That’s supposed to be hard.
The storyboard you’re working on, where you could take a hundred different directions? That’s supposed to be hard.
The song you’re working on, where you could go many different ways with it? That’s supposed to be hard.
Yes, AI can “help” with those things. It can make art easy, removing the tension and friction you feel with the world around you, from the intuition you bring to the creative process, and from the journey from here to having work worth talking about.
And that’s what people want to see: work worth talking about.
But is it still worth talking about? “The computer did it”?
Is that the story you wanted to share? Or is it just a story a little bit like the remarkable, touching, inspiring, conversational piece you might have shared if you’d done the hard work?
Hasbro, who owns Peppa Pig, is under fire.
Their latest contracts require child voice actors to sign away rights for the company to use their recordings and likeness to train AI for the purpose of voice reproduction.
Which not only threatens their gig with Hasbro, but threatens their future career as voice actors, while asking them to agree to things they can’t possibly understand at that age.
I get it. Voice actors aren’t cheap. I pay voice actors all the time.
But here’s the thing.
I love paying voice actors. Whenever I send payment, I feel good. They’re making something awesome with me, and they’re getting to do that for a living. We get to do this again, as soon as possible.
When there’s an actor I really like, and I don’t have lines for them for a while, I feel bad — I want to give them more, so we can make more cool things together.
Paying nice people to do what they love and create awesome things together is a privilege. Not a burden.
If it’s a burden to you, the answer isn’t to try and AI-slop your way to a cheaper alternative. It’s to get into a different profession, and make room for those for whom this would be their dream, too.
Support those who collaborate gladly.
Withdraw support from those who try to short-change hard-working talent.
They may listen if the message is received in dollar form.
Will your writing improve with a better text editor?
Will your art improve with better graphics software?
Will your ideas improve with a fancier notebook?
A little, actually.
Honoring your craft with tools you enjoy is no bad thing.
It may help you lock in and go deeper.
But only a little.
The rest comes from sticking to what you’ve got, sticking to tools you know, and going deeper on the discipline of doing your thing.
Wired earbuds are “back” this summer.
Which amuses me, as I use wired earbuds.
Not because I’m “back”. Because they never left.
While keeping my head down doing my thing, studying and diving deeper into my chosen topics, parts of the world moved on, then came right back again.
A lesson to us all, perhaps: focus on your thing. Trade the cyclical new hotness being marketing to you for a deeper understanding and mastery of your choice of craft. One pays dividends for you and those you serve. The other puts you right back where you started.
If you love what you do, play with it sometimes.
Like to sketch? Play with pens. Different nibs, different inks, feeling how they behave on paper, to see how they influence your sketches and my ideas. A mechanical HB pencil and a wooden 2B make you sketch differently. A fine nib and a brush nib make you ink differently. Different inks make you layer differently. Try and see what happens for you.
Like to write? Play with keyes. Different boards, different switches, different arrangements, to see how they influence your writing. A raised mechanical board with wrist rests may make you not want to move, and commit to longer writing sessions. An easy low profile chiclet keyboard may make you feel like jotting down notes more quickly. Try and see what happens for you.
Nothing beats committing to the work itself — actually making. But playing with your tools a little along the way to see how it influences your output? That’s what fans do, and its an investment in your craft to be a fan of it.
Ever feel guilty for going the extra-extra mile when making things for those you serve?
I used to.
I’d hear a voice in my head saying, “It’s done, the customer will be happy with that, you need to move on to the next item on your list or you’re only going to slow you and your team down, it’s done, what are you doing, get on with it already.”
Listening to that voice is likely no bad thing.
But choosing not to listening to it is also no bad thing. If you want to be known for going that extra-extra mile. If you want to attract more customers like them, as a result of your care, your generosity, and their advocacy. If you want to show yourelf — and the world — that this is more than a job, this is a craft, and one you take very seriously.
We love learning in my household.
We’re planning to build a small library into our home once we clear the room out planned for it, and carve some time to carve some wood to make it how we envision it.
But it’s not just books (though there are a lot of books).
There is also comics. Videos. Little toys that remind us of lessons learned. Pictures we’ve drawn. Photos we’ve taken.
Learning is a vibrant, exciting, fulfilling-for-its-own-sake passtime. Something to pursue before we even know we might need to know the things we’ll learn, because who knows what we may discover along the way.
Didn’t always feel this way. I had to learn to learn by practicing, finding my tastes, and leaning into them with curiosity.
Learning to learn — your way — will be an intensely rewarding, never-ending gift to your future self, if you make the time for it.
Talk to almost any freelancer.
They’ll tell you about the difference between the opportunity, and what shipped.
A wonderful, vibrant, exciting possibility, and what shipped.
A novel new approach that customer interviews revered, and what shipped.
A huge part of making great work is having CEOs that don’t ruin it.
We don’t like when big tech talks about what their products will do to writers, or artists, or musicians, because they’re not writers, or artists, or musicians.
Artists want to work together to push art forward. We do it all on our own, and we enjoy it intensely.
Same for writers. We do it all on our own, and we enjoy it intensely.
Same for musicians. I’m not a musician, but I adore watching musicians collaborate and advance their genres.
In some ways, AI is a scapegoat — it’s not just AI that bothers creatives. It’s that an outsider came in and decided to tell the doers how to do.
No wonder they’re getting booed during commencement speeches.
Great artists don’t draw all day.
They draw a lot. When they’re tired of that, they read about drawing. When they’re tired about that, they think about drawing. When they’re tired of that, they do something else.
All in service of their craft, for its own sake, and for those they toil for.
It’s okay to put the pencil down so long as the fire keeps burning.
Lean into your craft for long enough… and you’ll find you disagree with every one of your heroes on at least something.
This can feel disheartening at first. Lonely, even.
Then you realize it’s your voice taking form. Your point of view. An expression perhaps worth sharing, a by-product of your tenure in the space.
Lean into it — it makes you our brethren, instead of merely our fans.
If a toddler draws a picture, then AI “improves” it by generating a lifelike version of the drawing… does that make the drawing better?
Or does it steal a gift from that child away from you.
Or rewrite history as we lose evidence of their growth, perspective, and effort.
Or remove the desire to improve in a skill that computers “will just do better anyway”.
What if the generated lifelike version of the drawing removed the art, by removing the artist.
What if their imperfect hand-drawn art is more “real” art, a communication between artist and viewer, a relationship shared through images, than the machine-made alternative could ever be.
What if that’s true whether it’s hand-drawn on paper or in Photoshop - the hands of the artist are on each brushstroke, like words in a poem.
Worth thinking about.
What makes a great tool?
A premium notebook that’s so pretty you daren’t write in it… or a cheap notebook so quick to scuff that you enjoy using it and throwing it around?
Software that’s slick and minimal, but does half the things you need with bugs to fix… or software that’s old and clunky-looking, but does everything you need with bugs long fixed?
An e-reader that holds thousands of books but needs replacing as the tech ages… or a handful of dog-eared physical books you’ve felt, re-read, and deeply internalized?
The latest smartphone with the latest distracting features… or an old basic phone that never pulls you away from your focused, meaningful work?
No right or wrong answers. There’s something for everyone. But it’s worth asking yourself what makes a great tool, then shopping for that, instead of just buying what the marketing says.
I create a newsletter called GrowthCandy. Each issue shares one idea to help build and spread your work, delivered as a short comic. Fast to read. Easy to apply. Hard to forget!