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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 1123 posts in this topic.
If machines write your copy,
and machines design your pages,
and machines write your code,
and machines generate your images,
adn machines build your products,
and machines answer your phone,
and machines handle your emails,
and machines have your ideas,
and machines run your reports,
and machines run support,
and machines plan your future,
and you sit watching them do it,
Remind us why we should pay you?
Agonizing over details gets a bad reputation.
Unduly so, I think.
I agonize over details all the time.
Once keys systems are operational…
Once everyone’s unblocked and moving…
Once the priorities are clearly understood…
I agonize.
I agonize over key art, so it looks exactly right.
I agonize over words, so they sound and feel right.
I agonize over characters and their personalities.
I agonize over layouts, type, and brand voice.
Why agonize, when good is usually good enough?
Because it matters. Because I care. And that’s rare these days.
Skipping out of care is skipping out on a rarity that makes your work special… providing you keep shipping.
Care is usually only found among the excellent, and those who never ship anything.
Just be careful to end up in the right camp.
I write a lot of recaps.
Recaps for teams to run a project forward based on my vision.
Recaps for stakeholders to see how far we’ve come.
Recaps for partnerships to see what’s on the horizon.
AI’s good at recaps. But when I use AI to help with recaps, doing recaps on my own becomes slower. I don’t subconsiously hold onto the same details I otherwise would. I don’t feel the shape of the work in my mind. I don’t remember the things that happened. Because if a machine is doing it for me, the brain says, “why bother, then?”
The problem worsens. Now, I don’t see the details. I don’t guide the work well because I don’t see the shape anymore. I forget things.
Ick.
This is why I continue to write my own recaps.
Not because the machine can’t.
Because I can’t, when it can.
I’d prefer to know the shape of my work and guide it to great places, and have to write things up periodically, than save a few minutes at the expense of my best work.
Today, someone described my spending habits as “abundant creativity”.
And I learned “what is easy to spend” for yourself is an indicator of what you prioritize in yourself.
Thought that was interesting.
I’d rather pay artists to create, than Apple for a phone. I’d rather pay for 10 cheap notebooks I can hash idea through abundantly, than 1 fancy one that demands every page be a polished idea. I’d rather pay for an amazing screen tablet people sometimes deem ‘expensive’ only because they upgrade their smartphones so frequently (I’m spending less!) I’d rather pay for a NAS to store all of my ideas, than for subscription services to rent all of someone else’s. I’d rather have piles of creative journals, books, and magazines all over my office to peruse in free moments, than pick up a phone to doomscroll “for free”.
It was pointed out to me that these were all very coherent things. And it made me think… what a fascinating thought exercise that is.
What is “easy to spend” for you, and what does that tell you about yourself?
Is it “easy to spend” on your business, on avant garde ideas, on great creativity and customer experiences?
Is it “easy to spend” on your craft, on advancing your skills, on creating more than you thought you could?
Or is it “easy to spend” on consumption devices, to numb out from the world, or at least be forever tempted to do so?
Artists have long had a choice: content-factory production, or original, provenential creativity.
Some introduce the AI conversation as a destruction of art. And it’s true… for the first option.
But was that option “art” to begin with?
And given that, does that actually distinguish the difference even moreso than ever before, elevating the second option with even more meaning and connection? An opportunity to see those who commission such pieces as brands of culture, heart, reelvance, and depth?
Could the change actually be making the second option more desirable for those who understand what’s really going on, the role artwork has always played between people, or people and brands?
Could the change mean artists are spared those who didn’t take the time to understand, preferring to ignorantly marginalize themselves to save a few dollars, unaware of how they signal that to customers daily, and that such decisions don’t go unnoticed?
Artists have long had a choice. Many say there’s never been a worse time to create art. I’d argue there’s never been a better one.
Which is faster?
Option 1: Taking decent-ish photos, importing them to your computer, and using some new-fangled whiz-bang frontier AI tech to hack it into looking great
Option 2: Learning how to frame a shot before you shoot, so you don’t need to crop. Learning how to adjust ISO, aperture, and shutter speed while you shoot, so you don’t need to recover and doctor so much detail in post. Learning your cameras configuration options ahead of time, setting how colour or contrast or white balance will look before you show up to shot.
Option 1 is pitched as the super-productive option. No need to learn anything. Just click a few buttons and away you go!
Option 2 is the actual super-productive option… if you’re prepared to learn a few things. Then you don’t even need to click those buttons, it’s already done, before you got home.
I understand that there’s a place for both of these things, and many other options, too.
But let’s not forget which is the best option… if we’re prepared to do a little tiny bit of studying and practice.
The artist often fears business, worrying about becoming marginalized or corrupted, along with their work.
The businessperson often fears art, worrying about the unpredictable and avant garde nature of new ideas.
Yet each solve’s the other’s problem. Businesses struggle when they only follow the footprints of their peers, shying away from exciting new ideas and experiences. And artists struggle to make a bigger contribution when their platform is limited to the time left over.
They don’t need each other.
But what might happen if they got along?
If a programmer can produce code that is approximately what you wanted…
Still has a few bugs for you to catch and describe for them to solve…
Still needs your direction to make it right but will solve it with your oversight…
…That’s why people are using AI to write code instead.
Because dealing with the programmer, and the LLM, is the same experience, to them.
If, however, the programmer can produce code that is right…
With enough care to remove the bugs before you see it…
With enough care to show up with the direction and commitment to see it through per your brief…
With enough care to let you delegate to competence in knowing it’ll be taken care of…
…That’s when people wouldn’t dream of rolling the dice on LLMs.
Like I’ve said before in my notes here:
First place goes to humans who care most.
Second place goes to the machines.
Third place goes to humans who don’t care enough.
“Can’t you just generate more posts now there are 3,202 to train an LLM on?”
Probably. But then it wouldn’t be my notes, would it?
It’d just be a close approximation of my notes, based on past ideas.
It’d just be an echo of a daily exercise designed to keep me thinking and ideating.
What would be the point in that?
Slog is underrated.
That animated movie you loved as a child? It was made with love — it was a slog to produce.
That graphic novel that looks like someone bled onto every page? Someone did — it was a slog to produce.
That illustration that looks like it took a lifetime to learn the skills for? It did — it was a slog to produce.
The slog makes it rare, special, different. We can feel it when we see it.
We’ll probably notice this much more as the generative slop continues to grow.
I noticed today that I shoot photos in the same way I draw art.
As though there are a set of “rules” I adhere to, that reflect how I see the world.
Not sure exactly how to describe it, yet. Tell a story, capture a moment. Subdued colour, cosy melancholic. Let focus spring out in colour like creativity and life do, from anywhere, almost as if spotted by accident.
Anyway, since noticing it, I decided to share the “recipes” from my camera, in case you’d like to try them out too.
They’re for Ricoh GR cameras, and can be programmed into U1/U2/U3 for easy access.
Quiet Life is my everyday colour recipe: natural colour, earthy tones, softer highlights and enough richness for colour to stand out when the world offers it.
Quiet Mono is the black-and-white counterpart. Deeper blacks, lots of greys and a little more emphasis on shape, without turning everything into ultra-gritty street photography.
They’re on the My Ricoh GR Recipes page if you’d like to check out the settings.
“Rock music isn’t meant to be perfect” — Ozzy
If you make music, include the imperfections that let us feel like we can hear the instrument, not just the music.
If you make art, include the double strokes and black-outs that hide mistakes, that let us feel like we can see the ink, not just the lines.
If you make words, write like you talk, so we can hear your voice and your personality, not just Grammarly-perfect prose.
If you make software, ship with with your opinions, not an MBA’s take on what “right” is, so we can feel your hand guiding us, not another Jira-clone.
Perfection was never the goal.
The iPhone Duo was announced today.
Very cool technology.
Now you can watch Netflix and doomscroll at the same time.
But will that advance your craft, or advance your vices?
Where possible, I try to invest in the things that will make me more creative, and suppress the things that steal that time and capability away from me.
That means I won’t be buying a Duo.
But it begs the question: if you were to spend that kind of money, what could you spend it on instead that would make you more creatiev, or to suppress the things that steal that time and capability away from you?
You don’t need to spend a penny for the thought exercise to reveal some interesting ideas.
“It’s very difficult to be very lazy. It takes a lot of imagination to do nothing and you have to be sufficiently self-confident not to have a bad conscience. You have to have a taste for life, so that every minute is complete in itself and so you don’t have to keep saying ‘I’ve done this or that.’ You need strong nerves to do nothing. Being lazy also means that other people’s opinions don’t matter. Nor does the idea of always having to prove yourself.” — Françoise Sagan
I like to create every day. It engages me to work on my skills, to have creating as essential to a day as eating or sleeping.
But this quote nevertheless inspired me.
Not to be lazy. But to notice the difference between “getting to” create because it engages me, and “having to” produce to quiet some sort of insecurity.
One is very healthy. One is not. Worth thinking about.
Some of my favorite writers rarely write.
Some write a lot, but many others use pictures, videos, music, other mediums.
If you love exposing yourself to new ideas, don’t stop at words. Seek out art. Listen to experimental music. Wrestle with what the creators are trying to say.
You may find a whole new world of ideas opens up to you that you didn’t know existed.
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 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!