Two semesters short from completing my Master's in Advertisement, I needed more art in my designer life. I figured my advisor and I hadn't chosen the best classes throughout the program, so I visited the Advertisement office. Based on my need for more art, I was advised to take a class called "Creativity". It was a new course taught by the new director of Advertisement, Roland Young. I enrolled.
The courses I had taken before the Creativity class were exclusively for Art Directors. This course was open to anybody, so it was exciting to notice the new faces. Days before the semester started, I heard some rumors about Roland. Students said he was an old fashioned Graphic Designer, with old ideas, and a pretty harsh critique style. They also said that he didn't know how to use his computer.
Roland showed up ten minutes past the scheduled starting time. He looked short and fragile, just what a seventy-something-year-old would typically look like. Roland entered the room slowly and sat down, called roll, and started to lecture us. Gradually, he began to grow, and the entire space filled with his words full of advice, knowledge, history, and experience. I wanted to transcribe every word he said into my notebook.
"You have to forget any logic. You are all wrong thinking that everything needs to be logic".
Right after that sentence, Roland started to talk about Rome and Muslims, God and France, Cesar and numbers, learning and Kerning, and type. How did he get there? I was lost, peeking with one eye half-closed, not knowing what I was looking at. I traveled far within Roland's mind. I liked how he taught, offering so much knowledge in so little time. For once, a teacher inspired me. He took me on a ride with his words and motivated me to learn.
"Learning hurts because you have to change."
Yes, learning and changing hurt. It was hurting right at that moment when I had to unlearn and learn again. I enjoyed learning from him, it was hard, but it definitely changed my life. There was one assignment that hurt the most. The task was to create a video. Any video, any topic, any story, it just had to be a video. How hard could this be? I'm creative, right? I got my gear ready: camera, tripod, and an extra battery pack. In the back of my head, Roland was saying: "Shooting alone leaves you with your best friend, your mind, translating, so you can see yourself for who you are." I got this, I like to be alone, and I really want to know who I am.
I shot for weeks sitting at the park with the camera glued to my eye. I saw people walking and birds eating from people's hands. I heard instruments from different countries and a girl dancing to the beat of handclaps. I saw fire so close it almost burnt my eye, the ocean taking over the sand, a dog running toward his friend's arms. Every week, I was sent back home for more. It was so frustrating. The last week before the deadline, all I could do was cry, and wondered: what else can I do that is interesting?. Some of my classmates had shot themselves teaching something or telling a story, but I was too self-conscious. I couldn't face the camera, I had to hide behind it and find the story outside.
"Everything is right there until you decide to see it. Solve the core of the problem, take a risk, and remember, it only has to be true."
Sitting on the corner of my bed, crying, an idea was unveiled to me by the distorted images of blurring lights that crashed into my wet eyes. I stared at my laptop webcam. Tears flowed like the waters of an angry river, sounds got stuck in me, words didn't want to live the warm cave that sheltered them. "Creativity is courage, reveal, be true, be free," I remembered him saying. I hit record, and I let myself cry for my long-forgotten passion; for the art missing in my life. As tears rolled down my face, words filled the space, and the story took shape. A revelatory video was made.
Poetry,
to write what I can't say.
To let it flow calm and slow.
To lift off and let go.
Poetry,
to free my dreams.
To show my love,
nest my sorrows
and share my joy.
To define once and again
the meaning of friendship,
the power of pleasure,
the deepness of bliss.
Poetry,
to sail alone
with my traumas and self-love.
To submerge in total freedom
and then float.
Poetry,
to cry and yell.
To admire and hate
to listen and play.
With that assignment, Roland gave me my art back. He saw the poetry in the sorrow of my eyes and squeezed it out. In that moment of painful change, I understood that art is what I deliver when the world gets silent, and I talk using my quiet words. After that class, I recovered my poetry and won a mentor. From that day on, I took every possible course he was teaching. I continued taking note of all the advice he threw at us: "We are artists, we want to look at things that we can feel."
Roland's wisdom often came hidden into a web of words. I loved to solve his puzzling sentences because I could see his essence in them. That's how I understand him. He speaks to change something, not just to make sounds. He speaks to those who want to learn, he speaks to live, as I write to not die.
We still exchange emails where we share art, photography, text, and people that we find inspiring. One day I sent him an image called Motion Runners by Ernst Haas. He replied, "I've seen most everything and forgotten everything. That's why everything is new." It's amazing how much this sentence said about something of great value. For sure, Roland has seen a lot. A lifetime as a designer must have left him with so much great art. He is a well-traveled artist. He has seen the world with an open mind. During class, he told us, "Do you want to be good designers? Well, you need to know everything about everything". He has indeed seen most everything. And, how inspiring is his appreciation for good art, art so significant that he, who has seen almost everything, has forgotten all. I would never express myself that way, but it makes perfect sense.
After reading and rereading his reply, I grasped the knowledge and saved it in my designer toolkit. As designers, everything we do is new. Aim to impress your audience to a point where they forget everything they have seen before.
"Do you get it?" I ask them, and they stare into space and continue tweeting automatically. There's no joy in their eyes, only boredom, and hidden anger. They think I'm angry when I'm really sad. When I share, I don't care who listens. So it's not the sharing, it's the knowing." (Roland's email to a colleague).
I love how he noted that the students don't really get it because they are too worried about their next tweet. During class, he begged us to "Stop Tweeting and Facebooking, and if you insist..." he continued, "use them to create a movement." It was interesting to learn how he interprets the lack of interest of the students. We don't value our teachers, we blame them for the hard time they make us go through during critiques, and then we get angry because all we want is to finish fast. "They think I'm angry when I'm really sad." I was right when I noticed Roland sad. During the situations when a student really didn't get it, he would have a sad face. It must be hard to see good design disappear in the hands of people that will let it die so quickly. I saw him excited as well. It was his passion to inform those who were eager to learn.
After I digested the email, I wrote back:
I was eager to see your past,
to let you make me laugh.
To let your knowledge
dive into my suffering mind.
I was one who got lost
in the infinite spider of your stories.
I know you weren't angry,
I was feeling you sad.
And now that you are far,
I long for your wisdom
and the adventures of your world.
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