When you are a little kid, and your crayons are your eternal best friend, it’s pretty much a given that you will grow up to be some sort of artist. As you grow in your artsydom, you learn that not only are there crayons, but there are paints, pastels, chalks, pens, pencils, clay, etc, etc. And you embrace each of these with the enthusiasm only a child can have.
Then you get into high school, and they teach you about sculpture and art history and new concepts of how to apply your crayon art to things like posters and coffee mugs.
You graduate high school and head off to college, full of trepidation yet excitement, and you get enrolled in the art department. At some point you realize the term “Starving Artist” was coined for a reason, because unless you are very lucky and find a wealthy patron to enjoy your works and support your financial needs, you are pretty much going to have to take a job flipping burgers while living in a one bedroom apartment with 4 others in your same predicament.
Then a kind friend, one that you look up to in the field, tells you about GRAPHIC ART. That’s where you take love of art, plus talent, plus love of computers, plus love of all things pop culture, and mush them all together and POOF you have a marketable career where someone might just pay you to do what you love.
So, you get out of college and into the world of advertising. And you are a happy camper. You take your true love and use it to sell all kinds of things to all kinds of people.
But then something horrible happens.
Suddenly everything you have done for the past several years doesn’t work. You hit the wall… stall out… wonder aimlessly through the murky ad graveyard of your soul…
I love my job… I just wish I could give it the oomph it deserves.