NOTE: this is a self-indulgent post about my history as an artist and designer. It’s probably too long for you to enjoy but I thought it might be interesting to see the evolution of one mindframe to another. My feelings won’t be hurt if you aren’t interested in my personal history.

It was in junior high that I first realized I had artistic skill. It puzzled me to see other people in art class failing so miserably at drawing the most basic objects. I had always assumed that drawing (the most basic and perhaps most important skill an artist can have) was something everyone could do. Therefore when my classmates turned in the chicken scratch they called still-lifes I convinced myself it was because they weren’t really trying.

During my junior year of high school my mom signed me up for a portrait class being taught at the local arts & crafts store. My instructor was Loretta Jenkins, a local portrait artist from whom I learned a technique for accurately drawing portraits from photos. Similar to what happened to me in junior high I couldn’t understand why those around me were drawing such crap, I mean, you’ve got the picture right in front of you, how can you not make it work? The rendering skills I acquired lead to a few commissions, me being considered the “school artist”, and eventually winning the Spokane Scholar Award scholarship in art (best senior arts student in all of Spokane).

During my tenure in junior high and high school my opinions on art were being formed. And it was basically this: the more realistic it is the better it is. I loved Da Vinci, Vermeer, Ingres and David. I didn’t care much for Goya, Picasso and Cezanne. I despised Matisse and Pollack. In fact, I remember in debate class I gave what was supposed to be a persuasive argument for why modern art (whatever the hell that meant) wasn’t art and that realism (whatever the hell that meant) was the only legitimate artistic expression. And don’t try to convince me otherwise, I’m the school artist.

So here I was, the best senior artist in Spokane (supposedly), and I probably could have gone to any art school in the country. So to the chagrin of my counselor I decided to go to the prestigious art mecca, Rick’s College in Rexburg, Idaho (long, uninteresting story that involves late applications resulting in rejection letters, my counselor yelling at the school’s admissions and summer school).

So I get to Ricks and the first art class I take is a lecture class called Intro to Visual Arts. This class was beneath me. Except that I learned more about art thinking and art history in that one class than I had in my entire life leading up to that point. It was there that the seed was planted in my head that art may not be entirely about rendering skill. My second class was Basic Drawing (by Leon Parson, brother of less talented but more famous Del Parson). This class was beneath me. Except that I learned more about art and drawing in that one class than I had in my entire life leading up to that point. Toward the end of the semester Leon asked me to bring my portfolio to his office and we’d have a chat. He proceeded to tell me that I wasn’t an artist. Me, Rusty Clifton, CV High School artist, winner of the Spokane Scholar Award, best artist in his class and he was telling me that I wasn’t an artist! Who the hell does he think he is? He says that I am a graphic designer. No way am I a graphic designer (btw, what’s a graphic designer?). He told me to take Intro to Graphic Design and form an opinion when it’s over.

I took the class and it was over.

I had now taken History of Art 1 & 2 among other classes and my opinion about art was slowly shifting, but it never shifted so dramatically as it did one night at a friend’s dorm room discussing his (poor) taste in music. He was listening to Rage Against the Machine when I self-righteously asked how he could like a band that clearly had no vocal or instrumental skills. He replied, “but I don’t listen to music for the artist’s skill, I listen to it because it makes me feel a certain way.” I had no response. It was at that moment that I realized art was about ideas and expression, not about how well the eyes and lips are shaded.

After my mission I went directly to BYU and went through the amazing BFA design program. It was at Ricks that I learned how to beautify. It was at BYU that I learned how to think. There I learned that Graphic design is about communicating ideas, not making stuff look nice.

At this point I pretty much knew I was going to be a designer for the rest of my life. In fact, I enjoyed it so much I wanted to teach it. Of course teaching at the university level requires a masters degree so I applied to a few schools and decided to go to SVA in New York City (the center of the design universe). The School of Visual Arts had an MFA Design program with all the right answers (Steven Heller as chair, amazing teachers/networking, and a program focussed on design entrepreneurship), perfect for me.

The program was great, the teachers didn’t disappoint, the thesis project was a wonderful experience and it all totally burned me out (it’s ironic that I go to grad school only for it to burn me out on what I went there for). As a result, I got a job doing mindless design and have cared very little about my industry since then (in fact I’ve often dreamt about quitting my job, buying an old brownstone, fixing it up and selling it…as a job. I’d surely enjoy that more than my current job and likely make more money). Because the thought of communicating someone else’s messages for the rest of my life is depressing to me I’ve been working on starting a business that is tangentially related to my thesis and isn’t design-centered. In other words, I’m more interested in designing a successful business than I am in doing graphic design.

Who knows where I’ll go from here. I still love art and design, have plenty of opinions and will perhaps teach one day, but for now I’m still figuring out what I want to be when I grow up.