It's 3:44 am and the people on my IM Buddy List are still at their respective computers. Entranced. Creative by day, we suck the last drop of blood from our solitary tasks, unable to sleep until the work has driven the stake of exasperation through our hearts. These fellow vampires of art and design, words and wizardry are all relentlessly driven by the same elusive passion. The perfect concept, flawlessly executed, yet seldom realized. What is it we seek? Why do we pursue this ideal of a form of beauty, that never fades from our hearts or our minds? We are not artists in the sense of Monet or Cezanne. As designers, we work in proportions and pixels and the subtleties of light and dark and percentages of cmyk or rgb. Ours is an esthetic of this type face over that, this type of face over that. As writers it is the elusive phrase. The perfect word. The frozen moment in time. The outcome is never clear to us until it is nearly realized. But even then it is never truly manifest, for our enemy, like the first rays of dawn, is the tyranny of time. And we tell ourselves "Not this time. Maybe next time." And the beauty that never fades, gives us the slightest of smiles. Then turns away. And we are left with her nearly realized likeness to haunt us until the next chance encounter. 99 percent is not 100. Deep inside ourselves we know. We fail once more. I want to create the perfect something before I die. It is the only desire I have left in this life. I want to manifest beauty in the service of commerce. Yet I know what I seek is an impossible dream, unlikely to be realized in this lifetime or the next. But still I persist. For to not strive for such a goal is to admit to being the embodiment of what it means to be a hack. An artist without merit. A soldier without a soul. For the new Lean Advertising Network White Paper |
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So rather than work from nine to five and give in to Miller Time, I continue through the darkness. And those who share my fate continue with me, at their respective screens, while their husbands, wives and children are left to fend for their own amusement or means of diversion. I understand that my purpose in life is to move beyond the simple form and function of building awareness for the products and services of my clients. It chills my very soul to question whether what we do is even in demand in this age of abundant creativity where anybody who can afford to visit Kinko's can anoint themselves an Art Director. Can my life's work be outsourced to a third world Mac user? Would anyone know the difference? Or is my search for the beauty that never fades in keeping with the vision quests of old? The seeking of the Holy Grail? The hunt for the Fountain of Youth? Que eso, this mad adventure that steals my lifeblood away? The challenge to capture creative excellence in any form or endeavor is always surrounded by doubt and intrepidation. Yet we persevere. So many times I have wanted to walk away from it all. So many times I have tried to convince myself, mere advertising is unworthy of such ardor. But then why is it that the illusion of unreachable perfection persists when all else fails? Am I no more than a moth, never to become a myth? Why are so many of us chasing the same pursuit?
Or do we diminish as time passes, as one by one our IM Buddy Lists fade from green, to amber, to red and away?
And ultimately, we fall asleep in our Aerons, while those who wait in our beds wait in vain. How long will our solitary crusade drive us even farther into the night? Deeper into the madness. Why can't I simply walk away? When will the beauty fade? Why am I asking you? I'm sure her padded footfalls haunt you in the darkness as well. Only the Angels know for certain when it will be done.
Stay tuned,
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