I don't care - I'm in the tank
The activity of a creative person who creates something out of nothing is life in constant fear, reflection and self-flagellation. But what if someone already came up with this? But what if someone already wrote, drew, composed? Globalization intensified the neurosis of the creator a hundredfold. If before the creator created in his hut on the edge of the earth and did not know what was happening around, now he knows everything: catalogs, forums, blogs, communities, contests, television, magazines, podcasts. Gigabytes of information, hundreds of other people's works before the eyes and in the subconscious. It seems that everything, absolutely everything is invented. It seems that you are constantly stealing from someone. It seems that it would be better to go to the wipers.
I know adults who have taken place in life, who spend hours biting their lips in front of the monitor, reading what anonymous commentators and reviewers write about their work. I know dozens of colleagues who will be terribly worried if someone suddenly blurts out “I have already seen something like this somewhere”. I have often witnessed a situation when a good idea was chopped off by an art director, a customer or the author himself only because it seemed to them (!) That it looked like something there. The absurdity is that no one at the same time remembers the goals, objectives or terms of reference.
How much time, how much attention the creator spends on experiences about the uniqueness and unoriginality of his work. How much energy goes into trying to invent a spherical bicycle in a vacuum. And all these games in postmodernism are also a manifestation of the design inferiority complex, the fear of coming up with what was once invented. Helvetica, you see, is too primitive for them, and simple forms, you see, have already been taken apart.
A designer who has realized the senselessness of such experiences gradually decreases his sensitivity to all unsolicited opinions and evaluations of his work. He focuses on work, not on the analysis of material developed before him. Aerobatics - get to the state of a tanker: there are tasks - I solve them; I look at the world only directly in front of me, through a narrow gap in ten-centimeter armor, not trying to grasp the immensity; I’m eating on devices, I don’t turn off the course, I don’t pay attention to barking of village dogs; I try not to think about the Hague and the Convention on Human Rights; I know for sure that a shell doesn’t fall into the same funnel twice, even if I myself really want to.
I know adults who have taken place in life, who spend hours biting their lips in front of the monitor, reading what anonymous commentators and reviewers write about their work. I know dozens of colleagues who will be terribly worried if someone suddenly blurts out “I have already seen something like this somewhere”. I have often witnessed a situation when a good idea was chopped off by an art director, a customer or the author himself only because it seemed to them (!) That it looked like something there. The absurdity is that no one at the same time remembers the goals, objectives or terms of reference.
How much time, how much attention the creator spends on experiences about the uniqueness and unoriginality of his work. How much energy goes into trying to invent a spherical bicycle in a vacuum. And all these games in postmodernism are also a manifestation of the design inferiority complex, the fear of coming up with what was once invented. Helvetica, you see, is too primitive for them, and simple forms, you see, have already been taken apart.
A designer who has realized the senselessness of such experiences gradually decreases his sensitivity to all unsolicited opinions and evaluations of his work. He focuses on work, not on the analysis of material developed before him. Aerobatics - get to the state of a tanker: there are tasks - I solve them; I look at the world only directly in front of me, through a narrow gap in ten-centimeter armor, not trying to grasp the immensity; I’m eating on devices, I don’t turn off the course, I don’t pay attention to barking of village dogs; I try not to think about the Hague and the Convention on Human Rights; I know for sure that a shell doesn’t fall into the same funnel twice, even if I myself really want to.