by Karina Beattiger 24.March 2008 12:07
The hard part about design -- that is to say, any creative endeavor at all -- is one that has assaulted everyone at some point or another: writer's block. Or artist's block. Or chef's block. (Isn't that a cutting board of some kind?) Or any sort of blockiness in general. In my case, it's designer's block.
Blocks, fondly called blockheadedness in my house, happen for any number of reasons. They're actually very similar to IE's fabulously inspired hasLayout. Which is to say, it can come out of nowhere, strike without warning or reason, and then linger about the real estate on your monitor going, "PBBBBTH!" at inopportune times. In very short definition: it sucks. So, too, does blockheadedness.
Blockheadedness is a commonly suffered-from syndrome, likened to the common cold. There is no cure. Or rather, the cure is to dope yourself up on everything from hot tea to sunshine to commonly prescribed over-the-counter brain-friers, then sit and watch the pretty colors until either your cold goes away, or you suffer a brain hemorrhage from the amount of clutter clogging your head. (Note to self: I almost spelled "hemorrhage" right the first time. Darn second h.) In my case, as it always is of course, I tend to avoid doing anything to my brain when I'm suffering from blockheadedness.
This is a mistake.
Blockheadedness can be cured by sitting down in front of the television until your brain leaks out of your nose, but it will take at least four seasons' worth of Criminal Minds for it to happen. (Er, that is, your brain will probably leak in half that, but your block will go nowhere.) On top of the loss of greymatter, I'd also be very, very frightened by what sort of design is inspired by a show about serial killers and the FBI team that chases them. ("I think it needs red. More red. No, more. MORE RED, BWAHAHA!...Ahem.")
This entire thought process came about when I sat down yesterday, on my off-time, at home, not on the clock, to work on my own private website. The thing is comprised entirely of tables and images neatly cut into said tables, and besides that, I've fallen out of love with the color scheme. (There's not many colors that bespeak "dark" and "supernatural" yet "heart-warming".) So, there I was, sitting down in front of my large (but not nearly as large as at work, of which I have two) monitor, staring at the grey-and-white tiled transparent-background screen that should have magically been filling up with the layout design of my new website.
And it wasn't there. I had nothing.
I spend a lot of time at Mindfly working with these gorgeous proofs that Heather has designed herself. They're invariably colorful, aesthetically pleasing, easy(ish) to cut, and you can tell she's got a photographer's eye for things (thanks, Heather's dad!). This means that I don't have to flex my brain at all when it comes to the artistic side of things. This is not a bad thing by any means -- Heather's an awesome act to learn from. But it does mean that my first impulse at home is to pick up the phone and make her do a layout for my site, too.
Okay, so that wouldn't work. Well, it would, but I'd probably fail in convincing her to help me out off the clock. (No blame here!) So instead I've been combing various sites, looking for layout ideas to help jog some sort of creative spark in my head. (It's not brain-eating Dayquil, but some of these sites could work about the same way! ... Yes, you can tell I've a weakness for border-breaking design.) I've found a few, but so far, I'm still working through a serious case of blockheadedness.
I think I might have to start small. Colors, first. Once I get my
colors, I can go into layout. A line here. A thing there.
Why is it when you're designing for yourself, you never can?
Oh, and in case anyone wondered... the title for this post came from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. Generally, when I suffer from any sort of block, I tend to feel like doing the thing I said not to do: go rot my brain laying around the house and staring at criminal shows. This is a habit to break. Alternately, there's worse things to be than a paisley sofa popping up on the cricket green.