Diss-stressed…

Although I love the feel of a book in my hand, and the vision and metre of a poem in front of me, I function day-to-day in a business that is attempting to survive in a shrunken and shifting marketplace. Not unlike a lot of businesses these days.

Some aren’t making out so well. I get emails weekly from people I’ve known for decades as friends and clients who are now out of work. Some have given up ever returning to the positions or even the industries they’ve left. The loss of their experience and their depth of knowledge is frightening.  Without them, a connection is gone to a progression of how things are made, how they are developed, and  how they can be tooled and retooled. When this marketplace does come back – and it eventually will – I’m afraid those abilities will not be replaced.

When I first started in this industry, I was a proofreader in legal publishing. In that position, I also came in contact with some true craftsmen who taught me about using and setting type, how paper is printed, and how it is finished and bound. Further down the line, I also worked for a commercial printer and directly with the owner who taught me how to interpret artwork and mechanicals and see the end product before I submitted it to prep. It was that ability to see the final finished piece that gave you insight into how you were going to get it done -  the raw materials you would have to buy, the machinery that you would employ, the people you would have to manuever in order to make that delivery. And do that within the context of the estimated cost.

In his book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Pirsig separates the world into classicists and romanticists. Using the example of the motorcylce, he offered that the classicist can see the underlying form, structure, and system while the romanticist could not see past the exterior aesthetics and immediate appearance. So if the motocycle would not start, the classicist would stop and immediately begin exploring the systems of fuel and ignition while the romanticist would just keep his finger on the start button until the battery died.

But more and more these days, the classicists are disappearing. When I would get a call, it would start out as “I need to get something produced…” Now the phone call starts, “I need a price…”.  Specifications, rather than discussed, explored, and possibly modified based on need and manufacturing capabilities, are merely check boxes on a form. It’s all been reduced to multiple choice and a twitter.

The loss is global. The advertising agencies – and clients – that I work for are losing that “inside” craftsman that is crucial to getting the project completed and meet the problems presented – marketing’s need to communicate their message, creative’s need for effective and practical design, production’s need for consistent quality and cost. These are talents nurtured over many years and are formed in a crucible made of unforgiving machinery and demanding humans.

And not to mention the loss of experienced mentors and teachers.

I read a few management and marketing columns. And most speak of offering “value” rather than just price. But I don’t know that the “business of business” operates that intelligently. And what we may be seeing for some time to come is the cheapest and hastiest solution that renders the most expensive outcome.