Why "Creative" Sounds a lot like "Crazy"

For most of my formidable years, I was mesmerized at how a creative soul might get so caught up in a discipline and decide that slicing an ear off made perfect and logical sense. It just seemed idiotic and self-absorbed...until I was placed in similar shoes...paint brushes in hand, a fresh tube of precious Utrecht cobalt blue oil paint and a huge, daunting blank canvas. The canvas, freshly gessoed and painstakingly tightened across squared stretcher bars to calculated perfection. To make it even tighter, it was backed with a good coat of glue made from a rabbits skin. As I scrambled to envision the life the canvas might take, it somehow seemed a bit larger in size. Sketches. I needed at least 12 more sketches. Done. I looked up and the canvas was even bigger still. If I squinted, I swore I could see the canvas growing before my very eyes. Sorting through only the cream crop of ideas teathered idealogically from a schlew of formal sketches, narrowed to rough comps and numerous color palette explorations (and a noon deadline--class time for Arts401), I decided to put sketch to canvas.

I liked charcol since it was forgiving. Charcol medium is just that: charcol, used for quick, rough, gestural sketching. It always reminds me of the resulting tangle of chalky stuff you get when a snake pellet is set afire on the 4th of July. Cool stuff, indeed. Art always seemed cool like that to me. I could always make a connection. This time the charcol was a splinter in my fingers. It rested motionless on the HAA-UGE canvas. I was officially paralyzed. Hours of hesitation, refined sketches, what-if scenarios. Then, it happened. I cringed and made the first, lonely stroke and the charcol stick dissapeared between my fingers and black powder from it streamed down the to the studio floor. One stroke didn't make the composition jump alive, so I just kept going, correcting and editing one insane fiber of unblank canvas after another. The basic idea was now on this GINORMOUS canvas--and it was white no more. It looked crazy to anyone without a Matrix-inspired access port to my brain's lobes. Paint followed, but painstakingly. I fussed, but was careful not to let the oil and pigment deter from the next layer. Hours passed as each layer crust over (a blow dryer was not out of the question).

I fussed more. Doubting every step the merit of the last brush stroke. It was thoughtful enough, but was it really thoughtful enough to merit being on canvas, let alone being called...gulp!..."art." The canvas somehow was back to a manageable size and my easle crept it's way, as if on it's own accord, to the corner of the studio where no one could see my progress uninvited. Deluged, I melted down. Had a burger at 4 a.m. Drank coffee. Beat myself up. Then it hit me. Maybe I should cut off an ear like Van Gogh and truly find, perhaps, the merit to put paint to canvas and maybe, for a brief moment, call it "art." The shearing act sheading light on my new merit and transformation. It would make what amounted to 1x2's, canvas, some oil with fancy pigments into an oeuvre. I noted this feeling for future reference as it was what I call a "jump from judgement"--one of those things I once thought judgementally of and jumped to enlightenment on the issue. It somehow explained with complete understanding why this ol' chap Van Gogh did what he did. I still have both ears.

Enough already, right? Nope. There's a connection here. I packed that lesson from life in a special place in my over-processed stew-for-a-head. As I trudged through my design career, it became clear to me that this was nothing unusual. Each moment a blank page is placed before me, it represents an opportunity to connect at an ultimate level of fulfillment which few choose to tap. But for inhibitions, everyone can perhaps connect at this level. Through this experience, I saw how every project forced me to be someone else: my target viewer. How do they think? What would they respond to most effectively? Would they like a nice PMS 612 or should I think more about the brighter PMS 383? Coated or uncoated paper? What would make them stand up and take serious notice. Ultimately, the next project would present itself bringing with it new perspectives. How was I going to respect this viewers point of view time after time? Pretty soon, you're switching characters like Sybil X 1,000, all staked on reputation. Damn well, then, that I love what I do, eh?

Often the Prozac capitalist views this behavior in designers as "artsy" (I hate that word), "off," "cookoo," or any other label often sewn to the lapel of a creative. It's not insane, it's shear talent. The more bizarre, the better...as long as the viewer finds relevance and chalks up an experience along the way. Look close for the twitch. It's a sure sign. Creatives rule. Furthermore, Creatives do it better.


Stephen Schaf, certifiable as crazy but technically "Creative Director"

-- Post From My iPhone

Working Makes Difference, For Hire Pay the Bills.

It's tough these days. The economy is not showing any love — if anything, it continues to throw K.O. punches that zap our creative embers of energy if we allow it. But wait. It's the Holidays. Hannukah, Christmas, Kwanzaa and the others. It's not suppose to be like this! I've gotten over it.

Even though this season it's going to be choppy sailing, it's still no reason to cut back on giving back. I'd argue, in fact, we need to each give back now more than ever. How better to combat the Holiday and winter blues than to give of yourself — your time, your energy, your money. It starts with you. Consumer confidence just might follow your suit!

Recently, the team at Hotbed Creative was asked to design a brand identity for the first sports corporation in the nation, the Indiana Sports Corporation. Pretty good gig, eh? The shiv in the shower for some followed: it had to be done for free. Yup, probono. Heck, I'm not even a huge sports fan but I recognized the impact this organization had on my community and on my life. We got over it and got to work. We injected certainty and positive energy every step — even if it was for zero green — just like it was a paying client. No corners cut.

I will not lie, it was a ton of work that often took us from other paying projects — a cause I think every client at Hotbed would be glad to yield to by just a little bit. With delicate balance (civic-wise and schedule-wise) and long nights, we made it happen. The results were beyond imagination: recognition in ways I did not see. Nor did I really even care when I made the decision to take on the projects while trekking back from a client meeting months ago from Ohio — I was the "Yes-man" every designer dreads. The results: a great solution that not only did the client love but, for the first time in my career, I LIKED IT, too! Sure, I fussed — I'm a perfectionistic, controlling Pisces that tasted amazing, true perfection in some other world and now wants it stamped on every piece of work, be it a goose-egg budget or a buttered-bread budget.

We wrapped the Indiana Sports Corp logo a few weeks ago. It was unveiled last evening. It hit the media today. It felt satisfying for this one time in my life. I breathed and thanked the Universe for shining down on each of us at Hotbed.

Stephen Schaf, Owner
Hotbed Creative

Silence and Encouraging Creative Innovation

As I ponder the unprecedented events occurring around our globe, I embarked on a moment of silence in all the chatter that deluges my mental state. You see, for many (especially me) it's easy to try to fill the "pregnant pause" in any conversation — new business meeting, client presentation, production meeting, coffee with a friend. But in the rush to fill the void and harness temporary attention, what passes from the mouth of babes can lead us down a path that could have allowed those sitting with us to share something compelling, life-changing and insightful. But that quiet can be so awkward. Fear not. Let it remain quiet. Allow the others around the table the opportunity to share, no matter how outrageous or touching. That's how we connect as creative souls — all of us, even if you enroll in the school of thought that only designers, artists, writers, musicians, etc. are so-called "creatives," I believe we all posses unending creative talent — we just close ourselves to the channel frequency. So next time, pipe down and listen carefully. Tune in to the frequency of fresh, creative talent flowing into our world. Let go and soak it up!

With that very ball of energy and consciousness in mind, I find I must encourage those around me. I reminded myself and the entire Hotbed staff with a quick note to encourage each of them in the great, diligent work being doing. Knowing that I may not say it enough, I must recognize it more often. I know the stress of these tough economic times can be trying. The true leaders that will rise to the top at the end of all this are those who become not distracted by it but see it simply as that — a quick distraction that, if interpreted as a positive way of re-inventing our wares, will result in amazing, fresh ways to make us even more relevant. So, we should, perhaps, remain more focused. Continue to work hard no matter what. Create like it's your last moment. Most importantly, truly appreciate it while asking for MORE — more new business, more innovation, more creativity, more ideas on relevancy, more insight in how we each can do what we've been put here to do: create a difference in this world and touch every soul with encouragement through the work we do. These times are simply an opportunity to do much more. We are poised each day to reveal higher greatness. Let's make certain we are open to hear it and ACT ON IT! Now, go touch someone's life before the moment is finished. You'll be surprised what amazing change it can create.

Stephen Schaf, Owner
Hotbed Creative

Business Cards that Might Cut a Bitch

Even with all this hubbub around social networking and v-cards, every savvy business soul knows that physical business cards are the one hold-over that is critical for exchanging contact info—they are the Holy Grail of first impressions leading to potential business. And they're here to stay even though I still wish PalmPilot beaming of contact info would've stuck. It didn't.

So, think about it: Brilliant design and ink adhesion set aside, have you ever been handed a business card that is printed on a thin, flimsy paper stock? It's kind of like the impression you're left with when you're given a handshake that's like a limp washcloth, eh? What's missing? The impression of credibility, substantiated brand fortitude and a loud message that "I mean business!" So the next time you are faced with getting your business cards printed, think about these things:

• Make certain it's well designed with thoughtful, easy access to your contact info.
• Be sure it's on a paper stock that represents your business: white, grey, 80% post-conumser waste, shimmery—whatever! Make the paper color, sustainability and coordination with other stationery items relevant and thoughtful.
• But most importantly, put it on a heavy paper stock—thick enough that if necessary you can use it to battle off any hot-mouthed creative by cutting the bitch. Use at least a 100# cover or heavier.

Next time you're at a cocktail party or some swanky fundraiser, notice the cards you're dealt. Who do you want to do business with? Who's card will you play with?