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Hotbed Fires it Up with an Internship 2009

2009-04-13T08:09:00.000-07:00

Spring is attempting to make headway and Punxsutawyney Phil seems to be correct. Nonetheless, Spring flowers can only mean one thing around Hotbed: it's time to prepare to add some new Summertime creative blood to the Tribe! Internship-style. The suits have pushed the data below my way and it is listed below. Take a look. If you're interested (or know of someone who might be up for the creative challenge), light the match. It's certain to be a creative ball of cerebral yet insane fun.

Ignite your creative vision as part of the Hotbed Creative team. Our advertising studio is seeking a talented, contemporary and driven intern to join our ranks for the summer of 2009. As a Hotbed intern, you'll be on the front lines of crafting brilliant interactive, print, and advertising design that makes a difference.

JOB DESCRIPTION: 2009 Summer Intern
Our intern will help to shape, craft and execute design elements for a variety of Hotbed Creative clients. Working as a critical part of our provocative design team, our intern will be part of a fast-paced, client-focused and strategic group of individuals who work to exceed client expectations.

The ideal intern will:

Desire to make a difference in the work they create
Be comfortable working in a diverse, fast-paced environment
Be proficient in Adobe CS3+
Knowledgeable of HTML, CSS, and Search Engine Optimization
Enjoy being an integral part of our creative team
Possess keen attention to detail
Be able to communicate at higher levels of management
Be a fun, positive addition to our team
Possess an open mind
Make me a stunning cup of coffee (I'm kidding–maybe–but only if flawless typography is conquered first)
Expect to leave ignited with desire to go forth and make an even more aesthetic difference around you

Individuals interested in the 10-week internship position should email a resume and an electronic- or online-only portfolio to Stephen Schaf at sschaf@hotbedcreative.com

Things I like: Swedish Agency Overhauls Web Site

2009-02-11T06:55:00.000-08:00

I fuss. And I admit it. Even though I'm gradually finding a balance and letting go, I can't seem to do it any other way when it comes to taste and aesthetic. I don't peg myself as an elitists, although others might. I try to humble my perspectives and opinions but when I truly like something it's rare. Touching the "sweet spot" of one's universe-given creative talent is taken seriously around here—rightfully so as there's tons of mediocrity being dished up and shoved down throats in a heaping, distracting, shimmery spoon to many of us living in modern culture. This site touches on many things I find "sweet." Take a look. Tell me your thoughts. What do you like? Go on. Bust my chops.

Stephen Schaf
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from Creativity, by Advertising Age, Wednesday, February 11, 2009:

Swedish agency overhauls its image.

Swedish agency Forsman & Bodenfors has unveiled its new site redesign that features a colorful, tiled map on its homepage to help you poke around.

F&B's site showcases its portfolio that includes work for clients like IKEA and Volvo as well as a constantly updated stat chart at the bottom highlighing most visited items, searches by country and more.

Full Credits

Client: Forsman & Bodenfors
Agency: Forsman & Bodenfors
ECD/Copywriter: Filip Nilsson
Art Director: Anders Eklind
Designer: Mikko Timonen,
Christoffer Persson
Web Production: Thomson Interactive Media
Web Director: Staffan Lamm
Web Producer: Malin Careborg,
Jimmy Wulff

iMOCA matures along with city's appreciation for art

2009-01-30T15:35:00.001-08:00

For an entity that began as little more than an idea – no address, no physical presence, no collection, no home – the Indianapolis Museum of Contemporary Art has become a concrete fixture in the local cultural landscape.

The museum was born 10 years ago as a vision and eventually took shape as a specific mission: To be a vanguard organization for contemporary art, graphics, design, architecture, film and performance.

In the past five years – after enduring early growing pains – iMOCA has hosted shows by an array of artists who have later found critical acclaim, both nationally and internationally. Even after losing its heftiest financial backer, the museum continues to make strides.

We examine the past, present and future of iMOCA’s thread in the world of contemporary art, and how its ascent can be traced simultaneously with the rise of contemporary art in Indianapolis.

Stuck in Indy

Stephen Schaf wanted out of Indiana. The Shelbyville native had lived on the West Coast before, but after his brother died and his mother suffered a series of strokes in the late 1990s, Schaf found himself stuck here, “bitching about being an outcast and totally playing the drama queen victim,” he said. “I was slowly becoming more and more bitter about being stuck in Indianapolis.” For this entire story by Konrad Marshall, Read more at Indy.com | Post: iMOCA matures along with city's appreciation for art | Indianapolis, Indiana

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Third Grade "Nancy Freak"

2009-01-17T10:22:00.000-08:00

Recently I was asked if I might respond to some questions regarding my experience as a designer and why I chose to become the often-tormented sort. One of the questions probed brashly my earliest experience as a "creative." The consideration this time took only a moment, compared to my normal over-analyzing, fretting, pondering, jacked processing of an otherwise simple question. Sure, I had creative experiences at a very young age. I use to sit in the church pew at Beacon Baptist Church on Sunday morning and work diligently to fashion twin swaddled baby Jesus' by rolling up my Grandmother Esther's hanky. I would mimic my father as he sat for hours in his recliner drawing his hands, knuckles or wrists. He'd use a range of cool art pencils that had a small plastic cap that I loved to chew off. He'd fan the pencils and erasers out atop his drawing paper taped to his laptop drafting board. He'd shade darker the shadow areas with that rich HB lead or erase back the highlight areas with his art-gum eraser. I'd mimic his movements noticing the small details as best I could at age 6 and render them more roughly with my fatter Crayolas. HR Pufnstuf blared in the background. I was also a genius with a Lite Bright (the yellow pegs paired with the cobalt blue pegs created a sweet spot like no other).

But the earliest and most pivotal experience as a creative soul came when I was around 8 or 9 years old in 1974. My family had just moved from a cramped 3 bedroom house to a sprawling ranch in suburbia (if such a thing exists in the burg where my soul chose to grow up) and we got what was then the new thing—Cable TV. I watched some cable after school—usually Hazel, Gilligan's Island and the Brady Bunch. From watching all those commercials targeted to school-age children (I'd later be labeled a Gen-Xer), only one thing caught my eye: The Sunshine Family from Mattel. I had a rich upbringing of unconditional love that allowed me to be exactly who I was. For a boy to play with dolls was no big deal, particularly since I had five sisters who provided plenty of glittery, mesmerizing dolls for me with which I could fascinate my emo self easily for hours. And I did. So the Sunshine Family was not a surprise when it appeared at the top of my Christmas list that year. Just like most who "suffer" from being the youngest of nine, it WAS under the tree that year. To me, it was the best toy idea ever...a dad (Steven), a mom (Steffie) and, the piéce de resistance, a baby (Baby Sweets). They were small—9-inches or so tall and made in some Asian country of opposable vinyl. I know. How queer. Back then, though, for me it was phh-aat! They were happy to be married, in love and with a cute child to show for it. Perfect in my escapist world devoid of divorce, step-siblings and half-siblings.

I played well with the dolls for a month or two, making a house for them and following the Astrobright-yellow Creative Handbook that came with the dolls was filled with instruction on how to create this like stools out of Aqua Net hairspray lids and macrame planters from jute and toothpaste lids. It must have not been too far in to February 1975 that I discovered just how ridiculous it was for the past six-or-so weeks Steffie, the mom, dressed in her dowdy flowered dress and apron, was content to stay home cooking and cleaning. Steven, on the other hand, was able to go off to work and hang with his office coworkers at the local watering hole—and by this I mean get shoved under the couch while Steffie tended to Baby Sweets and other house work. I decided she deserved an escape. But never in that prairie schooner dress could she respectfully stand by her man.

Just so happens my step-sister, Casey, was quite proficient in sewing and was taking a class in Jr. High. I began sketching the dress options that would be perfect for Steffie to impress Steven's boss and co-workers. I presented them to Casey and we edited the designs down to something that she could make while still accomplishing my particular aesthetic. Together, we came up with a gorgeous green velvet, shoulderless, full length evening dress perfect for impressing Steven's cronies over swank cocktails. Baby Sweets could go under the couch...errr...stay with the sitter.

It was perfect. The dress was tailored by Casey to fit flawlessly on Steffie. She was ready—not only for the cocktail party but...gulp...for me to take her and the gown to 3rd grade Show-and-Tell. And I did just that. I marched out the next morning...it was cold. I proudly had her in my mitt, Six Million Dollar Man lunch pale in the other. All was well until I got on the bus. You can imagine the names I was called. The ridicule I experienced. Right then, on Shelby County School bus #20 driven by Paul Amos, the bus driver, en route to Addison Elementary School it hit me: I was much different than anyone else around me and life as I knew it was about to change forever. Even my sister joined in on the fun-making. I was crushed. Steffie went directly into the Steve Austin lunch pale, smashing my bologna-and-ketchup sandwich and Ding-dong as I hid deep at the very back of the bus.

I wish the pain could've stopped there. I wanted it to. I wanted to run back home to mom where playing with dolls was just fine and had no judgement attached. I couldn't. The bus door slammed shut behind me leaving no escape and off we went rumbling through the streets of Shelbyville, Indiana. I recall wondering as I sat alone ensuring no one could see anything but my stocking cap, "Why didn't anyone tell me this wasn't cool at home?" How could I be so accepted in the confines of my home and shunned so painfully outside it's comfortable walls?

Once to school, I avoided any direct eye-contact with anyone, hoping the incident would remain on the bus where it rightfully belonged. That was successful until time for Show-and-Tell came along. Veronica Davis shared her new knit sweater, over done with puffy things and shiny objects. Joby Crick fanned out his baseball (or was it football) card collection, pointing to one really groovy new limited edition athlete card he'd just acquired. Tension mounted as I was next. Ms. Wimmer looked to me, wondering why I sat with my face down, hands under my lift-top desk (those kind were seat-and-desk were all in one with a hole cut out for an ink-well irrelevant in 1975). She said with her kind but stern voice, "Well, Stephen?" I looked up with horror on my face. She continued, "What do you have to show us?" I had to do it or I'd suffer her wrath. I fidgeted. She pushed. I opened my desk, fiddled with then flipped the latch on my lunch pale and slowly opened it. A waft of bologna smell came from below Steffie in her still-beautiful gown, now somehow tarnished in my mind. I pulled her out and quickly handed her to Ms. Wimmer. The class snickered. Then, something miraculous happened. Ms. Wimmer turned to the class and glared at them. She told them how many great creative fashion designers are men and that it was a very lucrative discipline. I smiled on the inside. It softened a little the blows I had suffered on bus #20. I had some future ammo, albeit lame, when others called me terrible names. Most importantly, I knew that forever in my life I would be different in comparison and that somehow I had to remain true to my uniqueness. I had to be stronger in all my efforts because of that day in 3rd grade.

I look back on that day. Most of the time when I tell the story people laugh with a slightly pathetic "Awwww" or "Bless your heart" to follow. I've let go. I'm doing what I love to do and working every moment to make a difference in the work that I create. But still, my experience with Steffie's new dress will forever remain seared in my brain, reminding me to be no one but me. And to stick to my passion of making a difference in the world.

Stephen Schaf

Time for Hope, Indeed

2009-01-16T14:29:00.001-08:00

I've always felt it. I've always been attracted to it even in the deepest chaos. Hope is something that seems my soul graciously merited having in tow when launched in a poof of glitter into this world almost 44 years ago. Today, I insist on surrounding my soul with hope-filled, like-minded people. Those who want to make a difference in our world, no holds barred. It's a tough task, indeed. It's hard work. Companies and individuals alike are recognizing that surrounding yourself, your employees and your product or services with hope makes brilliant business sense. I couldn't agree more.

With that in mind, I resonate to those brands that share this desire to create a consciousness of hope in our world — to shift humankind's mode of thinking and the way we buy to something more. I'm proud of the work I've been fortunate enough to do with Endangered Species Chocolate. They are one of many companies making a true difference. Take a little look at how they are doing it

You might be surprised at the power and impact on our globe your purchases have. If they do not, demand they do and get involved!

--Stephen

Apes Go to Space? Endangered Species Chocolate is a Treat to have as a Client

2009-01-16T07:34:00.001-08:00

I learned that in February 2009, eight chocolate bars sporting the branding work and package design by the creative talent at Hotbed will be venturing into space! Check out this story. The energy around a product that makes a difference — from outer space no less — is precisely why Hotbed was created: to make a difference in our world....now expanded to our universe. Now that's ignition!

Endangered Species Chocolate "Chimpanzee" bars will launch aboard space shuttle Discovery on February 12.
January 12, 2009 — One month from today, an astronaut will launch to the International Space Station (ISS), taking eight endangered species chimpanzees with him on the space shuttle. The apes are not part of a biological study, as NASA launched nearly 50 years ago, but are rather for dessert.

You see, the chimps are actually chocolate and by eating them, the astronaut and his fellow crew mates are helping to save real life chimpanzees here on Earth.

The bar-shaped "Supreme Dark Chocolate" candy, which is produced by Endangered Species Chocolate of Indiana features a picture of a chimpanzee on its wrapper.

"Every single bar has printed on it '10% of net profits [are] donated to help support species, habitat and humanity'", explained Renée Sweany, who manages public relations and advertising for the company. "Our biggest goal is to raise money that we can then give back to organizations that are focused on conservation."

It was a "very cool surprise" Sweany told collectSPACE when they learned their chocolates were space-bound.

"United Space Alliance contacted us looking for stores where they could purchase the bars," she recalled. "They received the request and contacted us to let us know."

United Space Alliance, which prepares the "crew choice" pantry aboard the shuttle, packed the eight bars for flight.

The request was made by STS-119 mission specialist Steven Swanson, who during the 14-day mission aboard shuttle Discovery will serve as flight engineer and lead spacewalker. He specifically asked for the "chimpanzee chocolates" but for a different reason perhaps, than why some might assume.

Astronaut Steven Swanson with his favorite chocolate bars."Lately, I've decided that is my favorite dessert," shared Swanson with collectSPACE. "It's just chocolate but it just happens to be the one I like. We have it in the stores here, and that's the one I have come accustomed to and like."

"That's my dessert pretty much after every dinner. It's not too much sugar and tastes really good and it satisfies my cravings for dessert," he admitted.

That the candy helps the chimpanzees and other animals was only a bonus.

"I liked the fact that it does [help]," said Swanson, "and that probably made me buy it the first time, but if it wasn't a good chocolate, I wasn't going to keep buying it."

And even though he really likes them, Swanson was not opposed to sharing.

"We'll share it all with everyone," he said of his STS-119 crew mates. "I'm sure Sandy is going to have some as I know she likes chocolate," continued Swanson in regards to Sandy Magnus, who will return to Earth with Discovery after three months aboard the space station.

In addition to returning Magnus to the ground and bringing her replacement, Japanese astronaut Koichi Wakata to the station, Swanson and his crew mates will deliver and install a new truss segment as well as the fourth and final set of solar array wings to provide power to the ISS. Led by commander Lee Archambault, STS-119 is targeted for launch on February 12 at 7:32 a.m. EST.

Sweany said that everyone at Endangered Species was excited by the upcoming spaceflight. Previously, the most "exotic" location that their chocolates had traveled were to Ivory Coast and Peru, where their all-natural and organic cocoa is grown.

"Nothing compares to actually leaving the Earth," Sweany declared.

View story at http://www.collectspace.com/news/news-011209a.html

Why "Creative" Sounds a lot like "Crazy"

2008-12-29T16:41:00.000-08:00

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.

2008-12-19T15:15:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-12T08:19:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-04T08:24:00.000-08:00

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?