Efficient Schmefficent: The Creative Scenic Route

No matter whether your workflow adoption of A-you-know-what veers toward vehement opposition or blind allegiance, it has changed at least one expectation: turnaround times. Deadlines that once felt ambitious now feel ordinary. 

Cue the frantic quest for boosted efficiency. Automated! Turbo-charged!! Lightspeed!!! I wouldn’t blame you for seeking ways to keep up. But what are we losing with all the time we’re gaining?

In a buzzed-about article on The Cut, Kathryn Jezer-Morton advocates for “friction-maxxing.” It’s consciously doing things the hard way, to push back against technology’s over-smoothing of life’s bumps lest it make us too impatient and intolerable to inconvenience. Parenting, decorative arts, you name it. Why not branding? 

Listen, I looove a shortcut. I’m not proposing a full-tilt retreat to ye olden days, promise! But I’ve been at this design thing for over twenty years now, and I still catch myself questioning whether the faster way is always the better way. 

 

 

Detour Ahead

As much as I tout our immersive, divergent-thinking workshops, even I get restless. I recently participated in an all-day creative kickoff where architecture pillars were a core focus. After an introduction to the guiding strategy and then a taste test, we began a short sketching session. As I scribbled and scratched onto pre-printed blank packaging thumbnails, I got antsy. I wanted to get right into AI (Adobe Illustrator, that is). Block out actual content at actual size to test actual effectiveness. In my preoccupation with a speedier process, I didn’t come up with anything terribly insightful. 

Three more pillars and six more hours of this? I was not optimistic I’d have a breakthrough.

Then came the next exercise. Because this brand pillar boasted a more benefits-driven product line, after our second product sampling we were advised to get out and do something active, being aware of and documenting how that made us feel. Take pictures. Observe. 

So I walked on a trail along nearby Boulder Creek. As I ambled along I felt the same wind that rustled the leaves, and I listened to the water that rushed over the stones in the creek. Now, I should’ve been a little more aware of the clock, because I wandered farther and longer than our allotted time, requiring me to run back. (I don’t run.)

As I panted from my sprint and we sat down to a new wave of sketching, I was ready to feel equally aimless. Instead, an idea formed. The quicker, practical iteration I focused on before became temporarily irrelevant (I’ll figure it out later!); what I really focused on was how to depict that these products can take you new distances, with the vitality of water surging in a stream. As we explored the next pillars through different activities, a theme emerged and I developed a throughline across all four. This is the concept I took forward—who knows if I would’ve gotten there by skipping immediately to the screen.

That workshop reminded me that creative work isn't always helped by removing every obstacle, by starting at the execution phase. Whether it’s with your feet or in your mind, it turns out that wandering is actually beneficial.

Don’t just take my word for it. On top of being an enjoyable experience, studies show that “mind-wandering seems to involve the default network of the brain, which is known to be active when we are not engaged directly in tasks and is also related to creativity.”

I’ve preached before how printing and constructing a mockup has some tangible benefits in developing work, but as you cut and fold and tape (yes you, not the intern), it’s also a great chance to space out. Letting an idea sit overnight instead of trudging nonstop in hopes of an epiphany occasionally reveals that your favorite concept isn’t actually your best one.

Neither of those things are efficient if you measure them by the minute.

(But a bit of advice: if your mind wanders while mocking something up, keep an eye on the X-acto blade in case your fingertip starts to wander, too.)

 

Earlier this year, I attended an enlightening gallery talk by illustrator Mel Odom about his decades-long career. I was seated in the back and he referenced an archival work near him, at the front. He recounted the weeks spent with a fine pencil on a tiny illustration. My eyes visibly widened and I wondered what editorial illustration could possibly be worth that attention. Yes, I, the person writing this piece asking you to slow down sometimes, was doubting its worth.

When the talk was over and the crowd dispersed, I went right to that piece to see what all that effort yielded. And it was stunning: a woman with shimmering locks, glistening lips, and the softest cheekbones. This couldn’t have been hurried. 

Now, I admit the process was circumstantial— the Odom piece predates Photoshop by two years. I doubt his mind wandered anywhere near brand architecture. And I know this biz doesn’t necessarily reward doing things the hard way. But I do revel in these reminders that the creative work that inspires us today was built on similar moments of not rushing the results.  

Before you call me a Luddite... I remember at my first job with The Kansas City Star newspaper listening to the old guard talk about manually laying out pages. It didn’t sound romantic; it sounded rough. Tools should get better. Production should get more efficient. Busywork should disappear whenever possible.

 

But thinking is different. Thinking benefits from wandering. So don’t stress about getting off-track. Creative work has never obeyed a clock particularly well, and I don't think it suddenly will now. Even if the scenic route is slower, it might lead you to the inspiration you didn’t even know you were looking for.