Regina Noctis

And they’re almost over. I’ve got about two weeks of class left, and then it’s finals week.

Even though I’ve been enjoying them, I don’t have my usual complaint of “I want MORE!” This time, I’m ready for the semester to be over already. I’m feeling a mite bit burned out.

I might feel differently if the final project we’re working on in graphic design wasn’t something that I have disliked since the moment I looked at the assignment. I’m bulling through anyway, but package design is not something I like, any more than I like the logo design that we started the semester with.

Give me another book cover or poster instead. I like those assignments.

Oh well. Back to illustrating a Nike sports shoe for the “shoebox” I have to construct. Ick.

I freely admit that I’ve got a bit of an ego when it comes to artwork and graphics. I’m often of the opinion that mine is the best work in any given class I’m taking. So when I enter a contest or something similar, I’m quite sure that I will win. And I’m usually completely wrong. I learned early that, no matter what my opinion of the quality of my work in comparison to everyone else’s, I usually don’t even make it into the prize-winning top three. When I was a kid and that expectation of superiority didn’t pan out, it’d hit me hard. I was completely unprepared to lose, and since I always put so much of myself into my work, it was always devestating to lose. The worst round of that was when I was living in Oklahoma, and entered some art contest there. I not only was positive I would win, I really wanted that win. I don’t recall now what the prize was, but it was the coolest thing in the world to the kid I was then. And then I didn’t get any of the three places for my age group, and I was a mess for the rest of the day. The cherry on the cake of that day was that evening, as Mom was cooking dinner. Our house got hit by lightning. It shook the house so hard that it knocked me off the couch I’d been sitting on, and the turkey my mother was just taking out of the oven wound up all over the floor. Not what you’d call a good day.

Finally, when I was a senior in high school, I got some recognition for my work. I entered four pieces in the county fair’s art show, and came away with three blue ribbons, one third-place ribbon, and a special prize from a local art store for the quality of my calligraphy. I was happy, and felt quite vindicated.

That was it. Never won a damn thing again. I decided eventually that it’d been a fluke. I decided that I would assume I’d lose from then on, in spite of my personal estimate of the quality of my work as compared to that of others.

Every graphics class I’ve taken other than the beginning level classes, we’ve had at least one person from a non-profit or school-related event that needed design work done. Most of the time, it’s been logo design or even an entire identity for an organization. You know, branding, icons, logos, the works. It’s work I hate doing. Commercial design is not for me. But I’d give it my all anyway, and I’d watch as our client would choose something that was really poorly designed and ignore the more professional-looking work done by myself and the very small number of more advanced students I’ve met. I learned to assume that the client in any of these situations would be an idiot, wouldn’t know good design if it tap-danced naked in front of them while singing a lewd song promising them every kinky fantasy they ever had, and then proceeded to make those fantasies come true.

This semester, we again had a client to do design for. This time, instead of a logo or an identity, we were to design a poster for the student jazz ensemble’s spring concert. As usual, I gave it my all. It was actually a project I enjoyed, unlike the previous bouts of this. I am a jazz fan, I know a little about it, and certainly could recognize an image with a jazz feeling to it. So I illustrated and designed and tried every font the school computer had to find the perfect fit for the poster. I fiddled with layouts, sizes, graphics, backgrounds. I was quite proud of the finished result. But even I, ego-monster that I am, had to admit that there was some stiff competition this time. Don’t get me wrong, I still thought I had the best work in the class. But this time, I had to admit that there were a number of designs that were barely a hair’s breadth less accomplished than mine. I started preparing to not be chosen.

Today, the jazz ensemble’s director came in to tell us which one was chosen. He showed us the six that they’d first picked out as possibles, and I was surprised to find that mine was one of the six. He talked about how it was harder this time to choose one than any previous time that he’d had the poster done by the graphic design class. There was a lot more creativity this time than he’d seen any other year. And he had good taste and recognized good design, I have to give him that. My own personal ego-trip aside, the other five that he’d narrowed it down to were all ones I’d looked at myself and thought were only just barely not as good as mine. Considering I’m the owner of the Ego that Swallowed the County and I’m saying that, it should give you an idea of how good the work of several of my fellow students really was.

He drew out the suspense further, and said that they next narrowed it down from those six to just three, and told us why he and his students had preferred those three over the rest in their short list. My jaw about hit the floor that mine was one of the ones in the final three. Charlie, the guy who sits next to me, was also one of those final three. I was so happy for him to have gotten that far, because he has something of a learning disability and really struggles with the assignments. If he was painting these things, I’m sure he’d win hands down. I’ve seen his paintings. But he and computers don’t mix. I spend at least a third of any class helping him understand how to use Illustrator and Photoshop. Even something like saving his files to his thumb drive – something we do every single class – is a major operation. By the next class, he can’t remember how to do it again. He’s a nice guy, a single father in his 50s, and a good artist. He just doesn’t have much of a memory, and great difficulty learning something new. He was out of the room when the jazz instructor told us which three it’d been narrowed down to and why. When Charlie got back, I told him his was in the top three, as well as mine, and he was so ecstatic. He hadn’t even expected to be on original short list of six. He puts me up on a pedestal when it comes to graphics, so he was amazed that his work would be in the top three along with mine.

Finally, the jazz instructor told us which one was finally chosen to be professionally printed and posted all over the city to advertise the concert on the 21st.

It was mine. I couldn’t believe it. I’m still in a bit of shock now, about 12 hours later. Mine!

I wanted this easily as much as I wanted that first prize in that contest when I was a kid. I figured that was all the more reason that I would NOT be the one chosen. Then, it was about the cool prize. There is no real prize this time, other than having my work plastered all over the city, and a few professionally-printed copies for me to have in my portfolio. What really made me want this is the nice boost it will be on my resume when I finish my degree and start looking for a job. And I actually got it!

So I sat down with the jazz instructor, and we talked about any adjustments that needed to be made. There’d been a change in the program. Music by another composer had been added to the program, so I needed to change the relevent text. I’d chosen to illustrate three of the composers whose music would be featured at the concert, and the new one that they were adding was going to be more heavily featured than one of the ones I’d illustrated. I was asked if I could illustrate the new head and put that in place, and I said it would not be a problem. So Herbie Hancock was replaced with Sun Ra. I spent the rest of class getting the new illustration done and arranging it within the layout of the poster. While I think I did a better job illustrating Hancock (more time to do it) I have to admit that Sun Ra is a nice contrast to the other two illustrations of the more classic composers I had – Thelonious Monk and Dizzie Gillespie. Sun Ra is a modern composer, and from the reference photos I used to base my illustration, quite a character.

In the morning, my poster will be printed and hung all over Bakersfield. And will be part of a gallery display of student work at the concert, where all the designs will be shown, though mine will be given pride of place. This is so rad.