Ignore Everybody - MacLeod, Hugh [11]
I knew Chris back in college, at the University of Texas. Later, in the early 1990s, I knew him from hanging around Wicker Park in Chicago, that famous arty neighborhood, while he was getting his master’s from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and I was working as a junior copywriter in a downtown ad agency. We weren’t that close, but we had mutual friends. He’s a nice guy. Smart as hell.
So I’ve watched him over the years go from talented undergraduate to famous rock star comic strip guy. Nice to see, certainly—it’s encouraging when people you know get deservedly famous. But also by watching him, I got to see firsthand the realities of being a professional cartoonist, both good and bad. It’s helpful to get a snapshot of actual reality.
His example really clarified a lot for me about ten to fifteen years ago, when I got to the point where my cartoons were good enough that I could actually consider doing it professionally. I looked at the market, saw the kind of life Chris and others like him had, saw the people in the business calling the shots, saw the kind of deluded planet most cartoon publishers were living on, and went, “Naaaah.”
Thinking about it some more, I think one of the main reasons I stayed in advertising for so many years is simply because hearing “Change that ad” ticks me off a lot less than “Change that cartoon.” Though the compromises one has to make writing ads can often be tremendous, there’s only so much you have to take personally. It’s their product, it’s their money, so it’s easier to maintain healthy boundaries. With pure cartooning, I invariably found this impossible.
The most important thing a creative person can learn professionally is where to draw the red line that separates what you are willing to do from what you are not. It is this red line that demarcates your sovereignty; that defines your own private creative domain. What crap you are willing to take, and what crap you’re not. What you are willing to relinquish control over, and what you aren’t. What price you are willing to pay, and what price you aren’t. Everybody is different; everybody has their own red line. Everybody has their own Sex & Cash Theory.
When I see somebody “suffering for their art,” it’s usually a case of their not knowing where that red line is, not knowing where the sovereignty lies.
Somehow he thought that sleazy producer wouldn’t make him butcher his film with pointless rewrites, but Alas! Somehow he thought that gallery owner would turn out to be a competent businessman, but Alas! Somehow he thought that publisher would promote his new novel properly, but Alas! Somehow he thought that venture capitalist would be less of an asshole about the start-up’s cash flow, but Alas! Somehow he thought that CEO would support his new marketing initiative, but Alas!
Knowing where to draw the red line is like knowing yourself or knowing who your real friends are. Some people find it easier to do than others. Life is unfair.
17. The world is changing.
Some people are hip to it, others are not. If you want to be able to afford groceries in five years, I’d recommend listening closely to the former and avoiding the latter. Just my two cents.
YOUR JOB IS PROBABLY WORTH 50 PERCENT of what it was in real terms ten years ago. And who knows? It may very well not exist in five to ten years.
We all saw the traditional biz model in my former industry, advertising, start going down the tubes ten years or so ago. Our first reaction was “work harder.”
It didn’t work. People got shafted by the thousands. It’s a cold world out there.
We thought being talented would save our asses. We thought working late and on weekends would save our asses. Nope.
We thought the Internet and all that Next Big Thing, new media and new technology stuff would save our asses. We thought it would fill the holes in the ever more intellectually bankrupt solutions we were offering our clients. Nope.
Whatever. Regardless of how the world changes,