Until 2019, I worked as a full-time graphic designer. While the occasional work came in to use my illustration skills, the idea of doing only that, all day long, was both exciting and paralysing. I was about to find out just how much when I got a job as a full-time illustrator for a gift company. Would I be able to keep creating interesting designs people would want to buy?
The gift company I worked for specialised in designs for cards and custom wooden keepsakes. These usually consisted of a name, and sometimes a date of birth. While Christmas was the busiest time of year for manufacturing products in the department upstairs, the summer was just as frantic in the design office downstairs, planning and preparing for the season ahead.
We worked closely with Not On The High Street (NOTHS), who promoted our products to potential customers. If you haven’t heard of NOTHS, imagine a curated, upscale version of Etsy. On this marketplace, our products sat side-by-side with unique personalised gifts from other talented designers and small business owners, and there was a lot of competition for sales.
Awareness that I was being paid by the hour to come up with new designs added to the stress involved, and perfectionism made my work harder. I felt out of my depth: painfully aware not everything I created would resonate with our customers, and not wanting to waste time on those designs.
We had a request from NOTHS to make a wooden Christmas tree ornament, in the shape of a log fire, with stockings hanging on it. Each stocking would be customised with a printed name. The idea was that a customer could buy it and have it represent their family, instead of stockings on a real fireplace.
My boss was sceptical of the idea, and she thought it didn’t make sense as a product. Would anyone want to buy this? We were nervous because NOTHS planned to feature it in a core collection advertised by Fearne Cotton, and I felt out of my depth as I wondered if I would be able to bring this idea to life for our customers.
I experimented with layering cut-out wooden pieces to make a 3D fireplace, adjusting colours and illustration styles. My colleagues upstairs made prototypes for me to check, as it’s easier to see what’s working well on a physical item compared to a computer screen.
The final design became a bestseller. I am not taking credit for that and there are several people who contributed to this:
- The marketing department at NOTHS researched their customers to understand what they might value.
- Our manufacturing team had an enthusiastic approach to developing the designs, and flagged any problems such as fiddly edges.
- My boss was able to spot my best ideas.
- My role was to create an appealing, illustrated product design, and together we created something special.
In fact, it was so popular, the next request was to make 100 variations of dog breeds and colours to sell as a Christmas bauble – that kept me extremely busy for the next few weeks!
I no longer work at this gift company, but to this day they still sell my old designs.
Feeling out of your depth is part of taking on anything new, and is a sign you’re challenging yourself. Even after many years’ experience, I still feel this at times. I’ve gotten better at checking in with myself, and asking the question, is this something I can achieve, but also, maybe, just beyond my comfort zone? Usually, that’s a reason to say yes.
This blog is a lower stakes example. Instead of spending hours creating polished illustrations to go with each post, I’m sharing rough pages from my sketchbook and embracing mistakes.
Do you remember a time you felt out of your depth? What did you do? I’d love to hear from you!