It may interest you to know that I have worked in the field of Instructional Technology and Design for 14 years, but that I have an undergraduate degree in Sculpture. This is the point at which people usually crinkle up their face and say “How did that happen?” I sometimes mention that I followed it up with a MA in organizational leadership, and I can see their hand twitch, ready to scratch their head.
The answer is that I love technology, especially in organizational use. I am passionate about it. I adore the ways in which technology is an extension, a tool set, a solution to problems. My undergrad sculpture degree taught me about creative problem solving, visual structure and communication, and things like space, color, texture, planning, and their intersection between the arts, including graphic design. I started off studying drafting and architecture in high school, and through a series of events that will be its own post later, I went into the fine arts, but continued to use electives and other channels to learn about computers, design, printmaking, food, business, and networking. Those skills have made it possible to go in lots of different directions in my career, including graphic design, as much of a passion for me as technology itself.
I thought it would be interesting to look at the ways in which my workflow, choices, methods and outcomes change when I’m either working in the fine arts or graphic design. Others may have their own differences, and may even disagree with my divisions, but these are mine.
- Graphic design is typically digital, the fine arts is typically analog.
I do most of my work in Inkscape and GIMP for graphic design. I create most of my fine arts work on paper. This fact informs the rest of these points pretty directly. - Graphic design is precise by nature, the fine arts are typically more chaotic.
I have always colored outside the lines. My sister used to tease me about it. My painting and drawing teachers encouraged it. My graphic design work allowed me to make choices about precision in my work.
Ampersand by John LeMasney via lemasney.com - Graphic design is typically more direct and less ambiguous, the fine arts may create more questions than it answers.
Usually if I am working on a graphic design project there is a clear deliverable point that I am trying to get across, such as “Our name is Spacely Sprockets, and we make great gadgets”. When I work in the fine arts, I am typically looking to answer more fundamental questions about humanity, the act of living, or the experience of a moment. There is sometimes an overlap of these kinds of ideas between the two disciplines, but even then, the design work has less ambiguity.
Glasses off by John LeMasney via lemasney.com - Graphic design work is highly portable, the fine arts typically create a storage issue.
All of my graphic design work is sitting in its original state on various hard drives, cloud storage services, and other portable media. Except for a show or two of my graphic work in which pieces were printed, framed, and sold, and a paper portfolio of some of my best graphic work, and excluding the prints, fliers, signs and other versions of client work, the work exists online. Most of my original fine arts work sits hidden in portfolios, discarded in moves, or only in photos where the work does not exist anymore. The photo is typically a sad facsimile of the work itself, and hardly ever captures anything of the experience.
A fiery line by John LeMasney via lemasney.com - Graphic design work is easily shared in its original form, and represented well in copies. Fine art is best taken in with all the senses.
My design portfolio shows you the work in both its original and final forms. There is no need, in my opinion, to see it printed to see the work. My fine arts work, as well as most art, really should be felt in the way that a sculpture affects the air, tasted and smelled in the way that oil paint can activate the back of your tongue, heard in the sense of the way the sound of the space changes with the work in it, and seen in such a way that you can sense the texture of brushstrokes, the bend of a piece of metal in space, the thousand points of view in a site specific piece.
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When in doubt, ask a librarian by John leMasney via 365sketches.org
