This last month I reached out to a local food business to see if they would allow me the privilege of redoing their menu board. My designer brain had been wanting to “fix” it for years. To my surprise and delight, Red (the owner) said yes. Offering my services for free may have had a lot to do with that answer.
After squeezing some time out to work on this project and once he approved of the finished pieces, the files were sent to one of the larger printshops in the area. When I saw the menu for the first time on the wall… It was a moment I will cherish… even if the stupid magnets weren’t working quite right, making one side was sag. It didn’t matter. It was mine. My piece. My art. Other people could see something I had created. Nothing fancy, simple, clean, easy to read and understand. and stocked with all the information Red desired. I was so happy.
I enjoy talking to Red. His generation is not mine. How he sees life is interesting. His passion for his business and his future are like honey to me. Being able to refresh something for a place I enjoyed for someone I would soon hopefully call a real friend, salve on my heart.
THIS is where I should have stopped and walked away.
But I didn’t want to walk away. After days, weeks, months, years, I was starting to find joy again in my profession and at a deeper level, me.
One of the times we chatted, Red mentioned, in passing, that he was hoping to get the exterior elements redone in a month or so. I sent him the menu files to add to the project and kind of left it there. Until my brain started twisting its rusted gears and cogs. It wouldn’t stop turning ideas. If he was willing, this point in his revamp should also be the time to refresh the logo. Oh my goodness… I was on cloud 3 trying to get that workable but outdated logo to something I could present to him. Rework after rework… then I had one that stuck.
I sat outside, looked at him across a table, and said, are you ready for a refresh? I showed him a possible “new” logo. Then Red started telling me what he envisioned for the main location and the travel wagon. He was sharing with me just a small portion of his dream. But it was a part that I had the skills and knowledge to help with.
This is when my therapist, Daffodil, would step in and say “Kansas, when you get to helping people in a project you enjoy, you don’t test the water with your toe to see if its hot or cold. You run and jump in. Sometimes without checking to see if there is even water.”
Which apparently means I will get excited, feed off that energy, which then makes me immerse myself entirely (often too quickly). This can then lead to awkward moments, which leads to either acting like an ass because my mind is allover the place, stepping where it shouldn’t, or I am projecting BIG emotions because my heart is so fragile.
You might know where this is going.
Looking back, I don’t think I was ever really asked to create the new look. I had ideas, Red needed a designer, and even though he asked me if I knew any, at which point I looked at him like “are you serious?” I am literally a foot away from you. I could do it, I hadn’t done this kind of art application before, but who says I couldn’t. I could at least get it ready for the next designer, right?
The right side of my brain was now greased up … all happy in its serotonin. Ideas were flying off the dusty shelves and doing the best to come together. I asked questions, Red answered, I created. I shared images as I went. He seemed excited too.
Then doom started to loom. Red made a comment that made me wonder if the funding had fallen through for the project. I just put in hours and hours of work… and nothing? okay, this couldn’t be happening. Had he given up on the project? It really isn’t my business to dive into his business.
Perhaps if I suggest some alternatives, I wouldn’t have to walk away completely… Would I be back to a state of confusion, tail spinning, wallowing in darkness, alone? Always alone inside myself, even when others are there? The joy gone again?
Then, completely sober I “drunk” texted. I had this idea I had to share – which was really just a crap idea that held no promise. Once you push send, once you go there, it really is too late. I had crossed an invisible line. How do you recover? ou don’t. Even when the other person says everything is fine, you know it isn’t. You know because there is now a wee little gray cloud that follows you around when you talk with that person. It doesn’t matter what the conversation is, the air is different.
Leave a comment