Croissant

About

vb: Een boekenwinkel in een voormalige beenhouwerij.

Brain parasite

In my days of teaching and creating

I stumbled upon many strange creatures.

None quite as strange, as the invisible idea.

It lingers and eats away at your energy.

Forces you to cheer it on and feed

its paranoia, with endless cooing.

It gets off on premature applause.

puppeteers you into a vegetative state.

It’s a jealous one, this idea.

When it gets criticised, you get defensive.

When other options appear, you take the offense.

When things get too tangible, you keep them vague.

It distorts the world around you

to deny the one fundamental truth:

that creativity is accepting play

and the possibility of many options.

Nothing is set in stone,

before it’s set on paper.

Let me ask you something: why do we prototype? To save time, or resources? You’re building something extra, that’s not part of the final product. Hardly efficient, no? Unless of course… you count on failure. On premature ugliness. And the prototype is just a test.
The best prototypes work in isolation. They focus on one or more specific aspects of the idea. They help you figure out if your assumptions work. They find flaws before you do.
Like this super famous early IDEO prototype for a nasal surgery tool.

Make it stand out

Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Cool. You found a super secret down to earth version of the story!

After 7 years of dedication and sacrifices, I found myself once again on the outskirts of the creative industries. Luckily, I managed to get a teaching gig. This bizarre position of both extreme responsibility, yet near infinite freedom helped me—more than anything—to find my voice. My students are my mirrors. In them I see versions of myself. The care I can give them, is care I missed. Advice I always ignored, finally makes sense when the words come out of my mouth. Ultimately, I don’t think I my teachings just make them better … they’re a place in time where we heal each other.

And it seems my students and I are not the only ones who need healing. It is no coincidence that these last few years alone, so many self help books for creatives have come out.

While this past decade we all saw communications & creativity rise to the top of relevance in any industry, I also witnessed my beloved creative agencies struggle with retaining talent. Student admissions for Communications-programs are at an all time low. And those who do graduate seek their fortunes elsewhere, or leave within a year.

So, I went back to school myself, and signed up for two entirely different programs. ASAP in Oregon by Wieden+Kennedy veteran Jason Bagley, and Sint-Lucas Antwerp: the Socio Political Master program. I asked and read. Wrote and designed. And took my newfound knowledge back to my own students. Together we developed methods to make the creative process slightly less mysterious, a lot more accessible, and much more fun for all involved.

After a while two ideas started to emerge simultaneously. A book with a new outlook on creative pedagogy, and an interactive exhibition that makes you feel these ideas, rather than reading about them.

For as long as I can remember I looked up at the stars. How do they do it? How do they shine so bright? Why do some never fade, while many burn out almost instantly? This Summer I had the opportunity to study under some of the biggest, known in the Western Hemisphere.

Night after night they helped me grow. My curiosity brought me to entirely new frontiers. I studied giants from decades past. And with the help of my students I traveled back in time to the moments that changed my trajectory.

New perspectives brought new realities. And ultimately a new mission for me to embark on: Finding the formula to turn dust into gold.

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