An erotic poem about Oreos changed my view of design success
How reimagining your goals results in creative liberation
“…Oreo
Oh, Oreo
I want to pull apart both your sides and lick the cream between
I want to see the parts ordinarily unseen
Oh, Oreo…”
Hardly an excerpt from my magnum opus, I’ll admit. But still dire enough to settle in the low wastelands of the leader board during my college’s anti-slam. The difference from a usual poetry competition? It’s a race to the bottom.
Success is a strange thing
It’s a lot like Everest. We celebrate those who have reached the summit, the exhausted climbers basking in the dawn sunlight atop a windswept crag, the world laid out before them.
In the design world, our summits are working for renowned clients, driving more engagement and ultimately winning awards. A line of D&AD pencils represents a conquered Himalayas. We focus on and celebrate the final outcome, because it’s a shorthand way of gaining fresh business and attracting new talent.
This direct thinking is stifling our creativity.
There are many ways to climb a mountain, innumerable routes plotted across unpredictable terrain, each traversed under varying conditions. Many don’t reach the peak. Brilliant. That isn’t the only reason to ascend.
An erotic treat
I’d never been a friend to poetry. When I opened my computer, I strained to produce the best work I’d ever conceived — even something worthy of sitting alongside an admired poet. Of course, with that ominous pressure, that never happened.
Exploring anti-poetry changed everything. Liberated from constructing a poignant set of stanzas, I found joy in making the ode as overexaggerated and cringy as possible, relishing in the agonised phrases and euphemistic synonyms. Instead of struggling to choose the best word, I sniggered over finding the worst.
Upon reading it to the group, I received the greatest reaction I ever did. Snickers abounded.
For an hour and a half, I’d forgotten the upward slog of success, taken my heavy pack of ice picks from my back and swum in the breath-taking, icy lake of creativity nestled in the rockface. No, I hadn’t made it to the summit. I hadn’t produced a moving ode ready for print. But I’d learnt so much more than if I had.
Unwrap something new
We talk about thinking outside the box, using confines to inspire creative results beyond the original ideas. My university went one step further by removing the box altogether — as long as you passed, none of the modules from the first year counted towards your final degree. The hope was to encourage students to take more risks by removing the fear of low grades, too often perceived as failure.
Academic success was no longer the object, it was learning, both through freedom and mistakes.
When money is on the line and clients are waiting, it’s hard to ignore the pressure of success altogether. Thinking outside the box isn’t everything — finding a new box from which to think is the next best solution.
Instead of defining success along the narrow parameters of increasing sales and earning awards, change the scale. What are the other worthwhile experiences to be had on the varying elevations of Everest? Do you want to improve your motion skills, collaborate with a copywriter, brand a different OOH medium? Do you want to cultivate team spirit over the next month by having an awayday?
Already, the concept of success has shifted from a singular, yes or no outcome to a holistic learning process. You gain more experience as a designer and studio, while your client benefits from new solutions provided by a stronger team. All it takes is a change of perspective. By investing time and energy into the exploration of the mountain, the summit will naturally come into view.
Sweet talk
When you start a new project, consider the aim of the climb. It isn’t wrong to desire recognition for the work of yourself and your peers, but holding it up as the only reason to scale the mountain isn’t the healthiest approach for your design in the long run. Celebrate how little you know and how much you wish to learn.
Talk to fellow designers, whether students or professionals. Ask them to contribute a phrase about what success means to them. You’ll be surprised by the diversity in the answers and the activity will prompt a wider discussion of the group’s aims, both with this project and the next.
The icing on the top
While I can’t say I invest hours in sweet, poetic erotica, my exposure to anti-poetry transformed my perception of success and its pursuit. Now, when I engage with new challenges, I’m not considering the grade or the thrill of an award. If I receive either, it’s a bonus, not the goal.
So, if you want me, I’ll be contentedly settled at basecamp with a charged laptop, a curious outlook and half a packet of Oreos.
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