Now granted, this is the view of a guy who’s recently been going through a ridiculous introspective marathon, circling the drain of a solid burnout for the last couple years and finding more and more that the thought of designing another informative “About Us” page for a company that could give a shit about its consumers’ needs is about on par with ripping my penis off my body with my own hands. I just don’t got it in me, at least not this month.

So why bite the hand that’s been feeding me all these years? What changed? I have a feeling that whatever changed it wasn’t me, which is likely the issue, and I’m totally cool with that.

Now I can’t blame websites for this; I truly believe it is me that’s at fault for a couple different reasons. First, I’m completely turned-off by the industry’s bullshit copycat culture and my level of distain for the Dribbble button porn crowd has about hit its peak, but that’s probably just my general aversion toward most humans revealing itself again. I’m realistic, you can’t be an original at every turn, but when you start out with plagiarism as a goal then pass that shit off like it was all your idea, that’s when we’ve got a legitimate problem.

And yes, some things just work and should not be constantly reinvented (that’s a long and endless discussion), but I have far more respect for people who steal in order to serve their client’s clients rather than their own motives. Becoming a website “rockstar” should not be a goal; building cool shit should be.

The second reason I’m done with web development is value. If we’re not actually adding a good amount of bang to our client’s buck, then we should not be in the room when they’re deciding how to spend their money. These folks rely on people like us to solve a wide range of problems for them, not to hop on the latest trend and pass it off as magic, then follow it up with a padded invoice and enthusiastic jazz hands. It’s not a slot machine kids. Let’s stop standing under clients, trying to hold our coin buckets a little higher than the guy beside us. It’s not right.

At the root of it all is the fact that I’ve spent the better part of my adult life building things that are intentionally temporary. Aside from a few business cards and some cheap tri-fold brochures, which may still be floating around for some reason, almost nothing I’ve “built” is still there. Websites constantly change and that bothers me. More and more I’m learning to appreciate permanency in all aspects of life.

So what happens now? Will I be forced off my high-horse and keep plugging away on the same old bullshit everybody else is fighting over until Squarespace or Google or some 17 year old kid in Iowa makes it even easier to build a new site and we’re all made obsolete? Do I sever all ties to the industry and go on some ridiculous artsy soul searching adventure that will probably result in more happiness than money? Do I check the fridge for another beer? Yeah, probably all three, but I think it’s a matter of fine-tuning the ratios until you can arrive at a happy compromise both internally and externally.

Swallow a little pride in the interest of being given the opportunity to make something that lasts. Designers are lucky that way.

Plan of attack?

I wish there was a grand scheme all drafted up on some overpriced artisanal paper made by some dickhead with an iPhone pretending to be a Quaker, but there’s just not. So much of what we do is unplanned no matter how much we attempt to map our course, especially in this business. Shit changes man, faster and better tools flood the market, clients start to question inflated invoices and studios are forced to reach further and further in order to justify those dollar signs so they can keep the doors open and the kids fed.

It’s a fucking vicious loop and we’re all watching it swing around one more time.

Fortunately there will always be a warm bed and a hot meal waiting for smart problem solving accompanied by great design. It’s applicable in every conceivable market, whether it’s some big, amazing, multi-faceted marketing campaign for the billion dollar conglomerate we’re all drooling over this week or a sign in the subway station that says “Stop Shitting in the Ashtrays.” We see a problem and do our damnedest to fix it in a clever and effective way.

And that’s what I’m banking on. My inventory is in my brain, my equipment is attached to the ends of my arms and aside from the potential of being horribly mutilated in some tragic ramen cooking accident, that’s probably how I’ll always do it.

The point is that design in any form will always be needed, but sometimes we have to know when to switch trains before we run out of track.

METAPHOR!