Measuring Creativity

From Subjectivity to Objectivity

Jeff Henderson
Sep 1, 2018 · 5 min read

Measurements for design success are complicated. There’s commercial validation. There’s personal satisfaction. There’s manufacturability.

But one of the most significant achievements in any career is peer validation. The idea of a comic’s comic or a writer’s or your favorite rapper’s rapper is a testament from those that study the craft.

One of my first shoes in Nike Basketball sold 1 million pairs. The Flight Levitate. While it checked one success box — commercial sales — I had many more steps to take before anyone would really care.

See, a group of us would compare Nike Footwear Design to the NBA. The League. While there were definitely good designers at other brands, Nike was full of talented heavyweights. If you were an amazing designer at another company, Nike would snatch you up.

But then you’d be in The League. And while The League was full of skills and opportunity — almost anything with a Swoosh would sell — there pettiness and jealousy and attitude and rivalry. Just like The League.

If you were lucky you found a good veteran squad to teach you the ups and downs of the job. They’d coach you on how to navigate the role and who would be your best allies in Development and Marketing.

Yet, only you had control over the two important things in your rise or fall — talent and hustle.

When I got to The League I had 10% talent (re: didn’t go to Design School) but I had 450% hustle (mathematicians don’t @ me). I had the first parking spot in the morning and was the last to leave the building in those earlier years. Honestly, I wasn’t scared of failure. I just felt like I needed to do more.

When the the Levitate sold a million pair it was because I self-briefed an entry pricepoint lowtop basketball shoe when no one in marketing would. Our business director supported it and I got my Air Lambaiste replacement.

No one in design batted an eye.

Selling a million pair at Nike was like putting up 35 points against a non-playoff squad. You wouldn’t make the D-block on SportsCenter.

And while I put the work in for years, I wasn’t trying to make the A-block. I just wanted to do good work. I thought of myself as a lunch-pale guy.

Then I woke up.

I realized that the 10 & 10 I put up on a nightly basis was nice, but if I decided to go for 30 per night, I could. I finally had the skills to do it, so I took the shots when they were there to be taken.

The Running squad from 2010 to 2012 was on fire. From Merchandising and Marketing to Development and Design we were cooking. Seb had the LunarGlide, Jarvis had the FreeRun and I had the Max+ 2009.

Cooking.

Shots were falling. We kept shooting.

Then it was in NSW. Dylan had the RosheRun. Shaneika and Lacey had Running and Tennis archive on fire.

Whole squad lit.

Then it was Cole Haan. LunarGrand.

Splash.

Yeezy.

But it was The League that built that confidence. When The League says you’re good, you’re good. There will be airballs and turnovers but you forget about them and keep rolling.

A wonderful young designer in The League asked me for guidance because she was having troubles on her squad. Note, I knew all of the folks on her squad. Some of them were amazing and some of them were monsters, but that was true for almost every playoff squad in The League.

One day I walked through the space where all 150+ designs for the season were on display and said that her job, beyond commercial success and manufacturability, was to be Top Ten on that wall at least once every four seasons.

“That’s subjective, though,” she responded. “Some categories get more love than others. Some teams push harder. Some businesses need more expression.”

She wasn’t wrong.

The teams you play on very much drive your overall worth.

But those walls were being judged by 20 different Design Directors. That collective was responsible for most of the best footwear in the industry and each one of them had to have meaningful opinion.

I told her that when we looked at those 150+ designs we didn’t see marketing plans or athletes or sell-through or production. We saw design.

In our heads we’d make a list of our top 20. Then we’d talk to other designers and realize there was a collective of about ten designs (not shoes, designs) that were on all of our lists.

In my mind those were the Top Ten.

And directors knew the names of those designers.

And those directors knew if they were on a bad team. Or had a bad coach.

And they’d make deals.

And playoff teams knew how to get better players.

And great teams knew how to play those players.

People often call players on the end of an NBA bench bums.

But every one of those bums averaged 20 per night on a division 1 team. They would crush your YMCA squad without breaking a sweat.

Because they’re in The League.

They don’t care if you think they’re a bum.

They care that all of the 30 coaches — not just theirs — think they are capable of getting quality minutes. They care that they can hold their own with their peers. They care that The League care.

She was right. Every directors opinion was subjective. And the diversity of that collective was suspect with respect to women and people of color.

But it was The League.

Score 50 points in The League and those doubts go away.

From their heads.

And from your heart.

And Them

Creative Consultancy

Jeff Henderson

Written by

Founder of And Them Creative Consultancy — Trying to focus on design, education, inclusion and family. I said trying.

And Them

And Them

Creative Consultancy

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