To summarize my past: I liked drawing. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t like drawing. I liked using any tool that would leave a scratch, a mark, a something on a surface. At first, it was just painting, as it took less coordination to maneuver a brush than a pencil with my sticky kid hands. Then I graduated to pencils. Then I made it a hell of a competition to be the best in my middle school art class, which no one cared about other than me. Then in high school, I specialized in architecture, with a side passion of large oil painting, particularly portraits.

 

Yet for university I chose design. Because all that school had taught me until that point was that I liked neither of those trajectories as my life path. But it still had to be somewhat adjacent, for I could not imagine doing something that wasn’t leaving marks on surfaces.

 

And when I went to my very first design class, I realized I had no idea what that was. I thought it to be a narrow little field, about letters and logos and nothing more. Within a week, I considered giving up and looking for another major. But I stayed, for some reason. And I'm glad I did.  

 

Although even know I have trouble narrowing down exactly what design is, I reoriented my focus not to defining it, but to practicing it. I like to think of it as a fee spirit with an ever-changing identity. What I do know is that I'm doing it, and that i like it, because it's that fun, and that important, as I've learned that very few things in this world are not design. 

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Now I think I chose well for myself, but you shall see that for yourself.