Hi Kyle! I had read your post about leaving Adobe and just wanted to say, best to you and I have no doubt...things are about to get even more exciting for you.
Paulina Erhardt
Hi Kally,
I’ve thought long and hard about whether to write to you. I’m nobody special, and I’m not sure if a message from me would mean anything to you. But I’ve been carrying this letter around in my head for months now, so I decided to just write it down and send it into the infinite expanse of the internet.
I celebrated your article "The Creativity Country Club" (excuse the casual jargon here). I loved the irony, but unfortunately, it also touched a wound I’ve carried since my training as a graphic designer.
About me: I come from humble beginnings, but I had a wonderful childhood despite having nothing – just our imagination and a few fairy tale books. I devoured each one, and there was one I particularly loved. It was printed on thick, elastic, white silk paper with large, full-page, colorful illustrations. The pictures were so detailed, painted in a style reminiscent of 20th-century painters – oil paintings, old masters, Biedermeier. I wanted to create something like that too.
But it was 1990 in Moscow, Russia. We had nothing. The world was falling apart, and I was a naive, ignorant child. I didn’t know how I could ever repay my parents. But they bought me colored pencils from Faber-Castell on the black market, watercolor paints, brushes, and paper. Thin transparent paper, thick presentation boards, numerous different watercolor blocks with various textures. They believed their child had talent. And yes, it seemed so. I was a shy, dreamy girl who preferred to sit at home fantasizing at the table rather than participating in loud ball games.
In 1994, we relocated to Germany. I was lost, landed on another planet. I felt like an alien. I sought refuge in my imagination and my drawings. I managed to graduate surprisingly well, but the world was still so unfamiliar. It was 2001, and I still didn’t have a computer or internet. How could I have known what to do with my excellent grades in art and math? Even then, I had the feeling that everyone knew something I didn’t, and I was the only one left out of this secret.
I don’t know how my parents found out about the private graphic school or scraped together the money for it, but 2001-2005 were the best years of my life. We drew every day: watercolor, brushes, easels, posters, 1000 Copic markers. I consumed so many art supplies and learned so much. I wanted to be the best, and naively, I thought the professional world would appreciate that. But the world of a graphic designer requires a computer, at least a Mac, which back then cost a whopping 5000 Deutsche Marks, and Adobe programs, which weren’t discounted for students.
When I became a mother, I quickly realized how important finances are and what an incredible waste it was to learn everything about colors and brushes if I couldn’t even pay the rent with it. I was so angry at my teachers. Why did they teach a child a dying art? I now sat every day in front of an iMac, desperately trying to draw lines with the mouse. Editing a logo took two days back then, and a cutout took one to two hours, depending on the complexity.
When the iPad with a stylus came out, my heart soared again. I had a stylus with infinite colors and textures (not cheap at 2999 euros). I stumbled across a cool guy, Kally T. Webster, on the internet. He created such beautiful, natural-looking art, like it was hand-drawn but digital. I nurtured the dream of becoming an illustrator, even though nobody in my small Black Forest village cared. I browsed, searched the internet – everyone would advise and teach you, but you had to pay for it.
I resigned myself. I needed to find a job, earning minimum wage, because I had obligations now. A mortgage, a car loan, and a child who outgrows everything so quickly. And when he looks at you with his big, round eyes, you give him the last shirt off your back, but your child gets the 20th red toy car. Motherhood pushed me to my limits, and I forgot to draw. Technology and programs developed so rapidly. When I returned to work after maternity leave, I was outdated. You didn’t need photographers, graphic designers, programmers, or copywriters anymore. One person with a 20-inch MacBook Pro could handle the entire workload. The agency industry shed jobs faster than you could watch. I was one of the casualties.
You always have to find new paths, it’s a new experience… Honestly, I’m tired of new challenges. After various office jobs and working in the fashion industry, I find myself jobless again.
I worked so hard to get into this secret club of creatives, and yes, I have to say that it’s only reserved for the privileged among us. All that technology costs money.
Sorry for the length, Kally, but I had to get this frustration out. I’m drawing again. It’s like therapy, meditation. I find peace and focus when I draw, but the question nags at me: what’s the point? And somehow, I feel useless. The fantastic, rapid, and fascinating development of artificial intelligence gives me a queasy feeling. I watch my son – he’s 16 now – he immerses himself in his dark mangas and loves to sketch his favorite heroes in his math notebook. I wonder what advice I should give him, what he should learn? But I should stay quiet and not drum against AI.
I ran this letter through my ChatGPT to correct all the spelling and typing errors I would have with my dyslexia. And since my English is only school-level, the AI had to translate it for me.
Thank you for your attention if you really read all the way to the end. I like your posts; I can relate to them.
Best regards,
Paulina
2 comments
Hi Kyle! I had read your post about leaving Adobe and just wanted to say, best to you and I have no doubt...things are about to get even more exciting for you.
Hi Kally, I’ve thought long and hard about whether to write to you. I’m nobody special, and I’m not sure if a message from me would mean anything to you. But I’ve been carrying this letter around in my head for months now, so I decided to just write it down and send it into the infinite expanse of the internet. I celebrated your article "The Creativity Country Club" (excuse the casual jargon here). I loved the irony, but unfortunately, it also touched a wound I’ve carried since my training as a graphic designer. About me: I come from humble beginnings, but I had a wonderful childhood despite having nothing – just our imagination and a few fairy tale books. I devoured each one, and there was one I particularly loved. It was printed on thick, elastic, white silk paper with large, full-page, colorful illustrations. The pictures were so detailed, painted in a style reminiscent of 20th-century painters – oil paintings, old masters, Biedermeier. I wanted to create something like that too. But it was 1990 in Moscow, Russia. We had nothing. The world was falling apart, and I was a naive, ignorant child. I didn’t know how I could ever repay my parents. But they bought me colored pencils from Faber-Castell on the black market, watercolor paints, brushes, and paper. Thin transparent paper, thick presentation boards, numerous different watercolor blocks with various textures. They believed their child had talent. And yes, it seemed so. I was a shy, dreamy girl who preferred to sit at home fantasizing at the table rather than participating in loud ball games. In 1994, we relocated to Germany. I was lost, landed on another planet. I felt like an alien. I sought refuge in my imagination and my drawings. I managed to graduate surprisingly well, but the world was still so unfamiliar. It was 2001, and I still didn’t have a computer or internet. How could I have known what to do with my excellent grades in art and math? Even then, I had the feeling that everyone knew something I didn’t, and I was the only one left out of this secret. I don’t know how my parents found out about the private graphic school or scraped together the money for it, but 2001-2005 were the best years of my life. We drew every day: watercolor, brushes, easels, posters, 1000 Copic markers. I consumed so many art supplies and learned so much. I wanted to be the best, and naively, I thought the professional world would appreciate that. But the world of a graphic designer requires a computer, at least a Mac, which back then cost a whopping 5000 Deutsche Marks, and Adobe programs, which weren’t discounted for students. When I became a mother, I quickly realized how important finances are and what an incredible waste it was to learn everything about colors and brushes if I couldn’t even pay the rent with it. I was so angry at my teachers. Why did they teach a child a dying art? I now sat every day in front of an iMac, desperately trying to draw lines with the mouse. Editing a logo took two days back then, and a cutout took one to two hours, depending on the complexity. When the iPad with a stylus came out, my heart soared again. I had a stylus with infinite colors and textures (not cheap at 2999 euros). I stumbled across a cool guy, Kally T. Webster, on the internet. He created such beautiful, natural-looking art, like it was hand-drawn but digital. I nurtured the dream of becoming an illustrator, even though nobody in my small Black Forest village cared. I browsed, searched the internet – everyone would advise and teach you, but you had to pay for it. I resigned myself. I needed to find a job, earning minimum wage, because I had obligations now. A mortgage, a car loan, and a child who outgrows everything so quickly. And when he looks at you with his big, round eyes, you give him the last shirt off your back, but your child gets the 20th red toy car. Motherhood pushed me to my limits, and I forgot to draw. Technology and programs developed so rapidly. When I returned to work after maternity leave, I was outdated. You didn’t need photographers, graphic designers, programmers, or copywriters anymore. One person with a 20-inch MacBook Pro could handle the entire workload. The agency industry shed jobs faster than you could watch. I was one of the casualties. You always have to find new paths, it’s a new experience… Honestly, I’m tired of new challenges. After various office jobs and working in the fashion industry, I find myself jobless again. I worked so hard to get into this secret club of creatives, and yes, I have to say that it’s only reserved for the privileged among us. All that technology costs money. Sorry for the length, Kally, but I had to get this frustration out. I’m drawing again. It’s like therapy, meditation. I find peace and focus when I draw, but the question nags at me: what’s the point? And somehow, I feel useless. The fantastic, rapid, and fascinating development of artificial intelligence gives me a queasy feeling. I watch my son – he’s 16 now – he immerses himself in his dark mangas and loves to sketch his favorite heroes in his math notebook. I wonder what advice I should give him, what he should learn? But I should stay quiet and not drum against AI. I ran this letter through my ChatGPT to correct all the spelling and typing errors I would have with my dyslexia. And since my English is only school-level, the AI had to translate it for me. Thank you for your attention if you really read all the way to the end. I like your posts; I can relate to them. Best regards, Paulina