On Heroes

We all have heroes. People we look up to for their achievements or methods, their poise under pressure or their sense of style, their erudition or ability to engage others. Last night, over dinner with a friend, we were discussing the nature of intimidation. Not the active kind; the kind you feel when you interact with someone that feels to you to be out of your league. We’ve all felt that at some point, haven’t we? It’s not a rhetorical question. I’m curious: have we all felt that? Have you?

One of the most recent instances for me was being in close proximity to Jeanette Winterson. Speaking of erudite. She was inspiring, articulate and made the baffling scope and depth of her knowledge seem almost within reach. How does one resist that?

I’ve witnessed two responses to heroes: envy or inspiration. Whilst I understand the former reaction, I’ve chosen to ignore it and opt for the latter. Here’s why:

No one else thinks like you
It seems obvious but we occasionally forget our uniqueness. This is our competitive advantage. This is our edge. I’m always amazed at how students who have gone through the exact same curriculum can graduate with a seemingly wide array of skill sets and aptitudes. It shouldn’t surprise me of course because, particularly in the creative fields, the areas in which we perform best have a direct correlation to our personal history, passions and obsessions. If our heroes can inspire us to build upon and develop our own voices then they’ve served their purpose. If, on the contrary, their superiority paralyzes us or makes us envious then we’re squandering our own worth.

What can you learn
In design specifically, but in life as well obviously, there is no end to learning. Our need for heroes stems from that desire to learn, to challenge and surpass ourselves. If we dissect the exact source of our interest—perhaps a skill set that we lack—then we are more likely to learn from it.

I was recently in conversation with someone who had worked with a famous designer and deplored how her current position required more administration than design, given the size of her team. I asked if, as the famous designer is known to do at times, she could handle the creative direction and then simply oversee the design. Her reply was that she wasn’t that famous designer. This surprised me as I was referring to the process, not the outcome, and adapting other people’s methods to our own ways of working seems like a perfectly sound approach to learning. To me it isn’t imitation; it’s apprenticeship.

You are someone’s hero
Teaching, writing, mentoring, collaborating or leading a team are all ways of applying the same principles to our daily practices. We may not be working with Stefan Sagmeister or Paula Scher but our exchanges with esteemed collaborators can yield similar results by fostering improvement in all participants. It’s why we attend workshops and conferences; it’s why we imagine self-directed projects in which we can include like-minded peers; it’s why we contribute to the conversation on blogs and in coffee shops.

Who are your heroes? What purpose do they serve, if any, in your life or practice?