On Resisting Creative Stereotypes, Confronting Mental Health, and a Disciplined Studio Practice

That we might spend our days being creatively challenged is undeniably tempting, especially for those of us with jobs without a lot of room for daydreaming. The archetype of the troubled artist is still embedded in current narratives, but it leaves little room for a productive discussion of mental health. Thus Brooklyn-based illustrator Ilya Milstein’s willingness to candidly discuss both his efforts towards wellbeing and the overblown stereotype of an artist stands out. 

Milstein’s meticulously detailed illustrations have been featured in The New Yorker, T: The New York Times Style Magazine, and by brands including PayPal and Absolut. His work is imbued with a distinctive wit and complexity, without  shying away from the realities of finding the self both in work and outside of it. 

After some early success at home in Australia, Milstein found himself struggling to find a sense of purpose and direction. He now credits ongoing mental health care as being instrumental to his wellbeing and his career. “I owe most of my early success in New York to my therapist,” he mentions, “she enabled a sense of confidence and lucidity that I really needed at that time.”

Milstein talked to us about his hard-won sense of self as an artist, chafing against the cultural myth of the tortured creative, and the exercise as important as keeping a sketchbook for any aspiring illustrator or artist.

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Q. What was behind the decision to move to New York? 

A. I wanted to move to New York since I was a kid, and I think that’s far from unique. I didn’t really grow up around any artists or designers. Despite the fact I’d spent my entire childhood drawing, and that I had developed a bit of a reputation for my zines, I still couldn’t reconcile that with making a living. After a very intense year working in architecture, in which I didn’t really have any time to make my own stuff, I decided to apply to study drawing at the Victorian College of the Arts. I was overconfident and they knocked me back [ed note: translated from Aussie vernacular, they rejected him]. I was severely anxious about certain things…but I did feel that I could do this one thing better than many of my peers.

Milstein in his Brooklyn neighborhood.

Q. And that was drawing?

A. That was drawing. Getting knocked back was the first thing that had ever gone really wrong for me in that kind of way. Despite a line of traumas throughout my life, I always felt that I could set my watch to a certain achievement in the arts. So I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do.

I spent from age 20 to 26 in a near-catatonic state of depression and confusion. I enjoyed some small success in Australia, with shows in the National Museum in Canberra and the Perth Institute of Contemporary Art. Things were happening for me, but what I didn’t understand at the time was that I had fallen into a depressive episode.

Q. Had you not felt that before?

A. I always thought I could pull myself out of funks. I was closeted about my depression, and kind of ambled through life. I was so confused and in such a long-held state of self-hatred that I couldn’t stick to any one thing. I would do these [art] shows, and traction would bubble up. Then I would have a complete change in direction, and a need to start from scratch. I did this many times. 

Milstein on his studio rooftop.

Q. It’s funny you say that after success that you could point to.

A. None of it was enough, and none of it felt like it actually related to me. So I said, “I’m going to move to New York and first move back to my dad’s place for a little while to save some money.” As soon as I walked in with my boxes, I just thought, “I’m back to square one.” That’s when I plummeted into a very black depression, where it became clear that I needed help. I managed to get to a psychologist.

Q. It sounds like you were honest about it in a way that you hadn’t been to that point.

A. I was finally honest about it with myself. I’d never really spoken about it. I had a period of intense revelation, mixed with extraordinary pain. The one thing I could recognize was that I needed out, and I moved to New York without a plan other than survival.

“I had a hodgepodge of a portfolio, but I decided that I needed to pick the one thing that felt most natural to me.”

I was reminded of a time in my life when I did feel happier, in my teenage years because of how much I love drawing. I had a hodgepodge of a portfolio, but I decided that I needed to pick the one thing that felt most natural to me, start producing my own folio, and then tried to get work. 

Every piece starts with the pen and paper.

Q. How did you go from that point to where you are now, making a living as an illustrator after two years in New York?

A. I worked tirelessly when I got here, putting a great deal of energy into small commissions, some of which were spread around enough that they led to bigger opportunities. I chose to develop a style that could function at varied tones and levels of detail, and seemed to be friendly to a range of applications. This decision was less calculated to enable a range of commissions inasmuch as borne from a desire to have a visual voice that mimicked my actual one – which, like anyone else, can be garrulous or terse, comic or glum, absurd or dead-serious, depending on what mood you’re in.

Q. As an artist working for someone else, is there a pressure to express what you know is wanted from you?

A. Absolutely. The people who commission you have less of an understanding of what you do than you do. They’re always going to hire you on the basis of previous results, so there is a great expectation to repeat yourself. That’s why working on personal projects is so crucial, to develop and expand. I’ve seen a lot of people who have fallen into the trap of doing the same thing again and again and again. They’re miserable but don’t see how they can reframe their career. 

Milstein in his studio space, which he shares with a handful of other creatives.

I spent years without a sense of self, trying to be version of me for other people. So it’s really important now that I focus on whoever I am to me, and try and carve out an identity that feels natural and true, both in my work and otherwise.

“Self-care and self-understanding will obviously make you a better artist and person.”

I’m planning on taking some time off commissioned work this year to solely focus on my own projects. I think that a lot of commercial artists who derive meaning from their personal practice take this time periodically if they’re able to – the trick is being able to live off your former commissions for a while and making the leap of faith that there’ll be more when you’re ready to work again.

Q. Did you have any fear of failure when you arrived in New York?

A. I didn’t give myself that option. I had a new lease on life after receiving the care I needed and for the first time as an adult, I felt lucid and had a degree of motivation that I may never have again. What I did in my free time was all about enabling that – trying to be fit and healthy. I recently told a group of students from Brighton on a studio visit that [physical] exercise as an artist is as important as keeping a sketchbook.

Q. Why’s that?

A. To expect that an unhealthy lifestyle won’t impact one’s thinking seems absurd. Be kind to yourself in small ways and take joy from your daily rituals – have your morning coffee on your couch with the news rather than nervously gulped over the kitchen sink. Self-care and self-understanding will obviously make you a better artist and person – the two are quite intertwined – and knowing your limits will keep you afloat.  

Milstein’s work featured in The Affairs, a Taiwanese monthly publication.

Q. Do you think it shatters illusions when you tell someone young that being an artist is sitting down at a desk working rather than simply the romantic, tortured ideal of it?

A. I think a lot of people are in awe of the life of the artist. It’s convenient for people to believe that the pratfall of the ideal life is that you’re miserable. That myth is convenient and born out of slightly blood thirsty impulses. 

Q. You’ve talked about routine being a way to counterbalance the ever-shifting life of a creative. What kind of schedule do you keep in the studio? 

A. It’s funny – I think part of what made me decide to study fine art was a disdain for things like regular working hours, but now I maintain them quite closely (9-6, Monday-Friday). Part of this is practical, as it allows me to promptly communicate with the U.S. throughout the day, Europe in the morning, and Asia or Australia in the late afternoon. I take very short lunch breaks and don’t have many meetings so I’m at the desk almost all that time. Discipline gives a sense of stability to intrinsically unstable careers paths.

Milstein finds inspiration in New York neighborhoods.

But if a deadline isn’t demanding otherwise, sometimes it’s healthier to stay in bed and arrive at the desk later, both calm and invigorated, rather than risk spending the whole day mercurial, tired, and inefficient. Being self-employed is strange, because you’re both the boss and the employee. In any working dynamic, a boss might be militant with time and overly demanding with workloads at the expense of the employee’s quality of life. Why punish yourself by being a cruel master?

Like anyone, I work weekends and very long hours during intensive periods, but I hope to do less of that – it doesn’t help the quality of work, and working slavishly tends to come at the expense of meaningful relationships.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

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How to Build an Interdisciplinary Team That Can Handle Any Creative Project

When design leaders think about how to grow their businesses, they usually don’t stop at one product or service: they imagine all of the different ways they can expand, even if they’re not quite sure how to get there. What if we could break into *this* new market? Add *this* type of product? Work with *these* kinds of clients? What if, what if, what if?!

David Galullo knows this well. When he became CEO of Rapt Studio in 2011, the San Francisco-based firm was primarily focused on commercial architectural projects. But over time, Galullo sensed there was an opportunity to help clients with more than just their physical spaces. Today, Rapt — which has worked with Ancestry, Dollar Shave Club, PayPal, and other high-profile brands — is equipped to help clients tell a more consistent and engaging story through a multitude of touchpoints, including interiors, websites, and events. During a recent project with a dental startup, the company even designed hygienists’ uniforms. 

cThe key to making it work, Galullo has found, is in bringing together a diverse group of people to tackle each and every project. Instead of having departments for interior design, strategy, copywriting, or any other expertise, Rapt is truly interdisciplinary, with people in a variety of fields working together on a single project from Day 1.

It’s a model that Galullo believes results in more innovative solutions. “We think what we’re doing is a great way to think about the complexity of the world, and we think others can benefit from it,” he says. 

Of course, having people with varying skills and knowledge sets work so closely can be a headache as well, especially when it comes to managing egos and keeping projects moving. In a recent interview, Galullo shared his best advice for building an interdisciplinary team that works.

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1. Leave room for real dialogue

At a time when many of us are running around from meeting to meeting and switching gears minute to minute, Galullo’s recommendation is a breath of fresh air: leave room so that real work can get done. While teams at Rapt are often working on several projects of a time, they try to limit the loss of brain power that occurs with jumping between tasks. For example, instead of having someone work for two hours on one task and two hours on another, the whole team might work for three days to complete something together. This helps ensure that people know everything that’s going on, and also allows for the debate and questioning that comes with bringing diverse thinkers together. “There’s a language and pace of thinking that comes with each discipline,” says Galullo. “It’s like bringing together someone from Maine, Southern California, and Louisiana together to tell a story — they’re speaking the same language, but some of them speak slower, some speak faster. In design it’s the same: you have to leave some room for people to speak in real terms and really translate their ideas to one another.”

The Rapt-designed offices of Dollar Shave Club, seen here in a quiet moment, are designed for fostering interaction. Photo by Noah Webb.

Team size also plays a role here as well. At Rapt, which has 80 employees across its offices in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York, the average team size is seven. Galullo has found this is the perfect number for efficiency and productivity — anything bigger would mean having to create subteams, which would make it harder for everyone to be on the same page at all times.

2. Create a ‘psychologically safe’ environment

Research has shown that teams are most successful when the people feel they won’t be punished for a mistake. It’s a concept known as “psychological safety,” and Galullo is a big believer. “When people feel that each of their team members has their back, they feel safe throwing out crazy ideas and can bring as much creativity to the table as possible. That’s when teams excel,” he says. With the impetus to ensure teammates feel beholden to one another and the work at hand, the company recently introduced unlimited PTO (paid time off). This means teams must communicate openly and work with one another to figure out when and how the work will get done. “Every aspect of our process has been reengineered to allow for a consistent internal team feedback loop, allowing for the team to self-manage, for honesty to prevail, and for the team to know that their individual successes is meaningfully linked to the success of the team as a whole,” says Galullo. 

The Ancestry headquarters offer views of central Utah. Photo by Jeremy Bitterman.

3. Hire for curiosity

A key quality of interdisciplinary teams is that they consider many different expert approaches to find the best overall solution. But not everyone has the willingness to work in an environment where their ideas might face rigorous questioning by colleagues in other fields. That’s why it’s so important to look for people who value curiosity. “You have to find people who are extremely talented and have great expertise, but are also open-minded and don’t suffer from the ‘Why is this person questioning me?’ dilemma,” says Galullo. “It’s a struggle.”

The Dollar Shave headquarters in Marina del Rey boast a sleek in-house barbershop. Photo by Noah Webb.

4. Let teams self-police, but have a system for managing decision-making and conflict

While Galullo believes teams should be given freedom to work as they see fit, he also believes in creating a framework that keeps the team moving forward together. Every team at Rapt has a team lead whose job it is to remove barriers so that the team can perform its best. Teams also have an account director, who acts as a surrogate for the client — if a team is really stuck or in conflict about where to go with a project, the account director will intervene.

The Rapt headquarters in San Francisco include a barista stand instead of a reception desk. Photo by Eric Laignel.

5. Look for opportunities to foster community and creativity in the space around you

“With clients, we often start our processes not asking what kind of spaces people need, but what kind of interactions you want people to have,” says Galullo. The same principle can be applied to Rapt itself, which has designed its offices to facilitate communication, warmth, and interaction. At its San Francisco office, the company has a coffee stand and barista instead of a reception desk so that employees and clients feel welcomed in a way that they’re used to. In LA, there’s an outdoor dining area full of plants and a huge, inviting communal table. For Galullo, these sorts of design choices are all about giving people the chance to do their best work. “If you want people to bring their best selves, to look at things with curiosity, you can’t expect them to stand at the same desk for 10 hours a day,” he says. 

The spacious kitchen space of the Rapt headquarters offers space for relaxed communication during breaks. Photo by Eric Laignel.

Rapt offices are designed to encourage conversation. Photo by Eric Laignel.

Based in Utah, the Ancestry headquarters are designed with community in mind. Photo by Jeremy Bitterman.

The Ancestry space is designed for gatherings that evoke familial moments. Photo by Jeremy Bitterman.

 

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Burnout, Layoffs, and Fyre Fest: The Art of Bouncing Back from Failure

Whether they’re big battles or small indignities, times where we fall short or times where we fall flat on our face, the ability to come back swinging is what transforms a debacle into a lesson learned. The art of bouncing back is really code for resilience, that elusive and invisible backbone that, like a Black Panther suit, can turn jabs, discouragement, and burnout into more fuel to your fire.

From an HR lead getting the rug pulled out from under him in his own feedback session, to the self-doubt of being downsized, to the designer behind the infamous Fyre Fest, we talked to six creatives about how they learned to pick themselves up, brush themselves off, and start all over again.

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For a long career, look for the patterns of burnout

Keri Elmsly, Chief Creative Officer, Second Story

I spent a long time taking on very ambitious never-been-done before projects [like the first-ever live Drone Orchestra for John Cale of the Velvet Underground]. I was an executive producer in a very close collaborative relationship with artists and designers. And it was amazing. But the ambition of the projects was so huge that, by the time we launched them, anything that was imperfect became such an acute thing that even though things were successful and they were practically impossible to do and we did them and people came, the level of dissatisfaction was quite profound. It actually undermined everything that we built and every success that we had. You come out the other side and you’re almost unable to acknowledge the beauty, the power, or the success of what you built. It really affected my relationship with the people I collaborated with.

So, I took a pretty deep look at ownership and attachment. It made me realize: if you’re going to take on epic projects you’ve never done before, you need to plan for recovery and you need to see the patterns—the peaks and troughs that you go through. It’s not worth it to let the anger, frustration, and disappointment undermine everything. In clinging onto that tiny detail of disappointment, you lose the value of the experience you created for thousands of people. That enabled me to form a much more resilient approach and be able to say to my teammates, “This is where we are in the process, this is why it feels bad right now.” Or to give people space to say, “I’m really stuck and I’m not feeling good.” 

Once you identify a pattern, you can zoom out a bit. You can create a little bit of space to coach people through because you know the high of success will come. Or just acknowledge the crash that comes after, so you can get up and start all over again. For a long career in this world you have to see the patterns, adjust the patterns and ask yourself do I need to keep being like this? Because you might not. 

Blast self-doubt with staying busy

Leo Jung, Creative Director, The California Sunday Magazine

A number of years ago, I was asked to come into an impromptu meeting. Like anyone caught by surprise, I grabbed my notebook in case I needed to take notes. I didn’t need to take notes. I was being let go.

I had heard many stories of mass layoffs. I thought to myself, “that could never happen to me; I work my ass off, I’m well-liked, and my work speaks for itself.” To be fired without grounds was confusing. That’s not how the world works! There are rules! Aren’t there? Yes, but they never broke any of them. It says right there in the contract when you sign on to the job: “We reserve the right to end this contract for any reason.” And they exercised that right.

I believed the world operated a certain way: you work hard, show your worth, and people will notice. I still believe that to be true. But that’s not the only way the world works. When I learned that that can be taken away from me, and without grounds, it shook me. I really did wonder what I could’ve done differently. It’s human nature to want a reason so that you can make sense of things.

You can never mentally prepare yourself for the self-doubt that creeps in and plants itself right in the part of the brain that contains all your self-confidence. When doubt in your abilities overtakes you, it doesn’t magically go away overnight. It drips away slowly like a tiny pinhole leak. When I started interviewing again, I noticed how I focused on what had happened to me instead of what I could contribute. I needed people to know I wasn’t laid off for incompetence. It was a pride thing. But telling people your sad story doesn’t get you anywhere. It’s like telling them your pet fish died—for twenty minutes.

It was tough for me to get over, but I knew that holding grudges was exhausting and unhealthy. Instead, I channeled my energy towards something I could be proud of. You’d be surprised at how motivated and focused you can become after a layoff.

It wasn’t until I interviewed for California Sunday and Pop-Up Magazine that things took a turn for the better. The opportunity felt risky (I’d never worked for a startup before) but incredibly exciting at the same time. Almost five years later, after three National Magazine Awards and back-to-back “Magazine of the Year” honors at The Society of Publication Designers, it’s unbelievable how far we’ve come. Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened had I never been let go. I realize that hardships, as challenging and frustrating as they are at the time, often pave the way to something better.

If someone is speaking a different language, start with listening

Nicole Jacek, Head of Design, Wieden+Kennedy

I closed my company NJ(L.A.) at the end of 2017 to join Wieden+Kennedy and took over a 100-person team to build out the design offering.

I was incredibly naive to think that it was going to be a walk in the park. I learned I would spend more time managing (and learning to manage) versus doing creative work. I learned that often design in an ad agency means “execution” and “production,” or in other words, “comps” and “decks.” There was also a massive perception gap between “creative” and “design.” How is “design” not “creative?”

My gut reaction was, “Have I just lost everything I believed in? Have I lost all my integrity and ethics? Am I dancing with the devil?”

I know that I tried their patience, as they tried mine. There were some disappointments. I realized I needed to earn the trust for what I’m trying to do. Little did I know that we are so similar in thinking and process. Slowly we started meeting and working with amazing people here. It’s like having a hot bath. You sit still and adjust to the temperature. First, I made sure to listen. To listen a lot.

If you want things to change, stop complaining. Just do it. Get a solid support team around you and make sure to hone in on your communication and leadership skills. Because it takes a village.

Build a culture of feedback to save yourself big surprises

Alex Seiler, Senior Director, Global HR, WeWork

I was in a situation where I managed a much bigger team where I was constantly seeking feedback and asking, “What could I be doing better?” And they were not being transparent with their responses. And it came to a head when I did a 360° [review] as part of getting an executive coaching engagement. A lot of feedback came out in that.

I called everyone together and said, “Listen, I’m not trying to call anyone out but I received this feedback as part of a 360 and I don’t know where it’s coming from.” I had previously been opening the floodgate to get that feedback. But just because you ask for it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s going to happen.

It hurt but I used that as an opportunity and I said, “We’ve built a high performing team and I’d like to think that you can come to me about anything.”

What it came down to, from their perspective, was that they had left it too long. They said that they should have said something earlier, specifically around burnout and capacity issues. But they let it linger. They took ownership of that. I also took ownership for the fact that, as much as I like to push people, maybe I push them too hard.

In the future, what I would do is bring the team together and set operating norms. I would highlight on a more consistent basis that, as much as I’m giving you feedback, I expect you all to be giving feedback as well. You have to build that culture from the get-go.

Talk to people you trust during tumultuous times

Kristen Dudish, Executive Director of Product Design, The New York Times

I moved into my current design leadership role as part of a larger reorganization of our product development teams. It was a huge challenge and I had to figure out a lot, quickly. My new responsibilities included: managing more designers than I had ever managed before; hiring, interviewing, and on-boarding; collaborating with a new product partner to establish a strategy; and nurturing a healthy team culture amidst all that change. All of this while wrapping up a huge product launch where I was still the hands-on design lead! On top of all that, my incredibly supportive manager went on parental leave for six months.

I felt truly in over my head for the first time in my career. I was juggling more than ever before. I didn’t have enough hours in the day to stay on top of everything. How do I manage all of these meetings I need to attend while also working closely with engineers to launch new features? How can I be a great manager when I’m not able to check in with my reports? How can I make sure the design work is on the right track when I can’t be in all of the conversations around it? I couldn’t give everything 100%. Was I set up for failure? After a few weeks in my new role, I found myself dreading the commute to the office.

I knew I needed some help. So, I reached out to people I trusted and admired. I talked to colleagues and friends who had gone through similar transitions. I discovered that I had a much bigger support system than I realized. Just by letting people know where I was struggling, I got so much great advice and offers of help.

The biggest takeaway is that it’s truly impossible to do it all. I’ve gotten better at carving out time for focus, planning, and my team. I’ve grown to lean more on others when I find myself trying to juggle too much. It’s been an exercise in discovering where to let go and where to take control. I’m still figuring it out.

Sometimes, just go to an island

Oren Aks, designer and former Jerry Media strategist for Fyre Fest

I had a job at Thrillist as an editorial graphic designer and then I met the guys from F*ckJerry and they poached me. It was the best job ever, in the beginning. My life was looking good, feeling good, and Fyre Fest was, no pun intended (pun intended), fueling that.

You know the story. It all crashed and burned. I stuck around for six months at the agency because I couldn’t afford to quit. I was living paycheck to paycheck. It was a very confusing time. I felt really guilty and no one around me understood what I was going through and I didn’t know how to talk to people about it.

One week before the end of the month, a new apartment I found fell through. I said, “This is it. I’m leaving New York. It’s not meant to be.”

And then the documentaries came out. I was really scared in the beginning. I thought, “Fyre is bad. I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s move on.” Then, I started to see the positive: I can talk to people about what I’ve been internalizing for two years. But with that, I struggled with the question of how to handle all of it. I wasn’t prepared. On one side, it was great because I was meeting really interesting people every day and had so many opportunities presented. But I would come home tired and without energy to work on the things that I’d just met with them about. So, I decided to go off the internet to focus on what I actually wanted to do.

So, right now, I’m in this teeny tiny little village of 75 people in Greece for a month. There’s no grocery store, there’s nothing here. I’m up at five. I’m in bed by 9:30. I do yoga in the morning. It could be too much isolation for some people if you don’t use it right, or challenge yourself, or put yourself in fun situations on purpose. For me, I have to plan something and make sure that there’s a point.

Strategic isolation allowed me to focus on working on what I’m passionate about. It’s for bettering yourself through a strict regimen. The big difference is how you feel and how you work when you are in control, not the client or a deadline. Being stuck in your daily routine doesn’t allow you to do that, so it can be really healthy to separate from your own world. Sometimes you need to take a step back to make a leap forward.

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When the Personal Shapes the Professional

We show up to our work as whole people, unable to compartmentalize our lives into personal and professional. Our careers influence our relationships, mental and physical health, social lives, and personal decisions. The inverse is also true. Personal experiences shift the way we view ourselves as creatives, how we show up to our work, and why we work. Here, three creatives open up about life-changing experiences, how they navigated them, and how their work transformed on the other side. 

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Designer and creative director John J. Custer’s family struggles led him to find stability as an independent creative.

John J. Custer’s college graduation was a milestone marked by complicated emotions—his mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer during his sophomore year. Motivated by a desire to impress her and fear she might die, John put extra pressure on himself to succeed. It paid off when he landed an internship at Nike and graduated with a top portfolio. Post-graduation, he moved home to help support his family while his mom continued treatment and his dad searched for employment after being laid off in the 2008 recession. 

Back in Dallas, John accepted a full-time role at creative studio Tractor Beam. Then a mentor suggested John intern at Pentagram in New York. John’s application was accepted, but he turned down the initial offer. “I felt it was my responsibility to stay in Texas. I was the only one in my family who was healthy and had a job.” John later reapplied and was accepted. He moved to New York City sight unseen in the summer of 2010, but it didn’t turn out to be the dream internship he’d hoped for. Instead, his responsibilities felt like a step back from his internship at Nike and full-time job at Tractor Beam.

When the internship wrapped, John stayed in New York and worked as a production designer at a bold-name agency. He was told he’d be creating graphics for commercials and ads, but after a change in clients, the role became less creative. Six months later, John quit after pulling yet another all-nighter. A friend reached out for freelance help, so John took the contract. He never looked back. Since then he’s built a freelance career working with clients like Collins, Dress Code, Fahrenheit 212, and Oliver Munday. 

John J. Custer’s path to a successful freelance career involved family responsibilities and several setbacks. Photograph by Sam Weber.

After his family’s situation improved, John focused more on himself. “I went through a big breakup and then got serious about therapy. It helped me connect the dots between my parents’ experiences and my choice to go the independent route.” Now he uses his position as an independent creative to speak up in hopes that his peers won’t be taken advantage of. “When we’re told, Do what you love, but I need you to do it at this pace for this price, it ruins what you love.” John urges his peers not to agree to ridiculous situations, timelines, and budgets just to get by because there are many paths to success.

Artist Mandy Blankenship’s complicated journey into parenthood helped her embrace imperfection.

Greenville-based artist Mandy Blankenship majored in English, was trained in photography, and now works with textiles, using her own natural fabric dyes. Her path as an artist has evolved as has her path has from daughter to sister, partner, and mother—the new role which she says has taught her much about herself as an artist. After trying for four years to become pregnant, genetic testing revealed her baby would likely have Turner Syndrome, a genetic disorder that affects about one in every 2,000 baby girls. A girl with Turner syndrome only has one normal X chromosome, rather than the usual two.

Mandy reflected, “I was shocked and felt like a different kind of failure, but then I dove into research and realized it wasn’t my fault. We had looked forward to our dreams coming true and then it was doctors, doctors, doctors.” Mandy developed preeclampsia at 34 weeks and was rushed to the hospital. Her daughter Etta was born at 3lbs 10 oz. “Hopes were dashed, but also fulfilled. It was complicated, but the fact that she’s alive is a miracle,” says Mandy. 

Artist Mandy Blankenship’s journey to motherhood shaped her artistic practice in unexpected ways. Photography by Mollie Greene.

After a month in the hospital, Etta joined her family at home as they navigated their new life together. That’s when Mandy realized she was struggling with postpartum depressed and sought counseling. “I didn’t know I could be in such a dark place or have that level of sadness. It was circumstantial and hormonal.” Counseling was critically important for her: “All of these things were unlocked. Suddenly I was walking in freedom and clarity. I felt better every time I went.” As she was ending therapy and weaning Etta, a surprise hit—she was pregnant again. Mandy said her second pregnancy was a dream and she gave birth to her son, Moses, 2 years ago.

Mandy has returned to her work with a different approach. Mandy draws inspiration in the language her daughter Etta’s uses, the way she makes marks on the page, and how she dresses up as a princess in scarves and random found garments. Mandy says, “I’ve been on this trajectory of asking what I can do with what I already have rather than thinking I need new stuff to make the work. It’s become more about the process rather than coercing perfect outcomes.”

Writer and podcaster Jennifer Newman’s divorce challenged her to realize moving on isn’t a bad thing. 

Sacramento-based Jennifer Newman was ready for a change, but it didn’t happen how she planned. After building a business for seven years, she planned to look for full-time work. “My business was doing okay, but not awesome. It was time to figure out the next step, but I intended to do it slowly to make sure it was aligned with what I wanted.” And then her marriage ended abruptly on a Friday night. Jennifer began applying for jobs the next day. “I wasn’t just figuring out what my new life would look like, but what my new normal would be from a career perspective.

Jennifer’s main goal was security—she wanted to know she’d be okay financially. During her fifteen-year relationship, nearly ten of those married, Jennifer’s husband made more. She was also on his health insurance. Jennifer said she had fallen into a pattern in her relationship and had convinced herself she was small. Yet she promised herself  to stay focused and keep moving forward.

After a difficult divorce, Jennifer Newman’s approach to life and work shifted dramatically. Photography by Jonathan Herre.

Soon after, Jennifer landed her first day job in seven years as a director of brand marketing for a statewide nonprofit. The lead came through a guest she had interviewed for her podcast, Creating Your Own Path. It was a huge shift and culture shock to go into an office every day after working for herself so long, but the financial stability she was able to provide for herself was worth it. It also allowed her to afford support through therapy. Jennifer said she sees herself having a day job for the foreseeable future and that as a self-proclaimed entrepreneur, this path is okay. There’s no shame in having a day job. 

Jennifer now carves out time before and after her nine-to-five to work on her business and publish new episodes of her podcast. Her approach to this work has shifted: “I talk about career paths on my podcast. Now I’m opening up the narrative to include more people who work for companies and are perfectly happy. We don’t all have to be entrepreneurs. The way I want to have conversations about careers has changed.” And so has her perspective on transitions and letting go. “Moving on isn’t a bad thing, whether that’s divorce or grieving the loss of someone or letting go of a career path for something new.” 

What helps to thrive on the other side:

1. Let go of what you can’t control. 

Mandy noted letting go as a foundational step. “I always want to get in the future and figure out what’s going to happen. But that’s not how life works. It was a deep time of learning how little I can control and how my response to things is critical for my sanity.” Jennifer’s experience was similar as she wanted to control the narrative and her trajectory. “We can obsess over the next move and worry if it’s the right one.” Instead, she said yes to a job opportunity that was right for her at the time and helped her move forward. 

2. Reach out for support. 

John, Mandy, and Jennifer all turned to professional support in the form of therapy. Additionally, they reached out to their communities. John’s friendships carried him through a period when family wasn’t able to offer as much support. Out of this came a close-knit creative community and his involvement in Maker’s Club, a free monthly meetup hosted at spaces around New York. Mandy sought support from her husband, had regular video chats with family, and enlisted her in-laws to babysit regularly so she and her husband could enjoy kid-free date nights. For Jennifer, family and friends provided emotional support, but also helped with logistics of rebuilding a solo life.

3. Care for body, mind, and spirit.

Jennifer turned to reading and journaling as a way to reflect and process. John used the Headspace app to start a meditation practice, which helped him recognize and accept what he’s feeling. Hailing from a religious background in Texas, which he no longer practices, John said, “This is what prayer is supposed to be.” For Mandy, her faith was vitally important as was yoga, “I never liked sports because I’m a perfectionist and I didn’t like losing. Yoga is me against me. I can go to whatever level of intensity I need that day.”

4. Be open to how your work changes. 

“I’m still getting over the idea that this wasn’t what I had planned, even though it’s arguably better,” said Jennifer, “But now I’m able to separate who I am as a human from my career. I couldn’t do that prior to my divorce.” For Mandy, the journey to parenthood has transformed the images she created in her artwork, expanding the iconography she’s interested in. “Last year was one of contentment,” said John as he noted that he had paid off debt, started to date again, was nurturing family relationships, and felt more like himself. “Now I want to figure out how to work and play,” he said.

When life-changing moments happen—and they will—it can be tempting to try to control the outcome for our work and lives. But the more helpful approach is to embrace the process rather than attempting to coerce perfect outcomes. We don’t know how things will turn out on the other side. Instead, we can let life shape us into the people we need to become, transform our work, and leads us into new possibilities. 

 

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Stephanie Yung: From Fertility to Identity, Design Can Dismantle Isolation

Smart’s Director of Design, Stephanie Yung gave a standout talk at the 99U Conference this year about her process of turning the experience navigating the fertility process into an app. Smart Design has long been a proponent of the idea of “design for one”—which zeroes in one a single user’s specific needs versus that of a large audience. This time, Yung turned the design for one process on herself to track the triumphs and adversities of fertility as a single parent. 

Ultimately, Yung’s life expanded to include a baby named Sigrid—only 6 months old when Yung spoke at 99U—and the beta version of a new app called Project Junior, which aims to bring together data, community, task tracking, and reminders to smooth out a fragmented and stressful fertility process with a bias toward designing for couples.

Yung (and her baby) joined us for a longer conversation about how her design process helped her cope with the fertility process, how apps can build community instead of isolate, and what it’s like to lead for a new parent dramatically rethinking her identity.  

Q. You used to work for an ad firm in Toronto and ten years ago you switched industries, jobs, and cities by joining Smart Design in New York.  Did that feel like a big leap to do all at the same time?

A. I’m kind of like that. I’m pretty much an all-or-nothing type of person. It’s probably evident with me having a baby on my own. That’s just me.

In building a fertility app, Yung applied her personal experience to Smart’s history of designing for one user.

Q. What did you think of New York?

A. I will say, I didn’t love New York. It’s almost like having so much inspiration at your fingertips makes things actually more challenging. I think creativity is really boring without constraints. 

Q. I’ve heard you talk about the idea of designing for “real people.” Is there a Smart project that you really felt epitomized that?

A. It’s seemingly a small project, but it was really important for me. We were looking at repositioning birth control to women. There’s a lot of stigma around it, and problems with general awareness and access. A big part of the project was meeting the people we’re designing for across America—in Delaware, North Carolina—and understanding what’s really troubling them and preventing them from seeking help.

Q.  I’m picturing you having these conversations across the country. And then we get to the idea of designing for one. Is that a totally opposite idea? 

A. It is seemingly counterintuitive, but “born from the same place” is a great way to put it. Designing for one is born from inclusive design [something that Smart has been practicing for over 30 years]. You’re deep-diving with one person for a longer period of time. 

Project Junior helps manage tasks, share info, and connect community during the fertility journey.

Q. How did you become the subject of a designing-for-one project? 

A. I was 40, single, and had just had gone through a breakup. I understood that a breakup was not going to kill me, yet I was so upset. I realized it was because I wanted biological children. And I hit this moment where I said, “Get over yourself. You could do this on your own.” It’s one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. 

“I think creativity is really boring without constraints.”

Q. How did your experience with fertility become a design project?

A. I noticed so many things wrong with the process, and it was just too emotionally taxing. I couldn’t have done it unless I applied my work-thinking to my personal life. I called it Project Junior.

Q. What was the Project Junior design process like? 

A. I had a Google spreadsheet. I did the journey maps, drew the stakeholders, identified my pain points. 

“I’m pretty much an all-or-nothing type of person,” says Yung.

Q. What’s an example of a pain point?

A. Often the most important information is relayed when you’re basically naked, after an invasive procedure. I was having my fallopian tubes X-rayed, with my feet in stirrups, and my doctor told me my next step was to buy sperm, and that it must be CMV negative sperm. It’s not like I had a pen, or even a phone on me. 

Months later, I ended up buying the wrong sperm. Luckily I went back to my notes, just to look, and figured out I had to return the sperm. If I had been inseminated with the wrong sperm, it would have increased my chances of miscarriage exponentially. 

Q. The Project Junior app helps by collecting data and showing you where you are in the fertility process. Why is that so important? 

A. Stress can be a major reason why, if you’re trying to get pregnant, you’re unsuccessful. It’s like the ultimate birth control. The app is designed in the hope that women, or people—I shouldn’t only say women—could focus on what’s most important at that moment. 

Yung says motherhood has changed her thinking on leadership.

Q. A lot of the functionality of Project Junior aims to connect you to your community. How did that come about?

A. That’s the mood indicator, which lets you inform the rest of your community how you’re feeling and where you are in the process. The story behind that is that I had been inseminated and took an at-home pregnancy test. And it was negative. I was meeting a friend that night who I hadn’t seen in a while. He asked “How’s everything going with the fertility process? You’ll make such a great mom.” And I was so upset that I lied. There were just so many situations like that where I didn’t have positive news to share, but I still wanted to be around people instead of home wallowing. 

“Designing for one is born from inclusive design. You’re deep-diving with one person for a longer period of time.”

Q. How does the mood indicator solve situations like that?

A. It shows where you are in the fertility journey, so you don’t have to tell everyone a million times. The mood indicator removes an awkward interaction that can be very emotionally taxing. It just says, “This is where I’m at.”

Q. That could be useful in so many situations.

A. The idea of people wanting to help out in healthcare situations goes beyond fertility. I see its use when grieving or with other major emotional situations. There’s really nothing to facilitate that right now.

Yung says the fertility process, as it stands, is designed with couples, not single parents, in mind.

Q. How do you think about parental leave now that you’re on the other side of it?

A. You’re essentially shifting identities and trying to find who you are again, while trying to keep a baby alive. I think it’s a necessity. I come from Canada, where it’s not a benefit, it’s a right. 

Q. What kind of thinking around your identity did you experience? 

A. Who am I? Who are we? That’s the biggest thing, from “me” to “we.” What are your priorities? What will it look like going back to work? It’s not going to be the same and you’re not the same person. And that’s okay.

Q. What have you found works well as a new parent diving back into your career?

A. The first thing is setting a schedule, communicating it to people, blocking it off and being absolute about it. I’m in the studio from nine to five, and then I’m off the grid for about two hours. I’ve got to put my baby to bed. Then I can be online if I have to. 

Yung says one of the biggest mental shifts in motherhood is the switch from ‘me’ to ‘we’.

Q. Speaking of working with other people, you’ve done a lot of mentoring. Has the idea of mentorship shifted now that you’re a parent?

A. Mentorship is important to me. It’s important to be responsible about what designers we’re putting out there in the world. Who is going to be designing the future for my kid? 

Q. Has there been a shift in how you think about leadership? 

A. I’m more self-aware as a leader. Much like with my child, my team sees what I’m doing and how I react to and speak about things. I feel the importance of projecting and leading by example. I have a high standard, and that’s how I primarily used to lead: “This is an example of the quality of work we really need to aim for.” But now I realize it’s just as important to lead by showing the other things that make your career fulfilling and make you a good teammate.

Q. You do a lot of public talks and you teach, all as you’ve just gone through a transition. What is it like to share your experiences as you find that new voice?

A. You learn by doing. I could think and theorize all I want, but I’m learning more about myself, through experiences like this, talking to you. I don’t know how I feel about it until I talk about it. It’s going through these experiences that is helping me understand where I want to be. 

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

 

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