Research that Matters
Article by Portfolio Center design student Claire Whitehead
I recently read a magazine article about defining the perception of home (“Where’s Home?” in the May 2008 issue of Metropolis Magazine). Branding consultant, design critic, and the writer of said article, Natalia Ilyin, explains, “Upheaval is one thing most Americans have in common. And since it is a common bond, we’ve enshrined it. We view constant change as a pure good, as a promise and a possibility.”
It immediately triggered my thoughts of the coming year, my 2nd and final year at Portfolio Center, and how my home will once again become something new. What and where is home, and how do I categorize and define it? In between my minor panic moments about whether or not I'll land that amazing dream job after graduation, I’ve decided to try and think about my next move on a more basic level. I am going to try my hardest to push aside the glamorous, glittering stats of the companies I visit for just a moment. Not just look at the art on the wall, or peruse the client list, but feel what it is like to exist there. To call this city, this building, this room, this feeling, my personal and professional home. I am all too aware that I won’t have the luxury to choose my next move on these intangibles, but I see it as a new strategy for me to really begin to understand what each employee, employer and environment has to offer.
Over this summer break, I had the opportunity to try out this holistic approach when I traveled to Seattle, Washington and visited Hornall Anderson Design Works. Admittedly, my experiment was difficult from the start, as I was graciously welcomed by designer and PC alum Yumi Suda into the modern, new, open two-floor space that Hornall Anderson calls home in Pioneer Square, downtown. And of course that welcome included a hallway featuring their latest logo and packaging work, alongside a production and prototype station, which then lead to a small cafeteria break room offering a row of draft beers on tap. Yeah, I could get used to this.
But then I forced myself to look beyond that. The people in the office were quietly but spiritedly talking. I don’t think I saw a single person working alone. One floor was reserved entirely for designers, and there were no full walls separating them. The other floor housed the strategists and the production team, who gathered in various meeting spaces to discuss ideas and receive assignments. Yumi explained the job duties of each department and how their projects are delegated. Her description made the 140-person firm sound like a small boutique design group. Out the window was a view of the Puget Sound with Olympic National Park in the distance. Stepping outside after the tour, I kept walking. Pioneer Square marks the place where Seattle was founded in 1852. The neighborhood is full of history, surrounded by skyscrapers and bordered by saltwater. I found Elliott Bay Book company, where I could one day buy a copy of the Print Regional Design Annual, and Zeitgeist Coffee, where I can get my triple iced Americanos.
Was I looking for a fresh start, the dream Ilyin describes as “the one that our American rootlessness promises of self-transformation through change of place?” Or could I truly see myself at Hornall Anderson a year from now? I think so. And I hope that I can continue to approach next year’s job search as more than a career launch or a decisive end to student loans. Idealistic as it sounds, there’s nothing wrong with looking for a job that feels like home.
