#ils has something to prove and decides to keep going instead of returning home

[rivilu]

In other news I have been drawing my oldest surviving ocs this past couple days

I hate them <3

[gwynne-fics]

Pictures -- Eun-Sang

mending

Eun-Sang quietly knocked on Rachel’s bedroom door and waited for her to invite her in. Rachel smiled and tilted her head. “I see you’ve come up for air. Hye-Rim keeps giggling whenever the plants in here burst into flower. She can’t see that far but she’s still aware of it.”

“I’m not ashamed,” Eun-Sang stuck her tongue out at her before she bit her lip and looked down at her cream pantsuit and red blouse. “Is what I’m wearing okay? I saw that you stuck this in my closet and…I mean, it’s a bolder choice than I’m used to…”

“I thought about putting you in a skirt but you don’t favor them unless you are getting extra fancy. You are a plant goddess. Most plants have pretty colors for their flowers. Red is your color. You’re the embodiment of spring and summer, whereas I am a fall and winter. That’s why Bo-Na’s pink looked awful on me. You not only look lovely, but professional. Did you look through the packet Kang Ji-Hyuk gave you? Do you need help understanding the finer points?”

“Young-Do walked through them with me. I’m a little jealous of how hard President Lee worked to make sure you two prepared to take over your respective companies. You had internships and your time at the university level was spent learning business. I have none of that. I just wanted to cultivate a functional garden. I didn’t even work on learning how to design it. My healing…it’s all instinctual. Healing is so rare, so it’s not like I can put out an advertisement for it.”

“You’re going to have to push for her to teach you. And if she won’t, then maybe start a distance nurse’s program while you travel.”

“Thank you. I…I feel so out of control when I think about the future and what I want. It really comes back to growing a functional garden with Young-Do and our children. You have such a knack for untangling my feelings.”

Rachel smiled and placed a dozing Hye-Rim back in her bassinet. “We are going to miss you. I don’t for a moment believe that she’ll be able to convince you not to return to us. I will send you pictures of Hye-Rim every day.” Eun-Sang drew her into a tight hug.

“Are you going to his trial next week?”

The sadness surrounding Rachel cut into her heart deeply. Yes, Eun-Sang had healed the infection but her heart was still broken and it left her vulnerable. What if the infection returned while Eun-Sang was gone? “I need to go. Young-Do needs to see it.”

“What does that mean?”

“We made a deal. Our words were flippant and we were fighting. Hyo-Shin has to protect me and can’t implicate me in any of the deals or else, Young-Do will kill him.”

Eun-Sang’s heart leapt to her throat. “No. You might have a broken deal if—“

“It will never come to that,” Rachel reassured her. “Hyo-Shin will protect me. I’m not in any danger. But—“

“No. Undo it.” Eun-Sang turned around and stalked out into the living room. Young-Do was not prepared for her to walk up to him and poke him in the chest. “We just saw what happened when Lee Chan-Hyuk broke a deal with Yoo Kyung-Ran. His eyeballs melted and his heart stopped. Figure out how to stop the deal. If Hyo-Shin betrays her—“

“I will deal him. That’s what I agreed to do.”

“Hye-Rim will lose her father! Rachel—“

“Will be better off without him.” Young-Do’s eyes went red for a brief moment and his aura clashed against her skin. She burned it off of her before he could pull it back. Hye-Rim woke up and started crying. Young-Do looked away from Eun-Sang and met Rachel’s eyes. “I’m sorry. But that’s how I feel. You agreed to the deal because you believe there is no way he will hurt you or Hye-Rim. I agreed because I believe he will fail and I want him dead. Esther didn’t take that away. I don’t need to hate him to want him gone, Rachel.”

“If you deal him, you will lose me forever.”

“I know.”

The angry glares between them held for nearly a minute and it made Eun-Sang want to cry. She was not ready for them to get into a fight during her last few days at home.

“You woke her up. You put her back down,” Rachel said and went into her office just Eun-Sang’s phone beeped. She pulled it out to try to deflect the tension. The car to take her to the board meeting was here. The elevator dinged and she saw Go Nam-Il ready to accompany her. Eun-Sang looked up at Young-Do and didn’t know what to say as she tugged at his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he pulled his hand away. At least he didn’t withdraw for long. He cupped her cheek and kissed her. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Good luck. I’ll be waiting with bated breath until you come home.”

She kissed him back and went to her first company meeting with Go Nam-Il. He escorted her inside and security did not question his presence. Director Kang Ji-Hyuk met her at the elevator with his too benign smile.

Eun-Sang worried about him. Being torn between her mother and President Lee could not be easy but she knew this man had both women’s absolute trust. Go Nam-Il followed in their wake as they were lead to the conference room. Her seat had her name on a placard and she was grateful she wasn’t put anywhere important or that would draw attention to herself.

Instead, she focused on the agenda and accompanying materials while waiting for everyone else to get seated. She ignored the whispers and wasn’t comfortable when Mama started the meeting by introducing her.

My daughter, Cha Eun-Sang, is here today. She’s agreed to join me on my next round of inspections. Please make yourself available to her if she has any questions about your projects.

“Yes, President Park,” echoed around the room. Eun-Sang tried to read the room around her. It looked ready to…crumble. No one here was particularly strong or weak mentally. She blinked when she realized that Mama surrounded herself with mediocrity. The only person who appeared to be of any value was Kang Ji-Hyuk.

He led the meeting for Mama and for all Eun-Sang could see, he was good at it and had the respect of everyone. More so than Mama did. It made her cranky because it had to do with the fact she was a woman and that wasn’t fair. Mama’s less desirable traits had nothing to do with her femininity. If she were a man, they would respect her.

So Eun-Sang decided to speak during one project director’s report. If they wanted a President they could control, it was not going to be her. “Excuse me,” the room looked at her in shock. “Are you saying that you’re selling altered seeds that are for one use only to famine pockets? It’s a famine. If we make flood resistant rice, they should be able to use it after they pay for it. The cost here already exceeds their means. Are we making money off of desperate people?”

Mama and Kang Ji-Hyuk smirked, just slightly, as if she’d done exactly what they wanted her to do. She curled her fingers into her pants and tried not to show her anger but Mama jutted her chin at the plants behind her.

“This is how we maintain control over our intellectual property—“

“Then make it cheaper. If they have to buy it every year, put the price point at something affordable. What’s the point of getting them out of a famine if we leave them in poverty. That hurts the global economy.” She wrote an essay on it in college. Her capitalist teacher thought she was crazy and a radical. “Our profit margins are huge. Director Byun just listed them off. If we’re worried about loss, then maybe we should reinvest that into the company and employees instead of taking bonuses we don’t need.”

I forgot to mention, Mama said lazily, Eun-Sang wrote a proposal on how to restructure Park Botanicals into something resembling a non-profit when she was fifteen. It’s quite good and well researched. I’ll make it available.

Several people paled and Eun-Sang shot Mama look just to have her smile sweetly at her. The person trying to justify poverty and starvation continued to push back. “That just isn’t feasible. Not after centuries of work from your ancestors to make sure the world doesn’t take advantage of your abilities. You cannot heal the whole world.”

Eun-Sang bit her tongue. Mama caught her Watch me even though she did it out of view of most everyone in the room. “Prove to me the company will collapse if we combat famine and I’ll believe it isn’t feasible.”

“It is easy to talk about money you don’t need when you married to the Death Dealer of Seoul who also happens to be a hotel chaebol.” Eun-Sang couldn’t tell which man muttered it. She had too many options. Mama knew though. Mama always knew.

Mama tensed and her face went hot. That is not a permanent relationship. I have made my feelings on their relationship clear. Eun-Sang will eventually see the futility of marrying a man who cannot give her a child for the Seed Vault after she shadows me this year. But, by all means, make her cranky at you. Look at the floral arrangement behind her.

Eun-Sang flushed and tried not to be too embarrassed as she apologized to the ornamental orchid with five new branches and twice as many flowers. She cleared her throat and tried for something diplomatic. “My husband’s accounts are separate from mine. He’s not the terror or monster you’ve been lead to believe. Zeus hotels reinvests in itself. It isn’t a bad model.”

A man snorted but it was too quiet for Eun-Sang to guess who had done it. Kang Ji-Hyuk used it to bring the meeting back on track. It was a long meeting and Eun-Sang didn’t speak up again. Her interpreter made sure to catch Eun-Sang before she left with Go Nam-Il. “Your mother would like to have drinks with you in her office before you return to…your husband.”

“What word did she actually use?”

“Dungeon.”

“Wonderful,” Eun-Sang muttered but followed her anyway. Eun-Sang went into the office by herself and tried not to clench her hands into fists. “I wish you wouldn’t tell them I’m headed for a divorce. I love Young-Do. He will be able to give me a child. We will figure it out.”

You did well in there. You showed them something unexpected. Mama ignored her declaration. Eun-Sang crossed her arms over her stomach and looked away from her.

“I wasn’t trying to do well. You know how much I care about not being like those other companies that charge obscene amounts of money to farmers. GMOs aren’t inherently bad until we make them cost prohibitive for average farmers. We don’t lose money if they only buy one season’s worth of seeds. Genetically altering seeds to produce product that can’t be regrown is greedy and wrong. We should shut that division down. Is that who snorted at me?”

Yes. Your ideas are too radical. You will have to implement them slowly. Eun-Sang made a face and took the water bottle Mama handed her. I’ve set up to have the company pay you during this exercise. Yoo-Ra has our itinerary. She is coming with us but I will use you as my translator. You speak more languages than she does and I trust your abilities more than hers. I will rely on you completely.

“Omma…”

I do not want to admit it, but Esther was right. I have neglected parts of your education when it comes to the company. Your raw ability to heal is…you should not have been able to fix that monstrosity you’re fucking, Eun-Sang. You saw what I did to him. I cannot curb your power so I must teach you how to use it properly. It was easier when you understood I only want the best for you.

“Young-Do is the best for me. He’s waiting for me. I will meet you at the airport in a week. Thank you for waiting until Bo-Na is married.” Eun-Sang bowed and left Mama’s office. Go Nam-Il waited for her and immediately fell into step behind her as they went to the car. Part of her wondered if Mama would’ve tried to keep her if she hadn’t brought a bodyguard.

[raystart]

Firing Your Most Lucrative Client, and Eight Other Crazy Career Changes That Were Ultimately Great Moves

When you launched your creative career, you may have pictured a series of razor-sharp lines leading from one position to the next—a sequence of steps moving irreversibly onward and upward. For most of us, that career path is less like a staircase and more like a hiking trail, twisting and turning organically, and even branching out unexpectedly.

No doubt, change can be terrifying, but sometimes it’s a little less terrifying than the prospect of staying on the same path you’ve been on for years. The next time you’re considering a new direction, keep stories from these nine creative leaders in mind.

Carve out time for yourself. Kim Knoll and Kyle Eertmoed, partners, Knoed, Chicago, IL

Last year was Knoed’s fifth year in business and one of our most humbling. As a husband-and-wife agency of two, we’ve always prided ourselves on our ability to juggle a lot. And we appeared to have it all—a steady stream of work, good clients, prestigious awards, and active involvement in the creative community.

But behind the scenes, we were slowly suffocating ourselves, working weekends, eating dinners at 10 p.m., and waking up in the middle of the night worried about deadlines. We didn’t realize how much it was affecting us until Kyle (a fit 36-year-old) returned from the doctor with a prescription for blood-pressure medication and a stern warning to make some lifestyle changes.

Leading into 2017, we shifted our perspective away from what we thought we were supposed to do to what we needed to do. After four years of leading the Chicago chapter of CreativeMornings (a monthly lecture series), we handed the reins to a new organizer. We said goodbye to a lucrative catalog client and the thousands of dollars that came with it. We even suggested that one of our favorite clients hire another illustrator to take over our work.

Flash forward six months: Freeing up that space has allowed us to do more of what we love, with some downtime built in. We brought in two new clients with branding needs, and one of our favorite long-time clients agreed to a monthly retainer—a move that would have been impossible with our previous workload. And the new arrangement with the illustrator is working out great. For the first time in years, we were able to take a three-week vacation, renting a campervan from Denver to San Diego and hiking in national parks all along the way. It was heaven.

In the end, we’ve learned that adding “health” and “happiness” to our client roster is important, and sometimes making a big shift is worth it—even if it’s a little scary in the beginning.

Listen to your own voice. Glen Hilzinger, SVP, integrated group creative director, Leo Burnett, Detroit

Four years of design school taught me one thing: I wasn’t a good designer. Or at least, not as good as I wanted to be. Though my design work was generally well received by others, I was never happy with it. I was my toughest critic.

After a few years at a small design shop, I found myself doing much of my own copywriting. And I found myself enjoying it more than design. Scraping together some writing samples, I landed a junior copywriter job at J. Walter Thompson. My first assignment? A radio spot. Yes, the quintessential copywriter’s assignment. Never mind that I’d never written one before. It was, I felt, the perfect opportunity to prove to myself why I gave up my life as a designer.

Sooner than I would have liked, it was time to present to the executive creative director, a middle-aged man whose three-piece suits underscored his austere, prickly manner. As I stepped into his stark corner office with several other writers, he gestured to a small table that sat beneath a signed portrait of Pat Buchanan hanging on otherwise blank walls. When my turn came, I gave it everything I had, character voices and all. I finished presenting my script, anxious for a reaction. Quietly, the ECD reached across the table, grabbed the script from my hands and slowly wiped his butt with it. Without so much as a smirk, he handed it back to me saying to the group, “Next.”

Surprisingly, even though my first radio script had just been summarily reduced to toilet paper, I wasn’t crushed. Instead, I was eager to get started on a new one.

And that’s when I knew I was meant to be a copywriter. I enjoyed the craft of writing enough that it didn’t matter how tough the critic was.

Honor the work—even if it means butting heads with the client. Jonden Jackson, co-owner, senior designer, Forefathers Group, Tulsa

For nearly two years, our small agency had tried every method possible when handling clients’ requests for design revisions. From an open-door policy that allowed any revision they wanted (worst idea ever) to additional hourly billing (never fun), all the way down to a limited number of revisions allowed for the project. And guess what? It rarely, if ever, improved project results.

Finally, in the Summer of 2016, we wrote The Declaration—an eBook that we share with all of our clients before we begin working together, which explains our design process and our decision to refuse any revisions that don’t serve the greater good of the project.

It was a risky move, to be certain, but it was one we fully believed in. Forefathers was built on the idea of taking big risks to get to where we want to be, and it was important for us to keep taking big risks to continue growing and learning. And that means pushing our own boundaries to get the best results for our clients.

The Declaration has completely transformed how we work, and has helped bring order to the results-driven design that we pride ourselves on.

We firmly believe that guiding clients to think in terms of results and urging them to ask themselves, “Will this revision improve a user’s experience with my business?” gets them more deeply involved in the design process and helps them start thinking more like their customers.

Be willing to walk away from something good, for the chance to launch something even better. Claudia de Almeida, principal and creative director, o Banquinho (The Tiny Bank) San Francisco

In 2013, I finally landed my dream job: WIRED Magazine. I honestly thought I would be there for 10 years; after all, the content was amazing, and the opportunity to do great design felt limitless. It was immensely gratifying to bring stories to life with the help of editors, writers, photographers, illustrators, type designers, and letterers—being an art director felt like coaching an all-star team.

But things don’t always goes as you plan. I stayed at WIRED for close to two years and made wonderful friends and work that I am proud of. But when you work for a company, there are things that you cannot control. Change is often good, but sometimes it can be disruptive; ultimately you need to decide if you’re still having fun and doing your best work. I decided to move on.

The demanding deadlines at WIRED made it nearly impossible to plan my next step, so I just left, and figured I would find my way. My good friend Carl de Torres told me to establish myself as a brain + hands: “Let people know you’re a contractor, consultant and a maker.” When you work for yourself, people often assume that you’re just a pair of hands. So I teamed up with my WIRED colleague and pal, Margaret Swart, and we launched a studio as a way to protect ourselves.

I now do all kinds of projects. From consulting to magazine redesigns, logos, type audits, teaching, and sometimes in house work with agencies and companies. I definitely have a long-term plan for my career, but I’ve learned to be flexible.

You don’t need to rush to get to your ultimate goal (and truth is, that goal might change, because life is unpredictable).

For now, I’m most interested in making great stuff. Using the skills I learned from all the amazing people I had the opportunity to work with; eventually, I’ll get where I am going. I think of my career very much like a design project: It’s a process, and you need to learn to love the process.

Pour your passion into self-initiated projects. Claire Dawson, co-founder, creative director, Underline Studio, Toronto

Back in 2014, our studio was doing well—we had great clients, challenging projects, and a solid team—but we felt a lack of energy and enthusiasm. Creatively, we needed more experimentation and more collaboration.

We realized the solution wasn’t about changing anything, but simply adding to our work through more self-initiated projects.

For our first project, we designed team posters for the 2014 FIFA World Cup, debuting one as each country played its first game. Everyone in the studio participated, designing 16 different posters that were sold online and at an event in a Toronto bar where we celebrated the end of the campaign. Sales of the posters covered some of our costs, but, more importantly, the project energized the studio in a big way. We had no intention of influencing future work or connecting with new clients, but somehow we did.

Months after the campaign launched, Google’s head of marketing in Canada reached out to us, told us he loved the posters, and asked us to design a lookbook celebrating the creators of Youtube—the first of several projects we’ve completed for the brand.

We continued the initiative with two more poster series, and then we decided to make an impact in a more meaningful way: We designed a newspaper series to commemorate the victims of massacres that took place during the civil war in El Salvador, the original home of my co-founder. A corresponding Kickstarter campaign successfully raised $16,000 for Pro-Búsqueda, a Salvadoran human rights group that searches for children who disappeared during the conflicts, from 1979 to 1992. It’s been a wonderful way to collaborate with poets, writers, artists and photographers to support a cause we believe in—and we’re just getting started.

Showcase the type of work that you really want to do—and get rid of everything else. Justin Mezzell, UI/UX designer, Pluralsight, Salt Lake City

A few years out of school at the University of Central Florida, and fresh off a failed startup in New York, I returned to Orlando and found myself feeling directionless. Although I’d dabbled in illustration while putting myself through college—doing work for friends, family and the occasional church or nonprofit—I had no real experience within the larger design community. I was fortunate enough to land a gig at a small agency focused on branding and more traditional marketing initiatives, but the job wasn’t terribly inspiring. I found myself returning to the blank Illustrator canvas in the crevices between work and the demands of daily life, but I wasn’t sure how to pivot to another career path.

Things started to fall into place when I realized that being unknown meant I could become whoever I wanted to be. If no one was going to ask me to produce the work I wanted to do, I’d do it myself and hope the clients followed.

I created a new portfolio with a focus on illustration, and removed the work that I didn’t want to do anymore (mostly print, branding, and marketing collateral). Every morning, I woke up and produced new work before heading to my day job; that pattern helped me establish a new rhythm.

Over time, the requests began rolling in. A trickle of inquiries eventually became a steady flow, allowing me to leave my day job and dive into the world of freelance illustration with both feet. As time went on, I had the opportunity to apply my illustration skills to UI design, and I fell in love with the interdisciplinary approach that combines illustration, layout, brand, and traditional design principles. That eventually led to a full-time gig at Code School (now Pluralsight) and a healthy dose of freelance illustration on the side.

If the people around you aren’t on the same page, turn the page. Matt Wegerer, owner, creative director, Whiskey Design, Kansas City, MO

I love the creative industry. We get to cook with art, commerce, data, bravery, and showmanship, and watch it congeal into a crazy pile of weirdness and (hopefully) success.

But after a few years as a senior art director at a small agency, my excitement was waning. The reason? I’d been busting my ass to produce work that was unique, attention-getting and smart, but too often I would hear, “What if this scares the client?” or, “How could we ever pull this off?” or the dreaded, “I don’t feel that this represents our agency’s core values.”

I saw dozens of great ideas smothered by a mound of fear, laziness, and a peculiar need to worship a list of words on a wall—none of which said, “Do great work.”

Moments like this made me go on my own in 2009. Yes, that 2009—the one with the Great Recession making everything shitty. I knew I had enough freelance work to keep me busy for a year—a year where I could work on exciting projects with smart and ballsy clients. Don’t get me wrong; it was scary. I was giving up a solid paycheck in the middle of the worst financial crises in 50 years. But at the end of the day, I was more sickened by the idea of another year of unsatisfying work than the possibility of failure.

That one year has now stretched into eight. Whiskey Design’s roster of clients is diverse, and every day our clients challenge us to make amazing stuff. And, maybe most important, we’ve become a shop where other crazy-ass designers want to be. Now I work side by side with a small collection of creatives whom I would take into battle against anyone. And at the end of the day, I hope they all know that mediocre excuses for mediocre work will never have a home at Whiskey, as long as blood and bourbon are pumping through my veins.

Team up with a partner who complements your strengths. Eli Horn, partner, Fivethousand Fingers, Montreal

I’d always wanted to work for myself. I started freelancing in school and tried to keep it up following graduation. My design studies included a business class, but for a young designer more inclined towards painting than entrepreneurship, I had no clear path to starting out on my own.

It took me a year to realize how arduous and lonely freelancing can be; while I managed to get gigs, learning how to maintain client relationships and ensuring that I got paid was a full-time job, in addition to doing design work I was proud of.

Lexane Rousseau, a friend I’d met while studying at Vancouver’s Capilano University, had similar sentiments as she went in and out of agency positions and pursued her own freelance work. Eventually, we started bringing one another into our projects, and learned how to collaborate; when there is no hierarchy or defined positions, it’s up to each person to check their ego, discover how to give and take criticism, and make sure the work is fun and inspiring.

After a few false starts, quickly abandoned names (and business cards), and misguided positioning (limiting ourselves to progressive clients didn’t quite pay the bills), we picked a direction, stuck with it, and began to work together in earnest. The benefits were immediate: Representing ourselves as a larger entity instilled more trust in potential clients, and our individual strengths and weaknesses were balanced—Lexane now focuses on strategy, communications and client relationships while I excel in web development and more technical work. Most significantly, stresses and successes were shared, and we gained a moral support not possible when working alone.

We’re constantly adjusting our direction to pursue new goals, but that evolution from two freelancers to one design studio is well behind us. It was a gradual change, but the most consequential of my career.

Recognize when it’s time to move on to the next big thing. Emily Sander, advertising department chair, SCAD, Savannah, GA

After more than a decade of hustling through the halls of advertising agencies, working my way up from a junior copywriter to a creative director, there was one question I couldn’t shake: Now what? Armed with a desire to do something more meaningful with my life, I left the world of Brooklyn brownstones for the world of academia in Savannah, Georgia. My new clients were college students, and my new challenge was to help them realize their future.

My focus shifted from creating brand stories to instructing others on how to do the same—a task that proved to be surprisingly difficult.

For so many years, I was caught up in the sheer act of doing, and I never stopped to consider how one actually does.

When I recognized that my ability (or inability) to break through to my young audience could reverberate through our industry for years, I gained a deeper appreciation for every teacher I’d ever had. So I started with the 30,000-foot perspective of a creative director, and tried to see the work from 30,000 feet higher. I spent hours reading materials about the processes I had unwittingly employed for years. I formulated my own charts and graphs and templates to breakdown the lessons I’d learned while sweating every detail of million-dollar ad campaigns. But compared to the seasoned professors who had crafted lectures and moved about the world of academia with precise choreography, I was deeply behind in a new role that left little room for failure.

I scrambled to keep up. I lectured, graded, learned, advised, wrote, and analyzed. On the last day of class, a student approached me, and, reaffirmed my decision, with the smallest gesture: He simply thanked me for leaving NYC to become a teacher. Looking at him, I saw what I had been missing from the most successful campaigns and client meetings. I experienced my direct impact on one person’s life—not his buying habits, hashtag sharing, or general viewing pleasure, but something much more meaningful.