The more I think on it, the more my thoughts head to the inevitable conclusion that real design skills are something granted to you by either a higher power, genetic makeup, or sheer luck. More to the point, neither god nor my genes have granted me any worthwhile natural knack for design, and that the only way to obtain such is by having some epiphany involving hitting my head, doing psychadelics, or divine intervention.
I keep hoping that I’ll lay down one night, head full of inspiration that I can do naught with visually, and wake up with a profound understanding of layout, color, and aesthetics that I had lacked the night before. As if the information could sink into my brain by osmosis by laying on the Everest-like mound of design books I’ve purchased and not yet intuited.
What I need is a formula that I can use to plot beauty. Follow a flowchart to design nirvana. If there was just a path I could follow to get out one great intentional design, I’m sure I could replicate the process. I think.
But I’m discovering that there isn’t a process to perfection. You either know the path or you don’t. For some the path is a golden road leading directly to perfection. For others the path is windy and filled with briars, but they get to the end of it. For me, woodland animals laughing at my lack of direction.
I’m not ready to give up just yet, though. I might need to study under a guru (where will I find a master??) for a few years, but I’ll get it. And when I finally do, I’m sure I won’t be able to explain how it works.
