I Call That Art.
Spent the last week in Kaua'i. Rough life, I know. It was nothing short of heavenly. This being my first trip to that anomalous paradise we call the 50th state of the union, I had day-dreamy expectations at least 20 years in the making and wasn't sure the real thing would measure up...It did. But flipping through a magazine on the flight home (from LA, not Kaua'i--spent that one crashed out across a whole row of empty seats) enjoying the ramblings of my internal ad critic, I realized that particular voice sounded oddly unfamiliar. Scanning back in wonderment over the preceding 6 days, I realized I couldn't recall a single piece of paid advertising from the entire trip.
Typically, at least one shows up in my mental highlight reel of the vacation, but even racking my brain, I couldn't think of a single impression. I hadn't turned on the TV, listened to the radio, gone online, opened a magazine or (gulp) driven past a billboard in 6 whole days! (figure there's got to be a law on the billboard thing--who wouldn't want to put one up in the Mecca of US tourism?)
The second realization, almost paradoxial at first, was that I felt strangely inspired...creative...energized. Something in the plumeria-scented breeze, the crashing waves, the searing sunsets had driven me to be a better designer, a better communicator.
Perhaps there's more than one way to go back to the source material.