Monday proved to be a good start to a new year in business. I was again reminded of why I love working and living in this humble little city. We had just thawed out from what was an unusually white holiday break. The kids had tacked on a few days to their already long vacation and I got the sense that folks were more than a little itchy to get back to work. Among other things to look forward to, 2009 marked what will be a new federal administration, and at least for the folks who I chose to spend time with, that's reason enough to be optimistic. Fact is, for our firm, business was way down last year. That was due to many complex factors but the general view of the economy certainly didn't assist in loosening the purse strings attached to brand development. It's overly simplistic to lay blame on outside forces, but this economy is larger than a few guys (and a girl) working out of a small design studio in Portland, Oregon.
The day started with a sense of ordered measure. I was alone in the office (Conahan was designing a new skate park and McIsaac had his jetset on, spending at least part of his holiday New York trip with friends of the studio, Hal Wolverton and Alicia Johnson). Lisa was at Forest Park Conservancy and I was accompanied by nothing more than a quiet phone and a satchel of trip hop cuts that I had compiled during the break. It seemed that everyone—clients, neighbors, partners—were engaged in a collective inhale that occurs just prior to jumping in headlong.
A look back on the year had me wondering whether I had spent too much investing in the social networks. We had dedicated our downtime to building the studio infrastructure. Beyond the physical and fiscal groundworks, the Web site had undergone big changes and we had become involved with LinkedIn, Twitter and Facebook, not to mention more personal associations with AIGA, AMA, and a few other opportunities to do more talk than work. The bigger question lurking was whether we were talking to the most appropriate people. I had the sense that we were indeed building something of value and yet I also felt that many of our newer relationships were not in client-making, but rather in reaching out to potential competitors, possible colleagues, and a few hangers-on. I wondered whether we were addressing our target or simply stroking our collective egos.
As the day moved on, I gathered speed. The general composition of the works in front of me were taking shape and the moves became easier. I took part in a meeting for a client project that I was enthused about. All the while, I was anticipating two gatherings later that day. One would take the temperature of our "creative community" and the other would take the pulse of our city at large. Both were a result—whether directly or not—of those earlier social networks that seemed ever-so-fleeting. What I didn't foresee was how closely the two events were to be linked.
The early afternoon gathering was a much-delayed assembly of small business owners, most of whom were at least loosely aligned with the design industry. The delays had been caused by the weather, rather than by people who were "just too busy" or those overly concerned about sharing trade secrets with folks likely vying for the same small pool of business. Nope. These were folks just like us; interested in furthering their business efforts but more importantly, injecting some energy and ethics into the creative community. The convocation included Stacy Westbrook and Catherine Verghen of Happy Inc. and David Lowe-Rogstad and Stephen Landau of Substance, Martha Brooke of Interaction Metrics, and Kate Ertmann of ADi. (Agency owner Rich Bruer and Katherine Gray of The New Civilization were missing pieces.) The conversation was loose and with no formal agenda. Talk turned from "what's happening" in the community to discussing the design of events and gatherings of real meaning. We talked about our professional associations and our responsibilities to become a part of the establishment or to build anew, and from the ground up. We discussed the importance of teaching—of giving back—and the ins-and-outs of client relationships. It reminded me that people here consider before they do. And their core interests aren't necessarily focused on how to cash out as quickly as possible but rather to ensure that their contributions in business are meaningful beyond the purses and quarterly whims and wiggles of the client.
From there, we headed to the inaugural of Portland's Sam Adams, the promised "mayor of everybody." We had received the invite from our friend Jennifer Yocom, who has been tapped to handle arts and culture for the new administration. It would be safe to suggest that the event was unlike any other mayoral proceeding that I can call to mind. Who else rings in his administration with Pink Martini's Thomas Lauderdale, March Fourth Marching Band, Batty's Hippodrome, and Trash Can Joe? More than statement, it demonstrated how people of all types and talents must work together again in getting the real work done. The takeaway was that creative services and "green" energy would define the future design of the city. I was pleased that two entirely separate meetings centered on the same central issues. I was unabashedly proud to be a part of a creative industry hell-bent on giving equal credence to working on doing good while doing well. I was humbled and thankful to be part of a city government that recognizes that design requires more than a logo and a slogan can provide. So while my pocketbook has not illustrated as much of late, I remembered that people toil their entire lives to live and work in a city such as Portland during times like these. And I was already here.