The Good, the Bad, and the Indie
English on a rest stop in near Monterey, Mexico, where he used to teach. He commuted regularly between his home base in Austin to visit his students.
Name
Marc English
Age
62
Location
Spruce Head, Maine
Wimberley, Texas
Occupation
Designer, Teacher, Adventurer
Education
Massachusetts College of Art & Design, BFA
Photograph by Dan Winters
When did you go solo and why?
It was January 20, 1993. I went solo because there seemed to be no viable alternatives at the time. I hated the in-house gig I had with the local Boston ABC-TV affiliate (four years was three years too long), and the folks I wanted to work for were not hiring. By then I’d been in the field seven years and had crossed paths with several folks across the country, thanks to my AIGA affiliation, and figured if they could do it, so could I.
What inspired the adventure?
The studios I wanted to work for were not hiring —or at least not hiring me. I had suffered through four years of being in-house at a TV station. Television is fine if you want a career in motion graphics or on-air, but I wanted neither. Simultaneously, I was meeting any number of folks with their own studios, thanks to the AIGA. I felt that my work was better than many of them. What I didn’t recognize is that I’d also have to become a salesman — or have someone fill that role. I hate sales, selling myself. I learned that a wee bit too late. So I emptied my 401k and bought my first computer.
Describe a typical day.
These days, after more than 30 years in business, and having my own name on the door since ’93, my focus has shifted. Yes, I’ll still take on a worthy design project, but am loathe to take on a project that I don’t have a personal interest in.
I’m currently in the process of working on the home I bought in Texas a year ago, and the one I inherited in Maine at the beginning of this year. Which means a lot of interior and exterior painting — sort of ironic, too, because back before art and design school, I was a paint contractor by day and playing in punk rock bands by night. So now I’m back applying those old skills, along with a career in design.
I hope that by the end of this year I’ll have created two settings from which I can write and paint.
What’s the best project you’ve ever had?
That’s a toss-up. Rebranding the University of Texas School of Architecture was a wonderful, all-around experience. And that project came from doing more than a decade’s worth of pro bono work for the Austin Film Society and Austin Studios, where there were no creative shackles. The AFS work lead to my being offered work for The Criterion Collection, which was also a wonderful project. It was the perfect crossroads of art and commerce. Those projects involved packaging, publication design, media design, and more. Very fulfilling.
What’s the hardest conversation you’ve ever had with a client?
Being told we were being stiffed for $50k — after already recieving that much as a retainer — and not being able to collect the balance. It would’ve required legal bills beyond my ability to cover. You can have it in writing, but with certain unscrupulous clients, it matters not.
Is there a psychology to soloing well?
I believe my natural state is one of being worry-free. I’ve had experiences, both personal and professional, that would give others ulcers, the inability to sleep, and some version of anxiety. Ive been told I’m “very resilient.” The ability to buckle down and focus, the will to keep going and understand the ebb and flow of business and life, requires a bit of being cool, calm, collected.
How do you know when to say ‘no’ to a project?
I’ve said no to the KKK. And in retrospect, should have said “yes,” taken their money, and then used that money to out them. They’d asked me to design a catalog of their “costumes.” You’ve got to say “no” when the project violates your principles. When the client is an asshole. When the budget doesn’t justify the efforts. Or a combination of the three.
Your solo life wouldn’t run without these three tools:
Laptop, journal, Sharpie®.
Photograph by Dan Winters
“When I’m not working, like many other designers or artists, I’d guess I’m doing the same as them: observing the world and trying to fathom all the connections.”
Best work habit?
When I get going my tendency is to dig deep, leave no stone unturned, and ask a lot of questions. To my mind that is all part of my one best habit: caring.
Worst work habit?
Saying “yes” far too often, especially when I get back way less than I give. I’ve been a glutton for punishment over the years.
Who else in your life is a soloist?
So many of my friends and colleagues, I wouldn’t know where to start.
Is your family supportive of your solo life?
I’ve been fortunate to have a family that’s always had my back.
Who is your biggest professional inspiration?
I can’t say I’ve had much professional inspiration, in terms of running a business — and that’s what makes you a professional, no? But I have turned to my pal in San Francisco, designer Michael Osborne, over the years. He’s sort of like a big brother. He has seen a lot more of what it takes to run a business and how to do it correctly. Likewise, I often turn to my pal Chuck Anderson in Minneapolis for the same reason: he’s seen it all, done it all. Both have been great friends and wonderful resources. And they’re both happy to share.
What aspect of running a business have you never warmed up to?
The “business” part. The selling. The numbers. I hate business, hate numbers. Call me up, offer me the project, pay a reasonable and appropriate fee, and let’s kick ass and have fun.
What do you do for health insurance?
These days I’m lucky enough just to have it. I went decades without.
What’s the single best piece of advice you’ve received about bookkeeping, pricing and/or marketing?
“Tell them once, tell them twice, and the third time. Take the money.”
English on a trip through Northern Africa
Where do you do your best work?
I’d say most of my best ideas have come well away from any kind of “work” space. It’s just wherever I happen to be while ruminating. Of course, those ideas then only come to life when iterating at the desk.
What do you do on your break time?
A long, long time ago, a former employee told me that of the two things she learned from me, the best was the work/life balance. “Break time” really has no meaning to me. When I’m not working, like many other designers or artists, I’d guess I’m doing the same as them: observing the world and trying to fathom all the connections.
What’s the one thing about your life today that you most treasure that you wouldn’t have if you weren’t soloing?
Professionally speaking, I suppose I’ve earned some kind of respect for the work I do. I’ve been recognized for it — which is no doubt why you are reading these words now. But I can’t say that’s something I “treasure.” I would have to say it has been the cumulative experiences that have added up to allowing me to be the well-rounded, well-educated, well-traveled, well-meaning person I aspired to become when I was first entering awareness of who I was as a teenager.
Do you have a vacation routine? How do you think about time off?
I have no routines, in terms of time off. My time is my own, and I come and go as I see fit. That said, when I do hit the road — which I’d have to say is what I do best — it’s a balance of having done some homework before hand (research, maps), and then, once on the ground, roll with whatever comes up and try to take every detour that comes my way, take every opportunity to get off the beaten path, as it’s always the most interesting and engaging — though maybe not the easiest.
Ever miss the stability of a staff job?
There have been times. It’s usually primarily about financial stability, but it’s also about being part of a larger team. Financial stability allows you a bit of peace of mind. Being part of a team allows for bigger ideas, more ideas.
What keeps you up at night?
Nothing keeps me up at night. I sleep the sleep of the thankful. I sleep the sleep of the justified. I sleep the sleep of those knowing they’ve changed some lives for the better — if you believe what my former students, interns, and employees say.
What advice would you give your 22-year-old self?
When I was 22 I wanted to chuck it all: living in Boston, deciduous trees, speaking a Romance language — and go to North Africa where, to my mind, I could experience the exact opposite of the life I’d always known. It took me another 20 years to get to North Africa.
So I guess I’d say find a way to do it NOW. Go! Throw off the shackles, throw away the possessions, and GO. That clearly would have meant a different path, around which not much other career advice would be applicable. Because a career is secondary to living.
It makes me think of these words from autobiography — Wanderer —of the late actor, sailor Sterling Hayden:
“The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked with dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.
“To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise, you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea... ‘cruising’ it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.
“‘I’ve always wanted to sail to the south seas, but I can't afford it.’ What these men can’t afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of ‘security.’ And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine — and before we know it our lives are gone.
“What does a man need. Really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in — and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That’s all — in the material sense — and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention for the sheer idiocy of the charade.
“The years thunder by, The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.
“Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?”
