Making Things Stick

Mike Ditka and Clint deliver stickers and postcards on a sunny Saturday.

You can’t know it all, and you can’t do it all. This seems to be the rule, and one of the things that frustrates us most about ourselves.

The other night I was washing dishes and heard a “knock, knock” at the back door. It was gentle and polite knock, but because no one ever knocks on our back door, I assumed it was just wind-blown debris hitting the back door. When I was drying a bowl a few minutes later, I heard it again. It was definitely a knock. It was not frantic or overly loud. It was perfectly polite. I went to the back door and looked out. I immediately didn’t see anyone, so I opened the door. There Mike Ditka sat patiently waiting for me and gazing at the stars. I said, “oh hey, Mike, come on in!” He looked up at me like he was proud of himself. I was proud of him too. He found a way to get my attention without scratching at the door or being overly dramatic. I gave him a biscuit.

A few months ago, I decided that I would try to learn a basic digital illustration app. I tried at home, spending a few frustrated hours with it. Then I began watching videos and reading tips online. I struggled along the best I could but was not seeing any progress. I tried to stay positive, but I was starting to feel defeated. Then I saw an advertisement for an upcoming class taught by an artist that I had met a few times. The class was going to be a space I knew well. It was an evening class that was perfect for my schedule. Everything seemed to be lining up.

The night of the class, I had my tablet charged and arrived a few minutes early. The room was quite full, and I recognized a few faces. Then it occurred to me, “these faces belong to people who are far more computer literate than me.” I started feeling a little insecure, but I knew if I wanted to get the most out of this class that I was going to have ask questions. The whole thing suddenly felt like it had the potential to get embarassing. The class started, and the artist was funny. He put everyone at ease. I was doing great following along for about 19 minutes. Then I found myself looking at the projection screen, my tablet, the busy hands belonging to everyone else at the table, all the faces seemingly nodding along in recognition with what the artist was saying. My heart began to beat faster and I was starting to feel my pulse in my head. In order to not fall further behind, I was going to have to ask a question. I raised my hand and tried to ask my question in a way that sounded way more self-secure than I was actually feeling. And do you know what? It was all okay. Everyone in the class was supportive, and the artist was so friendly and cool in his explanation. After that, the minutes flew by. I had to ask another question or two to keep up, but I wasn’t the only one. I went home that night and spent another couple hours trying things in the program based on what we had learned. The following days I sent messages to a few artists I knew that were very fluent with the app. They gave tips and recommended using tools in different ways. I understood what they were saying too! I asked for reviews of what I was doing, like a kid getting a classmate to check their homework. Within a couple weeks, I was sending designs to be printed as stickers. I was learning, and most of all I was having fun, actual fun, awkwardly stumbling along in the learning process.

I reckon Mike Ditka watched me stumble, get frustrated, and then move forward. I am sure he saw me grumble at setbacks and then smile in the successes. I probably shouldn’t take credit for it, but I think I may have inspired him to learn how to knock at the door.

There is a saying about how you can’t teach an old dog a new trick, but I think that is incorrect. I know an old dog who may be the world’s politest door-knocker, and another old dog who is having a blast designing silly stickers.

Here are some recent stickers and postcards created by stumbling along with digital illustration.