Hey Tony!
Hey Tony!
This is my story of how I became an art director and developed an adrenaline addiction. Five years out of college, I decided to leave a career as a high school art teacher and to make some money. I had a child on the way, lived in New York City, and could no longer support my family on a teacher's salary. I remembered counseling my students against the commercial arts believing it was a sell out. However I was desperate. My portfolio consisted of an art student's frayed zippered bag, some wrinkled figure drawings, and a #10 envelope containing thirty over or underexposed dusty scratched slides of my paintings. No one taught me about presentation in art school. I dragged this portfolio all over town and talked my way into interviews with creative directors and personnel managers at advertising agencies. They thought I was charming, but they had a large pool of well-trained young graphic designers to choose from.
There was an ad in The New York Times classifieds for an Assistant Advertising Manager at a company called Lightolier. I called. Lightolier was located in Jersey City. I lived in New York. There was no way I was going to reverse commute. My concerned wife thought it would be a good idea to get the experience of a genuine interview. I went reluctantly via buses and trains. Lightolier was located in a huge brick factory building of Civil War vintage. It was not my idea of glamour and I knew somewhere in my bones that I would sabotage this interview.
The personnel director gave me a preference test. One of those which would you rather do multiple choice formats. For example and with only a slight exaggeration: Which would you rather do? Eat pizza? Play tennis? Work at Lightolier? The back page was blank except for simple instructions to draw a man and a woman. I saw my opportunity for sabotage. I drew a nude couple standing in an embrace, his penis went through her legs, wrapped around them a few times and turned into a winking serpent. I passed the test paper to the bureaucrat and waited. He told me, "Good answers." Then his face turned from scarlet to purple. When I reckoned it was about to burst, he shouted in a very New Jersey accent, "Hey Tony!"
Tony came running. He passed the test paper to Tony saying, "Hey Tony, huh Tony, heh!" Tony looked at the drawing and shouted, "Bobby com'ere! Hey Bobby!" When Bobby saw my test he shouted for Stewie. Stewie shouted for Abe. Before I knew it, half a dozen men in suits were looking at my test paper excitedly.
Something incredible and transforming happened to me. When people looked at my paintings they would say, "Very nice. Very interesting. Nice colors." This was different. An adrenaline rush raced through my body. It felt great. It was different. I wanted more of it. And I spent the rest of my career as an art director and creative director looking for it. I call it the Hey Tony Response! Oh yeah! I got the job. It lasted about six months. I learned a lot and decided working at an agency might give me more of what I craved. I moved on.
What gives you your Hey Tony's? Can you recall what made you choose to become a creator in the first place? When was the last time you received a Hey Tony!? In what ways do you sabotage your career? Make an entry in your journal. In what ways can you commit your Hey Tony's to creating a new piece of art? Can you visualize a series of life style images of a young man or woman on an interview?
I was able to channel my adrenaline addiction for quite a few years. But the pressure and speed became a habit. It gave me juice, however I became a workaholic. The more I achieved the more I wanted. Remember, speed kills. If one's inner fire is burning all the time at full blast, you will burn out. Sure, I still love my Hey Tony's. But today I look inside and give myself time to reflect, incubate and relax.
Tony came running. He passed the test paper to Tony saying, "Hey Tony, huh Tony, heh!" Tony looked at the drawing and shouted, "Bobby com'ere! Hey Bobby!" When Bobby saw my test he shouted for Stewie. Stewie shouted for Abe. Before I knew it, half a dozen men in suits were looking at my test paper excitedly.
Something incredible and transforming happened to me. When people looked at my paintings they would say, "Very nice. Very interesting. Nice colors." This was different. An adrenaline rush raced through my body. It felt great. It was different. I wanted more of it. And I spent the rest of my career as an art director and creative director looking for it. I call it the Hey Tony Response! Oh yeah! I got the job. It lasted about six months. I learned a lot and decided working at an agency might give me more of what I craved. I moved on.
What gives you your Hey Tony's? Can you recall what made you choose to become a creator in the first place? When was the last time you received a Hey Tony!? In what ways do you sabotage your career? Make an entry in your journal. In what ways can you commit your Hey Tony's to creating a new piece of art? Can you visualize a series of life style images of a young man or woman on an interview?
I was able to channel my adrenaline addiction for quite a few years. But the pressure and speed became a habit. It gave me juice, however I became a workaholic. The more I achieved the more I wanted. Remember, speed kills. If one's inner fire is burning all the time at full blast, you will burn out. Sure, I still love my Hey Tony's. But today I look inside and give myself time to reflect, incubate and relax.