Everyone has ideas. Most of us are fairly average in how we use our minds to generate them. While we think up ideas like anyone else, as artists we have the added ability to show it.

The normal, run-of-the-mill human being can ‘see’ an idea work in their minds, like we do, but they’ve not been trained to make it actually work on paper, or on a screen. It floats in their head while they attempt to express it in words. If they can’t draw it in order to show it, they come to us.

An idea that works so beautifully in the mind doesn’t necessarily work on paper.

This is the classic art director/artist team, working together to create the same idea. Great things have come from this matchup. But if one is not used to making it work on paper, then confusion sets in. What you battle as an image-maker is an understanding of how initial ideas actually work.

An idea that works so beautifully in the mind doesn’t necessarily work on paper. One has to learn how to translate perspective, values, and forms of real objects into two-dimensional descriptions that communicate depth. Sometimes, that just doesn’t work the way a client might want it to. They might refuse to believe it’s not impossible to capture and will swear they ‘see it working!’

It’s true, they can see it. But what they see is not only something three dimensional, but also contains feelings, smells, sounds, emotions, and tastes. Brain scans have shown that memories cause the brain to access areas that are associated with all of our five senses just to create a picture.  We can see designs, patterns, pictures, but they don’t always stay the same because the mind can shift patterns of light on the fly. An idea we ‘saw’ one day may be the same idea the next day, but has evolved, changed however slightly, with all those senses.

What we’re all experiencing at this idea stage is a distortion of time. Time in the mind is not as structured as time in the real world. It doesn’t tick away like a mechanical clock. It shifts and moves. There are parts of time in the mind that do stay linear, like when I know that I’ve spent five minutes reading or I’ve spent 20 minutes driving, or waking up just before the alarm goes off, and when I don’t have an alarm, I wake up at nearly the same time.

A huge amount of patience is necessary to get through that, and it starts with you, the artist.

When someone explains an idea for you to create, they’re able to see all sides of the image at once, in every dimension, including time. Describing what they see can be complicated to the point of becoming several seconds of an animation that’s happening in their head. But the animation is compacted, and looks like a moment in time. Even if you froze that moment, it still will be extra-dimensional and involve emotions and changing moods.

The artist’s first job is to take that idea and make it work two-dimensionally. This is not an easy task. Especially when working for a client. They’ll see your translation of their idea and may think, ‘that’s not it.’ Then frustration can set in for them as they try to explain in more detail what it should look like. Sometimes, they can dump it back on you to solve as they have more trouble. Now both parties are frustrated. 

And no wonder. It not only takes experience to describe an idea well, it takes experience to learn how to translate any mental imagery into physical pictures. It takes years of training, years of producing it—over and over and over again.

A huge amount of patience is necessary to get through that, and it starts with you, the artist. Your patience allows the client to relax into their idea, which helps them express it more practically–especially if you know the magic trick: listening. 

They want to be heard. If they detect that you’re listening, paying attention, and working to solve their issues, they lean toward listening to you. That’s when the team starts to work. And by patience, I mean the kind you’ve only reserved for loved ones. That special ear.

This is as much your job as theirs. Illustrators are in the business of communication, of getting ideas across to the audience. (Frankly, this is every artist’s job.) This is how you become the go-to person. It’s how they remember you. If you produce a great piece and you’ve solved their problem— it’s a successful one-two punch.

So when you’re facing a tough job, and it’s falling apart in front of you, and you want to scream and run away like Monty Python, do not take their reaction or comments personally. You’ll only dig the hole deeper.

You’re the pro. They’re just frustrated. Try listening harder.