A kind and colorful storyteller

There are many people who knew legendary political cartoonist Dwane Powell far better than I did and who are feeling his loss on a more personal and deep level. But I wanted to put words on paper about Dwane anyway, because I believe there are many people out there who are like me – acquaintances and admirers whose world was made brighter by him and who feel its dimming with his way-too-early death.

Moonlighting 

I probably met Dwane for the first time as a teenager on one of my visits to the News and Observer to tag along with my brother Mark on photo assignments when he worked at the paper. I’m sure I was awestruck to meet a “real” cartoonist.

A few years later, I graduated from college and took a job working as a reporter at the  N&O’s Chapel Hill bureau. I’m sure I crossed paths with Dwane again when I was in the Raleigh newsroom for meetings. After a couple of years at the paper, I quit and moved to Washington, where I wound up working as a magazine editor for a nonprofit called Public Citizen. 

People talk about shoestring budgets, but the money we could spend on art and photography made our budget more of a fraction of a shoestring. This was the early 90s, and there was no online world full of inexpensive or free stock photography or illustrations. It was a challenge to find talented people who were willing to do the work for our measly fees, and the fact that the articles were about wonky political and consumer topics didn’t help. Asking people to produce complex photographs or illustrations for very little money was an uphill battle that also made the magazine staff feel guilty. On top of that, it was not exactly a “looker” of a magazine.

Somewhere along the way, I thought about Dwane, knowing he would understand the political and rabble-rousing nature of Public Citizen, and that his sense of humor would bring some welcome comic relief. Looking back, I’m a little shocked that I had the nerve to call and ask him (because of course I would have had to call him back then – we didn’t have the option of asking big favors via the relative comfort of a faceless email). 

I don’t remember the details of the conversation, but I do know Dwane was gracious when he heard my pitch and kindly agreed to create a freelance illustration for an upcoming story. 

My guess is that he said yes because he loved a creative assignment, even if it was for an unknown magazine that paid badly, and because he wanted to help out the little sister of a former N&O colleague. I could not find any old copies of the magazine with his work in it, but not too long ago, I was looking through a box of mementos from my Washington days and found a fax cover sheet that had probably accompanied some sketches from Dwane: At the bottom was a caricature of Jesse Helms. 

Who wouldn’t have treasured that and saved it?

A simple gesture

I kept up with his career over the years, but decades went by before we reconnected via Facebook. 

In 2014, he posted on Facebook that he and his lovely wife, Jan, were going on a trip that included Prague, a city I have had much affection for since working there in the mid-90s. I commented on his post with what was probably a fervent recommendation for my favorite restaurant, the Palffy Palac. Dwane later took time to message me and let me know that he and Jan had gone there on their last night in Prague, and that it was still much as I had described it. 

He also attached a photo he had taken of the candlelit restaurant, which was a lovely small gesture. I haven’t been back to Prague since I moved back to the US in 1996, and getting a glimpse of this place I’d loved and knowing that Dwane and Jan had trusted my suggestion and had a meal there meant a lot. 

I knew that Dwane took beautiful photos, and I told him that if he and Jan ever had time to meet for coffee, I’d love to hear about their trip and see some of his Prague images. I mentioned bringing my daughter along, thinking I could rope her into seeing photos of the place I once lived and give her a chance to meet one of North Carolina’s most famous creative forces.

As it turned out, cancer came into both our families’ lives not long after, and we never did have coffee and talk about Prague. After learning via Facebook that my sister was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer in 2015, he let me know about his own diagnosis.

“My bout with cancer has been a real wake up call,” he wrote, “and I've finally made a serious effort to organize and archive my work from 40 years. The Southern History Collection at UNC is getting it. I went to the paper today to check on the files, and they are still there, dated, catalogued, with all index cards. This will really help the folks at UNC, especially on the digitization process. Onward.” 

The treasures of the Interwebs
The remarkable thing about these interactions with Dwane is that none of them took place in person. Each of these encounters made me appreciate his kindness and warmth, but as the news of his death hit me, I realized that it was not any one personal experience I had with Dwane that was resonating so much with me. It was all of the life that Dwane shared with all of his friends and acquaintances via Facebook, that platform that most of us have a love-hate relationship with.

The cartoons that he is best-known for have kept many of us going through many a rough time in North Carolina, including the most recent tough times, but it is the photographs that he took such joy in sharing on Facebook that brought me so much joy in turn. 

He had amazing photos and stories of earlier generations of his family, and as a history buff who loves old photos, I was always drawn in by those. And it sounds a bit cliched, but his photos of places transported me to those places; curiosity and attention to detail make for great photos. 

But I believe it was Dwane’s photos of his family that were the most striking and memorable to those of us fortunate enough to be in his Facebook community. 

There were photos of his daughter Devon and her family, which of course included many loving photos of his grandson Myles.

And while I have never met Dwane’s wife, Jan, you sure can tell how much he loved her through the photos he posted — from classic photos of their dating days right up to his images chronicling their new downtown life and explorations. A couple of years ago , I saw for the first time the little plastic accordion-style photo insert that my father had in his wallet when he died in 1972; I was touched to see that along with photos of me and my siblings, he carried photos of my mom from their courting days in the early 50s. It’s a lovely thing when people continue to cherish and celebrate their own love stories, and Dwane was always celebrating Jan.

Social media is no doubt an odd universe, but the down sides recede when you consider how creative people like Dwane enhance your day-to-day life by taking you along and letting you see what piques their curiosity and brings them joy.

He was a skillful storyteller no matter what medium he chose, and I am so grateful to have been part of his audience. 

Onward, Dwane. 

~ Carla Atkinson

Confetti, failure, powerful moments

Better late than never: 7 things that stuck with me after the 2016 Hopscotch Design Festival

I hemmed and hawed about whether to go to September’s Hopscotch Design Festival in Raleigh. (I’m not a designer, after all.)

I was looking to be jostled out of a rut, get some inspiration and meet creative people. (And in particular, I wanted to meet some local creative people, as all of my current clients live in other states.)

Finally, just a few days before the festival, I decided that Hopscotch was a good bet to deliver those things, even for a writer, and I signed up.

I was right.

Here are some of the takeaways–big, small, and in some cases, very personal–that I’m still thinking about two-plus months later.

Caveat: There were many intriguing presentations and compelling talks that I don’t include here. This isn’t intended to be a ‘best of’ list — just think of it as a ‘memorable for me’ list. (And apologies for the not-so-crisp iPhone photos.)

1. I need a drawer filled with confetti.

Tina Roth Eisenberg, graphic designer, creative entrepreneur, and founder of CreativeMornings and Tattly, told of the morale- and joy-boosting drawer of confetti that is always at the ready in her work space.

(I’m not even remotely cleaning-obsessed, but I have to admit to wondering what kind of powerful vacuum cleaner they keep around the office.)

Given that I keep some of our family Legos around to build with when I can’t stand to write another word, Eisenberg felt like a kindred spirit.

2. Pay extra-close attention to the things that tickle — or offend — your senses.

Your reaction just might lead to a great business idea, as it did for Eisenberg after one of her kids came home and handed her an ugly temporary tattoo, begging her to put it on. Check out Tattly, the business that sprang from this moment.

And check out the complimentary “Party Watch” Tattly tattoo that I got at Hopscotch (this is a screenshot from the website, as my tattoo is long-gone, of course):

And if you peer closely enough at this photo, you can also read her great list of advice to her younger self (though you had to be there and hear all of her context and great storytelling to fully appreciate the list).

3. Design principles are being applied to many things, including crucial social issues.

One thought-provoking Hopscotch design panel included locals Erin White of the Community Food Lab and Shana Overdorf, Executive Director of the Raleigh-Wake Partnership to End Homelessness, and Terry Irwin, head of the School of Design at Carnegie Mellon University, whose research focuses on design for society and the environment, 

In retrospect, applying design thinking to these complex problems seems like a no-brainer, but seeing the time devoted to this topic during the festival was a welcome surprise for this longtime nonprofit writer.

4. If you need to shake things up, committing to a daily creative challenge may just do the trick.

Artist and illustrator Daniel Horowitz shared examples of the striking work that came out of the year-long artistic experiment he wrote about in this designboom post in 2012:

“working primarily as a digital artist over the last decade, I considered what might happen if I were to pull out a blank page and begin to draw. not on commission and with no particular purpose in mind. The self-imposed minimum, one drawing a day, was to serve as an exercise to pull myself away from the computer and to begin to explore analog creativity.”

At the Hopscotch session, he spoke to the thing that many of us struggle with and how the project freed him:

“Perfection was ... paralyzing me. It was thrilling to not be too concerned about the end result.”

I was so taken by the session and the work he was sharing that it was difficult for me to leave early to get to my next workshop. (This was a common problem for me; there were often sessions going on at the same time that sounded equally interesting.)

The Horowitz talk was not the first time this year that I had thought about adopting a daily creative discipline. Of all of the people who write about business and avocations and work, Seth Godin is probably at the top of my list. He gave himself the challenge years ago of writing a blog post every day, and something about that discipline has clearly worked for him.

His posts are almost always short and to the point, and they come with no photos or embellishments — just a few paragraphs that always seem to have just what I needed that day, whether it’s kind encouragement or a crack of the whip to get me out of a (usually self-induced) slump.

I have yet to commit to a daily creative habit, but revisiting the Daniel Horowitz presentation all these weeks later is inspiring me. It’s time to start writing something every single day that I can post without the interference of my perfectionistic inner editor.

5. Hopscotch turned out to deliver exactly what I had in mind when I signed up: A chance to meet new and interesting people.

It just didn’t happen exactly the way I’d expected that it would.

Mayor McFarlane helping to kick off the conference

Chance meeting #1:

During the keynote by author and researcher Dan Heath, we were asked to find another person nearby to talk with about two questions Heath posed to us. Raleigh Mayor Nancy McFarlane was just down the row from me, so we did the exercise together. I enjoyed hearing her answers, especially the one about who we would have dinner with if we could choose anyone (we decided that it could be anyone, dead or alive).

I will not give away her answers, as I’m sure she gets weary of having her every remark reported, but Mayor, if you see this, I would love to know the name of that historical figure you find fascinating so I can do a little research on him myself.

Chance meeting #2:

On the first day of the conference, I was wandering around downtown in search of a place to eat lunch; the first several I tried weren’t open. Standing on a street corner waiting for the light to change, I noticed that the woman next to me was wearing a Hopscotch Design Fest lanyard, and I asked if she was enjoying the conference. She was on a quest for a lunch spot, too, and we decided to eat together. I won’t violate her privacy either, but the short version is that she has been involved for years in important creative work that touches on both history and social issues in North Carolina. We had so many interests in common that our street corner meeting seemed like serendipity of the highest order. We have kept in touch, and I just did an editing project for her.

6. Don’t forget the power of the moments in your life.

Dan Heath asked us to keep the details of his keynote to ourselves because he and his brother, Chip, are coming out with a book soon that will feature new research related to the keynote topic. So to give context without giving away any details, I’ll just share a line from the Hopscotch Design Fest description of his presentation:

“What if we could reverse-engineer the most meaningful, memorable experiences of our lives — and then use what we learned to create more of them?”

To illustrate this thesis, Heath brought everyone in the room together to create an encouraging, funny moment for the mother of an audience member.

Heath’s theme was familiar territory for me in a bittersweet way.

My sister died in May, less than a year after getting a Stage 4 cancer diagnosis, and as her only close family member in Raleigh, I became her “person” and the organizer of the truly amazing friends I call the Village People.

I knew she did not have a lot of time, and much of my thinking over that almost-year had to do with how we could create uplifting moments for her in the midst of chemo and hospital stays and being stuck at home.

Early on, when she was still doing well, a moment was as simple as suggesting that my sister, my teenage daughter and I stop at the nearby party store when we were out having lunch on the Fourth of July. We tried on every crazy July 4th hat they had, and walked out with two festive tiaras, a red cowgirl hat and a flag bandanna.

As time went by, my family and my sister's friends realized that we didn’t have time to simply wait and see what memorable things happened on their own. We had to make things happen, and yet be careful to ensure that nothing we did seemed too orchestrated or forced.

My sister never stopped hoping she would outrun the cancer, even when it was obvious to everyone around her that she could not, and it would have been a slap in the face of her strength and unwavering hope if we seemed to be creating a series of “last” experiences. There is a fine line between seizing the day and over-reaching.

One of the best moments of her last year involved my sister’s longtime friend hauling her, a wheelchair and an oxygen tank across the Triangle to a performance of the Dance Theater of Harlem two weeks after my sister left the hospital in an incredibly weakened state. Her friend made a flyer that she stuck to the wall beside my dancer/choreographer sister’s bed the day she came home, directing her to rest up because they would be attending. My sister was feeling so rough at the time that I couldn’t wrap my head around how this scheme was ever going to work, but it did: They not only made it to the performance, but were able to stay until the end. My sister was wiped out afterward, but loved it. It's amazing what combined will, strength and stubbornness can do. 

And a month or so before she died, I rounded up a handful of gardening friends for a party of sorts. They showed up at my sister’s house on a Sunday morning and spent several hours doing the weeding, planting, mulching and general beautifying that my sister, a passionate gardener, could not do in her yard. What she was able to do that day was sit on the front porch and talk shop about plants with fellow gardeners who shared her love of digging and exploring and transforming.

Heath's keynote was a good reminder that we need to make the important moments happen for ourselves now, and not wait until we are up against illness and a timeline.

I’m betting that the Heaths’ new book will have a lot to say about how to do that.

7. If you can hang on, failure often will take you to a happier or wiser or more fitting place. Or a new beginning.

Debbie Millman, Chief of Marketing of Sterling Brands and host of the Design Matters podcast, closed out the festival by sharing what turned out to be an epic story of overcoming tough times in her professional life.

I believe that misery truly does love company, and not because we all delight in seeing others suffer; I think that seeing other people slog through hard times is sometimes the only thing that keeps us going. It’s important to be reminded that we are not the only ones.

Millman has been through some tough (and public) professional lows, and she didn’t sugarcoat them; I winced a few times as she told her story.

I’ve heard people talk about failure before and not been nearly as affected as I was by Millman’s warm and funny but no-holds-barred talk about how tough times can wind around to happy endings.

Her story resonated deeply with me, and still does all these weeks later as I think about my professional trajectory.

Circumstances fell into place while my sister was sick that allowed me to change my work situation (a combination of stable freelance work and a part-time corporate writing job) to concentrate solely on my freelance business; this gave me the flexibility I needed to be able to help my sister and also keep my teenager’s life as close to normal as possible.

After my sister died, the phrase “life is short” took on new intensity for me, and I thought a lot about the time we spend working. I’ve found over the years that full-time writing jobs often end up involving very little writing and creative work and a whole lot of what boils down to paper-pushing, cat-herding and project management. (To say those are not my primary skills/interests is an understatement.) 

So I made a leap of faith and decided to continue working entirely for myself, at least for the time being. I’m writing web content and blogs for my regular small business clients (and always searching for more, of course); I’m doing one-off writing and editing projects; and I’m also devoting time to personal writing projects that may or may not ever pay but are satisfying in many other ways.

Some days feel suspenseful at best and terrifying at worst, but there is also a bit of a thrill in trying to honor the sometimes hard-won knowledge that life is short and should be spent, as much as is humanly possible, doing work that you love.

Thanks for a memorable experience, New Kind and Hopscotch Design Festival planners; I'm glad I joined you.

Postscript: The dates for the 2017 Hopscotch Design Festival have just been announced — September 7 and 8. You can keep track of plans at hopscotchdesignfest.com.

Carla Atkinson has worked in the nonprofit and for-profit worlds as a reporter, magazine editor/writer, marketing copywriter and business communicator, and now writes for a variety of clients at ATKINSONWORDS. Past work includes serving as editor of the New Line Cinema-sponsored magazine about the making of The Lord of the Rings film trilogy; working as a senior editor at Transition, a Prague-based magazine about political, economic and cultural changes in post-Soviet bloc countries in the mid-90s; helping to start CollegeBound, a nonprofit mentoring and scholarship program for kids in Washington, DC; and writing for SAS, GlaxoSmithKline and Duke Cancer Center, among many other companies/organizations.