wanderer

In a not too distant future, we glimpse.

Across these wastes, light reflects upon the harsh sand with a golden glow. Speckled with the memories of life and days long past, ruins sit melancholically silhouetted by rolling dunes. Concrete columns jut from the earth, almost mimicking the unique and mesmerizing patterns of nature.

Tiny in this mass expanse of a once considered great place, a wanderer marches on in the heat. They are looking for something; anything that could be recovered. 

Tirelessly, possibly out of necessity? 

Although the majority of what is found is worth no more than scrap metal, for only a moment, the harsh glint of a foreign object catches the eye of the wanderer. Curiously they approach, eagerly hoping to find something of value.

The small reflective object lay dormant, sleeping in what seemingly should have been its final resting place. The wanderer notches their finger into the fittingly sized hole in the center and rises up examining the curios; a mirror-like circular pattern creates a picture of themselves, returning a vague image of their curious expression back at them.

The wanderer excitedly flips over the foreign object, and is met with a cool matte blue. Etched across it the first line in bright yellow reads “Flying Microtonal Banana”, the second “King Gizzard and the Wizard Lizard” these strange combinations of ancient language fall flat on the eyes of the wanderer.

Without much more thought, the item is placed into a small satchel with the rest of the day's haul.

Much later, as darkness begins to replace the light of day, the wanderer is in a small bustling market. The aroma of foods attack the nose, the sounds of hecklers invade the ears, the many colors and faces assault the eyes. Amongst the ruin, the world is still spinning, and the people are still here.

The wanderer is now attempting to haggle today's haul with a scrap dealer, hoping to get a few extra Shyll for the strange curios they found in the sand. To their surprise and disappointment, however, nobody seems interested in the item that reeks of the past. It has no material value to them.

Later, as they wander through a maze of stalls and vendors on the way to their current accommodation, they find a small stall filled with strange objects and ancient texts. The old man within greets them with a gentle smile, beckoning them to peruse the many wonder-filled oddments on offer.

Although they are tired and weary by now, they decide to give selling the object in their satchel one last chance. They reach for the small disc-like shape and show it to the stall owner, who’s eyes widen, glistening with a youthful glow at the sight.

“Ah, yes! How wonderful! I listen to those often myself!” says the shopkeeper happily.

“Listen to them?” replies the wanderer humorously, writing off the shopkeeper “How can you listen to this?”

“Easily!” quips the shopkeeper, “I have a machine for them, I recovered it many, many years ago.”

The wanderer's expression slowly turns from playful to curious, “What do they say?” they ask, impatiently.

After some thinking, the shopkeeper replies “Well… It’s actually a form of music. At Least that’s what I think, it’s pretty strange. As for what they say, I couldn’t tell ya, It’s all in ancient language, and I’m no Scholarite.”

“Music, on a small object such as that!” replies the wanderer in amazement, their hunger and exhaust seemingly gone from their body. “I can’t imagine how the ancients could have done that.”

“Would you like to give it a listen? Truth be told, I'm very curious myself!” The shopkeeper exclaims.

Nestled behind the stall, the wanderer is guided through curtains and doors into a small, messy apartment. Along the back wall a dusty, large machine sits idly on top of an old wooden shelf. The machine itself appears just as foreign as the mirror-like object to the wanderer. Complicated woven meshes and metal parts create an otherworldly finish. This machine is certainly from the old world, the wanderer thinks.

The old shopkeeper, however, is all too familiar with this anomaly. A hatch pops open, and the item is placed into the device with a small audible click. Like a mechanic tending to his vehicle the shopkeeper masterfully moves around knobs, presses buttons, and tinkers with the machine. The wanderer watches in amusement, taking in the scene.

After some work, the old shopkeeper announces “Well, it seems like a good bit of it is damaged, but I think I got this one working.”

Both the wanderer and shopkeeper await eagerly for the sounds to start. The disc begins to spin and the two are met with a scratching, screeching noise that quickly fades into the start of a melodic and alien sound. The tune starts out fuzzy and indecipherable, but slowly becomes more coherent.

𝅘𝅥 

M-lt—-g

Me—-ing, melti—-, -elti-g

m---ing

—-ltin-, melting, melti-g

Conflagrated and cremated

When the world is consummated

Devastated, populated

World of isolated mortal folk

The earth is melting down

Our home and our playground

Won't be fit for our children when our world

Has melted down

Melting

Melting, melting, melting

When the wanderer picked up the CD in the sand, they had no idea what it was. Furthermore, when they got to listen to the CD, the message being conveyed was the world they now lived within. Humans have been creating these warning signs about the direction of society for ages. 

Tales passed on over the flames of a crackling fire.

Drawings in a cave that warn of beasts and poison.

Language etched into tablets, telling of great disasters.

The melody of a song that warns of days to come.

The digital landscapes of a game ravaged from nuclear weapons.

The sign in a power plant illustrates the skull and crossbones.

Fictional stories have been created by us to pass down our lessons and teach our children from the very beginning, and yet in this oversaturated state of media, it seems we take for granted the stories and tales we hear.

What happens when we stop wandering? When we listen to those short stories once again? Will we understand?

a tale of an old phone

The old phone sits quietly, it’s life run course

A melancholic feeling of planned obsolescence

Not broken, yet I am sad for the phone

There is no conscience in this modern tool

Brains and veins replaced by circuitry

Not thinking, yet I am sad for it’s thoughts

When it is gone, will it feel sad?

A short life, to be used and tossed aside

Not breathing, yet I am sad to say goodbye

My new phone now sits within its box, waiting

It takes days for myself to finally be ready

Not alive, yet I am sad to make it wait

The old phone rests on the desk where I work

The melancholy returns when my gaze drifts by

A machine, yet I am sad all the same

middletonism, education, and the design field

Previously we established what “Middletonism” could possibly be and defined a manifesto based around my belief systems. When thinking about the design field; how can we incorporate all these beliefs and maintain this level of freedom both within myself as an educator, but also within those who I will be teaching and influencing in the future.

We are born free. All of us.

From the moment we are born into this world, we are free. Acting as authority, society bottles up and compartmentalizes that freedom. Humans are separated by margins, class, race, intelligence, and many other factors. Like an assembly line, we are tagged and marked, ready to move onto the next stage. 

Conditioning starts early, and never stops. In a society where freedom is neutered at birth, I wish to fight to counter that culture. Choice should no longer be taken away from the equation. 

In the lens of myself, I interpret the pursuit of freedom as the escape from the system of capital. I simply want to live while being able to pursue and explore whatever and however I want, without the worry of authoritative hierarchies, the need for money, the stress of paying for what should be rightfully ours, and the fight to live.

In the lens of the educator, I do not wish to force any ideas or concepts onto those who I am teaching. They are free to do and believe as they wish, and if they are interested in exploring further I will be a more than welcoming guide. 

In the classroom, the voices of the students are paramount. 

If they do not like a project, why not change it up? Why not let that student do something entirely different from the class if they wish? Who says we need to stay strict and firm with every person at all times.

Create empathy within each other.

There is a common myth revolving around the belief that people who think like myself are radicalized by politics and other radicalized thinkers around us. Although it is true that we learn from all things around us including propaganda, familial values, social conditions, etc. There is a simple reason for this line of thinking.

Empathy. Basic human empathy.

I did not get “radicalized” by reading leftist leaning literature, in fact I didn’t get to those books until well after. I got “radicalized” by watching bombs fall on innocent children. Is it so extreme in this modern society to feel for someone other than yourself or your family?

When I look to the east and see bombs fall, the south to see hurricanes rampage, the west to see people starving, and the north to see ice caps melt. I looked at the world and the world was crumbling, I wanted to know why. I was angry, I was sad. 

Are you not sad? Are you not angry? Do you not wish to understand why all this is happening?

In an educational setting, I think it’s very important to give a real and accurate depiction of the world these young students are going into to work, live, and possibly make change. 

Slacktivist design projects that leave no deeper meaning other than to pursue a surface level issue for a grade as a sense of validation from your “master” are not welcome in my classroom. If you are pursuing design as activism, actual research and dedication is an absolute necessity.

Reach for a world without constraints.

The cliche of the schooling system is that it teaches you that every person can be whatever they want to be. An astronaut, an engineer, an artist, whatever you wish is within your reach.

Reality, however, tends to disagree.

This illusion of choice ignores the millions of problems the world faces. For every hope and dream students may have rises more issues and constraints. Consider the challenges of an oppressed minority to become an astronaut, let alone the conditions they may have grown up in providing proper education to be allowed to get into a good college. The strings of privilege are thin and hidden, but ever still present.

Realistically, the dream of being whatever you want to be is always going to be myth as long as we live in capital. The system needs its slaves, those working minimum wage to keep the cogs of modern society moving. How ironic to spout these ideals of freedom to the children in which you fully intend to keep working forever; in debt or in grocery stores.

Break down the barriers of capital.

Bridging from the last section, we need to separate our lives from the grips of capital. In this system it is completely understandable to just wish to make a living. To hope to be well off enough that the capitalism pill is a little easier to swallow until retirement.

However that is not the only path, understanding there are other career paths outside of the traditional designer was not something I had the privilege of learning until I got to masters school, so I spent my time learning traditional logo design and publication with the intention of working for a boss or corporation. 

Writing, Art, Activism and all felt infinitely far away.

For students I want to make sure this is understood as an option early. That you can be more than a corporate shoe–shiner with your career. That there are educators, critical thinkers, writers, and more. Students should be taught to be prepared for corporate work (It would be cruel to not teach that and throw them into the field), but also given the opportunity of expanding their personal work and interests.

We must respect the time and freedom of the students. We must recognize that there are issues outside of the classroom that they could be facing. We must recognize that they may be taking 6 other classes and juggling a job out of necessity. We must change accordingly to each student's needs, not push their needs into a mold of our making.

Something not common in the undergraduate space and sometimes lost even on the master level.

Never stop learning; Nobody does.

A common misconception that seems to be present all too often is the idea that the teacher in the classroom is a master, here to impart their knowledge upon the student as a one way relationship. Paolo Friere called this “The Banking Model of Education.”

My major problem with this model is the idea that the teacher as master in this situation believes they can not be wrong, thus creating an environment where students are creating work in pursuit of the personal aesthetics and beliefs of the master. This cuts off creativity in favor of fast reproduction and the chasing of validation.

An educator never stops learning. They are only human as well. They are not the leading authority on the field, they simply spent their time learning to get where they are now. The problem of ego steps in, experience, accomplishment, and age becomes a weapon of infantilization.

This removal of this hierarchy will create issues of course, any change will. However, a classroom without hierarchy may find a greater sense of purpose and education. 

The mental state of students is as important as their careers, and by showing them that we are also vulnerable and cognizant of these problems, we may be able to begin making the world a little better.

Respect and use all forms of media.

Growing up in the age of technology, I recognize that some of the greatest lessons I’ve learned have come from within the digital world. Music, Games, Art, Literature, Manga, Anime, Movies, etc. There is intention and motive behind all pieces created by the hands of humans.

Academia seems to discredit many of these options as sources, seeking only refuge in its traditional means of education through classic literature and the occasional film. Although it’s gotten a lot better now, there’s still possibly a level of the student being uncomfortable with the idea of converting these topics due to a past experience with it.

Every person experiences media differently, some may become extremely deeply immersed in it and start to analyze every part. Even if we fail to understand or lack context, is it right to invalidate their experiences? 

Some people learn better in control of a character rather than reading about them on a page, and that’s a perfectly valid form of learning.

Write to change perspectives.

I was not born to hold a gun. Nor was I born to kill another being. My idea of revolution is a little different, instead I write to bring forth new perspectives and foresights into the world that may help to slowly create change in our field and outside of it.

A lot of the discourse in modern society comes from a lack of understanding. It takes a lot to step into the shoes of another person and see things from their point of view. Once you add the spices of your personal beliefs, a wall is created between you and the other side.

This is not to say that some are beyond mutual understanding. There are times in life where beliefs had to be fought against, such as the rise of fascism in the 1940s. The wave of fascism feels as if it is rising again, and it is truly terrifying.

If I can use my writing and unique perspectives to help change the views of even one reader, then I have accomplished something worth fighting for.

Aim to create personal revolutions.

I want my readers, students, community, friends, and family to walk away with these new perspectives and outlooks on life, and then use that to attempt to the people in their life in a similarly meaningful way. I call these personal revolutions.

In the classroom, these revolutions can come in the form of new ideas and furthering a collaborative effort towards a new, more healthy classroom environment mixing all of the ideas from before. Fostering growth and community among those who I am advising towards their futures. Perhaps change will happen, perhaps something will come out of it all.

Realize that this is not a selfish act.

There exists a feeling of selfishness, or indulgence within the idea of believing both my work and my teaching can have such an impact. Or that I am not just rambling to myself, bitter about the world and hoping desperately for change.

In these moments, I have to let go of these thoughts and remind myself that I am here.

That it is not selfish to act out of self interest when it is not at the expense of another. 

It’s okay to believe in myself and my ability. 

It’s okay to be upset at the systems around me.

It’s okay to talk about subjects beyond the design field. 

It’s okay to make mistakes, to not be perfect.

It’s okay to wish to…

Be Free.

That is the Middleton manifesto. or at least a first draft of it? To claim to ever be finished would be contradictory to the lessons I teach myself. Slowly my point will grow sharper, my words imbued with more direct intention. I am always learning, and I am always attempting to improve.

This is what it means for me to pursue freedom.

kingdom of rust

The Appalachian mountains

Turn orange and red

Much like the factories

In this kingdom of rust

The Appalachian rivers

Run brown and yellow

Much like the sulfur

In this kingdom of rust

The Appalachian towns

Sit white and gray

Much like the tunnels

In this kingdom of rust

The Appalachian people

Are black and blue

Much like the region

In this kingdom of rust

on autonomy

The word autonomy possibly comes from the early 17th century: the Greek’s “Autonomia”(from autonomos) meant ‘having its own laws’, autos being the ‘self’ and nomos being the ‘law’. When you interpret the modern meaning of autonomy we often refer to concepts such as freedom of choice and expression. 

With that context, autonomy is often used interchangeably with the word freedom. Often, we see autonomy as complete freedom, making choices based only on your own environment and not affected by the other conditions around you. 

I think this really doesn’t work for some key reasons.

In the terms of an Anarchist such as myself, I believe that autonomy is something that you choose to sacrifice at the behest of another or of a group. I’ve been asked questions such as “If I am living in an anarchistic society, how can that society have any rules without sacrificing my freedom?” and my answer to that is actually way more simple than it seems.

In a truly free society, you are led by your autonomy to make choices that suit your wants or needs, without constricting upon the freedom of others. When you join a collective, essentially creating a small society, you have decided to withhold certain individual freedoms as your own autonomous decision.

To give an example of this, let’s look at the average relationship between two lovers. Both are free, autonomous beings that have chosen through bonding to be together as a unit. Thus, when one person's needs exceed the other halfs, a “sacrifice” of freedom takes place. 

Let’s say one person wants to cover themselves in tattoos as a form of expression, but their partner does not like that idea, and creates a compromise between the two allowing them to have tattoos, but only an acceptable amount. You could view this action as restricting a partner's freedom of expression, thus reducing their autonomy.

In reality, the person who wanted tattoos in this case is choosing to actively sacrifice this freedom to remain in a healthy and positive relationship. The compromise creates a collective understanding that these rules in place exist to maintain happiness, while still allowing freedom.

This could extend to any aspect of a relationship not only in a romantic sense, but with one's relationship with society. The individual makes sacrifices for a collective purpose that they may believe in, and that sacrifice causes society as a whole to function on a much more free and personal basis. 

This seems like a very simple way of defining any system of government, however there is a very large difference between a society in which you are forced to participate simply by being born, and that of a society in which you are free to join and take part of, but also to exit any any time when the values don’t align with yours anymore.

And that is where autonomy becomes confusing in the modern context. The relationship between the choice of a person and the society they live in is no longer symbiotic, instead, a person is pressured into making decisions within a confined and controlled version of autonomy. This governing society tells the individual that they must actively contribute and participate in the systems it has established, with no free choice to exit.

The worst part is that we are led to believe that we have a choice. In many talks of mine with people who believe in the modern American ideals, I’ve been told “If you don’t like this place, why don’t you just leave?” They don’t realize the systems in place that make that decision extremely difficult, or that there's really nowhere you can go in the world right now to solve this specific issue in the first place.

becoming the onlooker

Can we, only for a moment, step outside and attempt to view our culture and society as if an onlooker. Before you lies a vision of the world, the values of modernity in which we hold up flash before your eyes at unknowable speed.

Our fantastic metal machines zip by on gray, monotonous roads. The complex web of roadwork leads towards a stunning metropolis.

A vibrant street in the night paints the shadows of hundreds of people walking, a somber lady in a red velvet dress calls a cab.

The stunning shine of a gold wristwatch is seen, only for a moment. The flashes of cameras beckon forth the picture of a newly appointed rising talent.

These are only a select few of the moments you manage to catch in this stream of consciousness. To us who were born into this society we find these things so natural, so necessary in our world. Now, you are confused by all that happens. The world is foreign, you have lost all context for why any of this exists in the first place.

Like a newborn child learning about the world, you look on in amazement and curiosity.

Whiplash. Your vision stirs, A new picture begins to form.

A man at a drive-thru orders a bucket of chicken wings, he is the only one in the car. A child searches the trash can for any semblance or scrap of a meal they can find.

An empty vacation home sits near the beach in silence, the colors of autumn begin to show. A man lays on a bench in the park nearby, cold.

A lifeless drone lays waste to a village, creating a vivid canvas of blood and rubble. The drone operator talks about his wife and kids to a coworker.

When you become the onlooker, gazing upon society without the context and reasoning, what would you feel? Watching over the people, like ants, going forward and backward to the same place every day. Their short lives dedicated to something that looks empty; devoid of meaning.

Would you feel sad?

But you are not the onlooker, you are human. You exist in this system, yet you feel as if you stepped outside of your world and viewed another, one you are not a part of. You watched wars take the lives of innocent children, you watched poverty sweep through many countries after a hurricane, you watched people be denied a place to live and wither away in the streets of a wealthy metropolis, you watched families wonder when their next meal will come, if ever.

When you were the onlooker, you wept.

Now that your learned and lived experiences of society and culture have returned, your tears seem to have dried up.

consumerized, corporate, and grey

I am a designer? Right?

Formally there really is no question, I have a degree in Graphic Interactive Design (or whatever fancy words are on the slip of paper) so of course I am, by trade, a designer. Yet there exists this conflict inside me, am I really a designer?

I’ve grown to hate the world of graphic design. 

Consumerized, Corporate, and Grey.

Everything about my education in the design world up until now has become this: Who makes the best logos? Who has the best rates? Who runs the best side-hustle? Who has the most clients? Who has the largest online presence? Who can etch the values of the corporate world into their hearts best and will make it the furthest in said world.

I’ve only ever enjoyed making designs in the interest of self service, making love letters to hobbies or pieces of media I’ve grown attached to. I feel dislocated from it all, while peers celebrate visiting designers or lectures where we learn about studios, client work, and brand initiatives.

The most comfortable I’ve felt since joining this field is with a pen and paper. I still love the concept of graphic design, I love the type, colors, layouts and more created by others. Rather than seeing it as for the purpose of monetary gain, I enjoy it more as art than I do as communication. I enjoy hearing the unique problem solving and solutions a designer has come up with, yet I hate the systems and clients the solutions were made for. 

I am a hypocrite, but we’re all sometimes hypocritical I guess.

I’ve enjoyed the many writings I have made about the design field before; talking about movements, aesthetics, or how we can do better in the design field. I’ve also written a lot about education and pedagogy, exploring how to foster better environments for students while showing them alternatives from a system hell bent into turning them into a product.

I just love reading and learning, then writing about what I’ve read and learned, in hopes of communicating an idea to others. That doesn't just extend to the design and education topics I’ve addressed, instead, I love to write about much more than that. 

Inside me I begin to wonder whether I’m slipping away from Graphic Design as part of who I am.

I wonder if that’s okay, if I can be an educator in the design field while simultaneously viewing the field this way.

I wonder if I am allowed to talk about things outside of this bubble. Is it okay to simply address freedom, with no intention of tackling some great design issue?

I wonder if any of these feelings are valid. Am I simply acting alone in some self service that society will view as incorrect.

It takes a lot to get these feelings in check, with a half confident grin I tell myself what I am doing is valid, that the problems lie in the systems around me. After a heavy wave of these anxious thoughts, I look back at my paper. My mouth feels dry; I sip some water. 

Once again, without much inner thought, my fingers slide across the keys in a monotonous yet infatuating rhythm.

The original name for this writing before I started was “I just want to write.” That surely is an understatement, I thought maybe that having a writing semester would free me from the chains of needing to make. In my mind, maybe it was possible I would begin to make again without these pressures. 

I think I was wrong. I simply don’t feel the need to make. 

Making feels like it needs to be for something. 

That I need to have some grandiose content or idea to push forward, whether for a client or as activist work or anything. Without that pressure telling me to make, staring at a canvas feels empty. I don’t want to work without meaning, I’d rather be reading, playing a game, hanging out at a coffee shop, writing, or really any other activity that I naturally lean towards when I have spare free time.

This ties in a lot with how I view the field and hustle culture. The need to grind and work outside of office hours is ingrained into society like an ancient curse mark. Since making design has become such a consumerized idea, design has become a system of work for us. To make design feels like work because of that.

What does design freedom look like?

Can you truly be a graphic designer and make only for yourself?

Will it ever not feel like work?

Am I a writer? Am I a Graphic Designer? Am I a Design Writer? Am I a creator? Am I an artist? Am I something else entirely?

These labels don’t matter in the end, but I want to figure out who I am in this world, how I can fit into the puzzle while preserving my own identity and beliefs.

Reading my writing back, I realize the amount of damage that growing up in this system has done. To me, to my life, to my career, to my dreams. The amount of doubt and confusion it has sowed into my life, making living while maintaining these ideals feel like an insurmountable mountain. Lucky for me, I already started learning how to climb. I have the tools and thoughts available to me to find an answer, I just know it’s going to take a lot of time to get there.

“your gift to design”

So we talked in the previous writing about what the idea of “Middletonism” could be, an attempt at defining what makes myself unique in a field where many are doing the same. At my residency in Colorado this past July, I was asked the following question by Natalia; “What do you think the gift you are willing to give to design is?”

I think I took that question a little harshly. I started by simply saying my intentions in the field, donning the mask once again. Suddenly, a clear shift is noticeable, and I start attacking the question itself. I know I’m breaking the rules by sharing this (Natalia asked us not to share our words with others), but comparing it to the writing previously I find it to be very interesting to dissect.

What do you think the gift you are willing to give to design is?

“I want to make people think about the world from new perspectives outside of established canons, through the lens of storytelling and media.

I view many things from a different outside perspective, practicing and studying anarchistic viewpoints, connecting media, music, games, and other stories into the greater narrative of the design ethos. Let's talk about, rather than how I do that, instead how I can start to do that more.

The chemical slurry of designer, anarchist, young video essayist, photographer, multimedia creator, artist, writer, storyteller. I want to acquire those labels for myself as I venture further into VCFA and push myself into a world where I can both make for myself, and simultaneously create value for the world.

I want to entertain, create meaningful discussions, and foster more empathetic and creative thought all wrapped up in a pretty package for the viewer to easily digest. I want to talk about the world and how it operates, and show my students how that work may not be different now, but how it can be in the future.

Let's be honest, living sometimes isn't really the best thing, yet something we have to do. We're born into the world not of our own volition but instead of the choices of others. I think the key factor here then is what we make of this life we've been (forcibly) given.

Many are caught up in the belief that they must give a “gift” to society, that they are in debt to the government or an organization over them for allowing them to live peacefully. I don't follow that train of thought, especially in the context of a capitalist society that requires you to pay into the very idea of being alive in the first place.

It is not selfish, or evil, to want to rest on a beach and watch the waves. It is not selfish, or evil, to expect education and housing to be free. It is not selfish, or evil to want to be free from the chains of currency.

That being said, it is up to you to decide whether you wish to share a gift to society. There is no requirement that you have to. Your work or art can be meaningful to you, instead of others. Not all work has to be for others.

I chose, not of my own volition, but out of necessity. The freedom of choice in modern society is an illusion. I must make monetary gains for my services, I must provide a gift. The question then lies in the nature of our choice and our field, and how we can make the most of our situation and figure out how to live happily in this environment.”

So much here aligns very well with what I said before, but there is a key difference between this and that of “What of Middletonism”; the intention to share.

Without any intention to share this, I let loose and allowed myself to freely speak to what I believed. The mask came off, I realized that in this small moment that I was alone in a room with myself, only echoes ringing out. Yet, like a switch being turned on, these words now come out easily as if they were repressed emotions. I had no intention to share, but now I do, and yet I’m still speaking the same way. In my writing, I do not need the mask.

This small writing I made and my others from that session had me thinking all throughout residency, and as I spoke to my beliefs in the conversations that proceeded that day, I found the filter was loosening more and more. Without that key moment, I don’t think I would have answered “What is Middletonism” the same way, I would have donned the mask and talked on and on about my grandiose intentions and ideas about how my work would be.

When did I let myself become so obsessed with work, when did it become more important to me than my personality, when all I needed to answer was “What do I believe?”

I can feel a clear shift in my attitude with writing now. I know that I used to be so caught up in a pressure that I couldn't explain. Teachers, Friends, Family; I felt as if I needed to become great in every person's eyes. This hasn’t gone away completely of course, it’s only human to hope that others will like you for who you are.

When that want becomes a limiter, stopping you from releasing your true thoughts and feelings into the world, this becomes an entirely different problem. Who cares if someone reads my work and scoffs at the idea, calling me a disillusioned anarchist and throwing out my opinions? I need to realize that this work I am doing isn’t for them in the first place. That I’m working not only for myself, but for those who are open enough to be willing to hear these ideas.

Being genuine is not an easy task, but I feel now more than ever it is a necessity for us as a society. We must shatter our masks and bring down the barriers we have built between us. If we are not able to talk to one another, we will come to the conclusion that we must fight to make society better. There are times when that is in fact necessary, but only as an absolute last resort. Even as an anarchist, I can easily see that.

So what should my gift to design be? What should I willingly give to the design world which I am so conflicted on?

I had a great start in this previous writing, but let my frustrations leak out and take over the question. Post residency, post “What is Middletonism?”, how would I answer that question if it was to be asked to me now?

Well, really what I’m doing is propaganda. I want others to believe in my vision for the world, I want them to learn a more empathetic and open response to differing opinions and ideas. A key difference however is that I do not want to force anyone to believe in my ideals. I simply want to offer opposing viewpoints and arguments in a “Hey, have you considered this?” sense. 

This doesn't change the fact that it is still propaganda. Any person with a belief creating with the intention of changing the opinion of another is still making propaganda, whether there is hostile intentions behind those ideas or not.

I believe in a lot of things. I think this is a great strength, a strong moral compass and the ability to critically analyze all things in front of me. I’m natural to opposition, my stream often flows uphill. Together, I can attempt to use these unique abilities of mine to make small changes in the hearts of others. Whether or not that change happens is yet to be seen.

I know one thing clearly now. I want to be here, writing and formulating these thoughts to carry forward to my peers. This time, and possibly for the first time, I’m not working for the sake of others. 

I’m creating work that I want to create, and finding a path in the world that allows myself the freedom to continue making, writing, living, and learning for one more day on this earth.

what is middletonism?

Well, that’s a question, isn’t it?

In the world of creation, individual beliefs are often snuffed out for the sake of what we would call smart choices. As a kid, we may have dreamed of becoming an astronaut, a zookeeper, or a pirate. Then, society then brings down the cookie cutter, molding you while you are soft and malleable dough. We send our kids off to school to carve the meanings of authority and obedience into their very flesh and bone, snipping their wings before they are ever able to begin to learn to fly.

In the meanwhile, images of war, money, power, and government flood the history books in our classes from a young age. The single-sided interpretations of the ideas of freedom, righteousness, exceptionalism, and individualism are placed before you and read verbatim as the rule of law. No different from the rule of a God. The divine rights of the government you exist under have carefully crafted these conditions to create the perfect environment for the stripping of autonomy and voice.

To say this sounds like the start of a corny dystopian teen novel is not an exaggeration, and yet the dystopia becomes hauntingly real as we look to the news and media, seeing generations of a well researched and oiled propaganda machines turn out hateful rhetoric repeated day after day.

This is how I viewed the world I grew up in.

I felt as if I was being suffocated.

However, in reality, I was young and incapable of realizing these conditions at the time. The “me” of that time was simply angry and confused with the world, with all the rules, with authority. I didn’t know how to channel anything I was feeling, and I never felt like an artist at the time. 

Nobody around me seemed to share the same level of enthusiasm for media that I did, so I spent the majority of my time on a computer or reading books. I would watch shows, spend time talking to people from across the globe in online communities, read fiction about dystopian futures, and play games that introduced new concepts or ideas to me.

To many in my family, this looked like an addiction to the new digital tools that came with the start of a new millennium. To me, it was classic escapism. I felt as if nothing else could stimulate me, and nobody around me was willing to talk about any art, literature, or concepts the same way I would obsess over them. I could spend hours thinking about some crazy and fun idea such as Simulation Theory, nobody wanted to match that energy. 

Instead, the “adults” at the time just complained; about work, about money, about dreams that never came to fruition. At the time, I remember wondering why it seemed to me that everyone just hated being alive. Nowadays I realize that this was definitely a condition of the area I grew up in, the Appalachians are no stranger to many dying small towns like mine. That area feels like darkness, my heart feels heavy every time I go back. My girlfriend often asks me if I’m happy to be home when we visit, how do I answer that?

Like clockwork in a factory, the schooling system eventually breaks down the hopes and dreams of the children and repackages them into convenient little things called “Jobs.” Somehow the authority manages to re-appropriate these dreams and ambitions into the framework of capital. The starry-eyed children look on in wonder as the man in a gray suit explains that they will wake up at 8am every morning, drive their fancy new car to an office, do something meaningful for 9 hours a day, and then go home to a beautiful nuclear family. They cheer gleefully as he tells them that this is how it will be until the day they get to retire, having done their best to contribute to our wonderful society!

I personally never really had any real passion for work in the capitalist sense. I didn’t even have a plan for what to do after high school. In my head, I just wanted to keep consuming media, I wanted to keep experiencing new things. I wanted to be free. That’s why when my graduation came around, I hurriedly selected a trade school to study computer science. My reasoning for this at the time was “well, I kinda like computers, so sure.”

I just never understood the idea of it, to this day I guess I still can’t understand the reasoning for someone to enjoy doing a job such as marketing or analytics. Other than to simply make a living, it feels wrong to me to be happy spending 60-70% of your life doing what is essentially chores. My own personal ideas of life and freedom simply don’t work like that. I’ll never be happy working 8 hours a day on something that in the end means nothing to me, all for just enough money to pay rent and sometimes feel comfortable enough to “splurge.”

By that vein, I think that any form of me attempting to find work in my early stages was just an attempt at social masking. 

I was actively suppressing my want to be free from this system, I hadn’t had the time or space to develop any thoughts on why I felt that way. I can only guess years of being told that I was lazy, unmotivated, or immature for this way of thinking caused me to want to try to blend in, I had no idea where my future was headed at that moment.

This masking is something that I still feel today. My peers exclaim proudly their work-ethic, wearing 60-hour plus work weeks on their sleeves like trophies. (Unfortunately an all too common thing within the field of Design.) Am I supposed to join them in their glee for what is essentially being a slave to capital? Put frankly, I don’t care about your side hustle. I perceive no value in your 3 successful businesses. Instead, I feel sadness, a level of understanding of how much time you are wasting for nothing. Time that could be spent with your family. Time that could be spent for yourself. 

It is a sad thing to wake up one day, older and brittle, and realize how much time you will never get back.

This is of course different from those who are working those many jobs and side hustles as a matter of necessity. Those who are affected by the unfairness and brutality of a system designed for their failure. Power to those affected in that way, for they have no other choice. To live within the comfort and means for freedom and actively sacrifice it is an entirely different problem, one that is unique to a system that convinces you that you are a tool for commodification and capital.

When my trade school decided to close (an entire story in itself and product of late-stage capitalism), I spent a year in limbo wondering where my life was going. This was probably one of the lowest times of my life, mental health was at an all time low. This was not only due to my newly discovered hatred for the computer science and tech world, and specifically programming; but also due to my returning to the “region of darkness” I grew up in. Sadness, Hatred, and Complacency hung in the air like fog. I could feel it bearing down on me. I could feel myself slowly turning into it.

I’ve always been somebody who was creative in many ways, but that skillset never really showed itself in any form of “real work”. Instead, I would be that person in my friend group who was really good at building intricate things in games like Minecraft, decorating rooms in The Sims, making dumb memes in pirated versions of the Adobe Software’s, making short videos, or writing essays on random topics or ideas. Truthfully, and hopefully not in a braggadocious sense, I think all of these things came so naturally to me without even trying that I never gave it much thought. Creativity was so normal to me that I was confused by people who had lived without it. 

Maybe I still am somehow.

Having performed terribly in high school, and never finishing my trade school, I felt maybe my path with education was over. I contemplated a lot of things, I went over ideas that would have most likely led my life on a completely different path. I considered being part of the Peace Corps, Traveling and building houses in countries across the world. I considered teaching English in Japan through the JET program. I considered couch surfing and working for food and keep in random countries. In reality, I just wanted out of my current situation. I wanted to see the world, of course, but again I just wanted to be free.

I decided to randomly look around at colleges one day, and I slightly remember the name of Edinboro being mentioned from a guidance counselor trying to lead me towards Game Design. Although I have always been creative, I was deathly afraid of actually doing anything creative as work. I chose to do programming because I was worried about whether I could ever even succeed at anything like game design with no skills. 

I had many feelings related to imposter syndrome. How could I become an artist when I can’t even draw? Many nights I would lie awake, trying to fall asleep. My head repeated over and over “What are you afraid of?”, “Do you want to continue working at a gas station all your life?” and many more questions like that. I remembered my Graphic Design classes in high school, how I loved working with softwares to create cool effects. Maybe that could be an option. Designers need to know how to draw too. I could never do that. 

After weeks of this torment, time was ticking. I needed to apply. The acceptance letter came in the mail in july. One month before the semester starts. I had never stepped foot on campus. I had no idea what the classes were like. I felt a knot of dread inside me. Heading into an art school without ever even owning a sketchbook, I started back onto the path of education.

My first experience with college, going to that trade school, went terribly wrong. It felt like prison, we were forced to wear business clothes, had seven classes a day, a short 30 minute lunch break with no built in school food option, and a complete mountain of homework each day. It felt as if that school experience was no different than that of my high school.

This time, it was way more liberating. Classes respected your time and autonomy (to a degree), I felt as if I had some sort of freedom in this system. I could choose to learn what I wanted rather than being forced into boxes, and the class structures allowed for thought and ideas to fester inside of me. In those four years, I started to develop a true sense of personal beliefs and self for the first time.

I started to feel like I was developing real passion for a field of study. Design was working wonderfully for me, for the first time I felt I enjoyed the idea of working on something. To be honest though, looking back, maybe that was the mask trying to take me over. Eventually, I started to realize the difference between myself and the other designers too.

I was passionate about the field of design similar to how I am passionate about a game, or about keyboards. What I mean by that is that I love talking about design. Design concepts, design theory, design history, etc. When it comes down to the act of making, especially in the sense of the designer as a tool to be utilized by a company, a commodity, I didn’t even remotely care. 
There is a fundamental difference between those who make for the sake of making and those who make out of necessity.

I viewed the role of the commodified “Graphic Designer” as a necessity. I had no passion or care for annual reports, logos, and brand identities. 

I was masking by making those projects and pretending I cared, even if I do feel that I made great work. I did so simply because that was the environment around me, and everyone was attempting to convince me to mold to that system. In this field, there is a falsified meritocratic hierarchy present within the fabric of our work. The “highly competitive” notion that we must view each other as lesser or greater than one another. By the time I graduated, I felt a very conflicted wave of emotions.

I tried experimenting with how to be a graphic designer and retain my own freedom. No matter the test, I arrived at the conclusion that I simply couldn’t. No matter what, I needed to paint myself with advertisements, give myself catchy and trendy labels to fit in, and worry about useless things like social media presence and analytics that consumed my personal time. I needed to scratch commodification into my being, and become a tool to be used by another. I hated the feeling. I hated clients. Freelance wasn’t going to work either.

When I brought up these qualms with the industry, I was met with the same usual resistance that others spouted with preconceived notions about the field. Nobody seemed to understand what a Graphic Designer could be without commodity, without capital, let alone believe that we can exist without that. It seemed that I was completely isolated from them in how I viewed the field.

This also was reinforced by watching those who didn’t fit the mold of what a “meritocratically good modern designer” is get pushed away or criticized. If you didn’t follow rules exactly according to the needs and wants of the professors, teaching within the confines of a postmodern and bauhaus europeanized style of education, then you were not a good designer. Discussions about concepts, ideologies, beliefs, etc. were thrown out in favor of arguments about color, kerning, line weight, and other subjective elements that contributed only to a controlled and limited aesthetic. Then you wonder why we leave undergrad with carbon copy portfolios.

It’s so frustrating to see unnecessary limitations bear their teeth against the young and naive. Without even having a say, students are swept up into a world of rights and wrongs, told that this is the correct way to use a grid, this is the correct way to format type, this is the correct… etc. Autonomy is taken away in a flash as the student becomes a machine capable of regurgitating these beliefs, playing tug-o-war, the student sends in work they believe the professor will like, in hopes of receiving a juicy letter grade reward. If the grade comes back low, they simply dump their current aesthetic out the window and adopt a new, shinier, polished approach according to the teacher's personal subjective arguments.

It felt different at first, but I realized then that the undergrad experience was still no different than that of the high school classroom.

We are teaching design propaganda, and nobody is immune to it.

I’ve heard countless arguments on when a student is capable of taking on “higher levels” of education. Many a professor will argue that you need to teach foundational skills and ideas to be able to have students break that mold. To that end I agree. Yet in the modern academic world of design, I find that we never stop teaching these “foundational skills” and instead focus our entire undergraduate degrees dedicated to it. 

There's no time for theory, for critical thinking, for conceptual understanding on why a decision is made. Just the rights and wrongs that allow a student to go out into the world of design and make for a corporation for the rest of their lives. What about other careers in design, what about the writers, the critics, the educators, and those who design for themselves? Why do we not mention these are even options available to our students?

I’m not trying to blame the current professors of modern academia, by many metrics they are working within their means and could easily even agree with my positions. What I’m aiming my barrel at is not the people operating within the system itself, as the late thinker Michael Jamal Brooks says “Be kind to individuals, be ruthless to systems.” I also don’t believe that I’m above anybody here in any way, there is no “better”, only beautiful differences in ourselves.

Many of these thoughts came in the form of revelations upon arriving at VCFA. For the first time in my life it feels like being able to speak without constriction, being able to practice and study what I truly find interesting, without being dragged down by attempting to turn everything into some design project with surface level messaging.

When I first arrived at VCFA I was very much a victim of the machine of undergrad that I have described. I felt as if my wings had been clipped and that flight would never be attainable even after leaving the birdcage. I had no idea what I wanted or how to work for myself. I came into VCFA with the same mask I developed for Edinboro, touting my accomplishments and work like a peacock showing its feathers, attempting to establish a place in a ruthless meritocracy.

To my surprise, that hierarchy vanished in seconds, as the diverse group of people, both those that had accomplished way more than I had and those that hadn’t, embraced me with open arms. For the first time in my life, I no longer felt isolated, I felt as if I could talk about anything and get a thoughtful answer. I felt free.

But that small freedom has given me the ability to start the journey to becoming able to identify and locate freedom in my entire life. I feel as if I am closer and closer to understanding what I want to do with my life. I understand fully that I cannot live a life in this system without any compromises, and that I must navigate this world in an attempt to control what level of freedom I may be able to have.

The reason I have taken you on this journey is because I feel it is so important in establishing an answer to the question “What is Middletonism?” (and also because I seem to be incapable of telling a story or explaining something without 10 pages.) Having had the time and space to really think about this question, and being able to reflect upon my individual beliefs, I think I might have the beginning of an answer.

The lived and learned experiences we have throughout our lives are what give us our sense of self, our beliefs, and our mindsets. I have laid out a short summary of my education intertwined with commentary about why I’ve always been frustrated with these systems.

Clearly, from a young age I’ve hated restriction, life felt as if I was trapped in a birdcage. Authority was not used out of a necessity and instead used to oppress. I’ve spent my life searching for an answer in life, frustrated by the woes of a system that gives so little thought to the people within. As I gained more thought and knowledge through both self and formal education, I became capable of sharpening and pointing my blade towards what I now believe to be the “mechanisms” behind the problems that lie in front of me.

Maybe when I break down all barriers, simplify it to its core, “Middletonism” is the pursuit of freedom. 

And how does that apply to my career and my path? Teaching as a career for me is a want to free the students in academia and allow them to think without societal restraints like capital and hierarchy, allow them to think about what they want.

I was never built to hold a gun and burn down governments, instead, I can create my own small revolutions in the classroom.

On top of that, the want to teach is also a selfish want. Teaching feels to me as if it is the one world in the field of design that I am let free from making only for others. Free from the chains of capital that drag you down to hell. Instead, it is a position of nurturing others, attempting to help them navigate the cruel and unforgiving system they are presented with. Maybe I’m romanticizing the idea of teaching too much in writing. I know that it will be filled with hardships and compromises as well, and I will hopefully be prepared for that.

This same connection appears in my writing, where I feel most comfortable nowadays. I’ve always had a unique trait of being critical of anything I consume, which has been such a blessing but also a terrible curse. I can’t sit down and watch a show without wanting to comment on something I think could have been improved, or harping on what elements of the show were done well. It drives people around me nuts sometimes.

That’s exactly what I do when I begin to write. When I write a piece about freedom, or capital, or design, or work life balance I am really just venting about the weights in the world that I feel are weighing down on me most. That’s why I might as well use my ability to be critical of anything to tell a story of my unique perspective on it.

If I can bring forward an idea to someone who hasn’t gotten exposed to it yet and allow them to think a little differently, even just one person, I’ll be happy with that.

The Middleton Manifesto:

1. We are born free. All of us.

2. Create empathy within each other.

3. Reach for a world without constraints.

4. Break down the barriers of capital.

5. Never stop learning; Nobody does.

6. Respect and use all forms of media.

7. Write to change perspectives.

8. Aim to create personal revolutions.

9. Realize that this is not a selfish act.

10. Be Free