Natasha Mead
1 of 1
Natashas work is refined, editorial and fashion led with a design aesthetic that’s recognisable for it’s detail to the craft. But it started way back with MS paint, coding in the bedroom and late nights at the video store before things took off and 1 of 1 became a thing. We delve into creative energy being a finite resource, when to say no to a client and protecting the flame to make great work.
Yes, although I didn’t realise it at the time. When I was about 10 I begged my parents for a PC, I was crazy about them. I was lucky that they allowed me to have one in my room, not to mention free rein online. The internet felt almost utopian to me back then, a place you got to visit, rather than the ubiquitous presence it is now.
I drew pixel art I made in MS Paint, and designed websites to host it. I’d develop them with basic HTML and CSS, working it all out on forums and via tutorials. So throughout my childhood I thought I was interested in technology, but it was always design, layout, just making things come to life. I had no idea that it would, in part, become my career.
I don’t think I had a proper sense of what graphic design was back then; I understood it through the lens of the internet. I didn’t realise that technology just happened to be the emerging medium of my time. I did study textiles at school, so I was also interested in craft and making things materially, too, but I didn’t recognise the connection. I wouldn’t understand the common thread running through it all until later.
Thankfully it never occurred to me. I mean ‘thankfully’ in that it’s such a difficult path and a challenging industry, especially here in New Zealand. I’m grateful that many of our clients at 1⁄1 Studio over the years have made it work.
:quality(82)/media/redpic.jpg)
:quality(82)/media/papershirt.jpg)
At the time I thought grades were important, but in hindsight they meant very little. What actually did matter is I learned how to creatively commit myself to an outcome. It also depends on who’s grading them, and how they communicate how a student can get better.
Massey was when I came to my love of print, graphic design history, and also found the opportunity to explore making things in the workshops. The typography papers, in particular. We had a great tutor, Fay McAlpine: she had a very commanding presence, we all wanted to do well in her eyes, it was very motivating to hone our craft.
:quality(82)/media/Fay-McAlpine-768x687.jpg)
I think what helped was I had an aptitude for working things out for myself. The digital tools are always changing, and there aren’t many I learned at university which I still use now (aside from Adobe). An approach of working out how to solve problems independently is probably the most useful ability. Digital tools can become obsolete quite fast.
Massey entered it for me; I wouldn’t have entered on my own volition. What it did help me with came a little later, via the software I’d used to make the project (an iPad magazine). The company shared it, someone saw it, and as a result I got my first international freelance project — designing a digital magazine for a hotel in New York. The project didn’t go ahead, but there’s a lesson there which I need to this day, as someone who enjoys doing work more than sharing it: to be found, you have to be findable.
:quality(82)/media/milk.jpg)
I don’t think awards have been part of our success, and we don’t really engage in award culture at the moment. I’ve been more interested in putting that time and energy into our own studio. It’s probably a useful exercise for students in terms of understanding how to present your work, but when I’m looking at a potential hire’s portfolio I’m not really reading accolades. I’m more interested in the level of typographic craft, attention to detail, and visual confidence on the page.
:quality(82)/media/objects.jpg)
:quality(82)/media/deskstuff.png)
Actively seeking more criticism. At design school I think most people were terrified of group crits. For many of us in the creative field, our work is deeply linked to our sense of identity and self-worth, and that makes people hesitant. Being with that feeling is something we could all use encouragement in, because the capacity to be with discomfort is at the heart of creative work.
I did a summer internship during my fourth year, at The International Office (with Elaina Hamilton and Duncan Forbes). It was great, and I appreciate it even more in retrospect than I did at the time. I didn’t realise how rare those opportunities are. The studio had a very distinct Swiss typographic style, which is quite special in New Zealand. We’re such a small economy that most studios can’t afford to be so niche. I’d go in during the day, then work in a video store at night.
Once I graduated, I thought I’d take a little time off then apply for work after the break. Truthfully, I put it off because I had no idea where to start. I’d connected with people in different creative fields online through shared interests, and they recommended me to people they worked with. From one or two small jobs to start, my practice grew through word of mouth.
About six months later I realised I needed to quit working in the video store at night.
:quality(82)/media/elaina.jpeg)
:quality(82)/media/duncanforbes.jpg)
When I studied it seemed like there were more women than men, but most of what I’ve seen in the industry has been the reverse, so I do often wonder where all those women ended up. I’ve never worked under anyone else, but as I understand it most senior creative positions are still held by men. I’m glad that I had this atypical path, as I actually didn’t have to come up against that much. In a way, working alone from the beginning meant that I didn’t need to prove myself to anyone other than myself. The work itself was always my primary focus.
I think one of the benefits of starting out on my own is that the aesthetic style has always just been my own intuitive design sensibility. I’m very grateful I’ve been able to stay true to that and attract projects.
Most of our clients tend to come to us because something in the work resonates with them. Our clients are often self-selecting in that way: those who approach us are more likely to be a natural fit. There are projects that we turn away, and we tell people if we don’t think we’re right for what they’re asking for. I prioritise creative alignment over budgets. What I appreciate most about the people we work with is the mutual love of design and craft. It’s gratifying that we can start off new projects with a shared language.
:quality(82)/media/Hannah.jpg)
:quality(82)/media/gridgrid.jpg)
I don’t know if there’s any one moment, but learning to say no, and to recognise when not to force something. It’s remarkably easy to try and meet everyone’s expectations, no matter the toll it might take on you. It took me a long time to recognise that our creative energy and our time are finite, we have a responsibility to protect the flame.
I’m less afraid to say ‘I don’t know that you’re going to get what you’re looking for out of this.’ We are a conflict-averse country, and avoidant if things don’t just work seamlessly.
Perhaps that’s something I’ve also picked up from all our American clients. I have come to believe that having honest and open conversations is a sign of respect that we can pay each other. It’s too easy to hide behind emails.
If you focus on the here and now, the future takes care of itself.
:quality(82)/media/flower.jpg)
:quality(82)/media/turnon.jpg)