All week I've been fretful.
At work we have a screen where power-points of a vapid-inspirational-informative run. Normally I can ignore them. This week they have been doing my head in—I've been treated to screen after screen of such bad typography/design that it would have been fairer to bind me tightly, scratch chalk down a board at me and have rats eat my face.
I broached the subject with my line-manager [a friend]. He was non-plussed.
"Can't you see that it is wrong?", I asked. At which point another piece of excrescence morphed onto the screen. It featured figures that resembled no living humans.
[We had something that was essentially crap in portrait, delivered as landscape at the wrong aspect-ratio].
He, my line-manager, mentioned that another friend of ours does indeed look like this. So-fat, too-short.
"Yes but we all agree that he's a freak!"
"Why are you so excited?", he asked.
I asked myself that. The answer wasn't what I expected.
I'm not angry that people don't understand, I angry because people feel that those who do understand shouldn't be rewarded.
Suppose you go to a party and meet a plumber; it takes a bit of affront to suggest to her that she should fix some dripping-issue in your house for you, for diddly.
If I tell people that I can make web sites they will ask me to do it for free, and will become positively upset when I bring up the subject of recompense.
I spent many-many hours designing my nonsense to ensure that all that matters is the words that I write. That involved a lot of learning. To others my learning has no use.
Everyone sees design as a soft subject that we all can do. People who say this are talking utter crap. I do courses that are, supposedly, hard, design is the most difficult thing that I've ever done.
We all think that we can be Piccaso, after we've seen his works.