I flew to New York City the last few days of January and made my way to the Javits Center where the NY Now trade show is held every year. This is where the Louie Award judging took place.
I imagined the judging process to be a bit sexier than it was. I pictured us judges sitting in a well-lit room with large tables and space to spread out beautiful cards around us. I envisioned a chance to chat with some of the other judges, many of whom were shop owners who carried Hazelmade products in their stores or designers I admired and couldn't wait to meet.
In reality, it was 10 judges crammed around a table in a gray, fluorescent-lit conference room, each of us with our laptops out and manila folders filled with greeting cards. The setup made sense, but of course, I had something a little more magical in mind.
The actual process of judging is intense. Each judge is tasked with reviewing the same 150 physical cards to examine the paper, printing, quality and presentation. Each entry also has an online component, which details the inspiration, pricing and production methods.
The process required focus, attention and care, which meant there wasn't much time for chit chat or getting to introduce myself to my own idols in the room. Judges were able to leave as they completed reviewing the categories, which ranged from birthday to thank you to sympathy to congratulations. As usual, I was one of the last to finish, and it took about 5 hours for me to make my way back out to the streets of Manhattan.
As an independent designer and business owner, you don't get many opportunities to have your work objectively critiqued by an expert in your field.
The first year I exhibited at the NY Now tradeshow in NYC, I submitted a few of my own greeting card designs to the Louie Awards. This was only four years into my business. I was still an emerging artist at the time.
Unfortunately, the feedback I received was minimal and not necessarily constructive. In fact, on some of my product submissions, I didn't receive any comments at all, leaving me wondering where my scores came from and what I could have done to improve them.
As an independent designer, you don't get many opportunities to have your work objectively critiqued by an expert in your field. This can leave us lost and lonely at times, wondering why some of our products aren't received well by customers or why we can't break into what we feel is our next level of sales. That's one of the things awards and judging can offer: valuable feedback for growing and improving.
In 2018, the only feedback I got from my submissions was, “Feels one noted." This comment was accompanied by the numeric scores, which didn't offer helpful direction when paired with this vague comment. I felt frustrated at the time. Looking back, I am proud that I didn't give up or quit, but those words affected me. I'm a little ashamed to admit I still think about “one noted” nearly 9 years later whenever I create a new design. Feedback is sticky and can be hard to shake. It's easy to see how this process could alter the trajectory of someone's whole career. There's a responsibility we own when we are offering critique.
That's one of the things awards and judging can offer you: valuable feedback for growing and improving.
There were three main reasons I was excited to step into the role of a Louie judge this year.
It is a huge honor to be invited. It's a prestigious award, and it is equally prestigious as a brand and business to be asked to be a judge.
When I decided a few years ago to focus 100% on Hazelmade, I had to put my teaching on the shelf, and I miss the environment of critique, growth and learning. Positive feedback and good, constructive criticism can really help push a designer to the next level. I deeply value any opportunity where someone more experienced than I can weigh in on my own process, and I'm always happy to return that time to others who are looking to learn and grow as well.
I was excited to show up for these artists—some emerging and some established—and give the feedback that I didn't feel like I received as an emerging artist. And I was excited to be in conversation with more established brands. It's probably good to note, the judging is fully anonymous but the submissions are open to any brand, so there is a wide range of applicants with different approaches to design.
When I shared that I would be part of this process many people asked if I had ever won a Louie award myself. With my answer being “no," I found myself thinking about both sides of this process and wondering what awards mean to give and to receive. I don't know what would have happened if I had won a Louie award. Having an award doesn't necessarily mean a store will stock your products. And without winning the Louie, my work has still been stocked in hundreds of stores and viewed by thousands of people.
At the same time, when I won the Greeting Card Association's 40 under 40 award, I felt incredibly honored and validated. It hasn't opened hundreds of doors to new success, but I was nominated by others in my field, and it meant so much to get that recognition and to be seen that way by my peers. It was also the first time people in my life outside of the design world and gifts industry understood my success. It was a tangible benchmark, a validation point everyone could understand.
Awards might not guarantee success or open every door, but they are important and can offer validation that's often hard to come by as a creative, artist or designer.
It was also the first time people in my life outside of the design world and gifts industry understood my success. It was a tangible benchmark, a validation point everyone could understand.
When I think of awards and judging, I think of it as a conversation. Being a product-based designer is a unique corner of the creative field, and it can feel like we exist in a vacuum with no opportunities for external critique or praise. We need an impartial eye every once in awhile to help us get back on track or assure us we're moving in the right direction. And we need validation, moments to celebrate ourselves and our accomplishments, whether that's alone, with our close network of peers or in front of a crowd at an award's ceremony.
As artists, we have a lot of metrics we can use to define our success. Some of them are external, judgements passed down from experts and authority figures, and some of them are internal, breakthroughs on a project we've put so much energy into. All I can hope was that throughout this judging process I did not act as a gatekeeper, but an interpreter with my own tastes and experiences offering feedback to help an artist continue to define their own path.
