Dear Diary,
Another productive day at the office! You should’ve seen the masterpiece I crafted for the Minnesota account—I began with the understated elegance of my old California prototypes, but started to pepper in shades of ‘08 Wisconsin and just a hint of ‘97 Kentucky. Then I wrote “MINNESOTA” on it in big ass letters. Magnifique!
If I keep this up, I’ve got that Florida gig in the bag!
Talk soon,
Sean
Dear Diary,
Hit a bit of a creative roadblock with the Minnesota project. Can’t seem to think of a good plate slogan. I want to do something new, something bold. “Minnesota: Chug It Down!” No, that’s not it. “Minnesota: Everybody in the Pool!” Closer, but still no.
Still banging my head against the desk over this new Oregon plate too. I’ve got this gut feeling it should mostly be about Oregon—but to what end?
Talk soon,
Sean
Dear Diary,
Disaster. I sent a client the wrong Dropbox link and now half of Vermont is driving around with plates of my wife and I at the Renaissance Faire. The resolution isn’t great, but you can clearly tell that it’s her head in the facehole for the portly king in his finest satins, and my head in the facehole for the hapless jester neck-deep in horse manure. I guess it’s a pretty funny photo, and to be honest, that kind of really clever idea is something I wish I could bring to my art lately. Anyway, there’s been a 600% increase in car accidents.
Talk soon,
Sean
Dear Diary,
Well, I’ll give it to you straight, Diary: the creative juices just don’t seem to be flowing. The last design I submitted was just a white background with the word “IBAHO.” on it. Not even sure what I was going for there. The job was for Rhode Island. The Florida proposal is nearing fast and I desperately need inspiration—I’m thinking about getting out of the city, maybe camping on the shoulder of I-95 for a few weeks and flagging down motorists to ask if I can look at their license plates.
Talk soon,
Sean
Dear Diary,
Another rejection today. I followed up with the client and made the case for my design, defending my artistic choices. It was still a no, but I left the meeting with my head held high and my dignity intact. I guess Oklahoma just isn’t ready for an anime license plate.
Talk soon,
Sean
Dear Diary,
Peterman landed the Florida account. What a complete hack. Peterman couldn’t think of a license plate if you hit him with both ends of your car. I saw his proposal too—oranges? For Florida? How original!
But of course those suits in Tallahassee ate it up. Sigh. It’s days like today where I wish I just kept license plate design as a really fun and cool hobby, instead of entering a cutthroat industry where the name of the game is politics and it’s always sudden death.
Talk soon,
Sean
Dear Diary,
Just got off the phone with the Minnesota brass. It’s a no. They said it wasn’t “artistic” enough. Me! My designs! Weren’t artistic enough!
You know what—you like art, Minnesota? How about this? Here. Here’s your new license plate. It’s a drawing of a nude baby smoking cigarettes and blowing out the phrase “Texting And Driving Is Usually Fine.” Doesn’t say Minnesota anywhere on it. Oh, you don’t like it? How about this one: it’s that photo of the Red Hot Chili Peppers when they played that show with tube socks covering their penises but I zoomed in on the tube socks covering their penises and then I wrote “Minnesota” on each of the tube socks.
The tube socks covering their penises.
Who even cares anymore? I sure don’t. Yesterday I sent Arizona a plate that’s just a JPEG of the controversial art piece “Immersion (Piss Christ).” North Dakota got a collage of 1997’s worst celebrity nip slips.
None of this matters. I’ve dedicated my life to this, and nobody ever stops to think of me. Nobody ever appreciates me. Nobody cares about license plate design.
I’m done with this job, done with this career, done with this dream.
Sean
Dear Diary,
Arizona took Piss Christ! I’m back!
Talk soon,
Sean