The Great Discontent

Jason Fried

2013-05-14T12:30:00+00:00

View the interview on our website for the best reading experience →

About Jason Fried

Jason Fried is the co-founder and President of 37signals. He believes there’s real value and beauty in the basics. Jason co-wrote all of 37signals’ books and also speaks around the world on entrepreneurship, design, management, and software.

Intro

The story of 37signals is widely known among those who use and love the company’s web-based apps, but what about the story of Jason Fried, President and co-founder of 37signals? We had the pleasure of talking with Jason, a fellow Midwesterner, who recalled his path prior to 37signals. Although he originally pursued a finance degree, an interest in developing software led him to working on the web and the rest is history. In addition, his early job experiences taught him about the kind of company he wanted—and didn’t want—to build as well as the kind of culture he wanted to create. And he set out to do just that. Read on to learn about Jason’s personal path and to gain a deeper understanding of the philosophies that have shaped the way he does business and why he’s most interested in making something that stands the test of time.

Interview Date: May 1, 2013

Describe your path to what you’re doing now.

It all started when I was 10 or 11. My dad is a stock market investor and we used to get annual reports in the mail. I loved looking at them because they were beautifully made and had glossy pages and great photography. Until then, it had never crossed my mind that numbers and text could be designed to look so good. From that moment on, I wanted to be a designer, even though I didn’t know what I wanted to design. I just knew that I wanted to make things look beautiful and be informative. That’s where my initial interest in making things began.

Then I worked a bunch of jobs that helped to inform later decisions. For example, my first job was at a small, locally owned grocery store. I got to know the owner and some of the managers pretty well; some were good managers and others weren’t. I started to form an opinion about what kind of person I would want to work for or with. Next, I worked at a shoe store, which was also a family-owned business. I had a great manager there, but the owner was suspicious of everyone and didn’t trust his employees; I didn’t like working for the owner.

After those experiences, I worked for several big companies. First, a company called Sportmart, which is like today’s Sports Authority. I realized very quickly that I didn’t like anything about the bureaucracy of a big company. I continued to have these little experiences that informed my point of view about the kind of company I would want to work for or run. I’ve tried to take something from each of those experiences to help me figure out what I want to build and how I want others to feel about what I build. My ideas about building a company and making things stem from that.

What was the rest of your path prior to 37signals?

In 1992, I went to college at the University of Arizona to study finance; I graduated in 1996. I mostly went to Arizona to get out of the Midwest and soak up the sun. Also, I wasn’t a particularly good student in high school, so I couldn’t get into a lot of great colleges, but Arizona was a decent school.

By college, I had a really good sense that I wanted to work for myself. I had been making software on the side and first was a product called Audiofile, which I made to organize my music collection. I put Audiofile on AOL, charged $20 for it, and people started paying me. That’s when I realized I could learn to do stuff, distribute it, and ask people to pay me for it. I thought, “Okay, maybe I can make a business out of making things.” I continued to do more stuff like that on the side throughout college.

In 1995, I started designing for the web, which was becoming a big thing. Because none of us knew how to do anything, we all started at the same level. I learned how to dissect websites and taught myself HTML. Then I started finding clients to design basic websites for and realized that I really liked the web. I did some freelance web design work on the side during college and one of the guys I worked for offered me a job right out of school. Although I got a degree in finance, I didn’t want to do whatever one does with a finance degree. This guy asked me to come work for him as a web designer in San Diego, so I said yes. I did that for three or four months before I realized that I’m not built to work for other people. I love working with people, but I need to run my own thing. After that, I moved back to Chicago and did more freelance web design. Eventually, I hooked up with two other guys who I met in Chicago and, in 1999, we started 37signals as a web design company.

And after that?

Briefly, we got really busy doing website design and needed a better way to manage all our projects. We ended up looking around for software to help us, but couldn’t find anything that we thought worked for us, so we built something. We started using it internally and then began using it with some clients; they really liked it. The light bulb went off and we thought, “Hey, maybe there’s a product here.” We polished it up a bit, called it Basecamp, and put it on the market. About a year later, it was doing more business for us than web design, so we stopped doing web design and have been focused on software development since 2005. That’s the short—and long—story of it all.

Was creativity a part of your childhood?

I hated art when I was growing up because my mom was “the art lady” at my elementary school. She came to our school once a month to show off her prints of famous paintings.

That’s embarrassing when you’re a kid.

Right! I love my mom, but I’m sure you can imagine how embarrassing it is when your mom shows up at your class! So, I hated art, but loved making things. I played with Legos, Tinker Toys, and construction sets. I also used to draw when I was younger and did take a few art classes. I’ve never thought of myself as an artist or creative in the traditional sense, but I have always enjoyed making things. The idea of creating something from nothing is so cool. I’d like to be good at woodworking or metalworking, but I’m not; as it turns out, what I’m good at is making software. I feel like I have a knack for making things that people interact with.

I do think there is some creativity in me. I’ve never been a structured person; I’ve always felt loose and free to figure out what works best for me rather than doing what I’m supposed to do. I think I’m creative in the sense that I don’t accept the way things are. Instead, I think about better ways to do things.

Did you have an “aha” moment along the way when you knew that this was what you wanted to focus on?

The number one “aha” moment for me was when I made that Audiofile program. I included a text file with it that said, “If you like this, send me $20. Here’s my home address.” I had no idea if anyone would send anything. The first envelope I got was from Germany—I didn’t know anyone in Germany. I opened it up and the text file was folded up like a letter and there was a $20 bill with a note saying, “Thanks. Love your product.” That was when I realized that I could create something that solved my problem and also solved other people’s problems to the extent that they would find value in it—enough value to pay for it. That was the “aha” moment and I’ve been doing the same thing ever since—making stuff and asking people to pay for it. It’s not about the money; it’s about the fact that I can make something that’s more valuable than the money people pay for it. If people pay $20, they should get at least $21 worth of value out of what they buy. I’ve always kept that in mind because people are going to trade their money for what I’m giving them and I want to give them more than what they’re paying for.

Have you had any mentors along the way?

I’ve always leaned on my dad, especially when I was younger. He’s really smart and is a great business person. Some family members were also entrepreneurs, so I feel like some of that is in my blood and, even though I didn’t know them well, their influence is there anyway.

There are also a lot of people I’ve met along the way who I ask questions and bounce ideas off of as often as I can.

Then there are people I’ve never met, but really respect, like Richard Branson and James Dyson. This might seem like a weird one, but I also like Judge Judy. She is interesting because she tells it like it is; I respect that because it’s so hard to do. I also respect Clayton Christensen, a professor at Harvard and author of The Innovator’s Solution and The Innovators’ Dilemma; he is a brilliant thinker. I pay attention to these people and although I can’t call them mentors in the traditional sense, I do take something away from them.

Also, the people I work with teach me new things all the time.

Has there been a point in your life when you decided to take a big risk to move forward?

I’m not really a risky person. I’m actually pretty risk-averse and have always moved slowly into things. With Basecamp, we were doing web design and making Basecamp on the side—Basecamp just happened to be successful, but we didn’t go into it saying we were done with web stuff. We hedged a little bit and didn’t take a major risk. I’ve always been careful, patient, and slow about the things I do. I don’t put anything too big at risk at any one point in time. That’s different than a lot of the thinking out there. The entrepreneurial myth is that the people who risk the most succeed the most or reap the biggest rewards. I don’t know if that’s true.

Are your family and friends supportive of what you do?

Yes. For a long time, my parents didn’t really understand it and they still kind of don’t, but they’ve always been extremely supportive of everything I’ve ever done. This extends to all parts of my life. I played basketball my freshman year of high school and sat on the bench the entire season because I wasn’t good enough to play. My parents came to every single game and that really meant something to me. Then I ran track and was really good and they came to every meet. I ran track in college, too, but they didn’t come because it was in Arizona. Their actions reminded me that they’re behind me on whatever I want to do and that’s incredibly important. I don’t know what it’s like not to have that, but I’m really glad that my parents are supportive.

As far as friends go, I’ve never really looked to friends for support, so I don’t feel like I have an answer to that one.

Do you feel a responsibility to contribute to something bigger than yourself?

I do, but I don’t necessarily know what. One of the things we try to do a lot at 37signals is share about our experiences and the things we’ve learned in hopes that it will help other people. I’m interested in helping entrepreneurs think differently about how they run a company—to think about keeping things smaller and be in it for the long-term. If I can have influence on people in that way, then that’s something that is bigger than me. I want more people to have the same kind of success that I’ve been fortunate to have and to have it in the way I’ve had it; I think it’s a much calmer path.

But that’s still small thinking in terms of impact. I’d like to give back as much as I can, but I don’t just want to give something to say I’m giving back. I really want to figure out what it is that I can help with in a much bigger way. I don’t know if I’ve really hit that yet.

It takes a long time to figure that out.

Yeah, it does. I support a variety of causes and charities, but that’s not focused. If there’s something I can do to help a lot of people, I’d like to figure that out over time. I also think that people often think of charity or volunteering time as the only way to help a bunch of people. I also think that building a great business with great products that help a lot of people is a very effective way to contribute. I hope we’re doing that at 37signals as I speak. I hope we’re helping hundreds of thousands of companies run more efficiently, helping people start and finish things properly, and giving people ideas on how to make things smoother at work.

Are you satisfied creatively?

Yes, but I’m also impatient. I’m satisfied in that I get to build what I think is right. I don’t feel repressed in that way. I have a lot of friends in this business who feel repressed because they have an idea, but can’t act on it for whatever reason. I feel very free, but I’m also always slightly frustrated with the fact that there are more ideas and more things I want to do, but can’t because I don’t have time or knowledge to do them yet.

Where do you see yourself in 5 to 10 years?

I don’t have an answer for that. I pay more attention to what’s going on now. I think a few months at a time about what I’m working on and if it’s satisfying and important to me. I discover things as I go and don’t think you can predict your passions. Jeff Bezos from Amazon says something that I totally agree with: “You don’t find your passions; your passions find you.” You don’t necessarily know what you’re going to be super interested in in 5 to 10 years. You just have to be open to being introduced to those things and that’s what I’ve been working on—keeping an open mind about things and not limiting myself.

If you could give advice to a young person starting out, what would you say?

It’s gotta be something about not trying to do too much too early. Every time I’ve seen people go down the wrong path, it’s because they’ve tried to do too much too early. They’ll have a super ambitious idea and are probably better off just implementing a small part of that idea first, rather than trying to do a huge thing to change the world at 21—it’s very hard to do that and I think there are a lot of lessons you have to learn along the way before you’re able to do that. If you set yourself up to do something you’re not able to do right off the bat, it leads to a lot of disappointment. I’m more a fan of the idea of building on top of small victories and eventually doing a lot more with the lessons you learn.

Also, I think obscurity is your friend when you’re just starting out. People want to get rid of the obscurity so everyone knows who they are and what they’re doing, but it’s nice to have that cushion of being able to mess up without anyone knowing or caring so that you can learn without the spotlight on you. Once the spotlight is on you, there’s a lot of pressure and you don’t need that kind of pressure early on. Take it easy, have a long-term view on things, build on little successes, and learn more before you try to go out and change the world.

The other advice is to focus on one thing. I see a lot of entrepreneurs build something and then move onto the next thing and the next thing and the next. Building something is only step one. It’s not that hard to put something out there. Building on top of that to maintain and improve it is actually the harder thing to do. Anyone can release something, but it’s much harder to polish and refine it over time once it’s out there.

That’s a good reminder, especially with the startup culture right now. We were talking with a friend about this recently. Who is going to be interested in building things out and making them good over time? It seems like people aren’t in it for the long haul as much anymore and I don’t know if that’s reflective of a shift in the culture or what.

I think that’s a super important point and I think it is a shift in our culture. Everything is being compressed. Expectations are so high about things happening so quickly that it’s seeping into every crack in our culture. I don’t think that’s healthy for business. People should consider the value of a long-term investment in something. Can you make your idea your life’s work instead of your life’s work being 30 ideas? Or, can you find that one thing that ends up being your life’s work instead of searching out these short moments of excitement? I’m more of a fan of constant, steady growth because it feels more sustainable over a long period of time. Creating things that are lasting is what great cultures do. When you travel in Europe and see structures that have been around for hundreds of years, you think, “This culture cared to make something that would last forever.” What are we creating today that’s going to last for 20, 50, or 100 years? I like to think about that and I’d love to have more people think that way rather than thinking about what they can do for two years until they get bought out. Anyway, that’s a little bit of a rant.

No, I think it’s totally on point.

This is an additional question, but I think it fits well here. During the day, I work at Crush + Lovely and one of our cofounders, Matt, was interested in hearing about how you’ve managed to keep 37signals so small considering all the products you work on.

It’s hard. You have to be really disciplined because there are always more ideas. There are five new things I want us to be doing right now. One option is to hire people to do all those things; that’s the easy answer. The hard answer is to say, no, we can’t do all this stuff well. We can do all this stuff, but we can’t do it all well. If you care about doing things well, it’s a lot easier to keep your company small because it forces you to focus on one or two things at a time. When you’re focused on one or two things at a time, you can give those things your full attention, carefully think about them, and hopefully put out great work.

The other thing is that, culturally, I’ve found smaller companies to be better places to be. We have the revenue to grow the company, but I don’t think it would be worth the growth because of the damage it would do to our culture. I put the culture ahead of a lot of other things that we could do, like making more products, making more money, or gaining more influence. None of those are worth damaging our culture. We’re now at 36, which is the biggest we’ve ever been. That means I don’t know everyone as well as I used to or have the time to talk to them as much as before.

We’ve grown slowly over 14 years. If you bring on a couple great people at a time, I think you can grow a much larger company and maintain a culture, but you have to do it carefully, slowly, and thoughtfully along the way. People need time to understand the culture and become assimilated into it; you want them to feel part of it, instead of just floating on top of it.

I also think you need to have a conservative approach to spending. Hiring people is the most expensive thing you’ll do and I prefer not to spend money that I have just because it’s there. I want to make sure that it’s valuable for us and for the people we hire. If you hire people and don’t have important work for them to do, then it’s really an insult to them. No one wants to work on things that don’t matter. Again, we could have more people around here, but I don’t want to give them work that doesn’t matter and I don’t want us to be so diluted that we can’t make great stuff. All of those reasons are why and how we’ve decided to keep the company as small as possible.

That’s all really great.

I know it’s sort of scattered, but there’s never one answer or reason for things. That’s how philosophies are put together.

No, it’s good to hear your thinking behind all of that.

Cool.

Alright, on to a few lighter questions. You’re in Chicago. How does living there impact your creativity and the work you do?

The thing I really like about Chicago is that it has a pace that feels like a longer-term pace. I’ve spent time on both coasts and I love the energy in New York, but I feel like it would rush me too much. While the West Coast is more laid-back, it’s also rushed in the sense of building, blowing things up big, and selling them. Chicago has a very practical, Midwestern feel—you’re from the Midwest so you know—which is more grounded and down to earth. People aren’t chasing fame or those kinds of artificial things. Instead, people are trying to build solid, sustainable things and I think that has a big impact on me.

Creatively, I don’t know. I’m a big architecture fan and Chicago is a great city for that. Creatively, I don’t take much from the city, but mentality and pace-wise, it’s influenced me quite a bit.

Is it important to you to be part of a creative community of people?

I’m an introvert so I don’t network or socialize that much. What I think about all the time is my team. I want to create a really comfortable place for everyone to be because this is where we spend eight hours a day. I think about how I can make sure that it’s a healthy community. Outside of that, there are people in Chicago who I talk to often and I have lots of friends elsewhere. I don’t think of community in terms of local as much as a network of people who I know who have gone through similar things.

What does a typical day look like for you?

My days are different. I’ve been waking up a lot earlier, which I really like. I used to wake up at 8:30–9am and now wake up around 6am. In getting up early, it feels like I get an extra half a day—it almost seems like I’m cheating. In terms of what I do every day, it’s scattered. I do whatever needs to be done. I think about new ideas; sketch; meet with people on the team; do customer service; deal with business crap; deal with staff issues. I do whatever I can to help with things that come up. Sometimes in the afternoon I’m worthless and have nothing to offer. That’s when I take care of email or administrative stuff that piles up. Most of my creative thinking is done at night, which is my “me time”. My creativity ebbs and flows. One of the things I do a lot is contradict myself. The next day I’ll decide against something I decided the day before. I go back and forth a lot and spend a portion of my days reconsidering important decisions.

Do you keep routine hours?

People’s schedules are different depending on who they are, but I try to make sure that people don’t work over 40 hours a week. We also have people across a variety of time zones, so we try to make sure everyone overlaps for at least a few hours a day to build camaraderie. We have 12 in Chicago and 24 elsewhere around the world, all the way from Russia to the West Coast. Because of that, we don’t all work together at the same time. The most important thing, though, is that people don’t work over 40 hours. Overwork and burnout is the worst thing for a business and that’s my biggest concern.

What music are you listening to?

I can’t get enough of Calexico. They’re from Tucson and I learned about them when I was in college in Arizona. I could listen to them all day long. I could also listen to great jazz drummers all day long—I can’t get enough of that. Finally, I love catching Tom Petty’s “Buried Treasure” show every week on SiriusXM Radio.

Your favorite TV shows and movie?

I like Judge Judy. I used to love to watch House, but they took it off the air two years ago. I really like a lot of the shows on Discovery and The History Channel, like How It’s Made and American Pickers. There’s something about the stories and history of the objects and the people who hoard the things. I also love Shark Tank on ABC because it’s fun to watch.

My favorite movie of all-time is either The Breakfast Club or Inglorious Basterds.

Do you have a favorite book?

I really like Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

Your favorite food?

My favorite cuisines are Ethiopian and Moroccan food. I love those flavors.

What kind of legacy do you hope to leave?

I hope I leave a legacy of fairness. Being reasonable is very important to me.

Whatever I contribute, I want it to make things better and make things that last. I’ve always loved things that last. On the other hand, I do like things that are ephemeral. For example, I’m big into gardening and right now is my favorite time of the year because everything is in bloom. The cherry trees and apple blossoms are blooming and they’re the most beautiful things. They only last for two weeks, but that is why they are such a pleasure to be around. So there’s a weird dichotomy—I love to be around man-made things that are lasting and meaningful and I also like things in nature that are here one day and gone the next. But as far as my contribution, I want it to be of a certain quality so that it will last.

FAILE

2013-05-07T12:30:00+00:00

View the interview on our website for the best reading experience →

About FAILE

FAILE is a Brooklyn-based artistic collaboration between Patrick McNeil and Patrick Miller. Since its inception in 1999, FAILE has become recognized as one of the leading artists in the contemporary Urban Art movement and distinguished themselves in the contemporary art world. Their work explores duality through a fragmented style of appropriation and collage. Working in a range of media from canvas, prints, and stencils to multimedia installation and sculptures, FAILE’s work is constructed from resampled visual imagery and blurs the line between “high” and “low” culture. The duo has been exhibited in various galleries, museums, and non-traditional venues throughout the world, including Gagosian Gallery (Los Angeles), The Tate Modern (London), a public installation in Portugal, called “Temple,” and a 16-foot high sculpture in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, called the Wolf Within. Most recently, FAILE was commissioned by the New York City Ballet to create the jaw-dropping 40-foot “Tower of Faile,” which was installed in Lincoln Center as part of NYCB’s inaugural Art Series program.

Intro

On a beautiful Friday afternoon, we joined the urban art duo of Patrick Miller and Patrick McNeil at their Greenpoint, Brooklyn, studio for an interview. The pair, along with their team of assistants, were busily preparing for FAILE’s upcoming collaboration with the New York City Ballet. After touring the studio, admiring their work up close, and taking a few photographs, we sat down to talk with FAILE about their journey. Miller and McNeil—as we’ll call them in the interview—opened up about their paths as artists, how their work found its way onto the street, and the evolution of FAILE over the last 13 years. Plus, we’ve included some amazing bonus content at the end—don’t miss it! Thank you FAILE for inspring us with your work and your story, and big thanks to our friend, Meryl, for making this happen!

Interview Date: April 26, 2013

Describe your paths to becoming artists.

McNeil: We met on the first day of high school when we were 14. I had just moved from Canada to Scottsdale, Arizona, and Pat had already been living there.

Miller: I had moved to Scottsdale when I was seven.

McNeil: On the first day of school, when attendance was called in each class, the teacher said, “Patrick…” and I raised my hand and then the teacher said, “Miller.” My last name is McNeil, not Miller, so I lowered my hand. After a few times of this, I realized I wasn’t on the roster yet because I was new. The fourth time this happened, I was sitting next to Patrick Miller in gym class and when he raised his hand, I said, “Hey, I’m Patrick McNeil. I’ve been raising my hand all day thinking they were going to call my name, but they kept calling yours.” And that’s how we met.

(all laughing)

We went to Chaparral High School together for four years and during that time, we had a common passion for art and shared art classes taught by a great teacher named Marcy Warner, who we learned a lot from.

After high school, we both went to Northern Arizona University to study art for a year. Then I went to England for a year before I came back to Arizona for one more year. Miller moved to Minneapolis to study graphic design at Minneapolis College of Art and Design (MCAD) and then I moved to New York City to study graphic design.

Miller: Along the way, we traded sketchbooks and liked the idea of making work together, similar to being in a band. We also influenced each other a lot. For example, when Patrick came back from England, he introduced me to stenciling, which was a new way for me to work. As I saw him being excited about things, I would try them, too. Our styles lent to each other very well; we both liked color and typography before we ever knew what graphic design was. Our interests continued to evolve and we both went away to different art schools to study fine art, but ended up studying graphic design because that seemed like the better option for getting jobs after school—we figured we could always paint on the side. Fortunately, we both went to schools that recognized our interest in fine art within the design program and let us take a lot of fine art and screenprinting classes. We started doing work with large-scale monoprints and silkscreens, and it was really Patrick being out in NY that inspired us to take that work to the street.

McNeil: Yeah. My first job was at Pearl Paint on Canal Street and that area was covered with street art, layers of graffiti, and textures; it was awesome absorbing that kind of surface for the first time. As I walked to and from work, I photographed and started taking note of what was going on graphically with art on the street at the time. I wanted to get involved. After a year of documenting, we started putting up little stencils.

Then we talked about starting what we initially called Alife, which became FAILE. The first project we decided to do was a series of female nudes based on photographs that I took. We thought they would be fitting with “Alife” because they were representational of a classic figure and were in contrast to what was going on at the time; street art was very masculine—a lot of propaganda, guys fighting, and other male-loaded imagery. I went to Minneapolis, where Pat was in school at MCAD, and we printed all these nudes. Our first action was putting up 100 of those prints all over New York City and documenting the process of how they broke down.

Miller: That was in 1999. We took what we were doing with the large-scale monoprinting and turned it into posters for the street. We were interested in how the art would translate from the studio to the street and, in the beginning, we were really excited about starting dialogue. We’d put something out on the street and it would get covered over, ripped, written on—it felt like a living, breathing piece of art. We didn’t have to ask for permission to do it; all of a sudden, we existed and had a voice.

Did you guys respond to interactions with your work?

McNeil: Yes. There were definitely artists we met through doing that. You’d put your work up next to theirs; they’d put theirs up next to yours; and a dialogue would start between people as they were reworking the same spots.

Miller: We documented that along the way and so much of our work has built up from incorporating images, then remixing and collaging by cutting and pasting. That fueled the fire for us to create new work.

How did your paths evolve from doing that first series to now?

Miller: It was a long path (laughing). In 1999, we were still in art school. We were fortunate to be motivated and driven to make and produce a lot of work while in school. We were exploring what was just then becoming FAILE. We had the time; we had the creative environment; we had access to free ink and large space to work. Otherwise, it was us printing out of Patrick’s tiny apartment in New York. We took advantage of everything we had available to us, including student loan money, which we used to travel. We also worked with Aiko Nakagawa, aka Lady Aiko, at the time and she and Patrick traveled a lot in the early days.

McNeil: Yeah. It was all about the lifestyle of traveling, seeing places, and putting work up.

Miller: It was so organic back then because there wasn’t the term “street art”; it was just a small group of people who were working on the street in various pockets.

Up until then, the model for becoming a fine artist was attending college, going to grad school, finding a good gallery, getting introductions to curators, and being legitimized through museum shows. That was the arc. But when we started putting work up on the street, the Internet was starting to happen and we could share our work with anyone. All of a sudden, there was potential for our audience to grow exponentially. In the beginning, that’s what it was about—just getting work out there in front of people.

McNeil: From there, our work developed. We did a lot of stenciling and wheatpasting on the street and after a while, we wanted to try different things. Getting bored of process inspires you to continually try new things.

Miller: In the meantime, I moved to New York City in 2004. In 2005, we got a studio together on N. 6th St. between Kent and Wythe in Williamsburg. It was a big stretch for us, but it was exciting because it gave us a huge space to work in, which made a big impact in terms of our work and what we could do with painting. It allowed for our work to really grow. In 2006, Aiko left to go out on her own, and around that time we started to push painting. That’s when we started doing ripped canvases, which were coming directly from working on the street, except we were painting the tears. Our whole process was unfolding in a dramatic way; more and more shows were starting to happen; and the Internet was sharing in a big way—there was momentum building.

Did you have day jobs during all of this?

McNeil: We didn’t have day jobs, but we took on freelance projects, which we relied on to pay the bills because FAILE wasn’t making anything substantial at that time.

Miller: But everything we were doing was to get FAILE to the point where we didn’t have to take on freelance projects and we were committed to making that happen.

McNeil: Everything changed when we sold prints online for the first time and they sold out.

Miller: That was in 2006 and it was a huge turning point. We started selling prints online and people were buying them. Soon, we no longer had to take on freelance work to pay our rent. Because of that, we could focus on making more prints and all of our energy went into FAILE.

How long have you been doing FAILE?

Miller: Since we were in school, so we’ve been doing FAILE for 13 years.

[Ryan] I noticed that you have people helping out in the studio.

Miller: Yes. We have assistants. I like to think of it as being similar to working with a group of talented musicians. We are the ones who write the music and compose the score, but we work with really talented musicians along the way; they can belt it out and do great things while having an impact on the overall symphony, but we’re still directing them along that path.

For our readers who might not be familiar with your work, what kind of work are you doing right now?

Miller: What you have to know about our work is that it all starts with making images. Our work is about narratives, telling stories, and searching for meaning through modern mythology and archetypes—it’s almost like sifting for gold. Today, there is a constant influx of images and we are being bombarded with information. How do you sift through that, what are you left with, and how do you find meaning in it? That’s what our work is about—taking all those common visual cues, stories, cliches, and archetypes to form a new meaning with our language in order to tell the stories we want to tell. Everything starts there. The images then go into the studio as a whole and are disseminated from there. They might become silkscreens, paintings, or sculptures.

Along the way, we’ve been challenged to rethink what we are doing and what we want to say. At first, street art was about engaging the public, but after time, it exploded and there became this commodification of the art. That led us to try new projects like prayer wheels, the Temple, and Deluxx Fluxx Arcade, which were still about engaging the public, but in a way that catches them off guard so that we can really have an impact with our message. That approach has become a big part of our practice.

Our work changes, too. For example, the Wolf Within Sculpture started as a black and white image for a show we did called Lost in Glimmering Shadows. It was late 2007 and the economy was insane; everything felt filled with materialism and greed, and we reimagined what it would be like if Native Americans came back and overtook the city. The resulting image, called “Eat with the Wolf,” was about this man having an epiphany; he is wearing a wolf pelt, tearing off his suit, and kind of being in rapture. Then we were asked to do a project in Mongolia last year and, as we do with every project, we were researching the area. We discovered that it was a largely nomadic country with a rich history of living in the desert and being part of the land. But now, Russia and China are drilling the hell out of it and going after mineral rights. We started to think about all the people who would never benefit from what that land has to offer. Suddenly, the “Eat with the Wolf” image of a businessman tearing off his suit to reconnect with nature became a perfect fit and now, it’s a permanent sculpture in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. It’s crazy to go from doing street art on such a temporary level to having a public sculpture somewhere on a permanent basis.

Was creativity a part of your childhoods?

McNeil: It’s been a big part of my life ever since I can remember. It allowed me to connect with friends and was a talent I had that I could hold on to and enjoy. My parents always encouraged me by buying me art supplies and taking me to museums. I was very nurtured.

Miller: I had the same experience. My parents were very supportive. My mom was a teacher when I was young, so she exposed me a lot to children’s books, and I got to meet several authors, which was exciting. I think my parents recognized my passion for art early on and supported it. There was never any question that I would go to art school, other than the cost of it—because it is so expensive.

Did either of you have an “aha” moment when you knew that you wanted to be artists?

McNeil: I think seeing street art for the first time was a big moment. When we were actually doing street art, it was when I saw our work pop up in a magazine. That was exciting.

Miller: Yeah. In the early years, I was just excited about getting the work out there and possibly having something be seen. We were inspired; our work was speaking to the city; and then we became a part of the tapestry again. That circle is interesting to see.

Have you had any mentors along the way?

Miller: I feel like we’ve had a lot of people who have been really great in terms of pushing us, helping us, and opening doors. Marcy Warner from Chaparral High School was one. Bill Thorburn, who was from the advertising and design world, was supportive and taught me a lot about process when I interned with him. There are almost too many people to name.

McNeil: I went to the Fashion Institute of Technology here in New York and had a teacher named Larry Toth. He was one of the last teachers to accept me as a student in his class because I had taken each class so many times that no one wanted to let me in. He also owned a poster restoration company and gave me my first internship following school. His company restored thousands of old movie posters and that was great to be around. Also, I met a close friend in college in England named Mike O’Neal, who was a huge support and inspiration early on and still is to this day.

Have you had a point where you’ve had to take a big risk to move forward?

Both: (laughing) Yes.

McNeil: There are different types of risks—the most important being the creative ones. I think you get to a point when you’re doing something where you just need to change and do something different.

Miller: We’ve taken a risk in our work a few times in our career, and it usually throws people off. Whenever we’ve done it, it’s cycled back into the work in a way that’s been really important for us, even if it’s not a popular thing with our fans and collectors. One of the things we talk about a lot is continuing to take risks and letting our audience know that we are going to do that. We need to have the periphery to explore. The last show we did was called Fragments of FAILE and it really looked at stripping away a lot of the way we make images and tell stories. For us, it was about painting and it was a really great experience, even though I think people were surprised. I hope that over time we can build that element of surprise into what we do.

Sometimes it’s necessary to hit the reset button and trust that something positive will come out of it, even if it’s scary as hell—hence the name FAILE (all laughing). That’s something we really embrace and it relates to taking risks and growing from them. It’s literally the moniker we work under so it’s important that our process reflects that. That’s the other thing—process. Through printmaking and working on the street, we’ve learned to embrace those serendipitous moments and let the environment or mistakes in the studio or our assistants have a hand in the work.

McNeil: You have to embrace collaboration because, even in the streets, your work is subject to collaboration.

Miller: It’s good because collaborating keeps you in check. You can’t go too far down a path without having somebody to bounce the work off of. It makes you answer questions about your work and that makes the work stronger in the end.

Are your family and friends supportive of what you do?

Miller: Hugely. I mean, that’s another evolution—we’re both married now and we each have two kids. That’s a big change, not only in the way it affects you creatively, but also in the sense of the amount of time you can spend on work. We have much more responsibility now and, in a sense, FAILE is becoming a very big family. That does affect us. Having kids has made us think about what we say with our work and what we will leave behind. I think about our work as little breadcrumbs we’re leaving about ourselves and how we feel in each moment. Not only are we leaving those behind for everyone, but we’re now leaving those behind for people we’re really close to.

McNeil [pointing to Miller]: I’m with him.

Is it difficult to find a balance between work life and family?

McNeil: We work too much lately.

Miller: We miss out on a lot. The fortunate thing is that we do what we love; we’re putting something into the world that we believe in and I think that makes us better people. At least that’s how I rationalize it to myself when I only see my kids for an hour in the morning when I get them ready for school because, by the time I get home at midnight, they are already in bed.

McNeil: The other good thing is that we’re aware of how much we work and we try to get a lot of family time in on the weekends.

Miller: Yes. Weekends are sacred.

McNeil: I hope it’s not always this crazy.

Miller: We have each other, too. Since we both have families, we understand if one of us needs to go be with our family for some reason. We do rely heavily on our assistants to help us out and, thankfully, we have a lot of flexibility in our jobs.

Do you feel a responsibility to contribute to something bigger than yourself?

Miller: Personally, yes, I do.

McNeil: That’s always been part of the practice as well. We contribute a lot of work to charity auctions and things like that. Anytime our work can support things like that, it’s great.

Miller: I also feel like the message we put out there is making an impact. People email us or talk to us at shows about the pieces they like and why they connect with a specific one. When we do huge murals in cities, people see it and are affected by it. More recently, we did subway posters for the New York City Ballet and got these really genuine, sweet emails from parents about how much their kids like and identified with the art. That was really amazing.

[Ryan] Speaking of murals, I really like the one you guys did on Houston and Bowery.

Miller: Thanks. Working out there was great. So many people stopped to say they were fans or ask who the hell we were.

[Ryan] It’s interesting to see that kind of stuff happen in the city. People naturally love art and seeing the process of how you guys do what you do.

Miller: That’s where the Internet and social media have become such a good thing for us because it removes barriers and allows people to contact us directly or get a sense of who we are and that can be great. Those interactions couldn’t have happened 15 years ago.

Are you satisfied creatively?

Miller: I’m very fulfilled, but very hungry.

McNeil: There are times where I feel like a bit of a cog in a wheel and want to try something different, but I feel pretty good lately.

Are there things that you are interested in doing or exploring 5 to 10 years down the road?

Miller: Yeah. We’re pretty good about identifying things we want to do. Doing the temple in Portugal was an incredibly fortunate experience and showed us that we can tackle big things. So much of artwork is production, especially with sculpture. You can make an image in a few days, but spend the next five months turning it into a big sculpture. I think you have to parse out where you can still be creative while also understanding production and running a business. That’s the side of art that a lot of people don’t get. With any kind of success comes having to run a business. You have to try to find the meaning through the everyday bullshit that we all have to do.

What advice would you guys give to a young artist starting out?

McNeil: Follow your passion. Don’t chase jobs because of money. You’re going to be doing what you’re doing for the rest of your life and you better love and enjoy it every day. Do what you love and everything else will work out—and hopefully you can find something you truly love.

Miller: It’s a blessing and a curse to find something you really love. I would say take the leap. Just do it. A lot of people think and think and talk, but don’t do anything. You have to take the leap and once you do, things will inevitably start to happen and you will gain momentum.

You guys are in Brooklyn. How does living there impact your creativity?

Miller: Brooklyn is our muse. It’s exciting to be part of what Brooklyn is today. The music we listen to, the food we eat, the things we read—they are all influenced by Brooklyn and seem to ripple out and have a bigger, more global impact. Walking along the streets every day and paying attention to our surroundings—

McNeil: The signage, surfaces, textures, and breaking down of things.

Miller: We take all of that in and put it out in new ways. It’s an important part of finding meaning in the world by bringing things in, making them your own, and putting them back out in a way that others can take from them.

Do you guys have a creative community of people that you’re a part of outside of your collaboration together?

Miller: That’s where the street art thing comes in. We’ve fought that label, but there’s also the realization that so many artists never get to be part of a movement, which I think this is becoming. We’ve gotten to know so many people through what we do and it’s great to be a part of that community. We’ve been very blessed in that sense.

What does a typical day look like?

McNeil: Wake up early with my kids, try to contribute by unloading the dishwasher or making some lunches or taking the trash out. Then I commute an hour into the studio. Pat drives in and we both get here by 9:30am, have coffee to get our brains going, and talk about things for the day. Days either flow creatively and we get down to work or we tend to get bombarded with distractions.

Miller: We keep regular hours because there’s no way we could run a studio without doing Monday through Friday 9:30am to 6pm. Logistically, it’s easier to work late because it’s quiet and you can actually focus.

McNeil: And with so many people on the floor in the studio, you’re always juggling between a few things.

Miller: When I think of some of my favorite times in the studio, it’s usually at night when it’s just Pat and me, and we can step back and reflect on the day or week.

Any music you guys are listening to right now?

McNeil: Music is everything in the studio. I’ve been listening to the new releases on Rdio each week—this week it’s been Snoop Dog (laughing). Well, he’s actually Snoop Lion now. I also like James Blake’s new album.

Miller: I like Sleigh Bells and am excited for the new Daft Punk. I also just found out about a band called Lorde and they have an amazing song called “Royals.” Patrick and I have different musical tastes, but music is a constant thing in both of our lives.

Your favorite movies or TV shows?

McNeil: Lawrence of Arabia and Game of Thrones

Miller: I like the late-night 1980s John Hughes films: National Lampoon’s Vacation; Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Do you have a favorite book?

McNeil: Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet

Miller: I’m really into Joseph Campbell, who has a lot of great books about mythology. We’re also both collectors of printed ephemera and books, which are a big part of what we do. We spend a lot of time going to vintage bookstores and finding things online.

Your favorite food?

Both: Mexican food.

Miller: There’s a place called Fonda in Park Slope, which is a favorite, although we go to Vamos Al Tequila down the street quite a bit.

McNeil: There’s a place we went to in Tucson, AZ, called El Charro, which is so good.

Miller: We went to Tucson last January to paint a plane for The Boneyard Project. We were there for one week and ate at El Charro six days in a row. It was incredible.

McNeil: Margaritas every day!

What kind of legacy do you guys hope to leave?

McNeil: I just want some high school kid to be looking through the art section of books and pull out a book on us and be inspired.

Miller: For me, it starts with my kids. I hope I can help them find a kernel of truth in different times of their lives—and for any other young kids looking for their path, I hope that there’s something in our work that encourages them to take the risk.

Bonus Questions

If you could go back and meet your 18 year old self, what would you say to him?

Miller: I don’t want to say “Don’t take yourself too seriously,” because I think there’s value in that, but “Know that everything is going to be okay.”

McNeil (jokingly): Also, I’d say, “Watch out for that girl. She’s trouble!”

If you went into the future and met yourself, What would you say to him?

Miller: I would ask, “Is everything going to be okay?”

McNeil: If I met myself in the future? I’d ask, “Did it all work out alright?”

Miller: It’s funny because I always look back, but I don’t look forward in that sort of sense because it’s all part of the journey.

McNeil: You were asking about books earlier and the title of one of my favorite books is The Journey is the Destination by Dan Eldon. He was a young kid who took photographs and kept these amazing sketchbooks. He ended up getting killed in Somalia while photographing a riot. The book is about his life and how he lived it to the fullest. That message that the journey is the destination has always resonated with me.

Miller: Going back to your music question, then—

McNeil: Oooh!

Miller: Being a big Radiohead fan, I listened to Alec Baldwin’s interview of Thom Yorke last night. One thing I was reminded of is the importance of being aware. When you’re in those moments where you are stressed out and right in the middle of things, it’s good to step back and realize how meaningful that time is. I think that relates to your past and future selves. If you don’t “stop and look around once in a while” as Ferris Bueller would say, you’re really missing something.

McNeil: Remind yourself in the future to be present.

Esther Havens

2013-04-30T12:30:24+00:00

View the interview on our website for the best reading experience →

About Esther Havens

Esther Havens is known as a humanitarian photographer. She captures stories that transcend people’s circumstances to reveal their true strength. For many years, she has worked on social awareness campaigns with organizations such as charity: water, TOMS Shoes, Warby Parker, and Malaria No More. Her images compel thought and challenge action. She has traveled to over 50 countries in the last 10 years—and she’ll keep going until she sees that every person on the planet has access to education, clean drinking water, and a job to provide for their families. At heart, she is a connector, fostering relationships across continents, cultures, industries, and perspectives.

estherhavens.com / @EstherHavens

Intro

Amazing things can happen when we say, “Yes,” and Esther’s story bears witness to the power of saying yes over and over, even without knowing the outcome—and even in the face of fear. Esther picked up her first camera at a young age, but it would be years before she would find herself at home behind the lens or realize the fullness of her calling to photograph people for who they are and not their circumstances. After seven years of journeying around the globe to photograph for a variety of nonprofits and causes, Esther’s story continues to unfold. As you read about her path, may you be reminded that anything is possible if you are willing to say yes and give it a shot, because your potential is greater than your circumstances.

Interview Date: April 17, 2013

Describe your path to becoming a photographer.

I picked up my first camera when I was eight years old—a 110 film Kodak camera—and from then on, I loved photography. I have a big family and used to set my brothers and sisters up in poses like they did at the Walmart photography studio. When people asked me what I wanted to be, I’d say, “Either a singer or a photographer at Walmart,” which I don’t think I’ve ever announced publicly (laughing). Art was also a big influence in my life. My great grandfather was a famous Dutch painter in Holland and created beautiful oil paintings of landscapes. We had his paintings all around the house when I was growing up and I remember trying to replicate them by taking photos of the countryside with my little film camera.

I was homeschooled and graduated when I was 16. That year, I took a B&W photo class at a junior college. I started to see light and shadow in new ways and learned how to develop film in a darkroom. My professor wanted us to take more traditional images, but I was always interested in weird, crazy things. Actually, I recently came across the first roll of film I shot, which included images of a kid jumping on a skateboard and a floating head. That was a good class to start with to learn the basics.

Then I went on a trip to India with an organization called Youth With A Mission. At that point in my life, I was searching out what my calling was and what I wanted to do. I remember being in a village in India and, suddenly, I just knew that I needed to pursue photography and the doors would open. After India, I came back just loving the photos I had taken there with my little point-and-shoot camera. I went to a conference in Fort Worth, TX, and there was a National Geographic editor there. I showed him the photos I had taken and he said, “You need to look into another path,” because the images were horrible. They were just snapshots and looking at them now, I agree, but at the time, I was so passionate and ready to go.

I also met a photographer named Gary Chapman at the conference and he invited me to go on a trip to Peru with Global Expeditions. That summer, I went to Peru and shot. Gary is a really well-established photographer and had done work for National Geographic and I learned a lot from him by watching how he photographed. On that trip to Peru, I met a girl who I later went to China with and, from there, I just kept meeting more people.

At the conference I mentioned earlier, I met another photographer named Robert McGee, who offered me an internship in Austin, TX. I thought that sounded cool, so I decided to give it a try and everything worked together for me to move there and do that. A family, who is a friend of a friend of my mother’s, called me out of the blue to offer me a place to stay. Little did I know that they lived five minutes from where I would be interning. When I started my internship with Robert, he gave me my first digital camera and taught me how to shoot with a lighting setup. To pay my bills, I worked at the Starbucks down the street. Robert taught me so much, including the business side of things, and that’s how I got my feet wet.

I had a passion for photography, but I wanted to do more. I had always loved traveling and helping people, and those interests came together when I got involved in nonprofit photography. One of my first introductions to that was with Invisible Children. I had never heard of them before, but my roommate had the Invisible Children DVD in our DVD player and I watched it. Then I called my roommate and said, “Whose is this? What are they doing? I want to be part of this thing!” I contacted Invisible Children and said, “You don’t know me, but I have a camera. Can I come help you with anything?” And that’s how it happened.

I continued to call people, tell them I had a camera, and ask if I could help. I started shooting a lot and had my camera out pretty much every day, with Starbucks still paying my bills on the side. Then I started to get calls from people asking me to go on trips to shoot. I think that was partly because I was always ready and willing. I jumped aboard several mission trips as their photographer. Slowly but surely, I got paid more and more. Then I started getting enough work that my job at Starbucks was lacking; I had to quit it and that was a very scary thing, but I did it anyway.

How was the transition from quitting Starbucks to doing photography?

When I started out with photography, I got paying jobs every now and then, but it wasn’t much money. I worked about 20 hours per week at Starbucks, plus I got insurance, too. I knew that I wanted to do photography full-time, but it also really scared me because if I quit my day job, then my security would suddenly be gone. One day, I just decided to quit my job. That was a big break for me because I was then freed up to go on any trip with anybody who contacted me.

People often ask me how I get jobs. I don’t really have to go after jobs anymore—they just come my way now. I do consider every job that comes my way, but I don’t fight too hard for any job. If there’s resistance, I take it as a sign that maybe I’m not supposed to do that job. I want to know that each job I take is right for me and don’t want to work for an organization unless I believe in their cause and can support them.

You’re a freelancer. How long have you been doing that?

For seven years.

Wow!

I started in 2006 and am still going (laughing). It’s not easy. From the outside, it looks so simple and great, but it’s a challenge for every freelancer because you never know what’s going to be next. I love the adventure of wondering what’s going to happen or where I’m going to be. I just trust that it’s going to be fine and I love having something different going on all the time.

Where did you grow up and how was creativity a part of your childhood?

I grew up in Garland, TX. My father had his Masters in music and was determined to have the von Trapp children. I have five siblings and my dad constantly taught us music as well as art; we all sing and play piano and guitar, although I’m the only one who went down the photo art path. Also, we were all homeschooled together and I feel like that was a really unique part of our upbringing. Reading out of a book is not enough for me, but it was cool because our family travelled and I got to see places out of history and then write a paper on them. I loved that because I’m a very hands-on learner.

My parents taught me to dream and go after those dreams, whatever they might be. When I was growing up, nothing seemed out of reach. I was told that if I wanted to do something, I should just do it. I think that’s very different than what some people are taught today. Even when I was young, I didn’t just do my studies in a book. I was asked, “Esther, what do you want to do? What do you want to be?” and I got to work on those things. I was encouraged to see and experience the things I was learning and because I grew up that way, it’s how I approach the rest of my life as well.

Did you have an “aha” moment when you knew that photography was what you wanted to do?

It was definitely the experience I had in India when I just knew that I had to go after photography. After that, things started to develop. I went on my first trip to Africa, which was with TOMS to photograph their first shoe drop there. I had the hardest time in Africa and didn’t want to go back because the poverty affected me so deeply; I didn’t know what to do about it and it was heart-wrenching.

While in Africa, I met a girl named Summer Rayne Oakes, who was an eco model. She asked if I wanted to go to Mozambique with her to meet a guy in the bush. I said yes and we went to meet a guy named Allan, who did tree reforestation. Summer needed photos for SHAPE Magazine, so I ended up taking some shots. At the time, the trip was really fun, but once I got back home to the US, the transition was really tough. Even though I had been to India and Central America, Africa really hit me hard.

When I returned from Africa, a guy from an organization called Banding Together reached out to me and said, “I’m going to Congo to learn about the AIDs situation and I’d like to bring you with me.” I decided to go. There, I had a moment when I was photographing a child who was malnourished and looked very sad; I looked at the images of him and thought about how great they would be for my portfolio. Up until that point, my camera was always this protective barrier for me. I could hide behind it and not have to get involved; it was safe. Suddenly, in that moment, I became really disgusted with the person I had become because I didn’t take the time to get to know this child, but I took his photo for my own gain. When it comes to fashion photography or other fields, I don’t necessarily think that’s wrong, but there’s something wrong with getting excited about a photo that looks so sad. After that, I wanted to put my camera away, but I kept getting phone calls from people who wanted me to go on trips with them.

Next, I got a call from a group of college students from an organization called Wishing Well: Water for the World. They were going to Rwanda to learn about the water crisis and asked me to go with them; it sounded interesting. I said yes and prayed that my heart would change on that trip. When I was in Rwanda, I heard two distinct phrases that changed the way I see and photograph. The first was, “My light shines upon them,” and the second was, “Who we are is not our circumstance.” If I’ve ever had an “aha” moment in photography, it was that moment—I realized I had been photographing people in their circumstances and not for who they are. It was profound.

After that, I photographed a woman named Manwoondi; I got down low, looked up to her, and realized that she was shining and vibrant, even though she’s normally covered in flies and dirt. I pulled out my flash and said, “Manwoondi, the light’s shining on you!” and I had her look at the flash and this magical photo happened—I had never taken anything like that before. She looked stoic and strong and beautiful. Suddenly, I realized that I hadn’t been viewing people that way because I didn’t understand poverty; it was so distant and foreign to me because I could go back home and not have to see it anymore.

I got to know Manwoondi’s entire community, a village called Marunja, and it was in that village that charity: water drilled a well. I got to photograph the story of the village, including the story of Jean Bosco that later became a really big charity: water story. That was when I realized that photography could actually change something. Charity: water had funded a well there and, in three days, it was drilled. When water started flowing for the village, I got to rejoice with everyone and photograph the celebration as it happened. Six weeks later, charity: water’s founder, Scott Harrison, told me they were having an event at Saks Fifth Avenue in New York and he invited me to come check it out. I went and was blown away; photos telling Jean Bosco’s story were being shown to all these people on the top floor of Sak’s Fifth Avenue in New York City. That’s when it became about telling other people’s stories and taking myself out of it.

You mentioned that you did an internship in Austin. Would you consider the photographer that you interned with a mentor?

Yeah, for sure. He was definitely a photo mentor for a few years. However, he photographed architecture, so we differed in that way. I also had another mentor, Gary Fong, who was the editor of the San Francisco Chronicle. I’ve also built a great group of friends and I feel like we all mentor each other, which has been really inspiring.

Has there been a point in your life when you decided you had to take a big risk to move forward?

I would say that quitting Starbucks and going full-time as a photographer was a big risk. As a woman, I also feel like I’m constantly taking big risks by traveling alone to places I don’t know. I just spent the last six weeks in India and Bangladesh and it was scary; at times, I found myself asking if I was safe. Now, I can’t even take a taxi or walk alone in India at night. The interesting thing is that I’ve had to battle fear my whole life, ever since I was a kid. In going to all these places, I have to face my fears and ask why I’m even scared at all. When I tell people that I’m fearful, they think it’s impossible because I travel so much. But I try not to let fear grip me; I try to stare it in the face.

Are your family and friends supportive of what you do?

My family is amazing and very supportive. They live all over the place. My sister, Jennifer, is an archaeologist and writer and lives in Holland; My brother, Jeff, manages a company in Texas; my brother, Josh, is in a band and he calls me all the time to check up on me and make sure I’m safe; my little brother, Jonny, is an incredible musician; and my little sister is about to graduate college and will be pursuing fashion. I have the most amazing mom—if I was a mom, I don’t know if I would have let my daughter do half the things I’ve done. My father was always supportive and wanted to hear every story. He passed away from cancer eight years ago, just after I had gotten back from a trip to China.

One of my favorite things right now is that my family and I all have iMessage and I get text messages from my family all day long saying what they’re doing and where they’re going. They constantly encourage me. So do my friends. I’ve tried to create a tight group of friends who I can support and who support me—and ones who understand my life of constantly being gone.

I’m pretty sure the answer to this is yes, but do you feel a responsibility to contribute to something bigger than yourself?

Absolutely! Always. If I could take the “me” out of everything I do, I would be so happy. However, I’ve also learned that using our stories is what inspires people and challenges them to do something bigger, which is why I share my story. I want to see a lot of things happen: people to come out of poverty, jobs to be created all over the world, photography to be used for bigger purposes, people to come and find community in new ways and not be lonely anymore, and education to be changed across the world so every kid can go to school. I want people to feel loved and valued. Those things weigh on me all the time.

Do you see your involvement in photography being a catalyst to change those things?

That’s where it’s always been. When I started doing photography full-time seven years ago, I had no idea I’d be doing what I’m doing now. I had no clue that I would work for all these organizations or travel to over 50 countries. I just kept dreaming and tried to accomplish small goals to meet each year. I am definitely still dreaming of something bigger, something that I haven’t seen yet, even though I don’t know what it is.

Are you satisfied creatively?

Not at this moment. I don’t feel creatively satisfied right now because there is a lot more I want to be doing or know I should be doing. I’m trying to slow down to do some soul searching. I am constantly trying to find new ways to explore creativity, so what I do next might not even be related to photography. One thing I’ve always wanted to do is write a book; maybe I’ll do that next.

If you could give one piece of advice to another photographer starting out, what would you say?

Stop trying to copy other photographers. Everybody is a photographer now. When you’re exploring things creatively, I think it’s important not to copy others; just be who you are. That’s not something that is taught in our culture. We look at celebrities or others who we want to be like and that’s fed to us constantly, but one thing I’ve always strived for in my work is to find a way to do something different and unique that nobody else has done. There’s no A, B, C path to doing anything; things are different for every person. Don’t copy others; just be yourself.

Success is not something we should be chasing after. There’s this quote from Mother Teresa, “God hasn’t called me to be successful. God has called me to be faithful.” I love that attitude of doing what you’re doing to the best of your ability without chasing after success. Sometimes we set goals that are so far above our reach; we have to take one day at a time and do the best with what we’ve been called to do.

You travel so much. How does your environment impact your creativity since it’s always changing?

I’ve practically lived out of a suitcase for the last three years. Last year alone I was home maybe five days a month. It’s so challenging on your body, mind, and soul. When I was home, I was lacking community. I looked at communities in Africa and they don’t have a lot, but they are so happy—why is that? Because they have each other. I knew I needed to switch things up because community and who you surround yourself with is so important.

I’m now in Dallas and am part of a coworking community here called Weld. I thrive in that kind of environment and have learned that I need it to be creative and grow. I used to come back from trips and be alone in my house; I was not thriving. Now, I come back from trips, sit down with all my friends, and tell them stories. I also have a mentor named Cari, who I process through my trips with after I return and that has been so helpful for me.

You definitely need someone to process through all of that with because you don’t have the time or outlet to do that while traveling.

I think travel seems so glamorous to a lot of people; they think that life sounds amazing. Yes, it does sound amazing, but it’s hard on your body. Sometimes all I want to do is sleep in my own bed, but I can’t; or if I’m sick, I want the comforts of home. It’s one thing if you do a few trips a year. Otherwise, it’s a lot of work and can be very taxing.

Is sounds like it’s important to you to be part of a creative community of people.

Yes. I think it’s everything for creatives. One of the reasons Weld was born is that I was talking to the founder, Austin Mann, telling him that I don’t like sitting by myself at home, editing. I need people around me. The way I get the most work done is if I have five people sitting around me and they’re all going at it, getting work done. I feel that energy. I love seeing what everyone is working on. I got really depressed sitting at home alone after every trip. Now I come back and everyone is glad to see me and wants to know how my trip was. Collaboration happens in that environment, too, which is really great.

I don’t know that you can answer this question. What does a typical day look like for you?

Yeah, that’s hard. No day is typical. There are some days where I really long to have a routine. When I am back in the States, I wake up and the first thing I do is find coffee. Then I try to figure out what I’m going to accomplish for the day. When I’m in town, I schedule a lot of coffee dates just to meet people. That’s another thing I’d tell young people—go have coffee with as many people as you possibly can. Your first task is to find out as much as you can about everyone else. I usually have lots of people who want to get together, so I’ll go do that. That’s great. Then I just get to hang out with people I care about. When I’m in the field, I just never know what my day is going to look like. I can’t have any expectations because it’s going to be full of surprises. That’s one of the crazy things about traveling. You could have an agenda and schedule, but it never goes the way it says on paper (laughing). You have to be flexible.

What music are you listening to right now?

Well, my brother’s album came out yesterday, so I have that playing nonstop.

What band is he in?

The Afters and the album is called Life is Beautiful. It’s so good! I’m also listening to The Lone Bellow and Hillsong United.

Any favorite movie or TV shows?

I like chick flicks when I have to relax, but don’t tell the world that! As for TV shows, I like Modern Family and The Office as well.

Your favorite book?

I wouldn’t say I have an overall favorite, but I do have a favorite from last year and that would be Love Does by Bob Goff. The book is all about loving people well, which is what I’m all about. This week, I’ve started reading The Catalyst Leader by Brad Lomenick.

Favorite food?

Probably Brussels sprouts. When I was a kid, my mom made me sit at the table and eat them—I couldn’t leave the table until I did. I hated them, but now I’m crazy about them. I’m a vegetarian, so I’m happy with any kind of vegetable I can find.

What kind of legacy do you hope to leave?

That is the toughest question. I really hope that through my photography and the way I live life, people will love others more, learn to see who they really are, and stop judging one another.

Brad Smith

2013-04-23T12:30:55+00:00

View the interview on our website for the best reading experience →

About Brad Smith

Brad Smith lives in a small box on an island named Manhattan. By day, he is the CEO & Founder of Virb—the social network turned DIY website builder. When the sun sets, he is an advisor, investor, end user of fine whiskey, and snapper of Instagrams.

In 2001, he founded Neubix Studios, a corn-fed, midwestern design agency, which became widely recognized for its simple, yet groundbreaking designs—apparent on sites like The Big Noob: a big, blue blog about nothing.

Circa 2005, Brad took a hiatus from client work and moved his company to Boston to join forces with the team at PureVolume. Now hailing from New York City, Brad and his team have charted a course into the land of easy-to-use, do-it-yourself website builders.

His next destination: Unknown. To be continued…

Intro

Stories are powerful reminders that we are never alone and we’ve been continually reminded of that since beginning TGD in August 2011. Over and over again, we’ve received responses from readers who have felt a connection with the experiences of people we’ve featured. From the beginning, we have encouraged those we interview to be as open and honest as they’re comfortable with—those moments of vulnerability are the moments of deepest resonance. This is Brad’s story, uncensored. Drawing upon his wealth of experiences, he offers us what he’s learned about business, risk, purpose, community, and finding success in the unlikeliest of places—because sometimes success first looks like failure.

Interview Date: April 15, 2013

Describe your path to becoming an entrepreneur.

I always knew I wanted to build a business. As a kid, instead of playing “house”, I played “business”. I “sold” items out of my bedroom and, when my sister came into my room, I’d sell her items in exchange for Monopoly money.

I discovered web design during my college years when I dropped out of college to work at a “communications” company in Springfield, MO. There, I discovered web design and fell in love with it. I was teaching myself new things and succeeding at something, faster than I was in higher education. It was 1998 and the company’s offerings were dial-up Internet access, pagers—yes, pagers—and cell phones and a small web department. I was hired on as a designer, but within six months, I was managing the department. We had grown from five people to nine. In addition to managing the department, I was learning to design in Photoshop and programming in ASP.

I worked at that company for almost two years, but business wasn’t going too well for them. To cut costs, they were going to kill the entire web department, which had the most people. The president came in and told us he had to give everyone two weeks notice. I thought about it over the weekend, talked with my stepdad over the phone to ask for advice, and went into my boss’ office on Monday morning and said, “I’ve done a lot of work and kicked a lot of ass to grow this department. I don’t want to just let this go away.” He agreed to give me access to all our existing clients if I were to start my own company. I immediately had two weeks to start a new business. I was completely naive and made some of the worst business decisions of my life, but two and a half weeks later, I had an office space rented; we had computers and desks; and we were running a web design shop.

How old were you?

I was 23.

Was the company you started Neubix?

Yes. Actually, Ryan Sims was one of the people who was working with me at the previous company and I had asked him to come join me at my new, hot little unknown startup that was making zero dollars. What could go wrong, right?

[Ryan] Wait—I thought he was working at Staples?

(laughing) He was working at Office Depot when I hired him at the communications company six months prior to them killing the web design department. I had put a job letter up on Monster and Ryan replied. We met for lunch at McAlister’s Deli in Springfield and I immediately knew we’d work great together. We continued to work together for 10 years, through three different startups, and he’s still one of my oldest friends.

What was your path from starting Neubix to Virb?

We did Neubix from 2000–2005. Meanwhile, two of the founders of PureVolume reached out to Ryan saying they liked his work and wanted to hire him as a freelancer. In 2005, Ryan and I went to SXSW, met the guys from PureVolume, and we all hit it off; it was fantastic. That’s when Brett, one of the PureVolume founders said, “You should close down your client shop and move the company to Boston so we can team up together.” There was no way I was going to do that—I had put five years of my own blood, sweat, and tears into building Neubix. It was my baby.

After SXSW, I went back to Missouri and, in the following months, started to have more phone conversations with the PureVolume guys. They invited us to come out to Boston, see the city, and talk more details. Ryan and I went out there and ended up getting to spend some quality time with them. I really loved Boston and had always wanted to get out of Missouri and live in a bigger city. I said to them, “Look, I have worked myself into a bit of debt with the early days of Neubix. You help me remedy that and I think we’ve got a deal.” Ryan and I collectively decided to wind down new projects at Neubix and prepare for a move to Boston; we notified all current clients and sent out a notice to all of our hosting customers—I had a little hosting business that I operated as part of Neubix. It consisted of six servers in a coat closet and hosted over 150 customers, which was the most profitable part of the company. It was also the most stressful. Every time a thunderstorm rolled through, I thought, “Oh no! A tornado is going to suck my servers away.” That nearly happened in 2002—true story.

Did you all move to Boston?

At that point, there were five of us involved in Neubix and I had a couple of people who didn’t want to move a thousand miles. I knew I wanted Ryan Sims and (Keegan Jones)[https://twitter.com/keeg] to join me. When Keegan started working for Neubix as an intern, his mom brought him to work because he was too young drive—he’s going to kill me for saying this. He was unable to move to Boston with us because he was still in high school, but he continued to work with us remotely for about four months. Even though we closed up shop at Neubix, we still had client projects to wrap up and he helped with those.

In Boston, we worked on building PureVolume and the company grew from six to eighteen people. The PureVolume product was making enough money to support the company, so it was time for product number two. We had already known that we wanted to create a MySpace alternative. At the time, Facebook was edu-only and MySpace was king. We knew there was a better way and wanted to make a beautifully designed social network. We released Virb as a MySpace alternative in private beta in the winter of 2006 and ran it invite-only for the first three months until we officially launched with a big event at SXSW in March of 2007.

Around the time we launched Virb in private beta, Facebook had stopped requiring .edu email addresses and opened up for everyone. We had launched Virb as a MySpace competitor and out of nowhere, here was Facebook. In hindsight, it was the social network battle checkmate, but Virb still saw a really good run. Our peak was around 500,000 active users and we had a good pull with the creative crowd, which is why I believe it continued to thrive; we pulled in the tastemakers and people go where the tastemakers go. We had a lot of content creators—photographers, filmmakers, musicians, and people like that.

Once we realized there was no way to compete with Facebook, we decided that we would focus on only being the social network for creatives. Then there was Tumblr and FriendFeed and Flavors, just to name a few. We were now competing with other services that weren’t even on our radar six months prior. Features got watered down and messy and we were losing focus. It got to the point where I couldn’t wake up in the morning and look in the mirror knowing that my career was running a social network. I knew—and everybody in the company knew—that it was time for a change. The website builder wasn’t our first idea. We had discussed something between a social network and website builder, but after we talked it through, we decided that our idea needed to graduate to a full-on website builder.

Prior to any ideas of pivoting the company into a website builder, Virb was still partnered with PureVolume, but we had physically grown apart as I was focusing on Virb and my business partners were focused on PureVolume; we had two separate offices in Boston. Virb was in a tiny office in the back Bay and it was Ryan Sims; my developer, Stephen; my programmer, Dave; and myself. We were redesigning Virb the social network to refresh the overall design and add in new features. This was a big project so we were searching for a launch partner to sponsor our “relaunch”.

That’s when I met Alex Capehart, who was in business development at Media Temple. He said they would definitely be interested in being a sponsor for our redesign. After two months of talking, Alex mentioned us to his CEO, Demian, who liked the work we were doing and requested that I come out to LA. Ryan and I went to LA and sat down with Media Temple’s CEO and CFO. They really liked the work we were doing and were interested in seeing where the Virb platform would go, as they believed it had potential. In fact, they didn’t just want to be a sponsor; they wanted to invest in the company. The only issue was that it wasn’t just my company—I had three business partners back in Boston. To put it simply, Media Temple wanted to invest in Virb, but didn’t want outside involvement from stakeholders who weren’t part of Virb on a daily basis. Media Temple bought out our other investors and put money into Virb so that we could grow it. That was late 2008 and we continued with the social network for another year after that.

I then reached a point with the product where I truly felt like there was no end game. We were only keeping our heads above water, doing whatever we could to keep our ad revenue up and build features as fast as we could. We were being surpassed by Tumblr and Facebook and all these other services we didn’t even want to compete with. We were asking, “Why are we even fighting this fight when we don’t want to fight the fight?” It got to a point with Media Temple when it had been a year and a half and the product wasn’t thriving. We were all frustrated.

In late 2009, I flew to LA for a board meeting and proposed the idea of pivoting the company, shuttering the social network, and completely changing direction to the website builder. Ryan and I had created a keynote deck, which explained where we wanted to take the company, to show at the board meeting. We had 15–20 slides and when we were only a few slides in, the CEO Demian said, “Yes, let’s do this.” They realized that something needed to change; we knew something had to change; the passion for the product as a social network was gone. To be honest, the pivot should have happened a year sooner, but it was a scary endeavor. With our investors giving us the thumbs up, we began to build Virb the website builder in December 2009. We launched the new product in August 2010 after eight months of development. The social network continued to float and exist during that time, but we had reached out to our community to let them know we were changing the company.

[Ryan] I remember that, but I was still sad about it.

That email campaign that went out in April of 2010 disclosed our plans to eventually kill the social network and launch a new product—and that was the scariest moment of my career.

The second scariest was August 16, 2010 when we flipped the switch and killed one company and launched another. We knew it was either going to be amazing or go down in flames. A mediocre outcome was not an option.

So Virb as we know it now has been around for less than three years? You’ve done a lot in a small amount of time.

Social network Virb made all revenue from ad inventory. Virb the website builder would have no ads. The day we killed the social network and launched the website builder, we knew we could make zero dollars. The only money we would make was when someone said, “Hey, I really like your product and I’m going to give you $10 a month because you guys are fixing a problem for me.” The day we killed one product and launched another, I watched people subscribe to pay for Virb within the first few hours. It was an amazing feeling.

[Ryan] I think I was one of those guys. I remember reading about the pivot and being disappointed, but I also was excited to see what you guys were going to do next because of your reputation with stuff. There’s a cool factor in what you guys do.

That is what is still really impressive when I meet people who used Virb the social network. People say, “It was great; it was beautiful; it was fun to use, but I didn’t stick with it.” Therein lies the flaw of any community you’re going to launch. No matter how much people like it or want to be a part of it, if their friends aren’t there, they are never going to stick around.

[moment of silence for Virb the social network]

I’ve been asked twice to speak at conferences about the Virb change and what it was like to take a company and pull the plug on it to launch a brand new product with the same name. People come to me and say, “That was so smart,” but, to be completely honest, we didn’t have this master game plan all along. I didn’t know if it would work; all I did know was what we were doing was not working. The people who never get the spotlight for Virb’s successful pivot is my team; the mere fact that I wanted to change the entire company and my whole team was on board with it is amazing. My team that was invested in the social network was also invested in throwing away everything they had built over the past four years to create something new. Those are the guys who need their time in the spotlight because they took a huge risk in sticking by my side.

Was creativity a part of your childhood?

We didn’t have a computer in the house until I was a senior in high school. I was involved in yearbook class for a couple years in high school, which I loved, but we didn’t use computers; we’d do physical cut and paste page layouts and crop photos with wax pencils. It was old-school, but I loved it. I liked art class growing up. Also, my parents purchased this huge camcorder that took the full-size VHS tapes—that changed my life. I gave up all outdoor Missouri-boy things and decided I was going to chase after creative things. I remember doing my first design illustrations in Microsoft Paint on a 256 color screen. I didn’t know where that was going, but I loved it.

The first time I ever used the Internet was my first semester of college. I had a floppy disk of 500 free hours of AOL and I tore through it. I bought my first domain name and built my first website on Tripod—it was delorean.org and I still own that domain.

(all laughing)

That’s amazing.

I’m thinking of turning it over soon to DeLorean Motor Company because they’re launching a DMC charity and are interested in using it. I totally went off track here.

So, that AOL disk. I found the Internet and fell in love with it. What I didn’t realize was that when you have that 500 free hours of AOL, it doesn’t cover the long distance fee for the number that the modem is dialing. At this time, I was working two jobs—I was a janitor at a middle school and a waiter at a restaurant. Needless to say, for the next few months, everything I made went to pay my dorm mate’s phone bill.

Did you have an “aha” moment when all of your interests came together?

I had my first “aha” moment in college. I had bought a copy of Aldus PageMaker—this was before Adobe. A classmate and I decided that we were going to start a school paper and we did it. We designed it up, took it to a printer, had 300 copies made, and distributed it to whoever wanted a copy. We made something out of nothing and it was thrilling. That was the first thing I ever created that someone could hold, read, and enjoy. The ability to build something out of nothing and watch people use it fascinated me.

It was a good three years later before I realized that I wanted to start my own company. I made a ton of terrible decisions along the way. Once, during the Neubix days, I had to take a loan out against my car to cover payroll (laughing). I hadn’t had any business training; I only had a desire to build something fun and, maybe, successful. Maybe I shouldn’t have rented the nicest office or purchased brand new computers and pretty desks or a pool table.

No, you didn’t!

Oh, yeah. And it was a nice pool table. It hurt the company in so many ways. One, I shouldn’t have spent the money on it and, two, people played pool way too much (laughing).

Have you had any mentors along the way?

Yes and no. A mentor who has taught me a lot is someone who I never considered a mentor at the time. Before I had the job in the web department of the “pager and ISP” company, I worked at a computer repair shop in Springfield called Computer Renaissance. We bought used computers and resold them and also offered custom built computers. The owner’s name was Tom and, at the time, I thought he was a hard ass boss; he pushed us all to work our hardest. I was young and naive and stupid at the time, but I’ve taken so much from him in regards to business. He had created several startups and it was Tom’s entrepreneurial bug that rubbed off on me to start my own company. He was fantastic and I didn’t realize that until a lot later in life. He was smart and always had a plan. One day I’ll reconnect with him and send him a link to this interview.

Along the way, I’ve never had anyone who I could lean on for advice in business decisions. So many of my decisions have been straight from my gut because of this. One of the best things that came out of the early Media Temple investment was getting to know the CEO, Demian, who I could bounce business and product ideas off of. I’d never had that before and it was invaluable. Demian was the first successful entrepreneur who I could lean on for trusted feedback. Virb was fully acquired by Media Temple in December 2012 and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that it has been odd to go from running my own thing for so long to having a boss, but I’m making an effort to learn things from that, too.

My stepdad also did a lot of hand-holding with me when I started Neubix as I needed to take out a small loan to get started. I had no idea how to go about that. I didn’t know what a business plan was, how to use spreadsheet formulas, or how to project budgets, but he would stay up all night to help me figure it out.

You mentioned a few things that could be considered risks, but is there one big risk you’ve taken to move forward?

I look back at Neubix as a risk because so much could have gone wrong; I was an immature college drop-out who wanted to build my own company. But it didn’t go wrong; it wasn’t the big risk, either. Thirteen years ago, I had nothing to lose. I was going to launch a company and build websites, but we ended up doing more than that—we created television commercials and even worked on large rebranding projects. I look back and know it was a risky move, but it didn’t feel like that at that point. The adrenaline was pumping, I was excited, and there was no lack of money or knowledge that was going to stand in my way.

The Virb shift was easily the biggest risk because, at that point, I realized risk and knew that if it didn’t succeed, then we had reached the end of a road with a lot of things—with Virb and with Media Temple.

And there was no back-up plan?

That was the back-up plan!

You don’t know what the outcome will be when you’re faced with a decision like that.

I’m going to write a book on failure one day. Despite the fact that we grew Neubix and became well known for what we were creating, financially speaking, that company failed horribly. I was able to decently pay my team for midwestern salaries, but the word “profit” could be found nowhere in the company’s mission statement.

The weird thing with my path is, in a way, I’m still doing Neubix. Neubix became the PureVolume thing; that became Virb; Virb became Media Temple. I’m still doing the exact same thing I was doing thirteen years ago; it’s just a different iteration of that company. I’ve never left one thing and moved into something else; this is still my first start-up which has only evolved. That is refreshing and scary all at the same time.

Are your family and friends supportive of what you do?

Yes. Completely. Though I don’t think my mom and sister really have any clue what I’m doing, but my mom is extremely supportive. She would likely say, “My son travels a bunch and spends all day on the Internet.”

Do you feel a responsibility to contribute to something bigger than yourself?

I most certainly do, every goddamn day. And every day I feel that, in some way, I’m not yet doing that. I don’t know why that is; I’ve just always felt that no matter how hard I work or what I do, I’m not yet truly contributing to something bigger than me that makes a meaningful difference in people’s lives during my short time here in this celestial sphere.

Are you satisfied creatively?

Not even close. I’ve dealt with this nagging feeling for a long time because I haven’t felt satisfied and, as a result, I’ve assumed there was either something wrong with me or I was doing the wrong thing with my life or career. I’m realizing that there are many who feel the exact same way—who don’t feel creatively fulfilled—and that’s actually not a bad thing at all. There’s this damn creative void and maybe we’re striving for something that can’t be fulfilled at all. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing, right?

Taking that into consideration, are there things you’d like to be doing in 5 to 10 years?

Yes. I truly love what I do and I’m thankful for everything, including this company I’ve built and the amazing people I’ve built it with, but there’s also a part of me that is growing exhausted from sitting behind a lifeless computer screen. I think I have above average human interaction skills and I want to interact with people more and be out from behind a screen. I don’t know what this looks like or what it will be; I only know there is this talent, and a desire to act on said talent, that is not being utilized properly—yet.

If you could go back in time in your DeLorean and do one thing differently, what would you do?

I would be less scared to fail and make risky decisions. I’ve found out that, through failure, there can be success. I’ve always been way too damn concerned with what it would look like to fail. I’ve missed several big opportunities in my career because of that. I’d go back, find my 23-year old self, and give him a talking to.

If you could give advice to a young person starting out, what would you say?

Two things. One, just like I’d tell a 13-year-ago-Brad not to be afraid to fail, I’d say the same to any young person starting out. That’s not to say that every failure will turn into success, but whatever happens will certainly open a new door into something else. In some weird way, I think we need failure to keep us adhered to our proper path. What I’m doing now is not what I thought I would be doing, and it took a couple big failures to realize that.

Do you think you wouldn’t be where you’re at now if you hadn’t “failed”?

No. Not at all. Alt-universe Brad can keep his architecture degree. I’m happy with this universe’s path.

My second piece of advice is do what’s hard. The lack of this in the “youth” of our industry has become more apparent to me recently. We don’t see things the same as we did even a few years ago. We’re becoming more fickle and riddled with ADD. I’m watching more and more industry peers work to push multiple products or ideas, instead of picking one, digging in, and focusing on making it really good. I’m not trying to sound like an asshole, really.

[Ryan] Years ago, it was more about getting to build a cool business, like Neubix or Virb. Nowadays, I feel like it’s just about building something up to the point where you can sell it and make a bunch of money.

Exactly. What is fast? What is easy? What can be acquired before it’s even out of beta? We have peers who do this and are wildly successful, but it’s a small group. As the Internet grows older, I fear that we’re going to have a lot less people wanting to do what’s hard and go through shit to build something that’s really innovative. A lot of products we use now went through a lot of shit to be so good. It worries me that so many startups start out with an amazing idea, but then the product is acquired and dissolved into the parent company. We must continue to truly innovate and do something new and better.

We once had tons of websites dedicated to showcasing the beautiful websites out there. Now, there are just too many great looking products and websites to only pick a few. Good design is being held to a very high standard—thank god—and now it’s like, “Guys, that looks really really good, but it doesn’t we-eerrrrk.” It’s easy to find a mediocre functioning app that looks beautiful but isn’t the most functional. iCloud much?

You live in Manhattan. How does that impact your creativity?

I tried to get to New York twice before I successfully moved here because I had visited and fell in love with this city. I was at Neubix at the time and came here to meet with a client, NYC Peach. They were the first widely popular company to do all that crazed phone studding. They worked with clients like Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, and Beyoncé. When I lived in Missouri, they would ship phones or iPods to me to photograph for their website. They would overnight me a device and I’d have to photograph it that night so I could ship it back the next morning. After that trip, I knew this place had to be home. Wow, that was a tangent.

I love this city for so many reasons. One, it creates constant drive. There is a very high competition factor in the city. You want to be successful because making it in New York does mean something. The other thing is that I love how this city makes me feel very small and insignificant. There is something very comforting about laying my head down on my pillow at night, knowing I am closely surrounded by millions upon millions of people, all crammed in around me, in shoebox sized apartments. I’m an anxious person and, in a weird way, there is something extremely calming about how this city makes me feel insignificant. New York, for being what it is, can also be the loneliest place in the world. You walk the streets with millions of people or sit on the subway next to some of the most beautiful and interesting people, but we rarely say a word. There’s something wildly romantic, yet heartbreaking, about that.

Is it important to you to be part of a creative community of people?

More now than ever before in my life.

Do you have a creative community in your life and what does it mean to you?

Yes. New York has opened that door for me. There are so many creative people all around. It’s important to see what other people are doing and what they’re challenged and inspired by. It gives me drive to find what’s next for me.

What does a typical day look like for you?

It’s not something anybody would want to read! There’s nothing glamorous about my typical day (laughing).

What music are you listening to right now?

I’m a late Rdio bloomer. It took me a while to hop on the bandwagon, but I’m finding so many new artists now. Yet, I always go back to my “desert island” artists, like Ryan Adams’ early stuff—no, not Bryan Adams.

Do you have a favorite TV show or movie, like Lost?

Has there been any other TV show that has aired since Lost? I’m kidding—kind of. I recently started watching The West Wing and despite the fact there has not yet been time travel in the show, I love it. It sort of makes me wish I was in politics—but only sort of.

The movie question is tough because there are too many to name. I watched Ratatouille for the first time this weekend (laughing). It made me want to be a better cook (still laughing).

Favorite book?

I wish I read more. I’m constantly trying to remedy this and am currently rereading The Sun Also Rises by Hemingway. It reminds me to be spontaneous.

Your favorite food?

I’m doing this thing where I’ve given up meat temporarily. With all the traveling I’ve been doing for Virb recently, I’ve found that if I lay off the meat, I feel so much better. Maybe I’ll stick with this. Fish doesn’t count though; I’ll never give up seafood.

Do you have a favorite place to eat in the city?

Black Market is currently up there on my list. They have an amazing veggie burger, an even better beef burger, and oysters. What else do you need?

What kind of legacy do you hope to leave?

I would feel lucky enough just to know that I had left a legacy, but I don’t yet know what it would be. For now, just be good to people, don’t be an asshole, and do what you love. I’ll get back to you when I figure out the legacy part.

The Great Discontent

Jason Fried

View the interview on our website for the best reading experience →

About Jason Fried

Sponsored by Campaign Monitor

Intro

FAILE

View the interview on our website for the best reading experience →

About FAILE

Sponsored by Typekit by Adobe

Intro

Bonus Questions

Esther Havens

View the interview on our website for the best reading experience →

About Esther Havens

Intro

Brad Smith

View the interview on our website for the best reading experience →

About Brad Smith

Sponsored by Typekit by Adobe

Intro