Existential Reflections of
a Creative in Quarantine
Jeanie Mordukhay / Working Not Working Member
Quarantine has offered us all a unique moment of reflection. Time has slowed down, dishing out a healthy dose of existentialism around the way we live and work, how we spend our time, and what we value. These introspections definitely existed in pre-corona times, but they would pass through my mind in brief moments—in between emails and deadlines, at dinner with friends, before bed.
But now with so much of my time spent at home with my thoughts, I've come face-to-face with some realizations I had gotten so good at brushing aside. As a creative, my existential crises revolve around production, self-worth, and the pressurized bubble that our community has found ourselves in.
My hope is not to air my personal baggage, but to engage with others who might share similar thoughts. We're living through a global cultural shift, and as we converse and act to foster positive change for many aspects of life, I think it's a good time to also address our relationship to creative work.
So here are some of the topics I've been thinking about most, how they came to be, and my explorations around how to make things better.
1. Hustle culture is toxic
The pressure of continuous productivity is real, with a constant emphasis on wearing “busy” as a badge of honor. As someone who runs their own business, it can be tough to differentiate work time and personal time. There's a guilt that comes with taking time off when you could be planning your next move, working on a passion project, or updating your portfolio. It's easy to feel like you're falling behind or missing out if you’re not releasing something new every week. You gotta be fast, you gotta be fresh, and you gotta be constant in order to keep up and stay relevant. It feels unrealistic to be thoughtful with your work and nurture a meaningful career under such expectations.
Let's normalize our real project cadence. We're not all sitting on a backlog of work for global brands, and I think it's important to younger creatives and our community at large to be honest about that.
“Let’s normalize our real project cadence. We’re not all sitting on a backlog of work for global brands, and I think it’s important to younger creatives and our community at large to be honest about that.”
If things are slow, we don't always need to fill that time with work. We can tend to the other parts of life that enable us to live fully, be it mental and physical health, personal relationships, hobbies, and whatever else is calling out to us. There’s an immense privilege that comes with even having the option to focus time on something other than work and I’m thankful for the space to nurture my whole self.
I've come to realize that for me, success doesn't mean that I'm always working—it means that when I do sit down to work, I'm focused and energized. This comes from finding balance, which is not an end goal, but an ongoing practice. Quarantine’s demanding spotlight on these other aspects of my life was the push I needed to get back to that practice.
2. The social media bell curve
If you’re like me, your screen time stats have gone wild during this time at home. I've found there’s a threshold, or bell curve, to time spent on social media and how it correlates to productive thoughts and inspiration. Instagram is an endorphin fix with the power to inspire and move me to create—often multiple times a day. But scroll too long and the motivation quickly turns to self-doubt.
The benefits and pitfalls of my relationship with social media as a creative have become abundantly clear. Opening the app feels like a world of possibilities awaits. What’s new that I’ve yet to see? Who’s out there that I don’t know? What are people experimenting with today? As I scroll and catch something interesting, my excitement builds. I continue and my imagination starts to fire. I feel activated to make something of my own.
This is the moment of truth. If I don’t hop off while I’m at this peak, my focus quickly fades. I come down the curve feeling increasingly overwhelmed. The industry is saturated. So much new talent. How are they getting so much done? Why don’t I get that much done? The self-doubt and hopelessness set in (dramatic but true), and I’m left in a deficit of the motivation I came to find.
I also find the cyclical nature of online content to be creatively stifling. Niche bubbles form, circulate, and reproduce the same kind of work. It becomes easier to default to what’s trending or already been done, rather than truly and deeply exploring what is interesting and exciting to you.
The takeaway for me is that the internet is endless, and with any great tool comes great responsibility. I’m working on identifying the good, the bad, and the ugly of my relationship with social media, and trying to hold myself accountable to what I’ve learned. I hope to reconnect with a process of creating that feels authentic to me.
3. The intersection of creative work and civil rights
The civil rights movement we’re experiencing today has had the power, rightfully so, to reach every facet of our lives. Connecting my past experiences in the creative industry to the context of this moment, and engaging with the long-term work necessary, has amassed many questions.
As accounts of racism and oppression flood social media, especially those calling out companies and their leaders, I think back to all the jobs I’ve had. What have or haven’t I done in the workplace to support anti-racism—who was in power, what events did I miss, did I handle issues appropriately, have I ever put my career ahead of my values? Reflecting on these experiences and connecting with past colleagues over them has helped me set better boundaries for the future.
Acting in the freelance sphere can be even more opaque. What can I do to support diversity and avoid tokenism in the gig economy? How do I vet the groups that want to hire me? How can I speak out when I’m only a contractor? We should feel enabled to interview our employers just as they interview us. In the past, when I’ve entered an organization where I’m not an official employee, I’ve felt as though it wasn’t within my means to critique the organization. Ultimately, summoning the courage to speak out and leveraging my privilege to do so is crucial to demanding accountability and dismantling problematic power structures across the field.
“Acting in the freelance sphere can be even more opaque. What can I do to support diversity and avoid tokenism in the gig economy? How do I vet the groups that want to hire me? How can I speak out when I’m only a contractor? We should feel enabled to interview our employers just as they interview us.”
And how do I hold myself accountable? How can I identify and defer on projects that would be better suited for a non-white voice? How do I instill proper research and context within my work? We all contribute to the status quo and every choice we make as individuals can affect positive change.
All of these questions and actions deserve our sustained attention. We have a responsibility to educate ourselves and act appropriately in order to support the long-term improvements we seek. Knowing our personal role in a larger movement is important to serving the total cause. I’m working on understanding privilege in the context of this industry, and using it to create impact where I can.
4. Progress, not perfection
“Done is better than perfect”. We’ve all heard that phrase, but lately, I’ve been really exploring what that means more closely. Like many creatives, I viewed my newfound time at home as the golden ticket for tackling that list of personal projects. Now boarding the emotional rollercoaster.
When it comes to personal work, it’s not uncommon for me to shut down an idea before I even begin. Sometimes I get easily excited about a thought or project, but quickly head down a disruptive path finding flaws and reasons why it won’t work or turn out well enough to be worth the time.
Focusing on the outcome prioritizes the wrong questions. Will it be good enough to share? Will other people like it? Will it add to my portfolio? If not, should I still do it? Why do I even want to make this? Is it a genuine expression of creativity, or do I just want recognition and acceptance from my community? If it’s the latter, should I feel bad about that? Does that make me fake? Nothing kills motivation like rapid-fire existentialism.
The answer to all these questions, of course, is that creative work is about the practice of making. The results will improve over time, and the quest to make better work is a cycle that keeps turning only if you get going.
When I feel overwhelmed, like the goal is too far away or too unclear, I just tell myself to make progress. The comfort of quarantine is not feeling rushed, and I’m trying to use this space to slow down my practice, return to exploration, and feel okay not knowing exactly what the outcome will hold.
5. Change the work-life status quo
The status quo of work-life may have been forever changed in March. Freelancers have always known that spending 40-60 hours a week in an office is simply unnecessary. For a long time it was our little secret, but as the call to stay home reached offices across the country, companies were pushed to implement the work-from-home lifestyle across the board. Now the idea seems to have finally sunk in for some, as companies like Facebook and Twitter announced policies allowing “permanent remote work.”
Our forced adjustments mark a second wave in rethinking the traditional office and work/life balance. The first wave came with startup culture, which initiated a new type of office—open floor plans, lax dress codes, catered meals, gym and commuting stipends, and of course all the snacks you could want. My husband even had a job that did his laundry. It felt liberating, but was well-designed to keep you at the computer longer. With the trivial chores of life handled, you had more time to think about work.
This second wave feels different. Forced to stay home and prioritize our health over our production, we’re faced with the more traditional facets of domestic life. Maintaining a functional home, preparing regular meals, keeping up with family and friends, and checking our own mental health have brought essential values back to the center. We’re now asking ourselves how to fit work into life, not how to fit life into work—what a refreshing idea.
While I miss collaborating in the moment with my peers, the shift has taught me that we should have agency in deciding how we get work done. Our new challenges will be around aligning collective goals and personal working styles. I’m hopeful that moving forward, we’ll be more intentional in exploring how productivity fits into the bigger picture of a full life.
A break in the clouds.
The silver lining of these strange and difficult times is that it has forced me to dig deeper into ideas that I too often avoid. It was the push I needed to shed a thick skin and open up to myself and others.
Talking things over with my friends has revealed that we as creatives are dealing with similar issues. I think the quality of our transitional environment is starting to push us towards finding solutions rather than accepting these negative cycles. I’m hopeful that this collective experience will continue to foster a community working towards positive change.
If you relate to any of this and want to discuss, I’m always looking to connect. Drop me a line on Working Not Working, at jeanie@mordukhay.com, or DM me @mordukhay.
Jeanie Mordukhay is a Los Angeles-based creative director. Her experience spans in-house and agency work with tech, fashion, lifestyle, and entertainment brands. She now leads a creative studio, Mordukhay, with her husband Nick D’Amico. Together, they specialize in image and type driven campaigns and identities for a host of industries. Her work aims to find the intersections of different, yet complementary mediums. She's drawn to exploring how analog and digital worlds can come together, and continuously works to merge the two.
Header Illustration by WNW Member Toma Vagner