Last Thursday, we had a tutorial day, which means each student signs up for a one-to-one feedback session with one of our lecturers. Since we have several lecturers teaching the course, we can choose who we want to speak to. I originally planned to talk to a professor I had spoken to before, but his schedule was completely full. I had to wait a long time, and while waiting, I noticed that another professor only had two students signed up.
I asked some of my classmates why that was the case. Almost all of them said the same thing: she was tough. They said she could be encouraging, but that she was also very direct and sometimes harsh with feedback. Some students said she had criticised their ideas strongly, which made them hesitant to speak to her again.
Hearing this made me sceptical, but also curious. I felt that maybe this was exactly the kind of feedback I needed. The previous tutorial I had attended had been open and supportive, but it hadn’t really pushed my thinking further or helped me clarify my direction. I realised that encouragement alone is not always enough. Sometimes you need confrontation, or someone who challenges your assumptions.
So I decided to sign up with her.
When I sat down and started explaining my thesis topic, I immediately noticed something different. Usually, when I explain my ideas, I feel like I’m not expressing them clearly. They make sense in my head, but once spoken out loud, they sound vague or unfinished. This time, however, I had the feeling that she understood exactly what I meant. She responded quickly and directly, without needing long explanations.
Her feedback was honest and very straightforward. At one point, she said that documenting and interviewing creative directors could be interesting, but that ultimately, the world would continue spinning without that work. At first, this sounded harsh. But instead of feeling discouraged, I appreciated the honesty. It felt like a necessary reality check. It made me realise how easy it is to get absorbed in design itself, without questioning its relevance. Designers often operate within their own bubble, focusing on internal conversations rather than external impact. Her comment forced me to think more critically about why my topic matters, and what it actually contributes beyond the design field.
She encouraged me to focus more specifically on chaos, especially in relation to information overload. She pointed out that chaos is not only an abstract concept, but something that has real consequences. Information overload affects mental health, contributes to burnout, and also has environmental consequences, such as the physical infrastructure required to store and process data. She also suggested expanding my perspective beyond creative directors. Instead of only interviewing people within design, I could also speak to scientists or researchers who study chaos from a scientific perspective. Chaos exists across multiple disciplines, not just in visual or creative contexts.
Another important point she made was that my thesis does not necessarily need to result in a traditional product. Instead, it could take the form of a system, a framework, or a set of tools. She mentioned the example of prompts, similar to the Oblique Strategies, which are designed to help people approach creative problems differently. This conversation shifted my thinking significantly. It helped me see my topic not just as something to observe, but as something that could be explored in a more structured and intentional way.
My next step will be to explore these inputs further. This includes researching chaos from scientific perspectives, reconsidering the role of creative direction within my thesis, and thinking about alternative formats beyond a single artefact. This tutorial reminded me that difficult feedback is often the most valuable.
