When design students get internships, they usually know how things are going. Follow someone, do some work, make tea, and then leave. Luke Tonge, Birmingham designer and co-founder of the Birmingham Design Festival, looked at the model and thought: “I can do this better”.
For the past four years, Luke has been engaged in what he calls a “counter-relocation” campaign. An annual two-week residency at The Jointworks, his co-working space in Birmingham. No customer work, no free labor, and no picking up coffee. Instead, have a structured program designed to give emerging creatives something more valuable than a line on a resume: confidence, connection, and a sense that they might belong.
A training camp full of love
The format is deceptively simple. Every morning, team members gather with Luke for an hour to discuss a “big topic”: a demo, followed by an open conversation. Then there were two more meetings. These may be visiting agencies, print shops, production studios or animation companies, or they may be visiting guests: freelancers, writers, PR professionals, accountants, educators, makers.
The only briefing is a personal manifesto presented at the end of the two weeks. The final days include portfolio reviews and presentations, recognizing that communication and confidence are as important in this industry as the work itself.
“It cost me a lot of money,” Luke said. “I get nothing in return other than seeing them progress and succeed. But when I think about what is really the best use of my time and resources, I find investing in people who really want to learn and watching them grow.”
Expanding the definition of success
One of the goals of the program is to demystify the creative industries. For example, a design degree may unintentionally lead students to believe that the only legitimate outcome is to become a graphic designer. Luke wanted to blow it up.
This year’s group of eight (who happened to be all women this time, although not intentionally) met screen printers, leather manufacturers, account directors, project managers, animators, writers and PR professionals. Many people have never even heard of some of these characters, let alone considered targeting them.
“If graphic design graduates don’t end up becoming a graphic designer, they shouldn’t view it as a failure,” Luke stresses. “They find something they’re good at, and that’s a success. But it’s only when they meet people and see a different path that they know it’s an option.”
see results
The results are stunning. One student ran into college friends three days later and the first thing they said was: “What has changed?” You look different.
“They don’t have to wait 20 years to figure it out,” Luke said. “I can see from them that they have the ability to have that confidence now. Sometimes they just need the right environment to make that happen.”
Unfortunately, their circumstances often push them in opposite directions. You may be familiar with “cringe culture”; the tendency of young creatives to self-censor their enthusiasm to avoid appearing “overzealous”. Luke sees this as a real barrier to entry.
“The more troubled you look, the more troubled I’ll be with you,” he retorted. “If you’re trying to be cool and act like you don’t really care, I’m not going to be that involved. The studio needs enthusiasm. We need youthful energy.
“If they’d censored that energy for fear of coming across as cringeworthy, we’d all be looking very dull and bored all the time,” he added. “I would rather they show their weirdness, their sincerity, their passion, their genuine care about things.”
real reward
Ask Luke why he did this, and the answer is layered. Part of that is values: a belief in service and generosity. Part of it is self-awareness; He made clear his privilege as a white man with a platform and connections, and credited his wife with helping him see his “blind spots” when it came to gender equality.
The other part is personal. “I was a very shy student; I didn’t always know how to navigate the industry,” Luke recalls. “If I can shorten that journey for someone else and help them feel confident faster, it feels worth it.”
The program did not bring him any financial gain. But he doesn’t measure success that way. “I have 52 weeks in a year,” he explains. “I can give up some of that without having a big impact. I don’t measure success by squeezing every second for money. If I can make enough money to live on and then find time to help people, that feels like a better measure.”
A model worth following
The most important thing about counter placement is that it is not meant to be unique. Anyone with an internet connection, time, and a willingness to be generous can do something similar.
“They all walk away as best friends, which is one of the best parts,” Luke said with a smile. “This industry needs brother and sister support. If they walk away with not only connections but a small group of people who have shared something intense together, that’s so powerful.”
So for anyone reading this who has thought about what they could give back – a morning, an afternoon, a conversation – then the message is clear. You don’t need to own a coworking space in Birmingham to make a difference. You just need to be bothered.
