When I was a junior in high school, I took a graphic design class as my elective. I had just transferred to the school, a place I had originally turned down (and turned up my nose at) because it was all girls and an hour-long slog each way through Seattle traffic, and now saw it with fresh eyes. After spending two insufferable years at the local school near me, I had a newfound appreciation for a place like this. A place that had priorities outside of the football team and options other than choir at 7am.
In this classroom is where I fell in love with Adobe. Each student had a computer equipped with a magical program called Photoshop. The teacher, whimsy personified in flowing skirts and eclectic patterns, would show us how to use a certain feature, provide a prompt or assignment, and then let us unleash our creativity for the remainder of class. I had grown up scribbling in notebooks on my bedroom floor, drawing mostly people and animals and the occasional bedroom furniture rearrangement. As adolescence crept in, so had perfectionism. It became harder and harder for me to draw. What immediately appealed to be about Photoshop was the flexibility. With a program like that, I had the freedom to move things around, see how it looked, and press the magic “undo” button whenever I saw fit. It was much less tedious than sketching a line and erasing it over and over. I felt more confident, more free.
The class was only for a semester and after it was over, my dad took me to Staples. He saw my passion, and ever the entrepreneur, wanted to encourage me. This was a time before subscriptions, the glory days when you could buy a single disk for a flat fee and have a program forever loaded onto your hard drive. We scanned the shelves, identifying the right version and reviewing the capabilities. I remember walking out of the store holding the box – this precious cargo, this hundred or so dollars-worth of opportunity – eager to get home and start setting it up.
My love for Photoshop flourished in the years since. I used it to make birthday cards, posters, random pieces of art. During first semester finals my freshman year of college, I used it to make Christmas cards while procrastinating my studies. It was a passion that could not be contained.
Eventually, Adobe did what many other companies have now done and converted the software to an online subscription. The draw was automatic updates, meaning it would always include the newest features, as well as access to other programs. I signed up for a Creative Cloud account and was officially in committed relationship. The subscription broadened my horizons because it not only included Photoshop, but Illustrator and InDesign. I used them religiously, slowly getting the hang of the tools and even taking a class to learn how to use them more proficiently. I used the program to redesign my resume and cover letter, both of which landed me a new job at a dream company.
However, at this new job, Adobe Creative Cloud was something I could not only have on my work computer, but have covered by the company. I began to use my personal laptop less and less, forgetting almost entirely that I had an account of my own. When I remembered I was wasting however many dollars a month on a subscription I wasn’t using, I went to cancel but couldn’t bring myself to call it off. What if I needed it for something non work-related? What if I couldn’t reinstate it later? The questions kept me committed, albeit distantly.
Then somewhere in the last three years, came TikTok. And with it came Canva. I had known of Canva as a simplified combination of Adobe products. My roommate had used it to design a few things of her own, but complained about the limitations. As a result, I never took it seriously and still relied on my tried and true. But people on TikTok were saying Canva was an easy way to design anything you wanted. I was drawn in by the folks explaining how they used it to sell digital products on Etsy for passive income. But there was one thing in particular that sold me: it was free.
I immediately made an account and started dabbling. Canva had evidently made updates since my roommate had used it several years prior, making it surprisingly easy to use. There were several qualities I loved about it, namely the image and element library (which consisted of graphics, photos, and video) and the templates. After leaving the job where I had occasionally used Adobe, I rarely accessed Creative Cloud on my own. I had since gotten into calligraphy and used Procreate on my iPad, finding a lesser and lesser need for the complex programs I had previously relied on. I was no expert at Procreate either, and often found myself having to start from scratch - leaving me with the similar feeling I had started to feel with drawing all those years ago. But with Canva, I didn’t necessarily have to start with a blank slate. Instead of heading to Pinterest for inspiration, I could use the templates as a starting point to get the creative juices flowing.
I then got a new job in which I would be creating social content using the company’s design platform of choice, which was, you guessed it, Canva. I now had access to the paid elements – the “Pro” features – which opened up a whole new world and level of freedom. When I quit that job in an attempt to be my own boss, Canva Pro was the first thing I purchased. I used it to create a logo, build a brand identity, resize profile pictures, design social media posts, and so much more. I was using it for everything, and before I knew it, I was in a fully-fledged affair.
And I still am. As I write this, I have approximately eleven Canva tabs open in my browser. All while still paying for an Adobe Creative Cloud account.
But, Lauren, how could you do that? How could you be throwing your money away every month like that? you might ask, and rightfully so.
The answer is I don’t know. I think because Adobe was my first love, and like first loves, they can be hard to let go of. Adobe to me still signifies sophistication, legitimacy – two things I hope to embody someday, both personally and professionally. But right now, I’m in my scrappy era. I don’t have the time to relearn old tools or to teach myself new ones. I need access now. I need a way to capture my ideas before they flit away, or worse: Before someone else gives them life. For the me I am right now, Canva is the right vehicle. So I guess in the meantime, Adobe will be getting alimony.