With the dismantling of the US by Lone Skum and others, Mike Masnick wrote in Techdirt: ‘And now we’re watching Musk, Trump, and their allies destroy these foundations. They operate under the dangerous delusion of the “great man” theory of innovation—the false belief that revolutionary changes come solely from lone geniuses, rather than from the complex interplay of open systems, diverse perspectives, and stable institutions that actually drives progress.’
He’s so right. I got here in a big way because of my parents and the relative stability of Aotearoa.
My mother was a big believer in books and the power of reading. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I knew they couldn’t afford The Lettering Book. But by the end of the 1980s, money was less tight and I could ask for any book I wanted and be fairly confident I’d get it. And I wanted books on design. So that interest was built thanks to Mum funding those books. (Though I believe I paid for the Letraset catalogue, which was a wonderful resource.)
I watched my father go from earning a wage to becoming self-employed, and I worked in the family business to learn the ropes. Mum later followed, quitting her job as a midwife at the hospital to become an independent midwife. I was self-employed after school to earn some money. I didn’t do what my parents did: I went into design, working for a print agency and my own clients, finding my niche.
Dad bought the early computer gear, including the IBM PC-compatible that I built my first websites on. Mum paid for my first bulletin board subscription (the Graphics Connection).
They paid for a private education even when they were bringing home, in the 1970s, a double-figure weekly wage each. And that was a huge part of what shaped me.
No one in my circles could ever understand my interests in typeface design or online publishing. I was already used to having ideas that were outside the norm. But when you go to a good school that encourages you to do well, and I’m coming first in class pretty consistently, you learn to trust and believe in yourself.
My grandmother taught me to count. My mother encouraged me to learn my multiplication tables years before we had to at school. So even being first in class was thanks to head-starts that they gave me.
I was blessed beyond belief and this is just me up to age 18.
It was my insistence on attending Rongotai College after eight great years at St Mark’s that I discovered the narrow minds of my peers. Racism played its role, because when certain people make fun of you or bully you for having a different ethnicity, you learn not to follow fools. That whatever they said you were wrong for doing must be, therefore, right.
There were a handful of great people at Rongotai. The rest became sheep, followers of the pack, and did whatever convention dictated.
Scots College then shaped me when I managed to get a half-scholarship, and wound up finishing off high school at a place where I fitted like a glove.
And largely with a class full of independent thinkers, some of whom had way more innovative ideas than me (FNZ and Xero came out of the class of ’90).
Lucire succeeded through hard work—but also a great team, especially those who continued to stick by me after difficult years in 2004–6 with certain staffers who somehow thought weakening the ship would be good for all aboard. (The Trump phenomenon is hardly new to me.) And the team who remained brought things back on track, enough for us to finally do the monthly as we planned—albeit in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. The team members have appeared in many articles, but fashion and beauty ed. Sopheak Seng comes to mind: another Rongotai alum who had a worse experience than I did, and his independent thinking continues to shine through. The bastards never broke him. And we’ve now worked together for 15 years.
Amanda now is the one who manages ventures, helps me set strategies, and checks opportunities against her reality radar. That makes life that much easier, knowing that we work as a team.
So even as an adult I’m not the lone genius. I never have been. I’m the product of everyone who supported me and boosted me.
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