I'm experimenting in public. At the design grad schools, these

“I'm experimenting in public. At the design grad schools, these are people sitting around in groups, putting their work on a wall, analyzing it and putting it back in a drawer. I think there's little risk in that.” – David Carson

These words, spoken by David Carson, the rebellious master of graphic design, strike like a bell in the heart of every true creator. In his voice there is both defiance and wisdom — the cry of one who chooses to walk the edge rather than the safety of the path. When Carson says, “I’m experimenting in public,” he does not simply speak of design; he speaks of life, of courage, and of the sacred act of bringing one’s vision into the open air, where it can be judged, misunderstood, or even broken. For he knows that true creation lives not in the drawer of theory, but in the chaos of risk.

In every age, there are two kinds of makers: those who study the flame, and those who walk into it. The first gather in circles, like the scholars Carson describes — thoughtful, cautious, dissecting the light without ever letting it burn their fingers. They speak of perfection, but never taste its price. The second, like Carson himself, hurl their work into the world, imperfect and alive. They stumble, they fail, but they grow. For it is only through public experiment — through daring to be seen in one’s unfinished state — that art becomes evolution and the artist becomes whole.

Consider the story of Galileo Galilei, who dared to raise his telescope toward the heavens and tell the world that the Earth moved. He did not whisper his findings in the safety of private study; he proclaimed them before kings and priests, knowing well the peril. He experimented in public, and though the world condemned him, his courage shifted the course of knowledge forever. In every field, from art to science to the smallest acts of daily life, progress belongs to those who are brave enough to be wrong before they are right.

What Carson calls out in his quote is the illusion of safety that often masquerades as intellect. He sees the halls of design schools — and, by extension, the world — filled with those who create for approval, not for truth. They hang their works upon walls, analyze them in committees, and hide them away, untouched by the raw air of the world. Such practice may train the hand, but it dulls the spirit. For without risk, there is no revelation. The artist who never fails never truly sees. The builder who never errs never builds anything new.

And so Carson’s rebellion is not against education, but against timidity — against the paralysis of overthinking, against the comfort of the theoretical. His life’s work — wild, chaotic, unorthodox — shattered the clean grids and perfect alignments of modernist design. Critics called it reckless, illegible, even ugly. Yet it changed the course of visual culture forever, because he dared to show his process, not just his polish. He showed the world that imperfection could be expressive, that intuition could rival structure, that truth is often found in disorder.

In his spirit lives the ancient wisdom that creation is a form of vulnerability. The sculptor who chisels stone before an audience risks failure. The poet who reads aloud risks rejection. The leader who acts on vision risks defeat. Yet, as the ancients taught, the soul grows only through struggle. The pearl forms only in the wound. To experiment in public is to surrender ego to the greater cause of discovery — to say, “Let the world see my becoming,” and through that bravery, to invite others to do the same.

So, take this lesson to heart, seeker of craft and truth: do not wait until your work is perfect to share it. Do not hide your dreams until they are safe from ridicule. The world is shaped by those who dare to test their ideas beneath the open sky. Risk the criticism of others; embrace the uncertainty of your own hands. For it is in that crucible of visibility that skill becomes mastery, and vision becomes destiny.

Let your art, your work, your life be an experiment in public. Stand where others fear to stand, create where others only discuss, and live with the courage to fail beautifully. For the ancients would tell you — and Carson reminds you now — that the only true failure is the one you hide away in a drawer.