On interpretation
I’ve always struggled with viewing myself as a "creative".
(I also struggle with the use of that word as a noun, but that’s for another day.) I instead think of “creatives” as graphic designers, short story writers, muralists, or photographers, adhering to a belief that creative folks make “art”. “Creatives” are interpreters of the world, transmuting our reality into something new, weird, or aesthetically pleasing.
I’ve thought a lot about interpretation over the past few weeks. Mostly because I started Shogun, the historical fiction miniseries about an English sailor, John Blackthorne, who arrives in Japan in the year 1600.
In Shogun, Portuguese Catholics have established their presence in Japan, and a growing number of Japanese Buddhists have converted to Catholicism, learning Portuguese and Latin. One of these converts, Mariko, acts as a trusted advisor to the regional lord, Toranaga. He appoints her as John’s interpreter.
(In the show, they’re actually speaking English, but we’re supposed to pretend they’re speaking Portuguese. They remind us of this by occasionally starting sentences with “señor”. This is likely due to a dearth of actors fluent in both Portuguese and Japanese.)
Mariko has an intimate understanding of the region’s leadership, ongoing geopolitical tensions, historical family lineages, and rigid cultural norms. She cannot simply provide direct translations, and must effectively serve as a kind of cultural barrier between John and Toranaga. During one particularly tense encounter, Mariko urges John: “Choose your words carefully.”
This dramatic scene made me think about my own work. I was struck by how deeply I empathized with Mariko.
As UX writers and content designers, we, too, are expert interpreters. We wield knowledge of a particular company and its financial model, paying close attention to distinct customer types and writing for them in a standardized, accessible way. We learn business lingo, juggling jargon and acronyms. We’re privy to industry-specific regulations, and whether any legal concerns are statewide, nationwide, or global. And we need to fit clear, scannable information into 390 x 844 pixels (or smaller). To stretch the analogy, if you’ll let me: we might compare Toranaga’s adversaries to a company’s competitors, or John to a customer who’s unfamiliar with a new system.
UX writers and content designers focus on context. We are employed by a business to serve its needs, but we’re required to lean on the way something feels and sounds when we read it. Our sense of empathy is heightened, yet we need to maintain a degree of distance. Mariko delivers messages to John and Toranaga and braces herself for their reactions. She needs to know the right thing to communicate at the right time. How might these words be interpreted?
To interpret requires a blend of understanding, depth, and subtlety. And combining these skills takes creativity. A lot of it, even.
Maybe this field is a creative one after all. But I suppose that’s open to interpretation, too.
