The Ghosts of our Work

I wouldn’t say I ever didn’t realize it.

From the start, I knew that when you work under a full-time or part-time role, the work you create for a company is rightfully theirs.

That’s how it goes unless you have a contract that says otherwise and for creatives, that would be  ideal. You’re not being difficult or acting like a jerk by protecting your work. You’re standing up for yourself and realizing its value before you’re gone.

Everyone knows the trope: an artist’s work skyrockets in value after they die. But while we’re still walking this earth, why not protect our work so we can reap the benefits now? Or is that just the artist’s fate? To be a ghost while alive, only recognized when we’re gone.

The truth is that our time here is short. What we create outlives us. So, it makes sense that if our work survives us, it’ll eventually be noticed, maybe even by people who never knew us. That’s going viral before “going viral” was even a concept.

Recently, I saw a piece of design I’d created years ago for one project recycled by a company I used to work for. It had been meant for a one-off, single-use case. Now, it’s their flagship design. Technically, it isn’t my work. The company owns it. But still, it made me stop and think. If designers are creating work that can shape a business and move it forward in huge ways, why are we so underappreciated?

Here’s the easy answer: we don’t value ourselves enough to say, “Yeah, I did that.”

Fear.
Humility.
Company culture.

It’s a mix of all of those factors. I can only speak for myself, but here’s what I know:

I’m afraid of misspeaking and getting fired. I’m afraid that if I push back or ask questions, colleagues or clients will think I’m stupid or stop coming to me altogether. Fear holds my tongue. Humility plays a role too. Even when our work is excellent, we often don’t see it that way. We’re our own worst critics.

Company culture also matters. However, let me be clear: even if the culture is trash, it still falls on the designer to shape their relationships and push for change. If no one bends, snap the system and rebuild it.

I once had a coworker ask me to alter a logo, add a tagline, and slap on three addresses. It would have taken me two seconds, no questions asked. But something in me pushed back. I asked where it was being used, how often, why it needed to change. I wanted to protect the design and the brand.

Silence.
Ghosted.

They went ahead and did it themselves. And yeah, that bruised my ego.

Why do people do this? Why ignore the expertise of the person hired to solve the problem? The answer varies for everyone. We all see the world through different experiences, so everyone’s reasons will be wildly different. But that doesn’t make it sting any less.

I’ve grown so much since my first day walking into my college design lab. Timid, quiet, and scared to share my work. Back then, feedback didn’t hurt as much because everything was theoretical. It was just practice.

Now?
Now I feel everything.

When my work is ignored or ghosted, I’m livid. I followed the process, explained my thinking, checked every box… and still, nothing.

Designers, it turns out, are also salespeople. We don’t just create; we pitch, empathize, solve problems, and handle the fallout when things go wrong. It’s exhausting. I miss those late-night design lab sessions with my friend Ryan — a few beers, loud music, and no clients to convince.

The passion and anger I feel now come from growth. I’m more skilled, more experienced, but still fighting the same battles. The difference is, now I’m also fighting myself:
Why didn’t you stand up sooner? Why is it so hard to change people’s expectations once you’ve set a precedent?

Sound familiar? It almost seems like it’s an unavoidable rite of passage.

People tell me to grow a thicker skin.

No.

I don’t want to let things roll off my back. Every miscommunication and misunderstanding are a chance to learn. Lifelong learners never get complacent. If you want to be the best designer out there, stay uncomfortable.

Even if we fully understood the impact of our work, it would still feel heavy.

When you don’t value yourself, that weight crushes you. It’s easy to sink without even realizing it. And one of the hardest things you’ll ever do is learn to love yourself and your work.

That’s not just a designer problem. That’s a human problem.

I’ve written before about the ripple effect, you know, how the smallest piece of work can influence things far beyond what you imagined. A tiny graphic you thought was nothing might end up helping scale a company to millions of dollars. Sometimes, you won’t even know it happened until years later.

It’s frustrating. It’s humbling. But it’s also proof that what we do matters.

Designers rarely get the credit they deserve, at least not in real-time. Often, it takes years before people truly appreciate the work you’ve done.

Maybe that’s the curse of being a creator.
Maybe that’s the price we pay for shaping the future while living in the present.

But here’s what I know: whether or not anyone notices, our work moves the needle. Even when it feels invisible, even when we feel invisible, the things we create outlive us. They ripple through time.

So, the next time you sit down to design, remember this:
You might just be creating the thing that changes everything.

Even if no one realizes it until long after you’re gone.

Written, Out Loud.