A few weeks ago, somebody reached out with a question.
They wanted to buy a CNC machine and a laser and asked what software they should learn first as well as recommendations on the machines.
They were probably expecting a recommendation for CAM software, laser software or something related to manufacturing.
Instead, I replied:
Adobe Illustrator.
Their next question was immediate.
"How long did it take you to learn it?"
My answer was simple.
27 years.
Not because Adobe Illustrator takes 27 years to learn.
You can become reasonably proficient with the software in a matter of weeks. There are countless tutorials online and more educational resources available today than at any point in history.
What takes 27 years is not learning the software.
It's learning how to see.
That distinction matters.
The internet has made manufacturing look easy. Every day we're shown videos of lasers cutting metal, CNC machines carving intricate shapes and 3D printers producing finished objects seemingly out of thin air.
The machine becomes the star of the show.
People watch the process and assume that owning the equipment is the difficult part.
It isn't.
The difficult part is deciding what the machine should make.
That's where most people get stuck.
A laser can engrave almost anything.
A CNC machine can machine almost anything.
The challenge is creating something worth engraving or machining in the first place.
When somebody looks at an Omen marker, they're usually seeing the final result of a process that began long before a piece of brass was loaded into a fixture.
They're seeing hundreds of small decisions.
What gets removed.
What gets emphasised.
Where detail should exist.
Where it shouldn't.
How deep something should feel.
How light should interact with a surface.
What survives manufacturing.
What survives finishing.
What survives being held in somebody's hand.
Those decisions are not made by software.
They're made through experience.
I started my career as a designer long before Omen existed.
Long before fibre lasers.
Long before CNC machines occupied half a workshop.
Long before I ever considered making golf markers.
For decades, design was the work.
Logos.
Brands.
Websites.
Packaging.
Advertising.
Visual systems.
Thousands of projects.
Thousands of mistakes.
Thousands of lessons.
Over time, you begin to develop judgement.
You start recognising the difference between something that is merely complicated and something that is genuinely interesting.
You learn that more detail doesn't necessarily create more value.
You learn that removing the right line can be more important than adding ten new ones.
You learn that restraint is often more difficult than embellishment.
Most importantly, you learn that people don't buy complexity.
They buy clarity.
This becomes especially obvious when working with physical objects.
A common misconception is that manufacturing limitations restrict creativity.
In reality, the opposite is often true.
Constraints create better work.
Every Omen piece exists inside a series of constraints.
The dimensions are fixed.
The materials are fixed.
The manufacturing processes are fixed.
The finishing methods are fixed.
Within those limitations, the design has to succeed.
A bee can't simply be a bee.
A fox can't simply be a fox.
A record can't simply be a record.
The design has to communicate something.
It needs identity.
Personality.
Presence.
It needs to feel intentional.
That process rarely happens in a single sitting.
Sometimes an idea appears quickly.
More often it evolves through iteration.
Sketches become concepts.
Concepts become prototypes.
Prototypes become production pieces.
Production pieces become lessons that influence the next release.
It's a cycle that never really ends.
The interesting thing about experience is that it compounds.
The work I produce today isn't the result of a single project.
It's the result of every project that came before it.
Every success.
Every failure.
Every design that looked great on a screen and terrible in reality.
Every idea that seemed brilliant until it reached production.
Every lesson becomes part of the next decision.
That's why experience is difficult to shortcut.
You can buy the same machine.
You can buy the same materials.
You can use the same software.
You can even copy the same workflow.
What you can't purchase is the accumulated judgement that sits behind the decisions.
That's the part that takes time.
It's also the part that matters most.
The older I get, the less interested I become in machinery for its own sake.
I enjoy the engineering.
I appreciate precision.
I love what modern equipment makes possible.
But I've come to realise that the machines themselves are rarely the advantage.
The advantage is knowing what to do with them.
A powerful laser doesn't automatically create a compelling product.
A CNC machine doesn't generate ideas.
They're tools.
Exceptional tools, certainly.
But still tools.
The value comes from the thinking that happens before the machine starts.
That's why my answer remains the same.
If somebody asks what software they should learn first, I still say Adobe Illustrator.
Not because Illustrator is magical.
Not because it's the only option.
But because design is the foundation that everything else sits upon.
Learn to draw.
Learn to simplify.
Learn composition.
Learn hierarchy.
Learn restraint.
Learn how to communicate an idea visually.
Those skills will remain valuable regardless of which machine happens to be sitting in your workshop.
Technology changes.
Software changes.
Manufacturing methods change.
Good design doesn't.
So how long did it take me to learn Illustrator?
About a few weeks.
How long did it take me to learn design?
Twenty-seven years.
And I'm still learning.