3D Graphics as a Tool
I often see courses teaching specific software: "Blender from Scratch," "Cinema 4D for Designers," and so on. As someone who's traveled a certain path in 3D graphics and worked in various capacities, I'd like to clarify the situation and share my perspective on what really matters.
There's a lot of text here. I hope it will be useful to those who've just started their journey into the "magical world of 3D," haven't gone too far yet, or maybe it will help someone better understand the root of their problems.
I.I
For most of my career, I've been creating images for advertising: beautiful cigarette packs with perfect highlights, "correctly" condensated beer bottles, product packaging, POS materials—agencies love using 3D graphics for this kind of work. The perfect world of visualization as a convincing argument for the buyer.
My journey began when a friend gave me a pirated CD (there were no other kinds back then) of 3ds Max 2.5 for my birthday. A lot of time has passed since then, the internet has become fast, 3D printers have appeared, but I'd like to travel back and have a little talk with that guy in the late '90s.
Let's say there's a task: hammer a nail into a board.
For this task, you need: a nail, a board, a hammer, and a person to hammer the nail. It's a crude analogy, but that's what a 3D package is—a hammer. There are many different hammers on the market: some are free, others by subscription, but all have a similar construction and identical operating principle.
Does the shape of the handle matter to a professional? Whether it's wooden or plastic? What alloy the hammer is made of, whether it has a nail puller?
You can hammer a nail with an axe (and many people use software not designed for 3D for exactly this purpose), with a sledgehammer. You could even use a microscope. :)
It's not so important to know how to press buttons in a 3D editor as it is to understand the principle and workflow, the sequence of actions.
The choice of a specific hammer is the master's preference—they're comfortable working with their familiar tool.
In my practice, there was a case when I was forced to switch from 3ds Max + Windows to Cinema 4D + macOS and deliver results in a couple of days. Yes, it was an unfamiliar hammer, I was holding it for the first time, I was nervous, but I hammered in the necessary nails.
If a person knows exactly what to do, understands the workflow sequence, they'll quickly figure out any software and switch from one task to another. Like with soldering: the model of your soldering iron doesn't matter that much—a specialist will solder a circuit even with a nail and a gas torch. It's important to separate the awareness of yourself as a professional in something from the tools you work with.
Replace "I'm a specialist with a red-handled hammer" with "I know how to hammer nails into boards." Then with "I know how to build crates," and then, you might find, "I build houses." And if your dream is to build a house, I'd venture to say one hammer won't be enough.
I would start forming the required toolkit by defining the goal of who you want to become and what you want to be able to do.
I.II
You're in your home, getting ready for a journey. The road to the Big City lies through a dark forest—it's a long road that will take more than one year. You have time to pack your backpack, mark the trail on the map, and listen to advice from those who have already passed through this forest.
That's exactly how I imagine professional growth, becoming a specialist. Preparation is important. Many acquaintances ran into the forest in sneakers and a t-shirt, didn't really understand where they wanted to get to, and at best, returned home disappointed. At worst, they're still wandering somewhere out there in the thicket, picking berries.
Every item you take with you should be justified by understanding why you need it. Don't neglect the point of plotting your route, understanding what the landmarks look like.
The main principle I'd keep in mind: always keep moving. Watch tutorials, read forums, listen to podcasts, but remember that no one will take the next step for you. Yes, before lighting a fire, it would be great to learn exactly how to do it, but theoretical knowledge alone won't make you warmer. And if you stumble upon some problem—look for solutions yourself, it's part of the journey, like a side quest.
Don't take job offers that lead you off the path. As someone who took on a bunch of side tasks and worked at many companies of the most diverse profiles (as long as it involved "hammers"!), I know what I'm talking about. Such "well-sort-of-kind-of-suitable-for-now" positions won't make things better—you won't progress much.
If you don't have orders, it wouldn't hurt to announce yourself louder. Perhaps people just aren't aware of your existence yet. Post your work on social media, on Behance/ArtStation, read chats, talk about your journey, and... keep moving.
Part of your backpack is already packed with various things. Something, perhaps, from school days, and something as part of your character. I was lucky—I had art school and a desire to understand the mechanics of how devices work, which helped me on my path. But besides that, there were also several years of music school in there.
Don't worry, throw out what you won't need—walking with a heavy backpack is harder.
I.III
People learn by repeating the actions of other people.
If you give three chefs the same soup recipe, you'll end up with three different soups. Don't worry about following the same recipe as others—it'll turn out unique anyway.
Reinventing the wheel is long, expensive, and dangerous. Try moving away from this approach toward modifying existing solutions. The superpower of creating "something from nothing" is a skill developed over years. The word "nothing" is misleading here—a person creates something new based on experience and a library of known solutions. New recipes are still built on combinations of flavors. If you mix ice cream, soy sauce, cabbage, and a couple of eggs, you'll be looking for someone willing to try it for a long time.
In the long term, consistency is better than chaos, measured progress takes you further than impulsiveness. Apparently, people only enjoy a pinch of unexpectedness and take a long time to get used to new paradigms.
The deeper into the forest you make your way, the clearer you see the final goal. I'd compare this process to focusing. Our vision has a peculiarity—we only see clearly a small part of what we're looking at, a little more than three percent is in focus. The gaze "runs around," examining the object, eyes need time to capture the whole picture.
Don't try to swallow too large a volume. Discard the unnecessary, focus your "vision" on what's truly important. In English, there's a figure of speech: "Jack of all trades, master of none," which carries a negative connotation. A person who spreads themselves too thin stops being a professional at anything. In Russian, it's the opposite—"master of all trades" contains a positive characteristic. We love "broad profile" specialists, even though we understand that being a professional at everything is impossible.
There's a great temptation to have a pool of possibilities to choose from: will I hammer a nail today, twist a screwdriver, or saw a board? But the more unrelated tasks you set for yourself, the harder it will be to achieve professionalism, the more tangled the trail in the forest will become. Even within one specific area, there's always the possibility to veer off and grab something from a neighboring field for entertainment and expanding your circle of interests.
