This probably was considered a problem during the brief rise of the International Style. But now when I go back and look at the great work from that era, I see the unique character of each practitioner. Vignelli was not Martens. Maholy-Nagy was not Hofmann. Each had their own tools, their own way of experimenting, and of course, their own backgrounds and interests that played a part in what they called design. There never was a universal visual language.
So what to make of yourself, designer? Can you accept what made you? Can you speak clearly about it? What if it's out of step with trends? Can you still believe that it's good?
Here is a true paradox: there is nothing new under the sun and everything you make is unique. So the question is, how did everything that came before you inform who you are?
I know my roots. They are Tennessee letter press. Folk Art. Hand-painted utilitarian all-caps on warehouse walls. Lettra Press and stat cameras. 8-bit everything. Atomic-era car typography. Coming of age at the End of Print. The Minneapolis design scene of the late 80's. Dutch posters. 4AD Records. Punk zines. They instilled in me a love of tool marks, technical grit, visible process and acceptable accidents.
I learned that feeling was informing. I learned that mimicry is the fastest way to learn. I learned that my own voice needed time to develop and that sometimes it sounds like someone else's voice and that was OK.
I learned I had a style even if I denied it. I also learned that it hasn't limited me. I've designed when appropriate and asked others to step in when they had a better approach for the problem, which as it turns out, is quite often.