We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Rob Carmona a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Rob, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Are you happy as a creative professional? Do you sometimes wonder what it would be like to work for someone else?

When I came across this question, I immediately knew it would be the hardest to answer—which is why I chose it. This question isn’t just loaded; it’s provocative. As a creative, I constantly ask, “Am I happy?”. But I never limit that question to just my career—it’s always bigger than that.

The truth is, I make things harder on myself because of the standard I hold myself to. I’m always raising the bar, always pushing myself, not just for me but for the people I love. I want to make them proud, and in doing so, I sometimes lose sight of my contentment. Happiness becomes this elusive thing I chase because life has shown me over and over that everything—feelings, people, places—is temporary. There’s beauty and a lesson in that: we’re reminded to live in the now. The past is behind us, and the future? That’s a gift we haven’t opened yet.

To be quite honest, I’m not as happy as I could be. Don’t get me wrong—I’m deeply proud of what I’ve accomplished but there’s this nagging voice that says, “It’s not enough.” I was raised to be humble, and I’m grateful for that, but it’s also made me downplay so much of what I’ve achieved. I’ve kept incredible milestones to myself because I didn’t want to seem boastful. It’s only recently that I’ve started to let myself acknowledge them.

Take this moment from last week. I was talking to my mom, and for the first time, I shared a story about when I was working at 4 Wheel Parts. I had the opportunity to design a poster for Luke McMillin, one of our drivers. Shoutout to my boss, Thomas Rousseve, for trusting me with that project—he’s one of the best bosses I’ve ever had. This wasn’t just another project for me. It was personal. As a kid, I dreamed of being in the motorsport world, working on race cars, and being part of something bigger. Little did I know I’d get there—not just as a mechanic but as an artist. That poster represented everything I wanted for myself as a kid, and it was a piece of inspiration for every kid who might hang it on their wall or see it in their garage next to the toolbox.

As I told my mom about it, I broke down. Years after creating that piece, it finally hit me how much it meant. It was a rare moment of pure joy and gratitude. But, like I said earlier, everything is temporary—even that feeling. Later that night, as I lay in bed, I caught myself thinking, Will I ever do something like that again? And just like that, the stress crept back in.

This is the part of being a creative that people don’t see. Working for yourself sounds glamorous—setting your schedule, working from anywhere—but it’s far from it. Financially, freelancing is terrifying. There have been months where I’ve made next to nothing and had to fight to get paid for work I’d already done. You’re constantly chasing the next paycheck, constantly wondering, Is this worth it? Why am I doing this to myself?

I’ve thought about going back to a regular job. I remember the stability of my 9-to-5 gig at 4 Wheel Parts. I was part of an amazing team, making more money than I ever thought I would, doing work I cherished in an industry that’s close to my heart. Honestly, if 4 Wheel Parts hadn’t been sold, I’d probably still be working there. But everything happens for a reason, and because of all that, I’ve ended up exactly where I am today. I also think about the time I spent working as a low-voltage tech with my uncle Alfredo. Those were simpler days. The money was great, I got to travel, and working with my hands brought me so much joy. When the day was done, it was done—I didn’t take the stress home with me.

Now, even when I fabricate something as a hobby, I find a raw kind of happiness. There’s nothing like creating something from scratch—measuring, calculating angles, bending metal. I hate math, but I’ll gladly do it with a smile when I’m building something rad.

So, am I happier as a creative? It’s complicated. Some days I feel like I’m on a teeter-totter, balancing the highs and lows of this life I’ve chosen. But here’s the thing: the life of a creative has given me moments—beautiful, fleeting moments of happiness that I wouldn’t trade for anything. They’ve reminded me that while everything is temporary, the joy I’ve found along the way is worth it.

This life has given me the freedom to wander, explore, and create. It’s provided me with the opportunity to inspire others while building a life that feels authentic to me. So, no-I wouldn’t change a thing

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

Growing up, cars were more than just machines to me—they were symbols of creativity and community. From slammed Volkswagens to mini trucks and Japanese cars, they were always a constant in my life. They weren’t just vehicles; they were canvases for expression. That environment sparked a dream to combine my passion for cars with art, and I knew deep down that my future would involve creativity, no matter the path.

At 14, that dream started to take shape when I took a Photoshop class in high school. At first, it was just something to fill my schedule, but I quickly became captivated by the software’s possibilities. I never imagined I could turn it into a career until I got involved in the flyer party scene in LA. Seeing Photoshop used to design event flyers connected to my enthusiasm for dancing, art, and design. It was my first glimpse of what could be possible if I pursued my calling. At the time, I still thought I’d become a chef—a lifelong dream—but I eventually realized that cooking could remain a deep affection while I pursued graphic design as a career.

I started by helping friends with clothing brands and art projects, designing stencils for graffiti, and taking on any creative opportunity that came my way. My first official design job was with an automotive performance company specializing in exhaust systems, and that felt like fate. But as much as I was passionate about it, I learned an important lesson early on: talent alone wasn’t enough. I found out another designer, with a degree, earned twice my salary. That moment made it clear—I had to invest in my education if I wanted to be taken seriously.

To fund my education, I worked with my uncle Alfredo at his low-voltage company. Those days were straightforward—working with my hands, traveling for gigs, and learning the value of hard work. That job didn’t just pay for school; it also helped me achieve a personal milestone: buying my dream car, a titanium silver E46 M3. But when my loans fell through, and I needed money to stay in school, I made the heartbreaking decision to sell the car. It wasn’t easy, but it was the right move. That sacrifice kept me on the path to becoming the artist I wanted to be.

My Uncle Alfredo played a massive role in my life. He was more than just family—he was a mentor and a father figure. Losing him to a rare cancer called primary adenosquamous carcinoma of the prostate was one of the hardest things I’ve ever endured. But before he passed, he saw me graduate, and I promised him I’d never stop chasing my dreams. His legacy lives on in my work, and everything I create is, in part, a tribute to him.

One of the pivotal moments in my journey was discovering LCAD. I had initially set my sights on the Pasadena Art Center, but their feedback on my portfolio left me feeling discouraged. I stumbled upon LCAD by chance while working with my uncle in Laguna Beach, and something about it felt right. They believed in my potential, and getting accepted changed everything. My time at LCAD wasn’t easy, but it was transformative. I learned not only the technical aspects of design but also how to think critically about branding, storytelling, and aesthetics. My mentors, like Michael Stinson and Dan Marriner, drilled into me the importance of details—whether it was the anatomy of a typeface or the flow of a design system.

After graduating, I hit the ground running. My first major opportunity was with Pacsun, where I learned the ins and outs of corporate design. I eventually landed a dream role as a senior graphic designer at 4 Wheel Parts, where my passion for cars and design came full circle. Working in the off-road industry was surreal—my long-travel-built FJ Cruiser even helped me land the job. That experience shaped how I approach my work today, combining passion with purpose.

Now, as a freelance creative, I’ve taken everything I’ve learned—through school, work, and life—to create a career centered around art and authenticity. I specialize in building brand systems from the ground up: logos, typography, apparel, websites, UI/UX, and more. I’m not just a designer; I’m a storyteller. Every project I take on has meaning, soul, and a touch of my unique perspective. My mentors taught me to obsess over the details, and that’s what sets me apart. Whether it’s crafting typography with precision or creating visuals that evoke emotion, I approach my work with intention and passion.

What I’m most proud of is how far I’ve come—not just professionally, but personally. Looking back, I’ve created a life my younger self would be proud of. If I were my little brother, I’d be shouting, “That’s my big brother right there!”—because the cars I’ve built, the work I’ve done, and the relationships I’ve nourished are all things to celebrate.

For potential clients, followers, and fans, I want you to know that my work is about more than just aesthetics—it’s about giving projects meaning. I aim to bring soul to every design, whether it’s a logo, a photo, or a brand system. My brand, inspired by blackletter typography and Mortal Kombat, reflects strength, creativity, and the drive to “kill it” every time. Life is a fight, and I approach every project with the same mindset—giving it everything I’ve got to create something unforgettable. My goal is to craft designs that truly represent you, your brand, and your vision, delivering work that exceeds expectations and resonates deeply. That’s what drives me, and that’s what I bring to the table.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?

I believe the rewards of being creative can be categorized into four key aspects: Immersion, Perception, Impact, and Connection. Here’s how I view them.

Immersion

Being able to communicate something so universally that anyone, regardless of language or background, can understand and feel it. This is where mediums like photography and film truly shine—there’s no text to translate or words to process. The visuals speak for themselves, and as the creator, you have this incredible ability to transport people. For those few minutes, you can make someone feel like they’re right there, experiencing it all firsthand. That’s what I admire most about film and its process. The way elements like story, character development, camera work, color, sound, and even costume design blend seamlessly to create something far greater than just the individual pieces. It’s magic. But that magic doesn’t come easy. The pressure to get it just right—perfect timing, seamless edits, sound that hits exactly when it should—that stress is real, but it’s worth it.

Perception

There’s something so fulfilling about sharing a design, a pitch, or a photo or video with others—especially those close to me. Seeing their reactions, their smiles, or even their quiet moments of reflection makes all the effort worth it. It’s like, for a brief moment, you’ve let them into this world you’ve built, and it’s even more special when you can walk them through your process and watch them catch the nuances you put so much thought into.

Impact

Starting with nothing and creating something that resonates deeply with others is a feeling like no other. Maybe your work inspires someone to take a leap they’ve been afraid of. Maybe it gives someone a smile they didn’t know they still had in them during a tough time. Maybe it sparks a conversation, encourages vulnerability, or helps someone realize it’s time to explore parts of themselves they’ve been avoiding. That’s the power of what we do.

Connection

But perhaps the most profound reward comes from delivering exactly what a client envisions—or even surpassing their expectations. To take their ideas, concepts, and dreams and bring them to life is deeply fulfilling. There’s nothing like seeing the moment a client realizes their vision has come to life. It’s about crafting something that not only meets their needs but also reflects their story, their identity, and their goals.

It’s a powerful moment when I deliver a final product whether it’s a design, a photo, or a video that aligns perfectly with what they were asking for. Knowing that my work is more than just a product but a solution that embodies their ideas is everything. It’s their excitement, their satisfaction, and their trust that make it all worth it.

So, yeah, there’s no simple answer to what’s most rewarding—it’s all of it. The Immersion, Perception, Impact, and Connection. It’s everything coming together—not just for me, but for the people I create for—that makes this creative life so worth living.

Is there mission driving your creative journey?

At the core of my creative journey is a mission to build a life that feels deeply fulfilling—one rooted in joy, purpose, and balance. Success to me isn’t just about fleeting moments of happiness; it’s about cultivating a life where gratitude, passion, and freedom sustain you. It’s about waking up excited for the day, knowing that what you love shapes your path, and having the opportunity to share those passions with the people who matter most.

One of the biggest drivers for me is achieving financial freedom. Let’s face it—none of us work for free, and I’m no exception. What I exchange for my time is something that brings both fulfillment and stability. Money is access, and my entire life, I’ve watched the people around me struggle to gain that access. As I grew older, I made it my mission to build a career where I could do what I’m dedicated to while also breaking that cycle of struggle. I want to be in a position where I can come and go as I please, buy what I want without hesitation, and share those experiences with the people I care about—friends, family, and beyond. Financial freedom is about more than comfort; it’s about the power to live life on your terms.

Taking care of my family is another cornerstone of my mission. My mom and grandma raised me to be the person I am today, and my biggest dream is to give back to them in a way that reflects the dedication and sacrifice they poured into me. Whether it’s getting my mom the house and car she’s always wanted or just making their lives a little easier, that’s the least I can do for the women who shaped me. I want them to feel proud—not just of who I am, but of the unconventional path I’ve chosen to walk. My life might not look like what they envisioned, but I’m proving to them—and myself—that it’s possible to live a life full of commitment and purpose while also providing for the people you love.

Then there’s the challenge of making myself proud. Honestly, this is the toughest part. I’m incredibly hard on myself, and moments of true self-recognition are rare. But when they happen, they’re transformative. There’s something powerful about standing back and saying, You did it, dude. You really did it. I carry the weight of all the people who’ve poured into me, and I want to honor their investment in me by becoming someone they can be proud of. But at the same time, I want to prove to myself—that all the late nights, hard work, and sacrifices weren’t for nothing. I want my childhood self to feel like it was all worth it, to see that everything I dreamed of wasn’t impossible.

And yes, a part of me is driven by the people who doubted me, ignored me, or walked away. It’s not about spite—it’s about showing them, and myself, that I’m capable of so much more than they imagined. I want my work and my life to be undeniable. When people see certain things—whether it’s a design, a photograph, or even the way I approach creativity—I want them to think of me. It’s that simple. And while some might think that’s ego, it’s not. It’s about leaving a mark, about proving to myself that I deserve to take up space in this world.

Ultimately, I want to create something lasting, something meaningful. It’s why I treasure it when friends say things like, “I saw this, and it reminded me of you,” or when they point out a beautifully designed menu because they know I’d appreciate it—or a bad one because they know it’d drive me nuts. Those little moments mean so much because they show that I’ve left pieces of myself in the lives of others. That’s the kind of legacy I want to build—not just through my work, but through the relationships and experiences I share.

I want to stand for something bigger than myself: love, creativity, courage, vulnerability, and the freedom to explore everything this life has to offer. I’ve never been content with being a master of one thing. I want to be a part of it all, to experience as much as I can, and to inspire others to do the same. My mission is to live fully, leave my mark, and prove—first and foremost to myself—that I can create an extraordinary life.

So yes, my creative journey is about building something, but it’s also about being something. Someone who’s bold, unapologetic, and deeply committed to the process of living. That’s the legacy I’m working toward every day.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://robmadeit.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/robthisbaus/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/robthisbaus/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/robert-carmona-13705b127/
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@robthisbaus
• Other: https://www.instagram.com/rtm.pod/

Image Credits

Rob Carmona
Alberto Castañeda