The Glories of Design Thinking for Everyone

Published on June 4, 2010 in design. 1 Comment Tags: , , , , , , , , .

Good design is life-affirming. It makes us feel like someone cared enough to make something that we will enjoy.  The deliberate beauty inherent in good design is proof that existence is not all chaos and suffering, so hooray for that.

BMW Museum, headquarters

Photo credit: flickr.com/max78

One of my favorite design companies is IDEO.  The company was founded by David Kelley, because as he told Fast Company, “I had an intuition I couldn’t survive corporate America. I hated the hierarchy and just wanted to work with my friends.”   What’s not to love about that?

The current CEO for IDEO is Tim Brown.  In an earlier post, I looked at his ideas about playfulness.  This time I want to focus on another TED Talk he gave.  It’s here below:

[ted id=646]

Most striking to me is his challenge to wrestle design away from the “priesthood” of designers and give it back to everyone. Mr. Brown explains that you don’t have to study design for years to use its principles.  Just think about how someone else will use a particular product or service and adjust accordingly.  When other people start smiling while experiencing what you do, then you’ll know you’re on the right track.

This got me thinking about the kinds of everyday things that are well designed.  Here are a few examples:   If you’re buying furniture at Target you’ll notice that all the display items have an easy-to-see red circle with a number.  To ensure the furniture you buy is the same as the one you saw on the display, all you have to do is match the circles and the numbers.

Simple, but a lot of stores don’t do that, and that means there’s more of a chance that someone will buy the wrong item.

Photo credit: flickr.com/bhamsandwich

The recycling program here in Chesapeake provides a blue recycling bin that is the same size as the city’s trash cans.  The lid on the recycling bin features colored pictures and words that illustrate what can and cannot be recycled. It is now so convenient to recycle that someone would have to exert more mental effort to avoid doing so.

Suppose, though, that the bin wasn’t the same size as the trash can and it had no picture. Then, I might notice that the recycling box is already full and out of reach.  Suppose too that I wasn’t sure about whether the bottle I was holding could be recycled.  Instead of taking the time to Google it, I would just throw the bottle in the trash. The thoughtful design of the city’s recycling bin undermines that possibility.

These days when I play a new video game, I first like to try it without reading instructions.  It’s not just because I’m a guy who avoid instructions on principle to demonstrate manliness.  Rather, I want to notice the kinds of clues that the developers added to aid my progress, and besides the better designed games render the manuals redundant.

In those kinds of games, not only do you learn where to start, but you also get contextual hints if you linger too long in one spot, and should you run into trouble too soon, healing potions appear.  That way you won’t get too discouraged before you’ve had a chance to get immersed in the game.  Wouldn’t it be great if consumer electronics like cameras or WiFi routers did similar things?

Photo credit: flickr.com/adobemac

In regards to books, when I see a chapter that approaches a hundred pages, I think to myself, “oh man, how will I finish this?   Not too long thereafter I end up doing something else.  (Perhaps you, my noble reader, can relate.  I don’t write the shortest of posts, I know, but I’m working on it.  Until then, maybe you can just look at the pictures and nod solemnly  a few times as you pretend to read.)

In comparison, Stephen King generally keeps his chapters short.  It’s the literary way of saying, “come on fella.  You can do it.  Just a few more pages and you’ll finish off another chapter.”  This is not to say that Mr. King’s books are hard to read.  He knows how to keep his audience engaged, so the pages basically turn themselves.

The Right of the Road - Fredric Remington, 1900

A few more examples: A masterful painter adjusts his composition so that the vanishing points, sight lines, and areas of contrast guide your eyes to the important parts.  Or, think about all the Westerns you’ve seen.  When the bad guys wear mostly black and the good guys wear mostly white, isn’t it easier to tell what’s happening in a big gunfight or bar brawl?  Without color clues to distinguish the warring factions, action scenes sometimes devolve into noisy confusion.

But, you don’t have to be a movie maker to bring design thinking into your world.  If you turn off your wipers when going through the tolls then you’re designing a better experience for the attendant who won’t get splashed with water.  If you write company policies in readable English, then you might actually get employees to read them without resorting to threats.

Photo credit: flickr.com/bhamsandwich

Do you have any additional suggestions about how others could design a better experience for you at work or at play?  If so, please share them.

Should you, for some freak reason, want to design a better experience for me in regards to this blog, then you could leave comments or share your gratitude if you appreciate my writing.  I’m not doing this for a paycheck, so it keeps me motivated when I know that I’m doing something others value and find helpful. Also, if you happen to be planning your will in the near future, I could use a foundation of some kind because, you know, that does look nice on the ole resume.

There’s another way you can help.  One of the things I do when I’m not writing or sharing meals with the stars—and by stars I mean the illustrious ones in the sky— is technical support for Canon.

On behalf of the world’s technical support representatives, let me humbly ask you to graciously AVOID WRITING IN ALL CAPS.  It is not enjoyable to read.    We want to help you.  Help us help you.

One more thing, and this is more of a personal issue, so take it with a grain of salt, or spice it up with a dash of pepper, if you prefer.  Here goes: when you say ASAP, you might think that you are communicating your cleverness and efficiency by saving the 2.3 seconds that it would take to say something more personable like “as soon as you can.”  Unfortunately that is not the case.

Furthermore, you might also believe that by writing ASAP repeatedly and then underlining  it and highlighting it and maybe even putting glitter on it, you are bumping your inquiry to the front of the ASAP queue. This too is a tragic inaccuracy.

Just be honest about your situation and treat people with respect, and you’ll get much better results most of the time.

Photo credit: flickr.com/austinevan

In closing, we can all show others that we care through the things we design, even if we’re not professional designers.  It’s just a matter of doing unto others as you’d have them do unto you and doing so in an elegant way.

Support Local Art … Sometimes

Published on May 20, 2010 in art. 1 Comment Tags: , , , , .

Supporting local art is important, and I’m not just saying that as an aspiring artist.  The right kind of art offers significant benefits to society, but the impact is hard to measure. That’s why tangible displays of support matter.

Think about it:  An entrepreneur can evaluate the success of his business by the amount of profit it earns. An inventor might consider the number of man-hours her device saves.  And it’s like they say, “if the water will flow, the plumber’s skin will glow.  It glows with pride, I will confide!”

Photo credit: flickr.com/slugicide

Actually no one ever said that as far as I know.  It was just a shameless way for me to work a rhyme into the beginning of this post.  Full disclosure: I am not currently getting any sponsorship from the American Association of Rhyming People (AARP), but if one of their members were to read the prior paragraph and so thoroughly enjoy it that he or she felt compelled to write me a check, then I would not refuse said check.  Also, it is entirely possible that AARP stands for something else and that there is no organization in place which promotes the usage of rhymes in American composition. Hard to believe but if true, very tragic.

Now then, let’s return, in seriousness, to our subject.   How do artists measure success? If it’s just by the money their work earns, then we’re going to have a lot of discouraged artists out there.  From the beginning of recorded history artists have been dependent upon the patronage of others.

Even today,  most operas, plays, films, novels, or paintings that are created do not entirely pay for themselves.  Yes I know, Avatar was a big smash, but for every Avatar, there are thousands of films that don’t even earn back the money they cost to make.

Photo credit: flickr.com/bright

As to books,  the publishers depend on a few breakout hits like the Harry Potter series or the Dan Brown books to pay for the rest of the lineup.  And why do you think theater playhouses and opera companies ask for sponsors at the beginning of every show?  If they had to depend on just ticket prices, they would all be out of business.

What about using popularity as a measure of artistic merit?  Well, let us assume that all the songs on the 40 lists are each fantastic pinnacles of artistic achievement (that’s a very big assumption if your musical sensibilities are similar to mine), but then there is still one small detail worth mentioning. Namely, there are far too many artists like Vincent van Gogh who were unpopular while living but who are now canonized by the artistic community.

Portrait of Dr. Gachet - Vincent van Gogh, 1890

At this point, if you’re wondering why anyone should consider supporting something that isn’t, statistically speaking, likely to be immediately profitable or popular, well you could always just invest in porn.  After all, porn is generally very popular and profitable, but as I explained in The Art/Porn Dilemma, that doesn’t mean it is something that society should wholeheartedly embrace.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve definitely read books, heard music, and seen paintings, plays and films that had an inspiring effect on me.  Seeing excellence  in an artist’s work challenges me to aim for excellence in my own way. Along that line, being around masterful architecture makes me want to earn the privilege of its proximity.

Sometimes, art reveals how beautiful honesty, imagination, and affection can be.   Or, it might illuminate problems that cause dissonance both in the world and in my heart.  Even an artistic endeavor that exists merely to distract me from my troubles by serving humor, wonder, or elegance has merit.  Speaking of which,

Isn’t it about that time,

to return now to the rhyme?

No, no.  Must not use unnecessary rhymes … must not unnecessary rhymes. OK, that was embarrassing.

Photo credit: flickr.com/rbrwr

My apologies about that, ladies and gentlemen.  I’ll do what I can to maintain decorum from now on.

Anyway, on more than one occasion, I’ve taken action to fix a sinking relationship after seeing just the right film or play that put things into better perspective.  Usually the story doesn’t even relate exactly to my situation, but it broadcasts a reverberating moral universe into my heart, and I respond to its frequencies.

I don’t know how that works exactly.  It is sort of like magic.  Just like Alice in Tim Burton’s take on Wonderland, I emerge from a strange, imaginative realm with new clarity about what needs to be done.

But it’s not all sunshine in the art world.  As any student at Hogwarts knows, the dark arts are very real and potent. Because I’m sensitive to these kinds of things, I can sometimes trace a moral lapse to the influence of something rotten masquerading as art.

Ultimately, I believe I am responsible for the choices I make, but you have to be a little naive if you don’t think that the things we see and hear influence our decisions.  The billions of dollars spent on advertising are not spent by fools, my friends.

Leo Tolstoy, considered by some to be one of the world’s finest novelists,  wrote a nonfiction book called What is Art. In the book, Tolstoy argues that art often involves a great deal of time, effort, and money to produce, so it should provide society with some kind of benefit.  Otherwise it is just a waste of resources.  I agree.  I encourage you to support art, but not any old rag-tag trinket that claims the title.  Be discerning.

Specifically, I want you to champion worthy art in your community. That’s where your support is most needed. Rest assured, you’re not going to bankrupt Paramount by seeing Iron Man 2 a mere six times in the theater instead of the 18 visits you were planning, but your presence at a local play might make all the difference to your discouraged friend on stage.

I know a few exceptional artists and performers who stopped offering their creative contributions to the world simply because not enough people showed interest.  They wanted to give their city something unique and heartfelt, but everyone was too busy consuming bland, homogenized products to notice.

Photo credit: flickr.com/bright

It’s challenging to keep working hard at something when you don’t see any tangible results. That’s why we all look for ways to measure our progress. We ask, what are the sales figures like this month, how many pounds did I lose, how many new member joined the church, and so on.

Bad things happen when people focus more on getting the measurements right than on the values behind those measurements, but the stats have their place.  They provide a confirmation that we are not wasting time, money, and effort on fruitless endeavors.

By their abstract nature, the benefits of art are hard to track.  Still, they exist, and just like everyone else, artists want to get a sense that their efforts are not in vain.  Trust me on this, it is already difficult enough for most artists to convince family and friends about the merit of what they do. When you have to also convince yourself of that merit, it becomes almost impossible to keep pressing onward.

I’m not sure if my writing will ever lead to any sustained financial compensation, but I’ll still keep doing it.  You see, I’ve come to believe that writing in an honest and personal way is one of the things I’m supposed to do while on this earth.  Enough people have thanked me for my efforts to sustain that belief. (At least that’s how I feel some days.  I don’t always believe in purpose, but for now let’s just generalize.)

I haven’t always felt that way.  A while ago, I got rather discouraged about the indifferent or callous reception that one of my stories received, and so I told myself I would never discuss that story again.  Nor would I write about things close to heart any more.

The next day, Beth, a teacher of mine, gave my writing a compliment after class.  In so doing, she forced me to break the promise I had made just a day ago.

Here’s the thing, reading the story wasn’t part of her job description.  She read my story because she had taken interest in my work, for whatever reason, not because it was a class assignment.

I didn’t even say anything to her about my frustrations. As I was preparing to leave, she approached me and offered a few nice words.  In those few seconds, she gave me the encouragement to keep fighting.

I persevered and my writing has gotten better as a result, but that wouldn’t have happened if Beth had told herself that instead of reading a script of questionable merit she could read or watch something more widely esteemed  like Tom Wolfe’s latest novel or the new episode of Gray’s Anatomy.

What Beth did for me is what I try to do for others.  I support as many local, worthwhile endeavors as I can, not just the paintings and the plays, but even the small businesses and locally-owned restaurants that do their own thing and do it exceptionally well.

I’m not saying that anything local and independent is better than the established multi-national brands by definition.  I have a better chance of finding the book I want on amazon.com than at the local bookstore, and I doubt that the small-town inventor will produce a better camera than my Canon.

I do buy from the local bookstore, though, if I appreciate the atmosphere it offers. I might even take a chance and buy from that unproven inventor if he seems honest enough and develops something that is potentially useful to me.

Photo credit: flickr.com/tomask

Still, there are only so many hours in the day, and I don’t get to support nearly as much as I’d like.  That’s where you come in.  I know your time and your money are limited, but do what you can.  Someone’s commitment to the path less traveled might depend on  you.