I've just returned from the IDSA conference in Miami, and I'm both convinced that, in ten years, there won't be an IDSA conference to go to - and that isn't a bad thing. I don't mean this in a disparaging sense; I enjoyed the conference, caught up with old friends, made new friends, and learned a bit. But a trend that I've observed at past conferences is only more evident this year, and it's patronizing to continue to skirt what is becoming increasingly obvious: the IDSA has served a valuable role in the evolution of design as a professional discipline, and has helped advance the field to a point where the IDSA is now essentially irrelevant. Design has outgrown “Industrial Design”, and a professional organization cannot exist only in the form of self-maintenance.
I'll explain, as I realize this may come across as both pretentious and self-righteous (and I intend it to be neither).
The discipline of industrial design has had a long history of form giving, and the creation of objects and artifacts that relate to the incidental parts of life. Industrial designers make stuff, and the making of stuff is a commodity - a profession differentiated only by cost. That is, there are a huge amount of capable industrial design firms in the world (and increasingly in Asia), and these firms are only differentiated by the cost of their services. A commodity market affords only limited growth and only limited market share, and can never truly sustain itself in any meaningful manner.
The other major capability industrial designers are able to bring to a project is their understanding of, and abilities with, materials and manufacturing/development processes. This is advancing in the opposite direction of a commodity - it's becoming increasingly specialized, increasingly intellectual, and incredibly complicated. The complexity associated with new material introductions and advances has such deep tacit knowledge, and such strong connections to fundamental issues of chemistry, that it can't continue to be "owned" by designers - it needs to be managed and coordinated by scientists (which was the implicit point of Dr. Andrew Dent from Material Connexion, in his excellent keynote presentation at this very conference; I feel the irony was lost on much of the audience, unfortunately). In this way, while material sciences will absolutely not become commodities, they also will soon be out of the grasps of designers.
In addition to these changes in skillset, there is a trend towards the inclusion of digital components, controls and networked services in products that have traditionally been isolated, single artifacts. These less tangible aspects of the products need to be designed, too, and so the designer who was typically responsible for developing a form and function for an item must now concern themselves with systems, services and more complicated - and arguably, more intellectual - facets of design. The major corporations that are embracing design as a true innovation catalyst realize that differentiation requires specific attention to the design of these systems and the utilization of networked services.
And so we’ve reached a point in the history of technological culture where the IDSA has served its purpose, and is now obviously struggling to define what to do next. This is evident in a program filled with discussions of rendering techniques and in an exhibitor hall full of plastics and injection molding vendors; it’s obvious in powerpoint presentations that struggle with basic concepts of human behavior and interaction, and in hallway conversation of designers who aren’t sure how they can ensure they have a job in the “new economy” of the future.
Steve Portigal summed up my feelings nicely, in a blunt - but absolutely dead on - way. "The IDSA is the recording industry or car industry of professional societies". He's referencing a long history of positive contribution, but an increasing lack of relevance, and a desire to hold on to how things used to be - a feeling of tradition, and a celebration of an industry. IDSA, like GM, is struggling to evolve, but with many of the same leaders at the helm and with many of the same traditional viewpoints of how design should be.
Yet there's no shame in celebrating the past and simultaneously building a new, and very different future. The organizational body of IDSA is not the appropriate organization for shepherding the massive change required in industry and education, and that's OK, as they've already done the hard work of laying the groundwork upon which this massive change will come. I look to other professional organizations to lead the way, and I hope those who built the IDSA – and the field of mass-produced artifacts – can look happily at the fruits of their labor, and allow the organization to proudly retire.
(Credit:
Jossey-Bass)
A Fine Line offers a step-by-step overview of the innovation process -- from targeting goals to shepherding new products and services to the marketplace -- in order to reveal how to arrive at an authentic human design that connects strongly with consumers. With a unique perspective, rich stories, and a global mindset, Hartmut Esslinger explores business solutions that are environmentally sustainable and contribute to an enduring global economy.
Michael Moritz from Sequoia Capital, in his foreword, said it all: "Hartmut's book contains the ruminations of a man who has devoted his life to the challenge of marrying the aesthetic with the functional while standing firm against the deadening forces of mediocrity. His work shows that taste can triumph, design and production can be soul-mates, and the eye of an individual can shape a product and a company. The idea that finely designed products can change the fate of companies while also becoming our indispensable companions is a message that millions of us owe to Hartmut."
You can find the table of contents, sample chapters, testimonials, and videos on http://www.afinelinebook.com
And here are some excerpts from a video interview with Hartmut:
(Credit:
Design Policy)
Design is not the answer to everything, but it certainly has an important role to play in almost everything that holds a society together.
In light of the current economic crisis, several U.S. professional design organizations (AIGA, IDSA, and others), design education accreditation organizations, and Federal Government officials have seized the historic opportunity and joined forces to launch an initiative to shape a U.S. National Design Policy. In a moment of great global uncertainty and an erosion of national confidence, designers are perfectly positioned to take on a leadership role in "Re-designing America's Future," and the proposed policy is supposed to give them a more effective platform. "Design is the world remade in human form," the initiative's Web site states. And there's a lot of remaking to do these days. We know that "beautiful things work better." These days, however, only "meaningful" things make a real difference. And collective action is required.
As a result of a November 2008 meeting in Washington, the initiative has published "Redesigning America's Future: Ten design policy proposals for the United States of America's economic competitiveness and democratic governance." The document strives to demonstrate how design "improves policy success by making it relevant to the People." As stated in the document: "Design serves to advance the goals of the United State's economic competitiveness by saving time and money and simplifying the use, manufacturing, and maintenance of goods and services. It enhances democratic governance by improving the performance and delivery of government services."
More details can be found on the U.S. National Design Policy Initiative Web site, including a downloadable version of the "Redesigning America's Future" report.
National Congresspeople received the publication in their mail boxes January 20. If you support the initiative and want them to act upon it, you can write them directly.
In addition, you can take part in a viral video campaign that asks supporters to record a brief "I Pledge" endorsement to be uploaded to the initiative's YouTube page or the Facebook page.
(Credit:
SanDisk)
What was the first thing SanDisk said to you about the design when they initially approached you and your team?
Robert Curtis: SanDisk is the market leader in USB flash drive category and the technical pioneer. In the past their design strategy was to flood the market with designs coming from different sources. The first goal for our project — designing the new SanDisk flagship line of USB flash drives — was to build a cohesive design language throughout the product line (and not just for the first products being launched at CES this year, but for the products coming out in the next few years). We wanted to create a design language that not only builds brand equity but has business benefits by reducing the number of SKUs that have to be supported.
Flash drives have always seemed kind of small and disposable — and not very safe. Is the design trying to change that perception?
RC: Yes. The essence of the SanDisk brand is trust and reliability, and we wanted those ideas to carry through with these devices. Today, flash drives are objects of utility. They’re no longer owned by any one individual — similar to a pen or pencil. We wanted to shift this perception by creating a stronger connection between users and their devices; to heighten their awareness of the device. We felt that if we could do this, then we would help customers have a more positive experience and feel more in control of their data.
Where did you and the team get ideas for the “L-shaped” design?
RC: It was a collaborative effort with SanDisk’s internal team. Every brand or series of products need that common visual anchor that consumers can easily recognize and associate with. The “L” shape worked well with our ideas and helped emphasize the SanDisk story and signature elements of “dynamic tension” and “balanced asymmetry.” Without going into too many boring engineering details it is worth saying the “L” shape is also a great way to meet the cost to manufacture goals we were given and still get a differentiated design. Good looks at the right price!
Why was it important to have a sliding USB connector?
RC: A sliding mechanism allows protection to the connector when not in use. The feature builds on the idea of trust and reliability. The connector is the link where data is transferred from the computer to the device. Data is being protected. It also eliminates the need for a cap, which inevitably will get lost.
How does the sliding mechanism lock into place?
RC: Engineering magic! There’s a latch inside that locks the connector into the fully open or fully closed position. It’s not obvious when using it, but the slide is actually a lever and depresses slightly when moved forward. The mechanical advantage of levers allows a small amount movement to be transferred into a large enough shift to disengage the locking latch.
And why did you use the color red?
RC: The primary color of the SanDisk brand is red. We always look for ways to reinforce our client’s brand in their products. There is an old expression we use in design: which defines which? In other words, does the product define the brand, or does the brand define the product?
Because you don’t need software to use them, these drives seem easy to use and portable. How did you design those elements into the product?
RC: Like any electronic product there is always software included and that’s actually true of SanDisk flash drives. The difference here, as you basically point out in your question, is that the user doesn’t have to use the software if they don’t want to. We didn’t have any involvement in the development of the software, but we did want to reinforce the ease of use and portability you refer to. Design details in the sliding mechanisms make it intuitive for the user to know how to open the device and which side is up, and in the case of the “Ultra” device, we designed the backup button to draw the user’s attention so they would be encouraged to take advantage of the software. Software that makes the data on the device safe also reinforces the portability. Reading the early blogs on the announcement of this product we’re surprised at the misunderstanding people have. Users should be assured they can backup data to their drive (and even to the Web in some cases), and have it password protected. It is, in essence, portable security.
Were there any initial designs that didn’t work?
RC: Yes. Like any project there’s always going to be a lot of ideas generated that end up going nowhere. But that’s all a part of the process. It’s important to know what doesn’t work. Designs get rejected for many reason, including aesthetics, cost, manufacturability, and more. When we start engineering they can also be rejected for functional reasons. That’s why it’s important to have room for a lot of iteration, experimentation, and validation throughout the process. As the saying goes, you have to break a few eggs to make a good omelet.
What’s morale like back at the studio when a design gets rejected?
RC: Valid and insightful criticism is taken in stride and ultimately adds to our process to produce a better product. We also have to keep in mind that design is subjective so rejection can be difficult for our designers to accept at times. The bottom line is we don’t put concepts in front of our clients that we’re not proud of and willing to stand behind. So when a client chooses a final direction they’re choosing a favorite amongst favorites, and it doesn’t hurt too much. In this case, the SanDisk team we worked with was incredibly smart and dedicated, with sophisticated design eyes. They challenged us to improve on their already successful products. It’s very satisfying when both client and design teams come together and everyone is happy with the result.
During the development stage are you and your team using pencils and paper to sketch out concepts and renderings or is it all done by computer?
RC: For this project we started out with hand drawn sketches and moved fairly quickly into creating 3D-visualization form models. For hand held objects like these it’s imperative that the design comes off the paper — or off the screen — and into the designer and client hands as soon as possible. Each project is different, so we don’t always follow the same process. Similarly, designers work differently. Some designers these days have grown up using computers, and they’re remarkably fluent with the software where they’re able to sketch with it. Eventually every product ends up being designed and engineered digitally, but we never lose track of the fact we’re designing things people hold in their hand to use.
Is being a product designer like being a sculptor who makes art or more like being an architect who makes furniture, buildings, and things you can use?
RC: Really, we’re both. You don’t have to be an artist, a designer, or an architect to see beauty in buildings, furniture, and useful items. You don’t have to be a designer or engineer to see the technology behind making a sculpture. A product designer responds to a brief, navigates constraints, and then presents work that answers a specific need, and a basic human need is to experience beauty. The design process tends to be very controlled and defined because investment and commitment levels are very high, but that doesn’t negate creativity. In the end we have the best of both worlds; we create useful artistic objects that add value to people’s lives.
I was interviewed by BrandWeek the other day for a story on the recent hype around “Design Thinking” in marketing. They were looking for a skeptic and found me. First of all, it is worth noting that the term “design thinking” is of course a clever marketing buzzword. It’s ironic that marketers themselves embrace it as the next big thing as it doesn’t create a new marketing paradigm so much as it proves that marketers are prone to being persuaded by their very own tricks. “Design Thinking” has become a brand, and brands are all the more powerful when they present themselves as memes.
But what does “design thinking” actually mean? Let’s rely on the wisdom of crowds and see how Wikipedia defines it: “Design thinking is a process for practical, creative resolution of problems or issues that looks for an improved future result.” Wow. Isn’t that what every single task in business is about? Or, for that matter, every single action in life? The rest of the paragraph adds some more specifics: “Unlike analytical thinking, design thinking is a creative process based around the ‘building up’ of ideas. There are no judgments in design thinking. This eliminates the fear of failure and encourages maximum input and participation. Outside the box thinking is encouraged in this process since this can often lead to creative solutions.” Hmm…ok.
Some Design Thinkers herald Design Thinking as the ultimate problem solver for business, social, and political challenges. The current financial meltdown? A lack of design thinking. Our health care sytem? Design Thinking can fix it. The HIV crisis in Africa? Make sure to apply Design Thinking. Granted, design is a fundamental responsibility for organizations in all sectors of our society, and it is absolutely critical in addressing problems of all kinds. But the quest that everybody should think like a designer is not the non plus ultra formula. Or, as Raymond Loewy, the famous industrial designer, pointed out wryly: “Design is too important to be left to designers.”
Today’s marketers need to be experts in what Design Thinkers may define as “a creative process based around the ‘building up’ of ideas.” But the trend towards more participatory product development, consumer engagement, crowdsourcing, etc. goes far beyond just a trendy label – it marks a significant shift in consumer culture and in the way we do business. Good marketers know that and are masters in outside-the-box thinking by definition. In this respect, marketing was design thinking long before Design Thinking was even thought of. As a marketer, you need an in-depth understanding of your audiences, their needs, habits, and desires; you need to develop a storyline and a conversation that engages them; and then you need to establish the channels of interaction. Ultimately, it’s all about desiging interactions between brands and consumers. It has become much more complicated in a highly fragmented, digitized, and fast-paced world of social media, but that’s what it’s still about. Yes, as a marketer you benefit from a holistic, cross-disciplinary view. And you better be creative. The big idea is still big, no matter what.
For marketing is an art, not a science. It is a multi-dimensional, dialogic (or even multi-logic), multi-lateral activity that, at its best, encompasses all touch points with external audiences across all business functions. Marketing is the big integrator, a diplomat within the organiziation but the partisan friend of customers. Marketing needs to innovate or it is just manufacturing. It needs to put customers front and center and give them a say. They hold the truth about your brand so let them design it. You might call this Design Thinking. I call it Marketing 101.
(Credit:
The Product Workshop)
In a great essay for Core 77 ("Stepmothers of Invention: Branding Firms Enter the Industrial Design Fray"), Carl Alviani describes a trend that has been emerging for a while now: Not only do digital agencies like R/GA enter the branding domain, branding, marcom, and advertising firms also round out their services portfolio by adding product design capabilities. Alviani expects that "a lot more branding firms will be hiring product designers over the next few years, just as ID firms hired lots of media and identity specialists a decade back (and continue to do)." John Winsor director of strategy in product innovation at Crispin Porter + Bogusky, an ad agency which now bills itself as a "factory," reckons that "Product is the ultimate communication tool. To me, branding and ID are different sides of the same coin. We're both satisfying the needs of the customer."
And indeed, Alviani observes that "In the last few decades, 'product' has become a word that can describe a toothbrush, a piece of software, or an advertising campaign with equal justification, and this trend of metaphor-as-synonym shows no signs of slowing."
But he does not just simply buy into the song of creative discipline convergence. His view is much more nuanced. While he acknowledges that "branding agencies are just as good candidates for performing product design explorations as design firms at this point," Alviani questions whether real break-through innovation will ever originate from branding firms: "When we look for examples of 'authentic,' 'innovative' design, (...) we're almost always looking at a different sort of team. The current poster children of innovation-spawned market success--the Wii, the iPhone, the Flip video camera--emerged from large groups of researchers, designers, engineers, programmers and manufacturing specialists who worked together for a long time, and knew both their brand and the applicable technologies intimately. This type of work cannot be emulated by assembling a team or hiring an agency and handing them a brand bible, no matter how good they are at their jobs."
For the most part I would agree with his conviction that it's one thing to tell the story (even across different technologies and consumer touch points), but a very different thing to create it. Branding firms may consider product design simply as a means of brand extension. But then again, what is chicken, what is egg? I remember how Eric Feng, Chief Technical Officer at Hulu, emphasized in a presentation at the Milken Conference that it was critical for them to start with a clear understanding of what the Hulu brand should stand for -- long before they drafted even a rough concept of the actual product.
(Credit:
Mallorca photo blog)
Just a mirage? Rick Poynor, in a beautifully honest article for ID Magazine ("Down with Innovation"), takes the "design thinkers," the "innovators through design," or the "design-ovators," as he calls them, head on:
"Design thinkers set great store by business targets, by driving the enterprise forward, because it is exactly what their clients want to hear and it gets them work. Seen from outside the cozy bond of service provider and client, this is a severely limited way of viewing design, and the total domination of current design discussion by this kind of commercial rhetoric is a worrying trend."
And furthermore:
"It is hardly surprising that designers try to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the accusation that they are hung up on making things look pretty. Belittling language of this kind suggests that the visual is inherently trivial, easy to do, and beneath consideration, that form is not a powerful medium of expression and carries no meaning for the viewer. Design thinkers like to talk as though we have somehow passed beyond the stage where the way things look needs to be a primary concern, and designers, browbeaten and demoralized, half seem to believe them. They have been too ready to accept the caricature of themselves as airheaded stylists who care about insignificant niceties of no concern to anyone else."
"Yet the rhetorical reduction of design to frivolous prettification reveals a willful blindness to the power of expressive form-making, if not a deep, philistine ignorance of the history of design and visual culture. The scale of the oversight is so colossal, and frankly baffling, one hardly knows where to start. Are the great cathedrals of Europe--Rheims, Lincoln, Chartres--merely pretty? Are the gardens of Kyoto? Is Alvar Alto's Paimio armchair? Was Alexey Brodovitch's Portfolio magazine? How about Leica cameras? The patterns on Moorish ceramic tiles? Or the PowerBook and the iPod? There is surely no need to go on."
In the same article, Michael Bierut of Pentagram supports him: "The business use--the specific goal that motivated the client or sponsor to initially fund the work--often fades away, sometimes quickly," he says. "In some ways, you might argue that aesthetic value--for an enduring design, at least--is the only lasting value, since over time functional needs can change and business moves on to the next goal." Bierut goes so far as to modestly propose that "just making something look nicer" or "replacing something ugly with something not so ugly" is an admirable goal for designers.
That's quite a statement in a climate where proving the business value of design is the profession's Holy Grail (and complex), and "design thinkers" keep demanding designers should become CEOs. Can they? Yes, perhaps, but only if they can get over themselves. Leadership in business is about empowering others. Designers and particularly "design thinkers," however, are still busy yielding power for themselves.
At this point, it may be more aspirational to be humble. Rather than touting design as the ultimate problem solver in all aspects of social, professional, and political life, the (relative) power of design may lie in balancing the possibilities of convergence (media; devices; platforms; disciplines; processes) with the unleashed forces of divergence in a web 2.0 world -- design as the facilitator between software and hardware; mobile, web, and desktop; analysis and creativity; virtual and real; professional and consumer; individual and crowd; business and art; function and beauty.
Hartmut Esslinger, the founder of frog design, teaches design at the University of Applied Arts in Vienna. The mission statement he has crafted for his students may provide some much needed clarity and guidance in this debate for practitioners:
"The holistic challenge for Design is to create physical and virtual objects which are useful art, and inspire spiritual values by as few atoms and bits as possible. Design is our modern-day continuation of 'technical' functionality converted into human-historic and metaphysical symbolism. When designers create a new and better object, a mechanism, a software application or a more inspiring, human-centric experience, this will become a 'branding symbol' in itself by meaningful innovation, good quality and ethical behaviors. People will recognize the resulting visual symbols as a cultural expression of humanized technology and subconsciously connect it with historically learned visual shapes and patterns that connect. Design cannot be just a fashionable statement, but must advance our industrial culture by providing sustainable innovation, cultural identity and consistency so it can create emotional and social belonging. Designers have a humanistic responsibility that connects and coordinates human needs and dreams with new opportunities and inspirations in science, technology and business in order to make the results and their usage culturally relevant, economically productive, politically beneficial and ecologically sustainable.
The accelerated globalization is posing both huge challenges and offering new opportunities which require designers that are both talented and competent to influence and define new trends in regards to mastering outsourcing to 'lower cost' economies and reversing the current excesses of overproducing generic and hard-to-use products. Designers also need to invent new concepts for 'homesourcing' by converting local and tribal cultures into beneficial concepts.
To succeed as competent and respected 'executive partners' in the rational world of business, designers must become creative entrepreneurs or creative executives themselves. However, ultimately, design must rise above all commercial-functional benchmarks and aspire to near-eternal cultural relevance and spirituality."
(Credit:
Core 77)
Thousands of representatives from international corporations, design firms, government entities, and institutions of higher education, spanning more than 35 countries around the world, attended the CONNECTING'07 World Design Congress last week in San Francisco, the largest and arguably most influential gathering of industrial designers to date.
Did it live up to its promise? The short answer is: yes and no. There were early warning signs for the "no": The opening ceremony was a long-winded and largely self-congratulatory celebration of the two organizing bodies, ICSID and IDSA. In his opening keynote, ICSID president Peter Zech set the tone for what the conference turned out to be: a celebration of industrial design's accomplishments as well as an ambitious overview of the richness of what's out there right now -- but not so much a departure towards (or at least a vision of) a new and exciting future of industrial design. No wonder then that after showing a promotional video that featured the dolce vita in next year's World Design Capital Torino, everyone rushed to the buffet (piles of sushi! I wonder how consternated the Japanese attendees who had just gotten off the airplane must have been).
The opening night's impression remained throughout the conference. It soon became clear that the main problem of the Congress was that it had a motto ("Connecting"), albeit very broad, but it lacked an agenda or a distinct purpose. No new paradigm was born, no overarching theme emerged, and no new star rose. No battles were fought, no heated debates were held. The conference was primarily designed as a forum for designers to reassure each other of the value of design. As for the debatable value proposition of industrial design in the 21st century, a consensus appeared to have been reached even before the first panel began: Yes, designers are committed to beauty. Yes, they are committed to connecting commerce, technology, and culture, and they provide a holistic, systemic perspective. Yes, they are humanists and environmentalists, acknowledging and acting upon their ecological and ethical responsibilities. Yes, they are, as Peter Zech described it in his keynote, "The most influential creative discipline because we shape the things of the everyday world." But the vehemence with which all of this was proclaimed inadvertently revealed how insecure designers still feel about their tangible and yet so inexplicable profession.
Despite the harmonious and leveling mood, the conference was not devoid of many outstanding moments. Some of the old icons, in particular, demonstrated that they're still on top of their game. The Japanese designer Naoto Fukasawa took the audience on a riveting journey through the "core of awareness," illuminating how the shapes of things live in us. He presented product designs that respect our pre-conceived notions of how objects have to look. He argued that good design "notices the unnoticeable," providing a-ha moments rather than wow effects. Furthermore, some of the popular advocates of "design thinking" such as Tim Brown from IDEO or Roger Martin from the Rotman School of Management, who had been instrumental in transcending the traditional boundaries of design by embracing its innovative potential for social and economic change, reinforced their compelling cases. The idea behind design thinking is simple: Design is not just design. It is a way of thinking that tackles a problem at the input and not just the output level. With the words of Tim Brown, design thinking examines the desirability of a product or service (human factors), its economic viability (business), and its feasibility (technology). And based on these insights, it then develops design solutions for increasingly interdependent (eco)-systems of producers and consumers. All design thinking presentations were eye-opening for those unfamiliar with the matter; however, who really is? Brown et al can consider it a huge accomplishment that, thanks to them, design thinking is not such a radical novelty anymore; it is a widely accepted concept that designers may in fact mistrust more than business people do, as frog design founder Hartmut Esslinger knowingly said in his speech.
Speaking of business: Where was it? The perspective of corporations, except for presentations by HP and Tesla Motors, was greatly missing from all of the plenary sessions and would have added a lot of value to the discussions. The same holds true for web 2.0 phenomena (ironically, the Web 2.0 summit took place at the same time only a few miles away), particularly the convergence of software and hardware, virtual and real, online and offline: what about virtual communities like Second Life, 3D printing, or virtual displays; what about web 2.0, social media, and amateur culture and their implications for industrial design? These issues did not get the level of attention they deserved. You could have forgotten in all the talks about eco-design that Al Gore had not only fostered the green movement but also invented the Internet. Fortunately, there were speakers like Bruce Sterling, the self-acclaimed "design visionary," who ruminated on his notion of "spimes" in the upcoming "Internet of things" -- new types of products that are defined as ideas or memes that can be tracked through space and time throughout the lifetime of an object in an ever-connected world (simply put). Or forecaster Paul Saffo, who depicted the notion of "design after the information revolution." In general, the best plenary sessions were those that served as a homage to the future rather than a homage to someone's lifetime achievement. Product designer Richard Seymour, for instance, gave a fascinating update on the Virgin Galactic space tourism project. Alex Steffen from Worldchanging.com offered some practical advice for navigating the future markets of green innovation.
For the most part, though, a certain nostalgia clouded the program, and the key for designing the future seemed to lie in the past. Consequently, most of the attempts to make sense of the conference theme were actually proposing a "re-connecting" rather than a "connecting." The wonderfully witty Sir Ken Robinson urged the audience to re-connect the ecology of human resources with the ecology of nature. Janine Benyus, in her fascinating study of biomimicry, suggested we re-connect industrial design and engineering with nature, understanding and mimicking its far more sustainable shapes and processes. The main lesson to learn here is that nature does not produce any waste. While we almost always build top-down -- starting with the larger material from which we deduct the eventual object -- nature does it better: it builds bottom up and grows organically.
Nostalgia may have also been the reason for revisiting some of the big industrial design truisms. One of them is the importance of emotions. Laura Richardson's attempt to rationalize emotion by quantifying its impact ("emotion engine") was interesting and unique, but other presenters were simply stating the obvious (and long established) link between understanding people's emotional needs and the design brief. Left-brain vs. right-brain, analytical vs. emotional thinking, form follows emotion etc. -- the conference treated these topics like museum exhibits. But as far as emotions go and creativity, advertising has long been outperforming design: The Clio award commercials that were shown during session breaks were more "out of the box" than many of the products shown in the PowerPoint slides before and after.
A much discussed example of emotional design is the one hundred dollar laptop. For Yves Behar "design must create values and value." Behar demoed the device and showed how easy it is to record music or to connect with others in the same area that are online with their laptops as well. On the way out to the lobby I overheard a conversation: "That's exactly the problem. Hundreds of these laptops in the Bay Area. But no one in Africa will buy them." But maybe that's exactly not the problem. Maybe the point is that the developed world needs a product that makes it feel better about the developing world. I don't mean this in a cynical way at all. What if this laptop, rather than connecting kids in Africa, is our emotional connection to these kids? That may not be the product's original purpose but that doesn't make it less legitimate. Maybe, in times of human and natural disasters, stripping off the negative association from the word "feel good" is a brave act.
If you recognize anxious times, that is. The Congress panels did not articulate any fear of future technology or a sense of paranoia or angst (with the notable exception of Fiona Ruby's and Anthony Dunne's session on "designs for fragile personalities in anxious times"). While the catastrophic consequences of climate change were widely discussed and were mostly embraced with profound optimism, nano-technology or bio-genetics were simply left out of the equation. I found that surprising. If "the future doesn't need us" (Bill Joy), tomorrow's design will certainly not need designers. As design pretends to provide the accessories for the ongoing illusion of human mastery, it is in fact already in a constant state of emergency. Given the radical progress in advanced nano-technologies, design may be nothing but proof that "something can be done even when there is nothing that can be done" (Peter Sloterdiijk). "Design thinking" is nice but it will become meaningless if (when) artificial intelligence will start doing the thinking (and the design) for us. Already, the designer's responsibility is shifting from designing things and experiences to designing the conditions for design (and thinking), creating human links between bits, atoms, neurons, and genes. What if the designer's major task in the 21st century is to be the devil's advocate, providing a (false) sense of personal safety in times of genetic engineering, personalized machines, and a new singularity? What if it is time to start designing for a time after design?
Those and other potentially disturbing questions remained unaddressed at the World Design Congress. At the end, after three days of digesting the over-scheduled and vastly divergent CONNECTING program, it had become almost impossible to somehow connect all the disparate dots. The Congress had lost itself in a diversity of topics, perspectives, and disciplines that came at the expense of one strong message. CONNECTING'07 was a great experience and certainly connected designers from all over the world. But was that enough? I'm not sure. It celebrated the history of industrial design, but it may have squandered an historic opportunity to inspire and prepare thousands of designers for the future. In this regard, Sir Ken Robinson's words aptly summarized the conference's shortcoming without intending to: "We don't fail because we aim too high and fail. We fail because we aim too low and succeed."
San Francisco will host thousands of designers from around the world when CONNECTING'07, the Icsid/IDSA World Design Congress, comes to town October 17-20. As the largest and most influential gathering of industrial designers to date, CONNECTING'07 will fill three major Nob Hill sites with prominent speakers, exhibits, and events. Related activities will also spill into the surrounding city, with many of San Francisco's design studios, companies, museums, design schools and stores holding receptions, open houses and tours. Representatives from nearly 500 internationally renowned corporations, design firms, government entities, and higher education institutions, spanning more than 35 countries across the world have made arrangements to attend.
"Connecting" will serve as the Congress' overarching theme as well as its name. Participants will explore the implications of an ever more connected world, and the ways in which designers can positively influence connections between business, brands, services, technology, and populations. More than 220 speakers -- including designers, educators, business leaders, innovators, and scientists -- will take the stage over the course of three days. Among them will be Hartmut Esslinger (the founder of frog design), Paul Saffo, Naoto Fukasawa, Bruce Sterling, Yves Behar, and many other design luminaries. Two Design Galleries will show off some of the hottest new products, technologies, and techniques on the market, as well as winners of the 2007 International Design Excellence Awards co-sponsored by BusinessWeek and IDSA.
Review the entire three-day program
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