ultimate designers...

What is design? What makes someone a designer? What is the goal of design?

There are several professions within the realm of ‘design.’ There are those that design buildings, those that design landscapes, those that design web-pages, magazines, posters, corporate identities, shoes, clothes, furniture, interiors, books, video games, theatrical sets, etc. You get the point. But what is design? Is it the creation of something? If that were so, wouldn’t designers be better labeled as creators? Okay, so take anyone who ‘creates’ something--say a construction worker, or pipe-fitter. These aren’t designers. They follow plans to create something. One could say they are the mediators through which a design is created. So, back to the creators. Some famous creators are Picasso and Pollock. Designers? No, they are artists, right? So what’s the difference between an artist and a designer? Would you say utility? An artist creates something that has no or little utility, while a designer creates something with utility. A magazine designer creates a spread to convey information, an architect designs a house to provide shelter, a fashion designer to cover-up and provide warmth. Is an artist capable of design? Indeed. Is a designer capable of art? Absolutely. Are some designs considered art? Yes, of course. But the line between design and art is utility, between creation and design is the unique thought. Design serves the purpose of solving a problem. Sure there are creative and not-creative ways of solving problems, just as there are ugly and pretty ways to do it. Design has been inherently linked to aesthetics. When someone says they are a designer, the mind associates that with the manipulation of some medium to come to an aesthetically pleasing solution for a problem. If design is linked to problem solving and aesthetics, does that make a designer the link between engineering and art? I like to think yes.

Besides finding a solution to a problem, what purpose does design serve? Is a piece of furniture designed to evoke emotion? A web-page to communicate a certain attitude? An interior to create an ambiance? A book’s cover to relate to its contents? Maybe, yes, indeed, and certainly. So what then, is the ultimate design profession? Wouldn’t it be one that can employ the manipulation of the most senses to create a frame of mind? Or would it be one that can most thoroughly move someone [number of senses employed being irrelevant]? That, I feel is a great discussion. I do not know the answer, but I do have two professions that I feel best represent both sides.

First things first, the designers that manipulate the most senses are of course culinary designers. Their designs not only satisfy a fundamental requirement for life, but can do so to such an extent as to deliver people to near orgasmic satiation. Think back to the best meal you’ve ever had. That first bite, did you not proclaim, mouth still full of un-chewed food, something to the effect of a deep guttural “oh yea” followed by a series of moans? The flavors dance on your palate, filling your mouth with joy. Cooking employs all the senses: first you smell the flavors hang in the air, either like a heavy cloud of musky earth like cumin, or dance and twirl lightly as with citrus. Then the sound of crisp lettuce being chopped or of a sauce sautéing makes its way to your ears. You then get to see the food presented. A good chef will combine ingredients with complimenting colors so your eyes almost swell with the textures, color, and architecture of the food. Then, finally you get to the best part: the taste. Each bite fills the mouth with sweet, savory, spicy, bitter, or sour, sending signals of pleasure to your brain. That’s why some foods can be so decadent or delicious that you are rendered incapable of recognizable speech. Simultaneously, you feel the food in your mouth, under your knife or fork: crisp, smooth, slimy, crunchy. By the end of the meal, you have undergone an unadulterated assault on all your senses, leaving you full, tired, satisfied, and happy.

One of my culinary creations: sundried tomatoes, potatoes, spinach, zucchini, and italian sausage on a bed of mushroom risotto wrapped in carrot shavings and garnished with enoki mushrooms and black lava salt.

The designers that are the best at manipulating you are directors. Actually, it is the sum of parts that manipulate you, but I give credit to the directors, as they hold the vision that creates the product. They conduct the orchestra, so to speak. Think of your favorite movie. Think of the last movie that moved you to tears. Think of that movie that had you on the edge of your seat, palms sweaty, eager to see what’s next. How many times have you left an action flick hopped up and ready to kick down a door or engage in a gun-fight? What about that scary movie that had your heart racing or jumping in your seat? It’s these types of powerful experiences that keep people going back to the movies and the directors do it with only two senses at their disposal. A good director will control what you see and when and pair that with the appropriate sound. Sound has so much to do with a movie that it’s hard to notice. Watch your favorite movie on mute. You know the story already, so you don’t need the words, but I guarantee you will notice things in the film you hadn’t before. It’s because you no longer have the sound to dilute the picture. Conversely, listen to the soundtrack of a movie. Notice how the music emphasizes the moments of tension. A great example of this is the Dark Knight. Those creepy tension-mounting strings in the beginning rub you in just the wrong way to almost make you cringe. I tip my hat to the good directors who have vision enough to sew such a complex and complicated stream of images and sound together to create the intended feelings—and to do it so thoroughly as to quicken hearts, conjure tears, or lubricate palms.

To emphasize the importance of proper music in a film: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gf7h6o3I8yw

I thoroughly enjoy being a designer. Perhaps it’s arrogance that sees my job as controlling an experience through the manipulation of your senses, or perhaps not. Either way, I feel that in order to be a good designer, one has to understand how certain aspects will affect a person and to utilize them appropriately. It would not, of course, be prudent to create a park that evoked a feeling of tension, danger, or fear. As a designer, you need to understand how your product will be used and how to best control the user’s experience so that they may want to use it again.

the greening of andrew...

So I’ve committed much of my education, long term goals, and professional life to being an environmentally sympathetic designer: I studied sustainability while at school, I continuously read books on green technologies and theories, I worked for a company that has the most LEED registered projects in the state [among other green achievements], and I plan to create a truly sustainable design firm. But is that enough? I have seen plenty of people talk sustainability, design a LEED certified building, and then get in their ridiculously over-priced, imported gas guzzler of an SUV and drive to their over-sized home in the exclusive [and by exclusive, I mean excluded from the rest of the town, as in, far away] community in the sprawl laden suburbs. They consume and pollute as much as anyone else, but think that since their work is less harmful than others they are safe. I believe in practicing what you preach. Over the past 2 years of living on my own, I’ve tried to make a concerted effort at going ‘green.’ This year, I want to make an even greater effort to reduce my carbon footprint and to consider products that are friendlier to the environment. This is the only planet we’ve got and if everyone kicked in just a little bit, it would help delay climate change—which may buy us the time we need to find out how to turn it around.

So far, in my commitment to the planet I’ve switched nearly all the bulbs in my apartment to low-wattage compact fluorescents or LEDs; I’ve switched from normal household cleaners to naturally-derived, biodegradable, never tested on animals, phosphate-free cleaners; I’ve switched to phosphate-free, biodegradable dish-washer soap; I buy organic foods as much as possible [another discussion to come about organic vs. not]; I’ve reduced the amount of meat [particularly beef] I eat per week; I try to be energy-wise; what energy I do use comes completely from solar power; I buy carbon offsets through my energy provider to offset 50% of my footprint—that was ALL of my driving when I was commuting plus 10% of my home usage; I’ve switched to naturally derived, biodegradable fabric softener; I use preservative-free, paraben-free, naturally-derived, phthalate-free, dye-free, never tested on animals skin care products; I keep the thermostat lower in the winter and higher in the summer; I rarely buy bottled water; I consider products that are produced and packaged with the planet in mind; when I fly, I buy carbon offsets to cover my miles traveled; I try to combine my driving trips into one; and I have even emphasized this statement by printing my design portfolio on 100% post-consumer recycled paper. 

Now, that may sound like a lot to do but if you are considering a greener future, these are some of the things I suggest you try [they are easy to do]. I would say the biggest way to reduce your footprint is to reduce the amount of energy you use. I won’t bother you with methods for doing so, as there are a million websites available that will be more thorough than I could ever be. For example: http://www.energyquest.ca.gov/saving_energy/index.html is not a bad place to start. Talk to your energy provider and see if they have green power available. I know that SMUD has several programs available for cheap: I pay a premium of $6 a month to buy carbon offsets for 50% of my calculated footprint [they have a nifty calculator online] which automatically enrolls me in their green energy program, providing me with 100% renewable energy. Phasing into new products can be an ordeal, trust me, I know. I am one of those people that is very particular the products I use, especially when it comes to scent. The reason I haven’t started using friendlier laundry detergent is because I love the scent of my clothes and can’t seem to let that go--petty, I know. Same goes for the body wash. I use mass-produced Old Spice because of the scent [Pure Sport]. But it was easy to try out the new cleaners. I use products from Method and find them to clean marvelously, plus they have enjoyable scents that smell more like air fresheners than cleaning products. The fabric softener I use is from Full-Circle, one of the companies that provide organic foods to my local grocer. Now, I don’t want to get into a discussion about the possible health benefits of eating organic foods [which has not been proven either way], but I will say that because of strict regulation, organic foods are produced with fewer harmful fertilizers, fewer herbicides and pesticides, and tend to taste better. It’s a matter of the amount and type of flavonoids that I will get into at a later date. Granted, organic foods and some of these more earth-friendly products are slightly more expensive these days, but it’s a matter of supply and demand. When these products are the main-stream, the price will go down. Either way, I’m currently unemployed and living off of less than half what I was making before and I still manage to live this way, so I don’t want to hear it. Switching lights bulbs is also a very easy thing to do that costs little and won’t affect your lifestyle at all.

There are a few things I wish I did that I don’t. I do not recycle enough, if at all [yes, gasp away]. The recycling program at my apartment complex is touch and go, if at all existent [I’m still not convinced]. This year I will make more of an effort to buy recycled products, use less, and even move to midtown where the car is practically unnecessary. I plan to get a bike and ride it for short trips to the coffee shop, liquor store, or deli. I am also considering simple things like getting my drinks without ice. I found a calculator online that says the average commercial ice machine produces 500 lbs of ice per day, at a cost of 5.5 kWh per 100 lbs. Granted, I won’t be going through 500 lbs of ice, but if you consider how many drinks you have with ice [I figure a 20 oz fountain soda’s worth of ice is about 8-10 oz, which weighs approx 0.5 lbs]. If you eat fast food just once a week, getting that soda with 8-10 oz of ice, that’s about 4 lbs of ice per year, or about 1/3 lb of carbon. Big whoop you say? Given that Americans, on average eat 159 fast food meals per year, that’s 1 lb of CO2 per person, per year, or 300 million pounds of CO2 per year. That adds up. A bit. Okay, so that may be a lost cause, but the point is that I’m going to try to make a little bit of a difference any way I can, without being a snob about it. I try not to lecture people on the impact they are having because I know I hate it when people do it to me. I don’t even like to advertise it. I am not some earth-loving hippie that thinks mother Gaia is crying when we shower. I am a very modern urbanite that realizes we have a problem facing us and also have the power to fix it. I will try to help you, if you are interested. So this is me, helping.

'the difference'

taken from my sketchbook, dated 08_1231

Every now and then I am reminded of school--most specifically, my second and third years there. It can be an event, or just a feeling I get that brings me back. I think of these days as an almost magical time. A time when the elite and fantastic world of design opened its van doors and several men clad in all black jumped out and grabbed me, unawares, and dragged me into the exciting and learned dark of the van. It was a quick but mischievous take-over. I was lured near with treats and promises, then in a flash kid-napped. Or perhaps, looking back, it wasn’t as quick as I had thought. Perhaps it was a slow and inconspicuous ordeal. I don’t know entirely. I don’t know when exactly it happened, but I do know that I haven’t looked back [even if I could, I wouldn’t and won’t]. But I digress. These moments in school I am reminded of:

To be clear, it’s not as much of a moment, per se, as it is a feeling. The feeling comes party to moments, but is not exclusive. It’s hard to describe the feeling: excitement, curiosity, intent desire to know more, pleasure of learning, freshness…passion. Is it passion? It’s hard to place, but the feeling is loosely associated with those two academic years. It was a time when everything seemed new—design, art, architecture, site design, the entire built world. It was a time when even the simplest of objects turned from objects into design solutions, inspiration, ideas, precedents. A book I read recently labeled it as ‘The Difference’--an apt title. It is something you can never come back from. You start to gain an additional perspective on the world. You are no longer a passenger on a bus, idly passing by, oblivious. Instead you aren’t even on the bus. You are on the corner watching it go by. Not only do you take note of the bus and all its passengers, but you notice the color of the bus, its shape and lines, the texture of its siding, the grit on its wheels, that dent in the rear fender. You hear the sound it makes and smell its exhaust. I starts to lose being a bus and instead gains being a series of mechanical fastenings, layers of sheet metal and insulation, rubber rings around metal discs, steel pipes and molded fiberglass seats, diesel fuel, oil and wires, ribbed aluminum flooring, and squares of tempered sheet glass. In a sense, you start to notice everything. That means the flaws [however small, insignificant, or invisible to the lay-person] and the beauty. However, it’s not necessarily becoming more observant. The meaning of everything you see changes. Seeing the world through a designer’s eyes means that you notice [and, more importantly, care about] the materials things are made out of; the shape, texture, and color of an object; the use something may serve. A page in a magazine becomes about composition, imagery, font type, size, and location, color combinations, graphics, and design intent. A building or site becomes about proportion, hierarchy of space and layout; pedestrian, mechanical, and energy flows; construction method, materials, and details. The best analogy I might be able to give is it’s like learning to identify each ingredient in a food by taste, and then never being able to just taste that food as the sum of its parts. Instead, you get a series of flavors: rice, butter, olive oil, chicken stock, salt, pepper, and mushroom, but not mushroom risotto. You may notice it’s mushroom risotto, but your palate will still pick apart each flavor.

Those first years were incredibly exciting. I took in as much as I could, and reveled in my new ‘gift’ of perception. The thought that I could possess the means to design a lamp, a building, or a landscape sent chills down my spine. This feeling, this passion for design was a potent drug that I fed off of. But as I got used to seeing as a designer, it lost its luster. Have I lost my passion for design, or have I simply grown accustomed to being a designer? Now, as a seasoned veteran, do I need more powerful doses of my drug for the same high? Has ‘The Difference’ matured from an excitable child to an impassive teenager? I hope—I like to think that the passion is still there. I continue to see the world as a designer, flaws and beauty alike, and still continue to draw inspiration from the most unlikely of places. I still love to design and appreciate good design. This is definitely it. A designer’s life for me.

...reaction, thoughts, plans

taken from my sketchbook a few days after I was laid off, dated 09_0917

As I sit on my balcony, taking in the morning air and the day’s second green tea, the mid-morning walkers take their federally appointed ‘15’ around the block below me. It wasn’t too long ago that I was in their place, thankfully out of the office, striding with my coworkers, complaining about the idiocy that fills the office. This morning my companions are my iPod and a specimen of a praying mantis. The mantis has taken to the rangy basil I grow on my balcony. As I share the morning with her, I think of the things I have to do today: call the credit card company about a rogue charge, call the power company and get my bill paid, go to the unemployment office and apply for ‘government funding,’ and perhaps clean the bathroom—all tasks that neither interest me, nor need to get done today; a lethal combination for the unemployed and unmotivated.

I thought it would be harder. I thought I would be beside myself with anger and bitterness. I thought I would loathe the days of inactivity and be eager to hit the streets, looking for a new job. I thought I would mope and weep about: ‘whatever will I do?’ Instead I feel none of this. I feel relief. A disburdening. Opportunity. I’m surprised at my indifference towards the workplace. Had it been that bad in the office? Was I that burnt out about my job? Besides not having someplace to go, something to do during the day, I don’t seem to care that I’ve got no job. I don’t care that today I don’t have a fence elevation to create or grades to check for code compliance. No, I almost prefer it. I like that I can do the things that I’ve been wanting to do. And yet, now that I’ve had time to reflect, I am disappointed in myself. I’m not disappointed that I’ve lost my job, no, that was beyond my control, and lies completely on this failing economy. No, I’m disappointed that while I was employed, I let myself stray so far from myself and my dreams.

I was working at a job that, though I didn’t dislike it, I didn’t love it. Daily, I would recognize its flaws and be powerless to change them. It was an activity, a paycheck, something to pass the time, but in no way a dream come true. There was a time when I thought it was, but as work slowed down my tasks became increasingly dull. Perhaps that too can be blamed on the economy, perhaps not. I’m not pointing fingers. But I think, finally, I understand what my professors meant when they said ‘the real world.’

School is a magical place, especially so for designers. Everything in school is a design problem with an infinite number of solutions. There are few guidelines and little nay-saying. Words are ones of encouragement, of inspiration, of cultivation. Creativity is highly valued and greatly encouraged. As a result, the imagination of a designer is pure in school. It is untainted by code, or client, or cost. In the magical world of academia, the onus is on you, the sole designer, to accomplish what it is you want. There are few rules. In the real world—at least for graduates--you’re the low man on the totem pole and you accomplish what is given to you. But, more than that, more than having a smaller piece of the design pie, the real world confronts you with responsibilities that hold the designer back and rob you of the precious time you need to cultivate yourself, to feed that raging and hungry designer within.

Two years ago, I graduated school with a bouquet full of dream-filled balloons. Throughout school, as you find who you are, this bouquet fills and becomes as varied and assorted as you are. It becomes more defined, more tangible. When I graduated, I held my bouquet close. It floated just over my head, on a short leash. Gradually, however, as the real world weighed in and I assimilated into it, I let the leash out. While I was drinking my coffee and sitting in front my computer, I let the balloons out, one by one, until finally, they were but a spec in the sky, tethered by little more than a fragile thinning thread. That is my real world. It is what let out my balloons. It is what forced the indifference and laziness towards them. It is thinning thread, the distance between me and them, the jet stream that carries them.

So it is not a feeling of disappointment about losing a job that I feel. It is a feeling of disappointment in myself for letting my designer down. I’ve ignored that raging and hungry designer. And now that I’ve got time to look, and eyes to see, I can’t even see a good reason why I did. I pray my insight will nurture the now ragged and torn designer back to his usual self.