There is something
about design that seems to want to encourage 'originality,' a concept
that grows from another vision, that of the 'creative genius.' Every
'design' effort seems to want to produce something different, unique
– bespoke. Designers appear to try to make their singular mark, to
give a design 'their touch' as if to identify their special
brilliance; their own way of seeing. So things are always being made,
modelled and marked differently. Cars all start looking slightly
different in various demanding, self-conscious ways. The core, the
essential need for function in vehicles, matters to do with having to
work efficiently and to be safe, establishes a field of requirements that cannot
be manipulated randomly to suit various whims. Still, much effort
goes into variations on themes: see -
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2015/09/zahas-architectural-car-design-strategy.html
Once designers get
into fashion clothing, then most constraints are removed and we see
enormous variations in everything. Even fit appears to hold no
essential requirement. Design takes on a random shaping that responds
to the creators' visions rather than the user's needs of functions
and comfort. The display is critical. As in architecture, the tired
'form follows function' mantra of old is mocked and ignored in favour
of something like 'form follows my unique vision,' MY desire to stand
out as a special creature. Design takes on a frivolous, ad hoc aspect
that places an importance on fanciful appearances rather than on the
achievement of any rational accomplishments.
Yet it is important
for good design to incorporate more than merely looking good, or even
startling. The original Dyson DC02 vacuum cleaner looked highly
unusual in the shop display when it first arrived, so much so that it
was easy to dismiss as a foolish, contrived attempt to create a
smart, eye-catching, different design. It was only when one looked
more closely at the product and its ambitions that its shaping became
self-evidently logical and purely functional. One's use of the vacuum
cleaner also confirmed that here was a piece of household electrical
equipment that had considered the user. The traditional vacuum
cleaner had come to be known as a very unfriendly, cantankerous
object, difficult to manoeuvre, and awkward to untangle and store
away. The Dyson DC02 responded to these foibles that had come to be
entrenched and expected in vacuum cleaners as an unwieldy, graceless
but iconic necessity. Perhaps this reputation came from the original
'door-to-door' sold Electrolux cylinder model on runners, that came
complete with a separate electrical cord, a heavy flexible tube and
extension pipes that all tumbled terribly into the store along with a
loose collection of sundry 'useful' accessories that always had
nowhere to go except everywhere and anywhere.
Dyson recognised
these difficulties that everyone had experienced, and started
addressing them in the first model that saw the silliness of dragging
air through a filthy bag that could only get more and more congested,
and hence inefficient with time. Future developments constantly
improved the 'cyclone' idea of dust extraction as well as the
accommodation of the parts, and the overcoming of the awkwardness of
moving the machine around. The most compact development was the
battery-operated, hand-held unit, the V6 model, that was stored on
its charger that also held the accessories on clips. At last there
was a cordless vacuum cleaner that could be easily manipulated in
most situations, with excellent suction. This is good design – it not only works well, but it also is pleasant to operate and simple to store and keep charged; and it looks good.
Dyson has gone on to
challenge the problems in other pieces of equipment that have
inherent traditional difficulties, like the upright fan and the hand
dryer. Upright fans have been notorious for being noisy and unsafe
for little fingers. Dyson designed the 'air multiplier,' the AM06,
using a slotted draught to increase the velocity of the ambient air.
It is the same idea adapted from the hand dryer that cleverly directs
sheets of air onto each side of the hand in such a way that the hands
are efficiently dried in about ten seconds. The history of hand
dryers is that there are many that make the appropriate noise, but
have very little drying power. How many times have saturated hands
had to be flicked dry outside of the amenity block, or wiped on one's
clothing? The design efforts of Dyson have removed the endless
frustrations of the original, problematical models with good design,
design that looks closely at forms, functions, technology and the
experience of the user. This is the approach to architecture that ignores any preferred appearances and concepts
in favour of understanding and accommodating both functional purpose
and the experience of the user. The proposition latent in this manner
of working is that design that does the right things for people and
purpose will always look and perform well without unnecessary
contrivances. This strategy is usually applied to so-called
'functional' objects.
One of the best
designs experienced as a beautiful thing and a wonderfully functional
object is the Franke sink designed by F. A. Porsche. The name has
nothing to do with the preference; it is only the performance and the
appearance that has proven to be complete and satisfactory, not any
apparent self-centred prestige or elitism. The sink is a small,
modular sink that becomes more of a workplace; a 'work centre' might
the marketing phrase, such it is organisation and flexibility. Every
part is interchangeable and has been beautifully considered. Holes in
panels for drainage are offset squares, a theme that has been
developed for the whole assembly. It is in the use of this system
that one finds the design totally enjoyable, as it facilitates
possibilities unselfconsciously, effortlessly. One finds that the
design will allow one to do whatever one wants without stress,
discomfort, or any ad hoc innovation to overcome discovered
awkwardnesses. It is an excellently designed unit that one keeps on
enjoying time and time again. All details do what they should and
more: they are beautiful too. One happily discovers that they
anticipate circumstances. The experience of use is a simple joy. One
is constantly admiring the object, its thoughtfulness and considered
completeness.
It is book design
that has become the most recent frustration with design as appearance
that seems only to make sense as a promotion of the 'clever, unique
ME.' I was given the book Breakfast with Lucian A Portrait of the
Artist by Geordie Grieg, published by Vintage Books, London,
2005. Starting to read it one evening, it began to feel awkward to
both hold and read. It was unclear why. Maybe one was tired, so it
was put aside. The next morning the book was picked up to start again
where the disturbance had caused the hiatus. Then it was noticed. On
the right-hand page, the body of the text had been blocked out to a
two-thirds page width column with the wider margin at the bound edge.
Page numbers and titles, aligned with this body of text on the right,
with page numbers usefully being on the lower right-hand corner side
where one usually finds them.
The left-hand page
had a nearly identical arrangement – yes, identical. The pages
could be torn out and placed one above the other and they would have
looked almost indistinguishable. The only difference was that the
page number and chapter title were aligned with the block of text on
the left, with the number being placed on the outer left, not in the
corner of the page as it was opposite. This apparent design idea
meant that the wider margin of the left page was on the left of the
left-hand side, squeezing the body of text tight into the spine on
the right. This was the arrangement that had caused the difficulty
and discomfort. While the right-hand page offered an easy graphic
arrangement to hold and to read, the left-hand page proved to be both
difficult and annoying. One had to try to read the text as it rolled
around the page tight into the spine. If the pages had been mirrored,
the comfort of the right could have been replicated on the left, not
just printed as an almost identical copy. The mirrored layout would
also have placed the page number in the extreme left corner where
they are easy to find with a simple flicking through the book. The
actual setout leaves the left page number frustratingly set in some
sixty millimetres from the edge of the blank page. All of this, so it
seems, is for the selected style.
The book was
designed and typeset in Centaur by Peter Ward. What on earth was he
thinking? Was he trying out HIS special interpretation of a
'designed' book, one rarely seen before? What might his hopes have
been? He did not appear to give the reader and the reader's comfort
any consideration at all. It simply seems as though he thought he had
come across a clever idea that he has implemented, as 'HIS design.'
Appearance is apparently the only reason for this near matching. One
hopes it was not a printer's oversight, or a matter of economy! One
wonders if Mr. Ward has ever tried to use the book, to read it with a
nonchalant disregard for pretence or self-admiration; or has he only
seen the pages set out graphically, digitally?
What this book does
is to highlight the fact that design must always involve more than
appearances. Design has to consider functions, forms and people, the
experience of use. If all design made this effort instead of trying
to be cleverly slick and unique, then we might start living in a
world that can accommodate us well. As it is, we have things made for
the way they look, objects that make us behave as though we might be on a theatre
set, very self-consciously. We become theatrical performers, acting
for appearances too, instead of living with an accommodated
contentment and comfort, free from the demands of things that have
their attentions elsewhere, not on those who will use them. Seen in
this light, the book is a failure, a problem, because it seems to be shaping a
design for a public performance, when reading is a private, an
intimate involvement. It is the special performance of the designer
that is being placed as a burden, an impediment, on the reader who
should be able to give total attention to the content aided by a
design that can facilitate functions unselfconsciously, and
beautifully too.
The challenge is for
our world to become such a place. It might help generate contentment
rather than stimulate gritty aggression in demanding difference.
Quirky designs might stand out and get commented upon, but they
create challenges with the trials and tribulations of bespoke
brilliance that knows and cares only for itself. Architecture might
like to stride off into a world of ever-new and clever theories as it
walks away from Sullivan's 'form follows function.' It can do this,
only in the sense of the best scientific theories, conjectures that
get refuted or embodied; where the ever-new is always incorporating
the past, enriching it as it slips into an essential background as a
given, proven. It can be seen a little like the first electric
guitars that startled the world. It took years for good music to come
from this invention. As with the piano player who first struggles
until Beethoven can roll of the finger tips without a thought, just
with feeling, good design should hold embodied theory in its roots as
it dances off into the unknown. Without this, design is merely a
random, visual display; a personal preference for dramatic
difference; mere graphic decoration. There are problems with a world
made up of theatrical divergences. It makes everyone attempt to do
likewise, so that each individual can exist in the chaos of demands
to be noticed.
NOTE:
On book design, see
also: http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2011/04/streets.html
Other writings on
design:
To see the workings of a graphic designer's mind, and a beautifully detailed book, see:
Alan Fletcher The Art of Looking Sideways Phaidon Press, London, 2001.
One has to experience this publication in all of its rich, intricate subtlety in order to truly appreciate the skill and wit of the master designer who pieced it together.
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