The daily puzzle was discovered in a schedule of games in the New
York Times on-line. At the very end of the illustrated list of
games offered each day was an unpretentious columned text that looked
like credits in a movie, seemingly sundry extra information; a
summing up. The list appeared to schedule the names of the puzzles
published above with their bold, decoratively graphic identities, but
there were more names on the list than this simple repetition,
strangely itemised as 'Other Games.' One listing was Soduku,
modestly promoted just as a set of black and white letters: the
finger touched the word; a game opened and was completed. Directly
below this listing was the word Set. Might this be another game? The
word was tapped; another game opened.*
Boxes containing unusually different forms appeared, a few of which looked like squashed ovals, with some diamond-shaped, and others illustrated as outlines that looked like squiggly beans or fat, mirrored 'S's. Each form was coloured either red, green, or blue, and was left either empty as an outline, blocked in with parallel-lined shading, or filled solid. The graphic images appeared in what looked like a random set of shapes in an arrangement of twelve rectangles organised as a 4 x 3 grid. What was this muddle all about?
The instructions for the game were perused: one had to discover the
sets within the cluster of shapes. An adjacent grid of blank
rectangles that was to be filled in, defined the number of sets of
three shapes one had to discover. The rules of the game were simple:
a set was based on similarity and/or difference. One had to identify
three shapes that had common features and/or variations in order to
define a set. The variables were the shape, the colour, the shaded
infill. The task began.
A set
At first the shambles appeared absurd, silly, incomprehensible, but
the more one stared at the mess, the more the idea made sense: a set
was found; then another. After a while, another; and again, until the
empty boxes had all been filled with a neat accumulation of
surprisingly ordered markings. What was astonishing was that such
simple sense could be embodied in an apparently ad hoc collection of
shapes - a hidden sense of order, with its subtle richness and rigour
entwined with its necessity in the apparent shambles.
The experience was mesmerising: the process of identifying sets was
mysterious. There was a sense of a logical system that was difficult
to identify sufficiently to allow one to apply it with explicit,
self-conscious, mathematical rigour to achieve a predictably certain
outcome. One's eyes glided over the mix looking for possibilities of
sameness and difference at the one time, without knowing exactly how
this was happening beyond being aware of the simplicity of the set
and its precise interrelationship once one had been found. Why were
these connections not more immediately obvious?
The challenge grew increasingly intriguing as more sets were
discovered, with one repeatedly rediscovering and looking at the
known sets, wondering with some disbelief how there might yet still
be others: where could they be? The last set became the most
difficult to see as familiar discoveries became more recognisable to
the eye. Eventually the last set would be revealed. It might sound
something like the muse revealing herself to the poet as has been
described by many, but the experience was indeed mystically obscure.
One was participating in a strange search that could not really be
controlled as a purely self-conscious, predetermined process. The
analogy with architecture, design, and experience came to mind. One
looked in this manner while working on a project, seeking unknown
possibilities and pondering potentials.
Here was an apparently sundry set of seemingly unconnected shapes
that held within their collection precise sets of interrelated
associations that all complied with the simple rules of sameness
and/or difference. The idea that puzzles might form a model for one
to try to understand design needs further review. The workings
involved in assembling a jigsaw involve design thinking, as do other
puzzles that expand the different complex experiences involved. There
is the loose, accepting, vague but determined open seeking and
sensing that knowingly meanders over unknowns in order to have them
revealed as mysterious discoveries that properly fit the functions,
be these purpose or its poetics - perhaps both together. While it is
difficult to explain in words, the analogy of the puzzle allows parts
of the design experience to be identified, re-enacted as it were, and
reviewed with some singled- out, aloof awareness. The idea is
something similar to looking with a magnifying glass to improve the
detail reading of an object: the intrigues become a little more
explicit without removing or stifling their mystery or context in the
way that ‘design method’ studies do.
Then it became obvious that the experience of the Set puzzle could be
used not only for design, but also to help us understand complexity
in architecture, and contradiction too, with matters both the same
and different being considered together - to sense their embodiment
as fact and experience. It seems that words are not enough to try to
explain this phenomenon: they are too easily dismissed as elitist,
misguided twaddle; they are too remote from the experience itself,
changing circumstances by establishing their own unique reality that
defines a different set of interests and intrigues. The mix of
shapes, hues, and shades in Set represented something like the
exoteric and esoteric knowledge spoken of in traditional architecture
- the public knowledge and the private knowledge that was both
explicit and secretly intertwined in the forms. The first sighting of
the 'mess' eventually revealed the inconspicuous order and the
shared, intermingled, but separate structuring of the various sets.
This relationship can be used as a model to talk about richness in
architecture. One sees the complexity in Wright's work - see
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2017/12/frank-lloyd-wright-accommodating.html:
how the whole is immediately obvious, and how the tiny parts can all
form their own inter-meshed rigour, have their own stories, both the
same and different. It is a richness that lies in all good building.
One sees it clearly in traditional art and architecture - see The Hindu View of Art, where rules define outcomes; rules that relate to
social and cultural norms are further layered with meanings
comprehended in accordance with one's understanding and knowledge.
Here symbolism lies at the heart of order: how, e.g., the lion does
not merely represent the sun, but is the sun, one of its aspects (Ananda Coomaraswamy): a
sign merely points to the sun; directs one's attention to it, taking
over in the same way that the finger pointing to the moon can.
Today we seem happy to indulge ourselves in interesting patterns
using, to continue the analogy, the initial framework of the Set game
as our singular palette without bothering about any latent complexity
of order.# One is asked to admire a Gehry building, or some other
'self-expression,' in the same way as we look at a Hindu temple or a
Christian cathedral. We sense, and can experience the superfluous
complexities of the older works without really knowing how or why
they are so rich, presuming that it might just be age, time that
gives the immense, immeasurable depth; but we are asked to peruse and
praise new works in the same manner, likewise knowing that the
pompous exuberance lacks supporting substance beyond being identified
as the new work of 'genius' X. Is the latent assumption that time
will make meaning more explicit?
Randomness
The experience is not unlike the superficial assessments made by
those on social media - the flick, flick, flick, . . . next. There is
little wonder that our era suffers from mental anguish when
nothingness is all we have to live with, admire and discuss: mere
hollow shells declaring themselves to hold substance, or asking the
observer to create personal meaning out of a phantom - both outcomes
being expressions of self-importance, the first where personal
expression is promoted as being universally significant; the latter
where personal interpretation is seen to be just as important to the
world of self, enhancing its self-importance in a self-centred
indulgence. One recalls the pretty young lady, alone in a skimpy
swimsuit on the beach, posing with the wind blowing her long hair as
she takes a selfie; then studies the outcome with admiration, only to
repeat the process again and again with modified poses and varying
snaps of stylish, chance arrangements created by the breeze in the
hope of capturing an image that can be envied by all - as seen on TV,
in the movies, or in an advertisement: ME! "Can you believe it?"
We need to rediscover how a rich complexity can be ingrained in our
works so that life can be supported on a variety of different,
diverse levels of meaning and understanding if we are to truly thrive
away from our world of aesthetic surfaces, where things bespoke and
different are acclaimed just for their 'interest' and 'originality,'
without ever asking or thinking about the concealed sets that make
sense out of apparent chaos; elements that shape its structure and
give it essential, tangible depth. One thinks of the biblical: May be
able to comprehend with all saints, what is the breadth, and length,
and depth, and height - (Ephesians 3:18 KJV).
Experience the Set puzzle, and ponder the possibilities for art and
architecture. Consider the difference between a truly 'interesting'
random shambles of shapes, and one with six sets of three layered
into the mix that might appear similarly ad hoc. This is how puzzles
are relevant to architecture and design: they touch on experience in
the same way, but in a differently sensed manner.
#
One can envisage an
endless variety of manipulations of the shapes, their colours, and
their arrangement in rectangles set out on a 4 x 3 grid. The
rectangles could be rearranged in numerous orderly ways, in
horizontal, vertical, parallel, or askew or wriggly lines; even as
hexagons and circles, or just be 'interestingly' jumbled in a random
spread: maybe a bit of both too. Then there is the possibility of
removing the shapes from their enclosures, perhaps leaving a few in,
a few nearly out, and some 'cleverly' completely disembodied,
likewise arranged to surprise with the 'originality' and 'creativity'
of unique difference. In all of the various games, that could even
include new shapes, colours, and even a cagey nothing, the importance
is located in the primary visual effect rather than the richness of
any internal relationship of sets which is considered an irrelevance
to the initial impact, even a nuisance impediment. This is our era
that sees no value in the complexity of things apparently simplistic
and ordinary: everything has to do with bespoke, visual,
impressionable appearances called 'self-expression.' One is asked to
make of it what one might, whatever, with an ad hoc approach,
somewhat like a Rorschach test, rather than search for any real
integrity of ordering. The analogy clearly identifies the problems
inherent in our architecture today - and our art too - where
literally anything is possible just because it can be done. Here one
recalls the wise question of the bewildered child seeking boundaries:
"Can I really do just anything?" Modern art and
architecture says "Yes," while child psychologists say
“No.”
P.S.
Since discovering
the puzzle in the New York Times, the paper has dropped this game
from its offering. The 'Daily Set puzzle' can be found at setgame.com
where it is explained that Set Enterprises Inc. is now part of PlaY
MoNSter.
NOTE:
The process of
design and its experience remains an enigma, yet there have been
repeated efforts to describe or explain the process, to teach it, in
much the same manner as art is tried to be taught. The terrible
failure of this descriptive, prescriptive process can be see in the
BBC 4 programme, The Joy of Painting presented by Bob Ross. The
programme highlights the terrible outcomes with this 'How to'
approach. The paintings remind one of the very worst of Victorian
popular works, with a quaint, sentimental, cliched romanticism fuzzed
into 'pretty' landscapes displaying every popular postcard vista
imaginable.
The show is useful
in highlighting what art is not. Maybe the message lies in the strict
interpretation of the title, The Joy of Painting, suggesting a
concentration on painting techniques alone; an approach that has
little to do with art and its ideals, offering more of a therapeutic
indulgence than anything to do with art. It is with this awkward
awareness that one searches out analogies that might allow an
understanding of the design process without destroying its marvellous
mystery and magic, or intruding into the enigma of its 'methods.'
Tom Heath's book,
Method in Architecture, Wiley, 1984, is an example of an attempt to
demythologise the experience and the act of design. One fears that
the application of this logical analysis of the design process will
not give much joy in architecture. The pattern of embedded sets,
overlapping and intertwined to give one integrated whole, holds more
relevance to understanding design, and life itself, than any
considered predetermined deconstruction and rational interpretation.
We do not need certainty, just the open ambiguity of the pattern to
help us understand something of the potential of richness and depth.
One might use this concept to gauge failure rather than success.
AND MORE:
Puzzles are interesting in the way that they make experience more
explicit. Take, for example, the New York Times Spelling Bee puzzle.
This challenge gives an array of six letters around a central letter.
The task is to make as many words as possible using a minimum of four
letters that always include the central letter. There is always at
least one word that uses every letter. In this version of the game,
the letters can be used more than once.
What is intriguing with this puzzle is how the eye sees and the mind
interprets various combinations. One can stare for hours and see
nothing, and then return to the letters some time later and see the
word immediately. It is as though the mind and body become sensitive
to the circumstance and continue to mull options and arrangements
even when one is not thinking about the problem.
Could design thinking work in the same manner? The proposition is
that we might learn more about the mysteries of the design process
through these analogies of experience than through any systematic,
logical analysis and interpretation that might seek prescriptive
outcomes that are very likely to kill the thing most loved.
Yet each man kills
the thing he loves. Oscar Wilde
Eric Gill
Art-Nonsense and other essays Cassell Walterson London 1929
Frontispiece
If man is
essentially a tool-using animal, the tool is from the beginning that
of the artist, no less than that of the labourer.
The starting
point of human progress is to be found in the highest type of
knowledge - the intuition of pure being . . . man's development is
not so much from the lower to the higher as from the confused to the
distinct.
Christopher Dawson: Progress and Religion.
The Set puzzle can
be seen as a model for the confused becoming more distinct: it also
highlights how modern art and architecture is merely playing with
mindless, inarticulate confusion, and delighting in its bespoke
differences that brazenly 'entertain' the eye with "WOW!"s.
Indries Shah
Thinkers of the East The Octagon Press, London, 1971
p.143
Sufian said
The wisdom which is
invisible but which sustains is a hundred times better than the
appearance of wisdom, for that has itself to be sustained.
*
Since writing this
piece, the format has changed, and the Set puzzle has been dropped by
the NYT.
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