For the past several weeks I've been pondering how to shake up accepted norms/facilitate critical thought - in my life, in my work, through interactions - and wondering about whether people in general are sensitive to that (do they notice when they're being asked to consider something in a new way? do they feel (un)comfortable doing so? I'm considering these things after a visit to the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam and following a somewhat surprising critique of Recollections: Bewogen Beweging (1961) and Dylaby (1962), the show that triggered my explosion of thoughts about fresh perspectives. Recollections presented documentation of two past exhibitions at the Stedelijk in 1961 and 1962 (Bewogen, Beweging and Dylaby), and in my opinion, asked the viewer to consider whether these items of documentation (photographs of the process of exhibition making, the audience's participation in the exhibition, the media's presentation of it, etc) could now be considered art, not just documentation of art. I enjoyed exploring my answer very much, and I don't think that's just because I worked on exhibitions for a few years. I liked reconsidering what qualifies as art, and really appreciated that such a renowned museum was toying with these definitions as well. 

I mentioned that this critique surprised me; not only was I surprised by Everdien Breken's disappointment in the show, but by the fact that he didn't even mention this thread of critical thought which so pleased me...which led me to my questions about whether people actually pick up on these cues for more critical thought, and what their comfort level may be if they do pick up on them. This focus on critical thought is nagging at me because I've spend the past several months considering how to develop stronger problem-solving skills. This NYTimes article touches on curiosity and problem-solving skills as essential to CEO's - but I think one could easily replace "CEO" with "designer" throughout the article. Sure, responsibilities and cultural acceptance between the two roles may differ quite considerably, but essentially we employ the same thought processes and strategies on a daily basis - along with many other careers...The fact that this article was even published suggests that a large enough portion of NYTimes readers are interested in how to achieve success, which means a good number of their audience might even accept the significance of curiosity and critical thought. I think this begs the question: why isn't critical thought a greater part of our culture? A good percentage of my home state thinks Obama wasn't born in the U.S. (the poll could be totally off I suppose); 4.8 million people watched the season finale of Jersey Shore; the education system is built on a system where material is standardized and tested through measures that barely acknowledge comprehension and critical thought, and Mr. Breken didn't enjoy the exhibition at the Stedelijk because it didn't reveal enough about the museum. What do these things say about us? Are we becoming a people who find the simplest solution and go with it? Do we just want to be spoon fed? How many new problems that need solving have risen because we have a tendency to avoid critical thought?

I think I've let my thoughts snowball on this topic - if this is coming across as a pointless rant, I apologize; I've actually been revisiting this post on and off for a week because I just can't seem to express myself the way I want to - ideally, I'd have a positive conclusion for my thoughts, and some direction to offer, but right now I find myself frustrated. Not hopeless or cynical, mind you; just frustrated - that there is so much [perceived?] laziness in our culture. I'm grateful for an education that allows me to take the time to think critically and discuss my thoughts with others; I hope I can develop the skills to offer criticism without sounding arrogant; I want to work on projects that start to tackle some of the issues I bring up on this blog, and I think using this space to document everything will help push me forward. 

In the past ten years or so, since I became drawn to design and felt some sort of compulsion to create a place for myself in the field, I feel like I've been trying to find a way to validate that career choice. By that, I mean I've struggled with the nagging sense that design is somewhat indulgent - an extra step in the process of creating something functional. At the same time, something in me has always felt that good design, and attractive objects in general, are essential to my life. Not only do I appreciate having the things around me "pretty", I enjoy imagining how to improve upon what is not yet pleasing to me; I also admire the power design has to ease functionality...but these aspects of myself felt incongruous with my Midwestern, non-materialistic, and altruistic values. Why???

Michael Rock (2x4), in a presentation he gave on American v. Dutch design in 2008, pinpoints a variety of explanations which shed a little light on why I question(ed) design's validity, and he eloquently expresses a number of issues I have pondered:

• Our (American) government doesn’t like to waste money on infrastructure, cities, education and things like that. When it comes to the public realm, we have very dubious design credentials.
• For whatever reason – maybe our country is just too big or our culture too eclectic -- we have never believed in the notion of a “makeable society.” In America individualism and raw power always pummels consensus. We have no polder model. “Action is typical of American style,” wrote Daniel Bell, “thought and planning are not.”
• Our commitment to the private over public represents a vast difference between the ways we view the issue of “design.” ...in America, design is always considered suspect: effete, luxurious, intellectual. America tends to be a deeply anti-intellectual, anti-aesthetic place. So if our government builds something, it must look as awful and as cheap as possible, thus signifying 1.) That precious tax dollars weren’t wasted on it, and 2.) That no high flatulent “concepts” were passed off on an unwitting public. We have no tradition of aesthetic functionalism. We are suspicious of modernity. Modern smells expensive. This is exactly where my insecurities stem from! Finally, someone's identified what I couldn't, as someone living in American culture.
• Holland uses subsidy to support projects overlooked by the market; America subsidizes the market.
• in America...designers tend to be much more insecure about their professional value. A fully privatized market simply will not support the kind of design culture that exists in Holland...Maybe the designer is less valued as a business asset than as a cultural asset.
• In America if something is designed it says: “Your government wasted YOUR hard earned money on something as frivolous as this.” In America colorful always means wasteful and expensive.
• In America we still feel its out duty to try to inject good design into the fabric of the culture that is generally resistant to it.

Yet, while it's reassuring to hear someone else identify, and even give meaning to, some of the ideas I ponder...I still wonder how design can be validated in American culture, where efficiency and privatization are so highly valued. Is the answer in design/systems thinking? Is that how to sidestep all of these materialistic and expensive issues that some have with design and go straight to the bottom line? I don't know, but I want to know - I feel compelled to have some explanation for how the career I've chosen, and the majority of my life, is going to be beneficial to the world around me - beyond a superficial level. That's where this philanthropic entrepreneurial project comes in...I see this as a chance to work on my design thinking, versus design making, skills; perhaps I'll develop my own perspective on the validity of design.

I just watched this interview with David Brooks (on his recently released book, The Social Animal) twice because I loved it so much. Brooks is interested in exploring neuroscience and the unconscious mind, the sources of love, character, and achievement. A few key points that he made which relate very closely to the ideas that are swimming around in my head as I work on this entrepreneurial project:

• Most action in the mind is unconscious
• Reason is not separate from emotion - the two are intertwined
• We're not individuals who make relationships; we're in relationships, and then our individuality emerges
• Skills that are linked to lifetime achievement...the ability to:
  • detect patterns in an environment
  • attune to others in order to learn what they can teach you
  • be open-minded
  • weigh the strength of your beliefs against the strength of the evidence
• Where does the drive to excel come from? Many places...
  • common amongst high achievers is the loss of their fathers at a young age - possibly grew up in state of vulnerability, have hunger to establish oneself
  • we have an innate hunger to get lost in a craft
  • and a hunger to be what we are (this assumes we know/have the awareness of what we are)
• We are born with innate senses of purity/morality, fairness, and an awareness of the in group/out group

(download)

Click here to download:

audience-study-xoucCqdqCxDpIzEIismC.zip (20.85 MB)

I spent a few days sitting in Starbucks, at different times, to observe who goes to the one in my neighborhood - what I realized was that there seemed to be a lot of people meeting for business-like reasons: I overheard several pairs discussing plans for what sounded like start-ups, and other entrepreneurial endeavors. Because my entrepreneurial philanthropy project is meant to target a very small audience for the time being, and I've chosen the people who frequent my coffee shop, I plan to focus on an entrepeurial project...for entrepreneurs.

The focus of our semester up to this point has been on values--identifying them in others' works, reflecting on our own, and giving shape to those values in our work. I'll write a bit more in the next day or two what I've taken from the past six weeks, but this post is dedicated to introducing our next project, which is an extension of the first half of semester.

For the next seven weeks or so, I have been challenged to channel what I've learned from analyzing values into a proposal for an "entrepreneurial philanthropy" business. Sort of like this one, but based on my own values and motivations.

So, how in the world am I going to do this? I'm not sure--It'll be a process, but for now I'm going to focus on answering the following questions to help me clarify my mission. Stay tuned as I continue to refine my answers.

1. What am I changing?
   There are a few concepts I'm interested in:
   
   • motivation, lack of...tied to inherent talent and self-esteem; this seems to be the one to follow, so under this umbrella the element being changed would be lack of motivation
   • mental/physical health, specifically relating to self image
   Update (4/3/11):
   I view my project as a way to make change on a few layers: 1) a personal level, directly related to motivation: creating a system that provides entrepreneurial mentorship, 2) a social level: establishing connections, and a wide network of individuals, 3) a business/value: adding social significance to the company that hosts a space in which to build these relationships.
2. Who is doing the changing?
   I feel like motivation is a very internal issue, and that people often need to feel like they are the ones making changes on their internal issues, or someone/something who is highly credible is...so I think in this way, the one doing the changing is ultimately the individual, but the one offering advice on how to change needs to be a "voice from nowhere" or a reputable source.
   Update (4/3/11):
   Ultimately the one who is doing the changing are the individuals who mentor or seek out a mentor; on an entrepreneurial level, Starbucks is the entity helping to coordinate.
3. How will it work?
   Right now I'm envisioning a variety of resources that help motivate people who are unemployed or unhappy with their current employment, who happen to be hanging out at the local coffee shop; information can be provided in the form of concrete goals one can strive for to move forward and start the ball rolling toward self-motivated goals.
   Update (4/3/11):
   This will be a mentorship program - individuals will sign up who are either looking for a mentor, or are interesting in mentoring; they will need to provide information on their areas of interest & experience and what they hope to take from the experience; Starbucks will serve as an entry point into the program, a source for information, and a meeting place.
4. What are the barriers to change?
   There are several barriers, and I view the primary one as misunderstanding/miscommunicating with the audience. Another is targeting a new audience in a new way.
5. What is the default choice?
   Tackle motivation in schools, target middle school and high school students, create programs that instruct. What about adults? What about issues that extend beyond an education setting?
   
6. What will motivate people to change?
   Two main things: 1) the power of accountability that comes with a partnership, and 2) the mentee should identify with the mentor - that identification, according to studies cited by David Brooks, allows individuals to visualize themselves in the same position, which opens the door for motivation to kick in.
   
7. What is the context of your challenge?
   Catch people where they spend their time as they try to search for motivation/entertainment...where they while away the hours: a coffee shop.
   
8. What is your audience already thinking?
   I need to find out the answers to these questions first: 1) Do you go to coffee shops often? 2) When you do, how do you usually spend your time there? 3) Do you feel like a coffee shop setting helps you focus, or get motivated?

    

9. What do they need to hear to change their minds?
10. What is your story?
11. What is its design?
12. What does it look and feel like?
13. Who will really benefit from the change?
14. Who will make it happen?
15. What is the blowback?
16. Are we skating to fail?
17. Will we put ourselves out of business?
18. What if...?

(questions: Bob McKinnon, yellowbrickroad)

What do these three have in common, you may ask? Well, they're all offering me some information on my next project...a philanthropic entrepreneurship effort. I'll have a bit more to say soon, but for now I'm using the prior two projects (heirloom and TapIt) as examples of small-scale efforts with focused goals and audiences. The third, Starbucks, is where I'm going to gather some information. I'm interested in motivation right now--who's motivated, who isn't; what motivates, what doesn't; where to motivate, where not to...and I'm planning to tie all of this together over the weekend. Stay tuned.

Last week I was in The Netherlands as part of the Global Design course most of my current posts relate to, and I happened upon the poster above frequently as I walked through Amsterdam. I loved it, so took several pictures of it for my archives, as I usually do with bits of inspiration that cross my path. However, unlike most other inspiring pieces, I happened to meet the designer while I was there! It was completely by accident, actually, and I only made the connection after a couple hours in his studio (a little embarrassed it took that long). Long story short, I let Martin Pyper know how much I loved the Sylvia poster, and he actually offered me my own copy! I've never had that happen...it was quite a memorable experience to say the least. 

Thank you, Martin, for the lovely memory and the beautiful poster.

images via mestudio

I just came from a talk given by Casey Neistat of the Neistat Brothers (http://neistatbrothers.com I think this site was set up by HBO). They're a filmmaking duo that had a one-season stint on HBO, where they basically got paid to share a large collection of shorts that are about a wide variety of things but all have one thing in common: they're very honest (mostly humorous) glimpses into the brothers's lives.

In his presentation, Casey focused on what inspired their work, and much has to do with a push-pull relationship they have with technology. Technology has granted them access to filmmaking, when fifteen years ago they wouldn't have been able to afford the equipment necessary; yet technology allows for near-perfect, hyper-polished results that lack the human quality they find accessible. They toy with this dichotomy through the topics they present, but also through a purposefully unedited, amateur-like aesthetic.

They have worked on projects for commercial clients like Pepsi, HBO, and Microsoft, and managed to argue that their approach is most appropriate for their intent (which is often just to entertain, honestly), and I have a lot of respect for that.

Two of my favorite videos so far:

Yogurt vs. Gasoline

Mad Max

And their YouTube channel

Of those four core values, I consider loyalty a foundation for the other three. Loyalty is often set in political (Plato defines loyalty in the context of being just), religious (Christianity uses loyalty and faith interchangeably, especially in the concept of marriage as defined by the church), or social (solidarity) contexts, and I would consider decentralization, altruism, and action examples of such contextualized versions of loyalty. In this text, I want to refer to loyalty in a neutral, non-contextual sense: as defined by Miriam Webster, loyalty is an unswerving faithfulness to a cause, ideal, custom, institution, product, or person. SPF’s non-denominational, non-classist, non-political, and non-profit intentions are rooted in this sort of loyalty.

Now that we have established that SPF, and the values of it, are built on a neutral foundation, let us consider the more specific values held by Bernard and SPF that stem from it.

Decentralization is a political form of loyalty--a loyalty toward fellow citizens and their right to a good life, which manifests in a system in which everyone is on equal footing. The whole basis of decentralization is that there is no central authority, so when set in a national context, the authority would be the government, which is what makes it a politically charged branch of loyalty. Bernard’s decision to use handwriting allows the viewer to imagine that anyone, even the viewer himself, could have written this message—it’s not authoritative, but rather, it’s very human. There is no mechanical or detached overtone that would have come with a typeface. On the other hand, it also establishes a sense of casualness that could be inappropriate for the members of the audience who are looking to SPF for help in very dire situations; one could argue the handwriting jeopardizes a sense of legitimacy in an effort to seem sincere and approachable.

Altruism is an extension of loyalty, in the sense that it shares with loyalty the same idea of being faithful to something or someone, but it specifically means giving up oneself in the process of giving to something else. SPF presumably does this by working as a non-profit and giving away its resources for free. Bernard used the symbol of the hand to represent altruism; it effectively illustrates offering oneself to the service of someone else. It also references both formally and semantically the element of the hand in the handwriting, which establishes a nice sense of intention and cohesiveness from a design standpoint.

Action, the fourth and last value I will discuss, can also be considered inspired by loyalty--it’s hard to be active with no direction; loyalty, and what one is loyal to, defines the form in which the action should appear. The command “Participate,” the active movement of the plane/hand figure, and the illustrated explosion behind the message all suggest action—even urgency. If nothing else, Bernard was able to achieve a call to action that comes across as friendly, urgent, and non-judgmental, which is not an easy accomplishment.

While this poster was created 30 years ago, the values represented in it are timeless, and the intention of the poster--to increase awareness of a non-profit organization--is not period specific either. Even the style in which Bernard created the poster would resonate with people today, 3 decades after its debut (in fact, if you visit SPF’s site today, you will see Bernard’s identity for them, which was created within a year of this poster). For those reasons I would argue that the poster was successful as a piece of SPF’s identity system, and from what I know about Bernard, a work he can stand behind as a designer. After spending so much time with this poster, and reading about Bernard’s practice, I have a sense of how he has translated his values, and his client’s, visually, but I don’t have a sense of how he was able to sustain a practice with such strict values-based guidelines for accepting clients. While I may not grasp that aspect of his work, I did use my observations to develop a better sense of what I stand for, and how I want to express my values to others.

In this essay, I focused largely on loyalty and how I identified it in Bernard’s work. On a more personal level, loyalty is a value that I try to live by. Why? Well, I have seen what the absence of loyalty can do to a workplace, for one: it manifests in the acceptance of backstabbing and dishonesty, selfishness and a focus on upward-momentum. I spent the first year and a half of my career in that environment, and confronted my own values on a daily basis. I have learned through experience that the loyalty of friends and family is one of the only things I can count on—it kept me afloat during a time in my life when I felt I had lost everything that was personally and professionally important to me. The loyalty I feel toward others also gives me a purpose and reason for moving through my days.

Now that I have explained why this poster, and Bernard’s practice, resonates with me, you may wonder how I plan to move forward and apply this to my own work. My response comes in a variety of questions I hope will help lead me to that answer. Who, and what, do I want to be loyal to? How do I narrow those options down? Do I need to? Once I do, how do I find people I want to work with? What if I agree with everything but one aspect of a client’s value system? Once the client’s found, how do I know if I’m reaching anyone? How far can my work reach—local, national, global?

I don’t really expect to have definitive answers to these questions any time soon—actually, once I think I’ve found an answer, I’ll probably be faced with a situation that challenges me to change my answer. I do, however, hope to seek answers, and from my current perspective as a student and soon-to-be-practicing designer, I think this is a good starting point.

A few posts back, I mentioned the class I'm taking this semester in which we'll be focusing on values and practice, and this post (among most of the posts that I'll write here for the few upcoming months) is a reflection on one of our readings: The Valorised Designer, by Nigel Whiteley. Whiteley, a teacher of design theory and history, argues that it is time for a new model for the contemporary designer. The essay was written in 1994 (I think--it seems to be an essay from Whiteley's Design for Society, but I may be wrong), and I would consider the topic still valid today. As I'm just beginning this journey of critiquing current models of design education (and design practice, for that matter), I don't have a lot of firsthand experience with all of the models Whiteley discusses, nor do I have a good perspective on the debates within faculties around the world, but I do have some thoughts on what he's presented.

Due to the development of technology in the past two, three decades, designers now create and research using the same default tool: the computer. The physical division between academic and creative work has virtually disappeared, which has led to discussions and models based on how we (designers) define the boundary/relationship between practical and theoretical work within our practice. Whiteley describes two models:

• collapse model: the distinction between theory and practice is nonexistant--it collapsed, and now the two are clumped together
• continuum model: theory and practice exist on the same spectrum, they overlap in the middle and exist independently on either end of the spectrum

I find it interesting that the discussion of theory v. practice, at least within the context of this essay, arose because of the changes in technology. I'm from a generation that grew up on the computer, so I've never truly known a time when they were so far apart. I can remember when my family got our first computer--I might have been as young as four, I'm not sure--and I sat and taught myself how to use it. My dad showed me where the "Paint" application lived, and I spent hours upon hours "drawing" families, long before I knew how to write (or type). I suppose that doesn't negate the fact that I now conduct both "theoretical" and "practical" work in the same space, using the same tool, but I guess I want to say that I have wondered how I personally define the relationship between theory and creative work within my own practice, despite the fact that they have always existed on the computer for me. The continuum model is very much in line with how I approach designing, and I think the amount of overlap, and proportion of theory:practice varies depending on the project, and to be honest, my mood. Sometimes I just want to draw and think in a visual manner, and sometimes I just want to read and binge on information (when I read theory or research, it's rarely in small amounts--I have a hard time holding back).

Whiteley goes on to describe five educational models that he has observed in his years as an educator, all of which he considers to have some redeeming qualities, but none of which are sufficient for satisfying today's need for "sophisticated designers who need to be informed and critical as well as practically creative."

• the formalised designer: in this model academic study is considered a distraction from designing, and designing is defined by "utlitarian functionality, materials, methods of construction, form and proportion" (largely based on the Bauhaus). I can't imagine how I would discuss my work with anyone outside of the field, or make an argument for why my work was a good, thoughtful solution for a client, if I was only considering formal solutions. Would my work be totally devoid of concept? Would it really be able to communicate a message?
• the theorised designer: "no distinction is made between those studying cultural theory degrees and the design students." In my opinion, being accessible, and capable of relating to a wide variety of people with a wide variety of specialties is a huge part of being a designer. While studying theory so intensely would certainly develop the critical skills necessary to identify the key points in a wide variety of efforts, how can people relate to you? And if your work is solely based on theory, how do you come up with attractive, approachable visual solutions?
• the politicised designer: this model has developed from Russian Constructivism and Productivism (circa 1917); it can come across as arrogant and generally holds a black/white point of view. I hate feeling like I'm being judged or given a command, and I feel like anyone practicing this model would make me feel exactly that. No. Thank. You.
• the consumerised designer: the primary concern in this model is to prepare the student to work in business or industry--pack in the skills, ignore the role of designer as one with influence over environmental, social, moral or personal influence. I have actually participated in a program like this, and I felt like a robot. I have thoughts, feelings, and intentions. So do most human beings. I intend to work with, and for human beings. Therefore, I should learn how to use my thoughts, feelings, and intentions in a productive manner--don't you think so too?
• the technologised designer: this relates back to the aforementioned development of technology, and in so doing, assumes that "the most up-to-date technology must, by definition, offer a better or more relevant solution than its predecessors." This just seems like an argument for not thinking critically, and an excuse for a new toy.

As all of these are insufficient models, Whiteley has developed one that he considers sufficient:

• the valorised designer: "independently-minded, creative, constructive designers who are not just 'capitalist lackeys', ideologues, or 'technical whiz-kids', but who bring understanding, flair, sensitivity and a social conscience to their task . . . the academy's responsibility is to society as a whole, not just the company who directly employs the designer."

I agree whole-heartedly with Whiteley on the needs of today's society, and the adjustments necessary in a contemporary model for design education to meet those needs. I also agree with him that his explanations of the existing models are incredibly clear. I do, however, wish he would have developed his ideas about how to build a school, department, and curriculum that can develop "the valorised designer." Here are a few more of my thoughts and questions on that matter:

• If the field has yet to establish a sufficient program for contemporary society's needs, we can assume that the factulties in today's academies were educated in one of the insufficient programs...so is the hope that the arguments in this article, and similar articles, will eventually make their way to today's faculty members and spark a motivation to change? Or are we waiting for the next generation of educators? The argument for a valorised designer is somewhat dependent on the assumption that the reader is in touch with today's societal needs. Let's face it: many educators haven't practiced for a very long time.
• Whiteley also argues that "the consumerist, ecological, gender etc. values need to be seen in an historical perspective--students need to have an understanding of the role of design in the society in which they live and will work, and how it has developed and changed over the last century." I agree wholeheartedly. However, that's not how any of the art & design history courses I've taken have been organised. There was a lot of memorization of names, dates, and materials, but not many expectations of conceptual, contextual, comprehension. Most history classes are even set in a different program than core design courses. How does he envision the materialization of this revamp?
• Toward the very end, Whiteley says "the new academy of the twenty first century must ensure that design students receive a true education, and not a narrow training..." I also agree with this statement; however, I don't think it's a design-specific need--I think it's a general issue with the national education system, and I think the ability to provide a true education is contingent upon a wide variety of things, including funding for materials, allocations made in the national budget for salaries that are enticing to motivated, intelligent, and qualified educators, and general shift in this country's perspective on the value of an education.