Session 3
Moderator
Aric Chen
Thus far, our panelists and site
visitors, as well as the participants in last week’s live chat, have
brought up a lot of interesting points. And they’ve proposed a number
of questions that, like most big questions, have no easy answers, if
they have answers at all.
Nevertheless, in this final round of panelist responses, I’d
like to see if there are any conclusions that we can draw. By nature,
conclusions tend to be broad and sweeping, so perhaps asking for them
requires us to be a bit utopian (which, as Arjo reminds us, is what
often gets us into trouble, whether we’re talking about laissez-faire
capitalism or socialist planning). Or perhaps we can only speak in
specifics; Ellen has offered some very articulate examples of how we
might “read” design in everyday situations, while Sarah makes a case
for two utopian communities that worked—both because and despite of
their idealistic origins, it seems.
Putting aside the inevitable conclusion that there is no conclusion, it
appears we all agree that a balance must be found between design that
offers structure and design that allows for spontaneity and complexity,
as Arjo puts it. Scientists often look for “theories of everything,”
the simplest, most elegant ways of describing universal phenomena. But
human phenomena defy such elegance. So now what? Is there a new model
for design that we can propose? Can we give freedom a
structure?
PANELIST
Arjo Klamer
Maybe
we need to give structure to freedom. In any case, we would want any
prevailing structure to reflect other important values as well.
If
we consider classical architecture and design too imposing and too
restrictive and modernist design too strict and too cold, maybe we are
now in search of a design that responds to values like the following:
-
Quality beyond functionality. Sure, functionality continues to matter.
But we (that is, I and I hope a few others) want to admire the
craftsmanship of the designer, the characteristics of the materials,
and the aesthetics of the design.
-
Sustainability and the natural. We want to be respectful of nature and
what it gives to us. Therefore we want design to be frugal in its use
of natural resources (from cradle to cradle?)
-
(Neo-)traditionalism. It is not just the shock of the new that we are
seeking but also the recognition of the relevant past, a respect for
the realization that we humans are not autonomous but always bound by
and connected to certain people (parents!), ideas, values, and stories.
What
does this mean more specifically? I am not a designer. Yet if I
consider economics in terms of design (which is an insight that I
gained from the exchange in this forum), then I am looking for the
human scale in organizations and for more emphasis on social and
cultural values. The design of the “other economy” needs to possess a
different awareness—for example, one of quality, the natural, and the
(neo-)traditional. Such a shift in design would require major
reconstructions in the economy, and until now, changes in architecture
and design have preceded changes in the economy.
Frank
Lloyd Wright used the word “organic” to describe his philosophy of
architecture, which promotes harmony between human habitation and the
natural world. Something has changed in tune with this credo, but what
does this mean for the way we design and for the future of the economy?
Design according to organic principles is designing with respect for
the surroundings, the use of natural and durable materials, an
awareness of sustainability, and social responsibility. Do we see
shifts in this direction? Or is my expectation more an example of
wishful thinking?
PANELIST
Ellen Lupton
A
new model of design that I see emerging is the distribution of design
thinking into broader areas of society. Expertise and knowledge are
seeping out of the profession and into the mainstream. The rising
do-it-yourself culture has been fed by the Internet, which thrives on
user-generated content, self-education, and knowledge sharing.
In
the field of graphic design, the tools of our trade are becoming
universal: from Photoshop to HTML and PHP, the digital techniques of
the design professional are also accessible to nonprofessionals. In the
area of product design, Web sites such as Instructables
are reflecting an enormous desire to spread data about how things are
made. Thus a huge amateur design scene is on the rise. The blogging
revolution that upended journalism has its counterpart in the design
world. Meanwhile, in journalism schools, students are learning to
produce multimedia stories as well as learning traditional writing and
research skills. Design, writing, and production are merging. One journalism program has used the phrase “everyone works on everything” to describe its strategy.
This
shifting scene is changing how designers view their users, clients,
colleagues, and other audiences, as we are now working for and with a
more design-savvy public. The rise of this empowered public is not
necessarily a threat to the professions, however. Indeed, as people
engage design in their own lives, they come to respect it more at its
highest levels. Someone who has built her own blog or Web site will
have a better understanding of what it takes to create a complex,
data-driven, user-oriented site. Someone who has designed a backyard
deck or a greener front lawn will have more respect for architecture
and landscape design.
Perhaps
some white-coated expert will come up with a “theory of everything”
soon that will fix the multiple messes we are in. More likely,
solutions will bubble up from lots of different places and lots of
different people. Do we need a new model of design? I just think we
need more design. We need it everywhere, and we need it to be produced
by everyone. Design is a critical, inquisitive way of thinking that any
person can engage. The designer’s way is to make something better out
of what’s available. Designers learn to imagine new ways to solve old
problems (lateral thinking), and they also learn to recognize the
innate intelligence embedded in existing solutions (the vernacular, the
biological).
Policies—from
urban plans to financial bailouts—take a broad view, but they have to
be implemented up close, in detail, on the ground. Some designers will
seek to become policy makers, but others will continue to pay rapt
attention to immediate challenges and situations. These tasks are being
filtered out across the population and shared by everyone.
PANELIST
Sarah Herda
I’m
hard pressed to think of a freedom that does not have a structure. In
society, law defines human freedom. In the United States, the
Constitution both defines and protects our freedoms. If the demands of
freedom for individuals are human rights such as freedom of speech,
what might the demands of freedom for architecture and design be?
In
a profession defined by limitations—building codes, budgets, client’s
taste—freedom is hard to come by. The problem (or reality) of design
becomes less how you exercise freedoms and more how you deal with the
existing parameters of any given project and find opportunity within
them. Architecture, however, is more than a profession; it is a
discipline in which ideas, whether manifest in theories or realized in
buildings, define the field.
The
future of design depends on the structures we assemble to ensure the
development of new ideas. These structures can take the shape of
schools, publications, competitions, and exhibitions, to name just a
few. So a demand of freedom for architecture could be the necessity of
such forums for research and experimentation, because a relevant and
thriving design culture cannot exist without innovation. Especially
given Frank Lloyd Wright as the fixed point that this conversation has
circled, the issue is, for me, not how to strike a balance between the
over- and underdesigned. Rather, it is the necessity for more design
and more opportunities to develop, debate, and implement ideas about
space, at all scales.
