After decades of celebrating style over substance, it has become increasingly fashionable to advance a generalized critique of designers, based on the premise that our perceived dedication to aesthetics is inherently, if not exclusively superficial (the “shiny objects” argument). Embedded within this argument is the assumption that such values are not only naïve but also self-motivated and not aligned with the interests of business or consumers. This false dichotomy is repeated ad nauseam in the business press, which has paradoxically embraced design thinking as the holy grail of innovation while continuing to advance the myth of the lone creative guru and his creations.
The trouble with this division—divorcing design practice from aesthetics in favor of an emphasis on strategy, process, the big idea or whatever—is that it ignores our unique contribution to the discovery and development of ideas, and marginalizes both the functional and emotional impacts of design. Moreover, if we view design as something that only occurs after the thinkers have left the room, we’re missing an opportunity to frame solutions from a design perspective. At best, this limits the potential for innovation. At worst, we’re participating in a self-fulfilling prophecy that will ultimately widen the gap between ideation and execution. And, as that gap gets wider, the quality and relevance of design will continue to suffer.
I think we need to expand our thinking around what style is and how it can contribute to innovation. If we limit ourselves to a superficial definition, we’re missing the broader value of aesthetic inquiry, which should include all aspects of experience, and not merely the surface. Ideally, style should be understood as a symbiotic relationship between an idea and its expression: a carefully orchestrated whole that is greater than the sum of its parts. It’s more than a simple translation of strategy. It’s as much improvisation as performance. And it requires expertise, judgment, and yes, design talent. Accordingly, designers need to take more credit for their skills, and work with the right collaborators from the beginning to generate, validate and execute ideas.
Good design—and especially great design—does not occur at the expense of business or society. This isn’t a new idea—we have simply lost our focus amidst other agendas. In the 1960s, Charles and Ray Eames described a model for design practice that considers the unique and overlapping interests of the three groups: design, business, and society. The gist of their model is that the best work occurs at the intersection of these interests. Remove or suppress any one of these, and the outcome will be accordingly (and predictably) compromised. It’s no surprise that the interests of business and society feature prominently. However, it’s revealing that the interests of the design studio figure equally—an assertion that would likely be somewhat unpopular in today’s culture of extreme collaboration and partnership. I’ll look at this theme more closely in my next post.