Chapter 3 Reading Response

Visual design is an interesting topic because it seems to be so deeply intertwined with the underlying technological capabilities. For instance, as computers have become more powerful and algorithms more robust, we’ve seen graphics evolve from simple 8-bit representations into dynamic 3D renderings - complete with ray tracing and shaders and all that. While I’m certain that nobody is complaining about their video game spells now being cast in HD, I do think that as a result of this expansion in computational power, we’ve been conditioned to equate complexity and realism as benchmarks for “good” visuals. In this sense, people tend to praise hyper-realistic graphics and unfairly scoff at cartoonish or drawing-like graphics when in reality, both options can be equally effective (in their own ways).


For this very reason, I find Principle 3.4: Simplify Form, and Principle 3.5: Build Complexity from Simplicity, to be compelling arguments. The two principles seem to suggest that not only is simplicity desired, but furthermore, that complexity naturally arises from the synthesis of simple building blocks. Under this mindset, just because the technological capability exists does not mean a designer should utilize computing power to the fullest potential by making visuals as complicated as possible. Rather, they should identify only the elements that are absolutely necessary and instead try to embed complexity into the relationships between elements or in the individual element details themselves; in other words, aim for complexity in the aesthetics and experience, not in the technical specifications. In fact, just by taking these guidelines into consideration, I think a designer will implicitly become more cognizant of form vs. function as they strive to reduce their design down to core components.


One example of these principles reflected in practice that I can personally think of is the visual design in the recent video game (that I played) titled Octopath Traveler. Essentially, the game plays like a traditional Japanese turn-based RPG - nothing novel or crazy in that sense. As such, I appreciate how the graphics still feature the 16-bit artwork that has defined the JRPG genre, even though modern computers would allow for much more realistic visuals. I think the reason I find the graphics to be so beautiful is because of all the (certainly not 16-bit) embellishments to visual details: the sparkle of snow falling, the sway of grass in the wind, and the rays of light piercing through the sky. Furthermore, by keeping the core components simple, all the visual elements tie together to produce an aesthetic unity between form (“modern” 16-bit inspired visuals) and function (classic Japanese turn-based RPG). It then comes as no surprise that the game’s overall experience has been described as a “love letter” to old-school JRPG fans.


Finally, all of these considerations can be viewed in the context of one specific case of well-executed artful design: the function-form design loop. In such a case, when form and function coalesce into one endless recursive loop, the relationships between the design’s elements achieves maximum complexity, and thus users often react profoundly when experiencing the design. However, the key here is that the elements themselves are not complex, but rather, the relationship between them is: a zipper and pencil bag are distinct everyday objects, but a pencil bag made of one continuous zipper demonstrates thoughtful and poetic design, especially in regards to seeking out the intersection of form and function.