📓 Reading Response 1
From this week’s reading, I want to respond to the corollary to Principle 1.1, which states that “anything worth designing is worth designing beautifully”, and further describes design as an “act of alignment” between the pragmatic and the beautiful.
We discussed in class how design is around us in our everyday lives: most objects we encounter in our urbanized, industrialized world have been designed (whether intentionally or not) by a person at some point. I recently moved into my first apartment, and, in the process of acquiring all the things I need (who knew can openers didn’t just spawn in the back of kitchen drawers?!), I realized both just how many objects are available to us– through purchase, gift or sidewalk reconnaissance– and how few of them are designed to engage the user on an aesthetic and emotional level. Most of the dishtowels, or placemats, or spoons, or toilet brush holders, that are readily available to the average American consumer seem to primarily focus on functionality, seeking aesthetic neutrality (if they consider aesthetics at all). These objects are not meant to be loved, pondered, or laughed at; they are meant to serve, and then to be disposed of. Americans today produce an astronomical amount of waste and cycle through objects more quickly than ever before; at the same time, they experience fewer personal connections and feel lonelier than ever before. I find myself wondering if the lack of beautifully designed objects is both a reflection and driver of a lack of beautifully aligned relationships. If all things worth designing were designed beautifully, would we build stronger connections to our surroundings, and the people in them? If I admired my kitchen table for its strong joints and cozy chairs, would I think of it as less disposable and replaceable? Would I be more likely to sit around it and talk with my friends?
Creating beautifully aligned designs comes, of course, with deep challenges. Cost is a major factor at every step: the designer of my spatula is bogged down with projects and, facing budget restrictions, chooses grey plastic for its affordability and ease of manufacturing, and its low price appeals to me, a grad student with destructive roommates. I will use it for a few years and, when the cheap gray plastic starts splintering off into my food, I will throw it into the landfill and buy another cheap gray spatula, reasoning that, based on my experience with the first, non-durable spatula, kitchen utensils break after a few years and I shouldn’t invest too much money into them. Inertia is another stalling force. Alignment takes effort, and we are all. So. Busy. Design patterns easily slide into design strictures.
In response to all this, I’ve tried to become more conscious and considered with the things I bring into my life. Before I put something in cart, or pull over and throw it in the back of my car, I ask myself: what is its function? Do I find it beautiful? Is it unique? How will it fit in my space? Am I attached enough to it to keep it? For how long? Where will it go when I am done with it? Similarly, I hope to design things that can hold both a practical and personal place in the lives of others.
🎹 Etude 1
Parts 1 and 2
OBJECT 1: My watch
This gold watch was originally owned by my grandmother, and I inherited it when she passed away a year and a half ago. My mother refurbished it for me and presented it to me as a graduation gift earlier this year. I like its sleekness and slimness as well as the subtle detailing on the face. Functionally, it gives me the time, while sliding easily over the wrist with a stretchy band. One functional feature of the watch, its durability, is also part of its beauty: the fact that this watch survived for decades has imbued it with deep personal meaning, synthesizing my grandmother’s everyday world and my own.
OBJECT 2: My Yeti Tumbler
What initially attracted me to this cup (and Yeti cups in general) was its exceptional function: it keeps drinks either cold or hot for much longer than other tumblers. In high school, I would bring tea to class in the mornings and then forget my cup in my locker until the next day, but my tea would still be warm. I have come to appreciate it aesthetically, however, as well. Its clean lines and neutral color make me feel better about lugging around a massive piece of metal. Additionally, its surface has become home to a collection of stickers referencing some of my favorite places. It serves to hold my water, but it also exists independently as a small personal art gallery.
OBJECT 3: Clip laundry hanger
I studied abroad in Santiago, and, unlike in the US, most people in Chile air dry their laundry. These laundry clip devices were everywhere, hanging off apartment balconies and in courtyards. I like the bright color of mine and its rounded edges, which inject fun into what could be a highly utilitarian object. The way the laundry hooks spin around the center is mesmerizing, especially when there are dozens of them spinning simultaneously in apartment windows, but it also helps the clothes dry faster. I feel a sense of care every time I use it: the process of doing each little clip makes me think more deeply about the garments I’m laundering, and positioning it makes me notice how the sun and wind are spread around my apartment. Moreover, I feel some pride in choosing a drying method that is better for my clothes and more environmentally friendly than a machine.
Part 3
I put design effort into this webpage, using HTML and CSS to change the fonts, colors and alignments.