reflection

From the very first day of class, I got the impression that this wasn't going to be the type of art history class I've been exposed to thus far. Where are the slides? Which textbook am I going to buy? The memorization of names, dates, or styles? The long written exam that requires so much parroting back of information?

At first, I felt lost once the standard format of an art history class was taken away. Can this be considered studying history? What was going to be taught? How are we going to learn? There were lots of questions and a healthy dose of skepticism.

It's been quite an interesting experience having this class alongside a textbook example of an art history class. In fact, on Monday mornings, I go from the History of ID to the History of Design class. I go from a 2-hour session of examining cool contemporary examples of design to a 1.5-hour session of looking at slides or sometimes looking at objects from the RISD Museum. To simplify and sum up my experience of these two art history classes, one class is thinking about history and the other is looking at history. Both are worthwhile.

What this ID history class has taught me is that it is important to have an opinion about different design philosophies and that it is important to start thinking and forming my own design philosophy. This is something that hasn't been taught in most art history classes I've taken. Learning by creating timelines and writing blog entries is definitely not what I expected.

What the History of Design has taught me is how to look at and evaluate design elements in objects from antiquity up till the Renaissance. We spent a lot of time discussing the techniques people used in the making of everything from textiles to furniture to cups and plates from various time periods in history. Typical, safe and expected from the course title.

One issue I have with this class is that I think it's more appropriate perhaps as a more advanced history course instead of an intro survey history course. I might have more intelligent responses to each week's prompts if I had a better basic understanding of ID history, which I don't have. I think I could have backed up my opinions and arguments better if I had cited or referenced examples from history.

Another issue I have is that this course encouraged a subjective look at history. It was uncomfortable thinking in this way. It's a very outdated perspective on my part, but my mind still thinks of history as something that tries to be an objective account of what happened in the past. And as my mind tries to wrap around this idea of learning history subjectively, I think that the traditional "objective" view of things takes a lot of the fun and interest out of history. I remember how one of the most interesting history classes I've taken examined history through more popular films about the past. Scholars criticize the inaccuracies of the movies, but historically-based movies make a bigger impact in inspiring interest in history than any scholarly paper about history. So to wrap up my ramblings, I thought this class was unconventional and interesting in its format and it provided teachings as well as sources of inspiration.

Is it art or is it design?

Today I had the lovely experience of trying to explain my objective for the final project for the Appliance Studio to my mother for the first time. Oh boy. So she asks the most basic and straightforward questions and I cringe inside as I'm struggling with the words to best describe what it is I have been working on for a month. The conversation was an interplay of explanation, Q & A, suggestions, criticism and overall frustration.

I tell her my main focus is about the emotional attachment between the user and a personal belonging. I tell her that I don't know who the intended user is and I'm not quite sure what "practical" function the object will perform. I ask her whether or not objects need to perform in order to be kept or for the attachment to last. And in return she tells me her thoughts and reactions as an average consumer. She says that she's a practical person. She only buys things if they are useful to her. She can only justify buying something not practical if the product is very attractive or cute.

My roommate, who's a senior in ID, told me that consumers don't care about the concept behind a product.
They do only care about having a product cater to their immediate needs. I guess people never think about products fulfilling an emotional need. Anyways, all this discussion led to question whether my final is more of an artistic expression or a designed object?

My preconception of art is that it is a result of a highly personal investigation or inquiry into a subject. The piece of artwork is evidence of a process that tries to convey the sense of meaning felt by the artist to the people who eventually experience the artwork. Art lives in galleries or museums or sometimes at various sites as sculptures or installations. Design lives out in the real world as objects that people use and interact with everyday. The house I live in, the chair I sit in, the clothes I'm dressed in, etc. Art is for the few and design is for the many. My experience of art is very different from my experience of design. When interacting with art, I can appreciate it aesthetically as well as conceptually. However, when interacting with design, I usually appreciate whether or not it's doing its job well. When did I, as a consumer, buy something based on the concept behind a product?

While looking at the examples presented in lecture, part of me thinks of those examples as art. I admire Max Lamb for his innovative process, but as for the final product, I'm not too fond of it. Tokujin Yoshioka, I totally love the final products but once again, way too expensive and limited in production to be considered design in my mind. If someone like my mother looked at hot-shot designers like these, what would she say? Something along the lines of interesting....but?

Ecolect's Petting Zoo

Ecolect takes part in conferences or gatherings with a focus on green design and represents themselves through an exhibit called the "eco-materials petting zoo." On the Ecolect website, they describe their mission as connecting designers, engineers, developers and business owners with the newest eco-conscience materials. At these conferences, a display is made with about 20 of the materials shown on the website alongside information about each material placed next to them. Because of the title "petting zoo," people were encouraged to touch and engage in interacting with these materials one-on-one.

Not having been to the conference to personally see the exhibit, I went online to see what kinds of materials might have been featured in person. The materials featured were mostly made from recycled products.

One example is Harmony Casting Grains, pictured above, which is made for casting jewelry and made from recycled melted down jewelry metals. I liked how accessible the information on each material was laid out on the site. It tells you first and foremost who to contact in order to get each material. Then, information is divided into the categories, summary, how is it used, how is it made and technical specifications.

Seeing the materials on the website made me want to see these materials in person and touch them. I remember the design process we learned back in freshman year based in hands-on experimentation and how fun it was to interact with new materials which I've never seen or heard of before. The process involved so much inquiry into the capabilities and properties of the materials. So much of what I discovered about a material would be difficult to quanitify on paper. Therefore, I think it is crucial for the people who will be purchasing and designing with these eco-conscious materials to be able to see them physically one-on-one.

And the idea of organising these materials in a "petting zoo" really connects back to the playfulness with which we experimented with new materials freshman year of RISD. I enjoy the idea of thinking about materials as different animals which we work with. Seeing and touching a material up close is much more informative than a picture and words. And I'm sure a display of materials in this manner makes a more lasting impact on the designers who participated. Great idea!

10%

A long time ago, I was surprised to hear that humans generally only use 10% of their total brain's capacity. Last week, I was just as surprised to hear that designers generally design for only 10% of the population. It's almost like when I first learned that Earth was one of many planets in the solar system which is part of a much larger galaxy and so on. Last week's lecture by guest lecturer Dr. Bruce Becker made me feel simultaneously very minuscule in the grand scheme of the world but not as powerless or ineffective as I would've thought.

On a day-to-day basis, I'm content with solving the immediate tasks and demands in my life. Having seen the presentation of much larger global needs and demands, it's easy to just throw my hands up in the air and give up. The problem is huge. Over 60 million people need help and I'm just 1 person. It's times like this when I wish I could be a cartoon superhero that upon summoning could provide immediate and effective help to people in need. I'd settle for being some kind of super genius problem solver who could come up with brilliant solutions on a regular basis. Exaggerations aside, the lecture prompted me to wonder why this idea of designing for people in poverty or in disaster relief areas has never come up in conversation in my past experiences here at RISD.

As a young 20-something girl born and raised in a middle-class family, my peers generally share the same economic status. At RISD, most of the students are either middle class or wealthier. It's not common to come across someone who comes from lower class unless I count the occasional homeless person asking me for money on the street. Ask me about poverty or about being homeless and I'm completely dumbfounded. Ask my friends about lower class people, and they express discomfort and disdain. I'm going to be honest and will say I share their perspective. Collectively, we're content with staying middle class and we're happy that we don't come in contact with those different from ourselves. We're more concerned with maintaining the status quo rather than helping to better the lives of the homeless people we see. There were times in high school when I volunteered in local food banks and soup kitchens. While part of me felt like I was making a small difference, I knew that providing people in poverty with a meal or two won't help them find better jobs or live happier lives in the long run. What could I possibly do for the global community if it's difficult to solve problems for the small local communities?

And so I looked at the "Design for the other 90%" website for inspiration to see how others handle the issue. The designs deal with the most pressing and immediate needs. Some of the shelter solutions only last for a year or two. Dr. Becker said that certain people stay in displacement for decades. They face bigger problems like dealing with depression and a lack of feeling of belonging and purpose. A lot of the designs try to fix the problem of providing clean water to the people. In looking at the kinds of problems and solutions over 60 million people face around the world, we're still stuck in trying to solve problems in the short term. It's not that short term problems aren't important. Sure, water, food, and health are fundamental to every person. It's just that when these needs are met, a significant portion of the 60 million don't leave these relief temporary camps or have problems re-integrating themselves into society.

So what can we do? I don't have many definite answers but here are a few thoughts. Educating people and making the issues known is crucial. It would be great if we had more school courses during the summer or wintersession that would bring us into areas where we can experience what the other 90% experience and perhaps work on projects that would help the areas that we visit.

Objects as pets?

I've been researching the relationship between people and their pets this weekend as part of my final for the appliance studio. It's kind of awful to reduce pets to the level of an object. But for my project, my hope was to change the relationship a person has with a product to be similar to a relationship shared by people and their pets.

So first, I went to Petco. Although I didn't see many people with their pets there, I learned a lot from my reaction to seeing and being around the animals. There's something about being in close proximity to a small furry little rodent or bunny that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. There were animals as tiny as mice and rats to medium and larger animals like ferrets and bunnies and even a chinchilla. I was filled with a sense of delight and wonder that was incomparable to the feeling I get from walking around a department store or appliance store filled with manmade objects. Perhaps for some people, the sight of a highly coveted gadget or article of clothing illicits a similar warm feeling. For me, I have yet to experience the same reaction I have of being around pets in a setting with objects. And so, I ask myself, can a person really relate to a product as if she were relating to a beloved pet? And what is it about a pet that is so endearing that makes a person want to give it care and affection? What kind of meaning is intrinsic to an animal? Is it also intrinsic to a product?

So I started with some basic observations and comparisons. Small animals like rats and hamsters are about the same size as many of the the objects on my desk. The forms of small animals are round and pleasing. Same goes for the form of my favorite mug. The function of my mug is pre-decided by the designer as a vessel for liquids. The meaning of the mug is far more complex and emotional. Mine was made by a friend and given to me as a present last Christmas. I use it regularly for tea. The function of an animal or pet is decided by nature. The meaning my pet rats hold for me is once again based on my own personal experience. Pets are constant companions that are comforting to have around at all times. My mug is an invaluable companion during chilly nights for when I want to curl up with something to read. So far, the two seem very similar. But while I can say that I take care of both my pet rats and my mug, I definitely don't care as much for the wellbeing of an object as I would towards a living creature. There are days when my mug gets dirty from use and I leave it unwashed in the sink. However, there's not a day that goes by when I don't feed my pets. So I come to the conclusion that it is because pets require and demand more attention and care that I care more about them. Pets are both autonomous and dependent. They have lives of their own, but still need an owner to feed them and pick up after them. If an object demands my attention, I would attend to it. It's just that machines were made with the intention that they wouldn't demand so much attention. This is especially true for appliances. Certain infomercials boast about appliances where you "set it and forget it!" But by doing that, people don't bond with the appliance. Therefore, the interaction with the machine lacks care and emotional investment. When it comes to pets, the owner invests a lot of time and attention, and in the process creates emotional attachment and meaning. Interaction, preferrably regular and prolonged interaction leads to the creation of meaning and bonds. Why shouldn't people share the same bond with their appliances as well as other products?

Passing on genes and products

In many ways, an "artificial" genome is created by the many products that are in the market at one time. Looking back at the history of man-made products is in a way like tracing our genetic makeup.

This analogy came from reviewing my timelines. I noticed that I had an interest in trying to connect natural examples to man-made objects. And throughout my explorations, many questions arose.

Where does the history of Industrial Design begin? How did man come up with the idea of mass production? Why did efficiency become the ideal so many now work towards? Should good design be affordable to all?

Therefore, to answer these questions I look to nature for analogies and perhaps some answers. First, mass production has existed with the very first living beings. DNA and the duplication and replication of any living organism's genome are very similar to the artificial methods of making products. Nature's methods of reproduction are varied and sophisticated.

While I could go into the details about the workings of DNA and RNA, the gist of the whole process is that DNA and RNA act like molds in creating multiple copies of one shape or unit of something. The units of DNA go on to create proteins or other traits that are components to what would become living organisms. Likewise, molds are tools used to mass produce particular parts which could be assembled into products.

What causes organisms to evolve is a process of natural selection. Factors like chance, competition, and context determine the survival and fitness of each organism over time. Different animals compete in a setting over food and resources. Depending on the context, one organism might be more fit than another. The fitness of the organism reflects on the species. Once a species can no longer survive in a given context, it becomes extinct. Similarly, the survival of a type of product is like the survival of a species. I'd like to think of vacuums as one species whereas chairs are another. Each brand or type of vacuum might be considered an organism, even though there might be multiples made of that type of vacuum. The survival of a brand of vacuum depends very much on how it performs versus its competition and how it performs in its context. The context for these artificial organisms is made up of factors like the economy, the industry, the consumers, the technology, etc. Independent of competition and context is chance. In nature, every once awhile in the process of duplication, random mutations occur. Mutations are often considered errors in the copying process, but help to generate variation in a gene pool. The beneficial mutations which help an organism survive go on to proliferate. The less favorable mutations become more rare because they don't aid in the organism's fitness. In design, I consider the really innovative or "blue sky" or just out-of the-box concepts to be analogous to mutations. There are ones that are more useful than others, as decided by the environment. They could have been discovered by mistake but could lead to a major change to the general trend of thought.

Looking at the history of industrial design in relation to the theories of evolution and natural selection helps me make sense of the questions raised in class. Industrialization and mass production came about in history because humans desired a more efficient method of creating products. Mass production led to these objects becoming more affordable to a greater portion of the population. Mass production is a logical progression of technological evolution if it is compared to the evolutionary goal of continuing a specific gene. Being able to make a large quantity of a particular product ensures the survival of the company as well as the survival of the product. While this method works well because it ensures a higher profit, it also leads to a homogenized population of products.

As successful as this method of production has been, there was the arts and crafts movement in the early part of the 20^th century which went against industrialization. Artisans and craftsmen considered manufactured goods to be soulless and mundane. On the other hand, handcrafted objects are less affordable, less time efficient, and a lot less available than manufactured objects. Despite this, arts and crafts continue to exist on a smaller and more local scale. Last year, I worked for a local crafts center and have met and spoke to the artisans there. The craftsmen there created designs based on personal styles and interests. They were involved in every aspect of the making of what they sold. Their designs took on whatever forms the artisan dreams of instead of a form able to be machine-made. Each object they made can be considered unique. They sold what they made in craft fairs to the local community and rarely to a large population. In many ways, modern-day artisans practice the ideals set out by John Ruskin. Why do these small communities still exist? I think it's because the spirit of the process of handcrafting objects is still appreciated and desired by those able to afford it. Tourists who travel to other places like to purchase crafts infused by the local culture and made by the local people. And in the evolutionary sense, it adds diversity to the gene pool of existing products.

Also contributing to diversity are the random mutations of the product gene pool. I consider these mutations to be the innovative concepts that we see in design competitions or design labs or in student projects or purely as sketches or renderings in online blogs. They are ideas for products that might challenge the status quo or conventions of efficiency or user-friendliness. They are sometimes considered useless and might not ever make it into production. Last class in the appliance studio, I got to see a video of a toaster that launches toast like a cannon. Is the design useful or adding value to existing toasters? Not really. But the fact that these new concepts and designs exist despite their apparent "uselessness" is crucial to the evolution of industrial design. Even if an individual concept doesn't become manufactured, it doesn't mean that it was a waste of time and effort. The development of new ways of looking at design and objects shapes the direction of the evolution of products.

Basically, my point of view comes down to a very simple point. Just as genetic diversity makes for a fit population, diversity in the market of products is ultimately the best. There can't be one solution that addresses everyone or every problem. If all the designers ever cared about was affordability or efficiency, then the objects they designed might be a lot less interesting or valuable.

Week 3: Seating and the relationship between form and function

So to start off, I missed the point of the assignment of the seating timeline because mine did not originally address functionalism. My timeline was a collection of 5 chairs that were made from recycled materials. One is the Reee chair made from recycled video game consoles. Another is the Conolounge made of cardboard tubes left over from the newspaper printing process. The Meltdown Fleece Chairs and the Transit Chairs are similar in that they're both very straight forward about what materials were used to make them. The Meltdown Fleece Chair is made from unwanted fleece clothing and the Transit Chair is made from retired street signs. The last chair is the Cabbage Chair made from left over pleated materials from the manufaturing of textiles.

Making chairs out of recycled materials creates an interesting connection between its present form as a chair and its previous state as another object. For these chairs, form seems to be closely related to the type of material it's made from. In a way, the form of these chairs follows the function of the material. As for functional seating, it's easier to read the function of the Reee Chair and the Transit Chair as being chairs. The Conolounge and the Meltdown Fleece seemed more like sculptures than functional chairs at first glance. And the Cabbage Chair is a complete mystery at first. It ships as a roll and then only when unfolded does it reveal that it can function as a seat.

If Functionalism is interpreted as form follows function or form equals function, then why are there so many different forms for a seat? Is the most aesthetically pleasing chair the one that's most comfortable? Or the most durable? Or the most ergonomic? Or the most economic?

What I find most pleasing about these 5 chairs and what drew me to do a compilation of chairs made from recycled materials is the merging and transformation of a material from one purpose to another. And perhaps the notion of making chairs, which has a very specific purpose, from a recycled unrelated material in itself is a bit extraneous and inefficient and in opposition to the idea of efficiency in functionalism. But does this mean they're not aesthetically beautiful? I believe that even if an object's form doesn't completely follow function, it still can be appreciated and enjoyed.