Bold simplicity

I recently traveled to San Francisco to conduct focus groups for a consumer electronics company.  The topic of the groups was design.  The client did not want feedback on the technology behind the product; rather they wanted opinions on how the device looked: balance, contrast, color, unity, etc.  Oh glorious design!  This was a treat for me to get to focus on beauty, albeit beauty of a consumer product.  

My task was first to get the consumer to talk about design elements during the groups, then to draw conclusions about all of their various opinions in my report. In the process of analysis, I came to understand the design values of the various consumer groups I talked to.  In other words, I discovered that the notion of  "good design" depends on the relationship that people have with technology.  The meaning of specific design elements (line, type, shape, and texture) varied from group to group. It was as if each group of consumers had their own meaning for each design element. What looked good in one group was considered tacky in another.

 

As much as I enjoyed the research topic, the work was hard and intense.  The deadline was tight. The stress was high. My only downtime in San Francisco was the 10 minute walk from my hotel in the Chinatown to the the focus group facility off Union Square.   I worked in San Francisco when I finished grad school, but that was a while ago. Downtown SF seemed new, fresh and exciting all over again. 

I walked back to my hotel after the groups on two nights. It wasn't so late that the streets were completely deserted, but it was late enough that the usual work-a-day energy of the city was gone.  What was left were the streets, the lights, the buildings and store windows all fabulously displayed for

 me like an art gallery against an elegant black, San Franciscan night.

I was particularly taken by the window displays of Nieman Marcus on south side of Geary Street between Grant and Stockton.  I was alone on that sidewalk at about 11 at night. A few cars were passing on the street next to me. There were 5 window panels with five mannequins each dressed in couture. I was tired and this was my way of winding down.  I spent about 3 minutes with each display. I carefully studied each panel. If these images were beautiful to me, what was the meaning that I attached to the various design elements of the human form, the fashion, and the display?

I like bold simplicity.  I like that a single mannequin was presented alone in each panel. No scenery, no accessories, no props - just the image of a woman's figure draped in fitted, patterned material that was both simple and complex. I liked the dramatic colored back lighting and background.   I admired the entire composition of each panel - the lighting, the background, the figure, the hair, the jewelery, the clothes. Like the  simplicity of hardwood floor or a freshly cut lawn or even a well-designed website, there was strength and serenity in simplicity of the Nieman Marcus display window.

Last Fall, I was working on a design project for another client. Again, it was for a consumer electronics manufacturer.  A dear family friend died in Colorado, and I had to fly to Colorado for the funeral before I could finish my report.  I worked on my analysis on the flight from Austin to Denver. I worked on the report while I was waiting to catch the bus from the airport to Boulder.  I continued to tap on my laptop with my head down as I sat waiting on the bus for other passengers to board. But as the bus exited the covered loading zone,  I looked up and saw the landscape around the airport and thought, "Wow. Great design! " 

I grew up in Eastern Colorado, but it was if at that moment I saw the plains of Colorado for the very first time.  I saw the simple, bold straight line of the horizon splitting the landscape into two simple sections:  the earth toned land against a big open blue sky.  No trees, no hills, no buildings,  no signs, no billboards, no cars, no roads. For the first time, the simplicity of the plains were full of possibilities--expansive, open and beautiful. The meaning I gave to the design of the land changed. For the first time, I found strength and serenity in the landscape of the place I once called home.

Above picture scanned from title page of  "West of Last Chance" by Peter Brown and Kent Haruf  (W.W. Norton & Company,  2008).