Archives: Ideas

Design Is the Art of Science. This I Believe, CBC Radio, June 20, 2007

“I believe in science and art,
and the practice of design that brings them together to change the world.

I have three wildly inventive young daughters
and they have opened my eyes to my belief in
the mystery and power of creative invention.
They remind me on a daily basis of my belief in the scientific method
of questioning our experience; and my belief in the vast unknown.
My work as a designer demands the
intersection of these two great cultures of our time: science and the arts.
In our society they mostly live separate lives,
developing and sustaining separate worldviews, distinct methods,
and segregated communities of thought and practice.
The more I work as a designer—
a practice that demands the constant negotiation of
the boundaries and intersections of these two worlds—
the more deeply committed I am to the foundation of science.
The historical scientific project to build a common language
of human knowledge, where any scientist, anyone, working anywhere
can challenge and revise and add to our shared resource,
is perhaps the greatest human achievement of all time.
It is a practice that is beyond race or nationality or religion.
It is supremely egalitarian and ultimately global and collective.
It is a shared human resource,
equally accessible from anywhere, by anyone.
It is on this human foundation of knowledge that we solve
the challenges we face as a global society.
It is science that has opened up the electromagnetic spectrum
so that we can explore the universe in all of its complexity.
It is science that has allowed us the wonders of communication
so that you can hear my voice today, wherever you are.
It is science that has built the tools that have overcome diseases
like smallpox, and SARS, and soon polio and others.
It is science that has built the pathway out of the dark night of ignorance,
the limitations of mythology, superstition, and religion;
allowing us to replace imaginary stories with hard-won empirical knowledge.

But my commitment to scientific knowledge in no way diminishes
my belief in the beauty, mystery, and power of art.
Art sings to us and opens our hearts to one another.
Art gives meaning to things that would otherwise go unnoticed.
Art connects us to our past.
Art cracks a smile and laughs at our limitations.
Art speaks to us of the darkness we cannot say out loud.
It is art that proves our worth;
that demonstrates our energy and force as inventors and lovers
and wild untamed beings.
And in the end it is art that allows us
to understand and express science.

In my practice of design, these two worlds—
of aesthetics and scientific knowledge,
of mystery and certainty, of intuition and expertise—
come together to create new possibilities for shaping our world.
Everything I do as a designer draws on the aesthetic dimension of cultural life,
but rests on the foundation of the scientific project.
At no time in human history has the potential for design to contribute to
the benefit of humankind been greater than it is today.
And, because of the growing body of knowledge in both science and art,
that potential will be even greater tomorrow.

When I watch my three young daughters
draw and sing, write and dance with abandon,
I am confirmed in my belief in our power as creative beings.
My challenge as a parent, and our collective challenge,
is to nurture, protect, and allow that creative force to
flourish as my daughters grow,
and be there as it emerges to shower us with its unimaginable gifts.

For This I Believe, I am Bruce Mau, in Toronto.”

 

Recently, I made an impromptu visit to Harvard to visit my old friend and long-term collaborator, Sanford Kwinter. He invited me to present to his class at the GSD, and opened it up to the broader Harvard community. We talked about the work that I am focused on these days, launching a new educational project committed to providing the tools of innovation and design thinking to the broadest, most inclusive audience possible. Our discussion was animated and exciting — because it was troublesome and even alarming to some of the students. One brave student was willing to complain out loud: “I’m not comfortable with your ‘corporatist’ language and your obsession with getting to scale. Is it really necessary?” My response was brutal: “I don’t care about your problems, because they are not real problems. They are luxury problems. You have the luxury of cynicism. The people in Malawi suffering and dying from infections that could be prevented have never heard the word ‘corporatist.’ They have real problems, and they know one thing: They need solutions now. At scale.”

The cynicism and navel-gazing that infect the field of architecture at this moment — the whining malaise and never-ending complaints of powerlessness and economic hardship and marginalization and irrelevance and on, and on, and on — set me on fire. Not because some of this is not true. Not because I don’t share the difficulties we are all grappling with of building and maintaining a business during the most challenging economic conditions in living memory. Not because I don’t appreciate and support the dreams and ambitions and authentically good citizenship that form the cultural foundation of the architectural life. I am infuriated for two reasons: First, there is simply no basis in historical fact that could possibly support a complaint about being an architect — of any kind, in any form — at this moment in history. Second, to the degree that there are problems in architectural practice in America, they are self-inflicted. Architecture is largely irrelevant to the great mass of the world’s population because architects have chosen to be.

Is it really difficult being an architect in America? It’s difficult to be a female intellectual in Kandahar. It’s difficult to raise a family living on waste products in the garbage dumps of China. It’s difficult to find your way as a child in Malawi, where the infection rate of HIV/AIDS is 17 percent, having already wiped out a generation of mothers and fathers. It’s difficult to overcome drug addiction from the quicksand of poverty and incarceration in America’s overpopulated prisons. These conditions are difficult. Being an architect is not difficult.

So, really, are we going to listen to another gripe about how difficult it is to be an architect today? No, we are not. If you are a student at Harvard, or a practicing architect, you are the privileged one percent. That’s right — one percent. I’m not talking about one percent of college graduates, but one percent of humanity. Less than one percent of the world has experienced the power of higher education. Look at what we have accomplished with less than one percent, the revolution of possibility that we have collectively created: access to food and water and healthcare and energy and knowledge and connection and mobility for billions of people. With less than one percent we have created Massive Change. Imagine if we could reach just one more percent. Imagine if two percent had access to the educational tools that we take for granted. And that is my point: Architects take for granted the extraordinary powers they have to shape the world, to create beauty, to produce wealth, to reach people with new ideas.

If you are an architect and are thinking any thought other than, “Hey, this is awesome! This is the craziest, coolest, most beautiful time in human history to be alive and working;” if you aren’t saying, “Wow! I get to constantly learn new things, and everything is uncertain. I want everyone on the planet to get in on the action and be part of this new world of invention and beauty!” — I don’t want to hear it. If you are thinking a complaint, just stop. If your thought sounds whiny or rhymes with “woe is me” or has a mildly racist undertone about people “over there” taking “our” jobs — I don’t want to hear it. If you can’t tell the difference between critical and negative, and have conflated the two and built a practice around “challenging” this or that, and are wondering why people aren’t interested — don’t come crying to me.

However, if you have woken up and realized that the internal monologue and obsession with policing the boundary of “big A” licensed Architecture means that architects could lose the thread of the most important movement in history, the movement to redesign the world and everything we do to sustainably meet the needs of the 4.5 billion children who will be born before midcentury, then do something about it. If you realize your colleagues have been so busy policing the fence of exclusivity that they forgot to open the door of possibility, then get in the game. If you understand that the practice of architecture — the practice of synthesis that generates coherent unity from massively complex and diverse inputs — just might be the operating system that we need to solve the challenges that we face in meeting the needs of the next generation, then join the movement. If you get the fact that architecture, and the design methodologies at its core, could be central to the future of cities, governments, ecologies, and businesses, then please raise your voice in the chorus of potential. Get into the discussion and leave your worries about the fence that separates you from the rest of the world behind you. Stop the complaining — and join the revolution of possibility.

First published 2010 in Muji, a book published by Rizzoli, celebrating the 25th anniversary of the Japanese minimalist product company.

Organized by Ryohin Keikaku, with contributions by Jasper Morrison, Naota Fukasawa, and Kenya Hara. 

MUJI began as an idea. In their honest approach we discover an opening — a way to live with modesty and clarity in the spirit of beauty and intelligence.

As a company, MUJI got it right. They understood that their culture was a design project, and the design of their founding idea would design everything else they would do, including their products.

Since the beginning, they have not only believed in their idea, but also acted on their belief in the holistic possibility of design — a generous practice that connects simplicity and beauty with the intelligent efficiency of material, energy and resources. This approach to the culture of design is not only aligned with the smartest business practice and lowest cost, but also with ecology and nature.

It has been this way since the start. They applied their holistic approach, the MUJI idea, to everything they do, from the embedded intelligence and value in the products themselves, to their elegant and generous approach to communication. It all begins with simple dignity in the idea that the citizen — defined not merely as a consumer — is intelligent and empowered, and deserving of our best.

You may enter MUJI because you support their progressive mandate, or their environmental intelligence. However, you will return to MUJI again and again because you discover that everything they provide is delightful. That’s the true genius of MUJI. They embed intelligence in desire. They make smart things sexy. MUJI shows us a better way by demonstrating a new form of exuberant restraint. Advanced simplicity. Simple genius.

By creating a world in this new way, MUJI has been rewarded with a rare kind of loyalty. Because they have quietly created this new way of being in the world, they have been embraced. From 40 to over 7000 products, MUJI has expanded their offering — always true to their idea.  They continue to create more and more in this new spirit, building a world of possibility. Not by perpetuating or encouraging a cycle of consumption and waste but, rather, by encouraging a kind of consumption that is sensitive to the act of consumption itself. MUJI allows us to become aware of our own behavior, without judgment, in a way that improves our lives, that demonstrates possibility, and that adds elegance and beauty.

MUJI gives us a glimpse into a world where consumption doesn’t equate with destruction, nor pleasure with guilt. It’s fashionable to talk about how we can make things smarter but still beautiful, sexy but still environmentally responsible, but MUJI has actually done it. The power of MUJI lies in the fact that you need not know about what lies at the heart of their philosophy. Their products connect to our deepest needs, and by simply choosing to participate in their world we make ours a better place. That MUJI not only exists, but continues to thrive and grow ought to inspire optimism in anyone.

A testament to the power and importance of the founding idea is this simple fact: even after 30 years, MUJI is still a pioneer. Not an anti-brand, but a non-brand: an open space in the public imagination, a place where I can live my life as I imagine it. I can define my world in a way that is not dominated by the cultural signal of others. I can hear myself think. I can live free. In a world dominated by domination, this idea is so unique, so unorthodox, that we still have no language for it. MUJI exists in a category all on its own.

Perhaps MUJI is a verb: I love to MUJI.

When most of us hear the word “design,” we think of fancy, sleek, expensive objects. We think about the shape of things. We imagine something visual, formal, that is the work of a singular artist — the designer. This coming week in Milano we will gather the church of small “d” design. Tens of thousands of followers will come together to reaffirm their belief in surface, color and form as the highest purpose of design.

For me, this definition of small “d” design, and its place in business, culture and life, is old fashioned and hopelessly limited. I help companies think and practice big “D” Design. Over twenty-five years of Design practice, I have developed a repeatable methodology of solving problems that seem unsolvable. For me, Design is Leadership — the ability to imagine and visualize an abundant sustainable future, and work systematically to execute the vision. That is why I quit my work at Bruce Mau Design, and committed to building the Massive Change Network — to bring my innovative Design method to as many people as possible. We urgently need to understand that Design is creative Leadership. Design is how we change things. Design is central to our future. Design is the only way out of here. If we are to have a future at all, we have to imagine a different role for design in Business, Education and Government.

Design is critical to success in Business. Design is how leaders lead. We gather information, analyze the situation and define the challenge. We explore possible solutions to the challenge as we have defined it. We iterate and develop options. We make a decision and build the Design we have created. We experience our design and learn from its successes and failings. Is there a better definition of leadership than the ability to imagine a better future and make it happen? Design is not fancy expensive things — Design is what makes an airplane fly, and a cell phone work, and the lights turn on, and the chair comfortable after a long day, and the water come out of your tap when you turn on your faucet. Design is how we succeed.

And yet, Design as Leadership is marginal in our business culture. We have almost no public understanding of design and its power to shape our lives. No agreed upon definition. There is practically no education in design of this sort. Design lead companies like Apple, Google, Coca-Cola, P+G, and Pixar have used Design to dominate the creation of brand equity and wealth — but design still remains a dark art, a mysterious unquantifiable practice with little or no repeatable methodology. With the exception of the late Steve Jobs — Design rarely takes a seat at the boardroom table.

Design is critical to success in education. If Design is critical to global success, we have to begin with education. Unfortunately, in most of the world, Design education — the ability to think holistically about problems as opportunities, and apply a systematic critical method to create and explore solutions — doesn’t begin until college. For most of the world’s population, college isn’t possible. Consequently, the vast majority of people are cut off from the power of design.

In the lower grades we educate our children to stop their creativity, take their brains apart, and separate mathematics, science and art. Students learn that they are not creative or capable of creating beauty, rather than learning the methods of design and seeing the holistic patterns underlying the universe.

At the same time, our technophobic higher education system is designed to exclude more than it includes. The status of almost every university is correlated not to its scale, reach or impact, to what it accomplishes; but to who and how many it excludes. By driving access down and pricing up, we have created a model of higher education that is accessible to a smaller and richer population, in a time where knowledge is the key to health, wealth and opportunity.

Design is critical to success in Government. In government, Design is practically non-existent. Most governments around the world are using structures that are HUNDREDS OF YEARS OLD! If Design is Leadership — envisioning a better future, and systematically working to realize the vision — we are running a massive Design deficit. For this reason, interacting with our government is often dreary, and we trust them less and less to do anything.

While the market races ahead, inventing new products, services, capacities, connectivity, and ways of gaming the old regulatory systems — our design of government and regulation is critically outmoded.

In the misguided belief that a free market would design itself, we castrated any effort to design and innovate regulation to keep pace with the financial market innovators. The result was and is the greatest economic crisis in living memory. The solution is innovative regulatory design, able to keep pace with the market, and generate dynamic stability again.

Design has the potential to make change understandable and directed, rather than random and frightening. Only by Design can we reinforce stability so that we can once again embrace innovation.

In this context of extraordinary challenges, in the hopes of advancing human society, we are developing the Massive Change Network. It is a global educational initiative to bring the methods and power of design to the greatest number of people possible at the highest speed and lowest cost. We know this is just the beginning. It is our way of starting on the journey of reaching the 99%.

When it comes to changing behavior, we have fifty years of evidence that going negative doesn’t work.

For over half a century, environmentalists have scolded and scowled at Americans — and people around the world — to “reduce” and “use less” and “give up this” and “give up that”, and most pointedly, to “get out of your car!” Over all those years, the total number of cars in the world inexorably increased. Last year alone we produced roughly 66 million new cars — adding four times as many cars to our roads annually as we did in the sixties.

Instead of rejecting it, we embraced the car and its intoxicating effects like never before, and tried to forget about the ecological impact. We clamored for cars. People everywhere — and I mean everywhere — insisted on having cars. Around the world, many cultures and countries may not have fully embraced the human rights, freedom, and secular democracy that are at the core of American culture — but they have embraced traffic. Even in places that stand violently opposed to American values, the car and its transformative impact is wholeheartedly embraced. The few remaining outposts that have still to get cars in large quantity are desperate to have them.

As environmentalists, why do we ignore the evidence that going negative isn’t working? Imagine if we could conduct a market research survey over fifty years to determine our attitude towards personal sacrifice, environmental impact, and automobiles?  And what if we could include everyone on the planet in the research? Well, that is exactly what we did! The outcome: we love cars! No matter the environmental impact, we will not deny ourselves the exhilaration, status, utility and delight they provide.

In fact, during all those years we used most of our innovation and advancement in energy efficiency — about one or two percent per year — not to make them lighter and cleaner, but to make them bigger and more powerful. En masse we went the wrong direction. We ignored the bicycle-riding environmentalists scolding and scowling, closed our power windows and turned on the air conditioning.

When it comes to changing attitudes to the environment, apparently “NO!” is not the answer we were looking for. Getting hit with a green stick has had little effect. Try convincing a sixteen-year-old boy that he should not experience the rush of driving his own car.

So, how will we change things? How will we convince the American people, and the other 6 billion or so we share the planet and the problem with, that changing the way they live is critically important to their future?

Think Orange.

Think carrot — not stick. Seduction — not sacrifice. Yes! — not No! If we are ever to accomplish the objectives of the environmental movement — to create a culture that can exist in perpetuity, in harmony with the ecological systems that support us — we must reimagine and redesign everything we do. We must redesign everything to allow people to experience beauty, exhilaration, love, pleasure, joy, and delight without destroying our planet and its nature.

There is only one way to make this happen: we will use the power of design to make the things we love more intelligent.

We will embrace the revolution of possibility that we are living through, to radically reduce the material and energy we use, while increasing the positive impact and effect of the things that we use in our daily life.

We will make the new sustainable ways more compelling, more attractive, more exciting and more delightful than the old, destructive, short-term ways.

We will compete with beauty, and make the smart things sexy.

One day in February in Toronto, I was sitting at a stoplight with my wife in our family minivan — pre-hybrid. I looked out and noticed a woman, huddled against the biting cold in a glass box bus shelter. I turned to my wife and said, “In a million years, I’m not getting out of this car and into that ice box bus shelter, and no one else in their right mind is either!” At that moment I realized that we had failed in designing a real alternative to the car. When you compare the bus and the car as experience, there is a clear winner and loser. Why does my minivan have 17 cup holders — but my bus has none? Why is my bus shelter not heated, but I can start my car remotely and let it warm up? Why is my bus uncomfortable and noisy, when I can listen to Beethoven in my car in relative silence? My bus is a design failure. It’s a stick painted green, and out of desperation or inspiration, I’m supposed to want the experience. In Toronto, the slogan of the transit company is “the better way.” Well, actually, no. Its not the better way, and everyone knows it.

Dude, pimp my bus.

Until we use design to seriously compete with the car, by designing an experience that is more attractive, more effective, and more elegant and beautiful than the car, we will be selling a losing proposition. If we intend for ecologically intelligent options to win — to compete and triumph over unsustainable models — we have to design them to win!

The same applies to the car itself. We have to redesign the car. We have to imagine and develop the car as a product with positive impact, and not make our design objective a car that is less negative. We have to design an ecology of movement options that are thrilling in every way, and that also fit together as an ecological, sustainable — but most importantly, sexy system.

If we are ever to achieve the ambition of the environmental movement, we have to get beyond “No!”, face the problem directly, and define what “Yes!” would look like, and not simply continue to hope that one day we will somehow collectively wake to a world of altruistic people that reject the car.

“No!” is not the answer. Yes is more!