Let's talk about design, mostly

Architecture seems like a really good fit for deconstruction. It has functional requirements, but these are mostly being met as long as there are rooms to accommodate for them. Rooms can be a multitude of different shapes and so leaves a lot of freedom to organize the different parts differently.

That does not mean architects are the only ones that can use these ideas. Graphic design had a bit of a deconstruction period back in the 90s, with the school Cranbrook leading the pack. In high fashion ideas similar to deconstruction are widespread, although it is not too often called deconstructivism.

There has not been much product design utilizing the ideas of deconstructivism. The idea that form follows function seems very much like the cornerstone of contemporary design. To find anything at all I had to be a bit lenient with what I would consider deconstructivist. So the following examples qualify in varying degrees, but all do some things that could be considered deconstructivist.

Zaha Hadid for United Nude

The most obvious place to start looking for deconstructivism in product design was to look for work by deconstructivist architects. Zaha Hadid did not disappoint. These shoes for United Nude play with our expectations and completely change the form of the wearers feet.

Hannes Grebin, a german designer, did a collection of furniture inspired by German 70s interiors. Despite looking completely different than regular chairs and sofas, Grebin assures us that the seating is quite comfortable. Deconstructivist design should still satisfy the initial criteria, just not necessarily in the way you expect.

AANDERSSON

While Grebin’s chair still function as chairs, this water pitcher by AANDERSSON also introduce a new way of interacting with such an object by deforming it. This is what I considering deconstruction in product design at its most interesting. Freedom of form creating new and possibly better ways to interact with an object. 

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There has not been much deconstructivist product design. While I would not want it to be the only style going about, I think we, as designers, would benefit from not restricting ourselves to the assumptions we have acquired. To experiment, not just with mechanism and materials, but also with form. Sometimes entertaining the idea of going against the modernist ideals that are championed by so many who are considered great designers. I believe it can only do us good.

While few architects directly use Derrida’s theories, some of his points can often be identified in buildings.

The opposition to preconceived assumptions is the most obvious part of deconstruction that can be seen in the architecture. Simple rectangular geometry is replaced by non-normal edges and complex curves. Free form is encouraged and complexity is celebrated.

The other main point from deconstruction that can be applied to the buildings of deconstructivist architecture is the lack of structure. Hierarchy and patterns are avoided which results in buildings with features that seem random. This lack of organization can make it difficult to get an overview and understand the thought behind the building. In this way, deconstruction is a part of post-structuralism.

The lack of hierarchy and patterns is what often distinguishes deconstructivist architecture from other post-modernist (or even neo-modernist) architecture.

The epitome of deconstructivist architecture is a building which organizes its parts in a chaotic manner. Utilizing curves and playing with the negative space. With that heading back to Gehry’s clinic:

It does not have to be curves:

Daniel Libeskind is know for his aggressive designs, very much not rectangular boxes. A more masculine manifestation of deconstructivist ideas.

One could argue that both Libeskind and Gehry are almost deconstructivist architects as most of their buildings include so many of those ideas. What is more common are architects occasionally utilizing deconstructivist ideas, take for example Zaha Hadid. The Vitsoe fire station, pictured, is fragmented, disorganised and a good example of Hadid’s earlier work. Later she would deviate from deconstructivism and design buildings that could be described better by organic and neo-futuristic.

There are different ideas about what deconstructivism is. Is it a movement, a collection of ideas, a collective or style? Bernard Tschumi, one of the architects often classified as someone designing deconstructivist architecture, say it is not a movement, and definitely not a style. Just the name of an exhibition.

He's referring to a 1988 exhibition at the New York Museum of Modern Art called  "Deconstructivist Architecture". It popularized the term and in the process decided who to classify as deconstructivist architects. The show included work by Bernard Tschumi, Zaha Hadid, Frank Gehry, Coop Himmelb(l)au, Daniel Libeskind, Rem Koolhaas and Peter Eisenman. These architects all knew each other, and some of them knew a philosopher named Jacques Derrida, whose work is the source of the exhibitions title.

Derrida is interested in how we make meaning, and maybe more, how we fail to make meaning. From this came his method of critique called deconstruction. He criticizes traditional ideas of language, especially hidden assumptions and structure. As part of his deconstruction he sees all assumptions as invalid and all groupings as arbitrary, in the process removing all meaning from a text. He is known as one of the more difficult modern philosophers to read (and I wholeheartedly agree), but this is him making a point about deconstruction.

A couple of the architects in the exhibition knew Derrida personally. Most notably Tschumi and Eisenman, who interest themselves a lot with architectural theory and both discussed at length with Derrida. While the others were not influenced by Derrida directly, one could argue what looks like his influences can be found in their work. This is true even though some, like Gehry, says that he does not consider philosophy while designing buildings.

I have seen throughout my research that the term deconstructivist is often applied without much care for the process that spawned a design. Things that look irregular, chopped up, disorganized, fragmented and often slightly futuristic, are immidetaly labeled deconstructivist. What this misses about Derrida's theory is that he proposes Deconstruction as a way to critique, not necessarily create.

I highly recommend Ellen Lupton and J. Abbott Miller's essay "Deconstruction and Graphic Design" to understand the difference between the label and the method of questioning, in this case in relation to graphic design where deconstruction has been connected to a very specific style and period: http://elupton.com/2009/10/deconstruction-and-graphic-design/

While academics and art critics may understand the finer points of what is and what is not deconstructivist, this is where we need to separate Derrida from deconstructivism, as the term has come to apply to more than the people who has directly used his deconstruction when designing.

You could simplify my idea of the design process as follows:

1. Get all the constraints. What does it need to do? How big can it be?

2. Figure out a solution within these constraints, while also aiming for:

- Mechanical Simplicity

- Geometric Simplicity

- Minimum Cost

Now, when I see buildings like this The Lou Ruvo Center for Brain Health by Frank Gehry

I realise that some people use a different process.

Let's put this Gehry building up against my initial idea of the design process. I'm sure he has designed within the constraints given to him, the clinic is as functional as any and has loads of great reviews from happy patients.

The parts that I take for granted, is that you should design with cost and geometric and mechanical simplicity in mind. Gehry could have made the building a rectangular box, it would have been a whole lot cheaper to build, but he didn't. I'm not too interested in why he didn't make it a box, though, I'm interested in how he arrived on the design that he did. If you aren't designing towards geometric and mechanical simplicity, which are two concepts that are relatively easy to grasp, what are the concepts that are driving the design process? What other ideas can justify a certain decision over another? One might argue that these things are based on the random whim of the starchitect, but I don't think it is that simple.

These wildly different priorities and ideas governing what is created is what might alienate a design engineer as myself. I could call it weird and bad design, then simply move on. This is not what I want to do though, I am interested in learning what alternatives there are. How do others design?

I was recently reminded of an old digger my uncle has. I remember climbing on the yellow rusty giant when I was a little kid. Often sitting in the worn driver's seat and pretending to drive the hydraulic claw.

This specific one is called the Brøyt X2. When it was released back in the 60s it hit a really nice price point and made Brøyt synonymous with diggers in Norway for a good 30 years. The reason they managed this was that the X2 did not bother with powered wheels. Instead you claw your way around, moving as you would if you had only an upper body and one arm. Not very practical, but it worked. We don't move it that often anyway.

The cool thing with this digger, it still works as it did 40-50 years ago.

There are a lot of machines and other things that has survived for a long time. What I find interesting with the Brøyt is how they got the price down not by using cheaper materials but by cutting such an essential (by todays standards) feature.

These days one often sees, especially in consumer electronics, price being kept down by skimping on build quality, but maintaining all features "necessary". The alternative tends to be premium products which have all the features, great build quality, but cost a lot more.

The Brøyt was not a premium product, but a well priced and long lasting one.

I have three watches. One is a 12£ watch I got from a friend for my birthday, another I rescued from the bin during my grandparents move into a smaller flat and the third I spent a month researching, figuring out exactly which one I wanted before buying it myself.

Guess which one I hardly wear anymore?

My super orange Casio watch was a gift for a birthday, and it is by far my most practical watch. I haven't broken it, but I don't treat it with the same care as my other watches. I know I could get a new one for £12. It is my go-to workshop watch and I have no idea how it doesn't have paint on it yet. There is something about the digital display that ooses accuracy and practicality, even though it depends on what I set it to. Its practicality combined with its playfulness (it is very orange!) ensures that I wear this one day after day.

The second watch is a Longines Sport Chef, it is my only "proper" watch. Swiss made, mechanical movement, that sort of stuff (I often forget to wind it up). Two years ago my grandparents were moving from a large house to a flat, replacing small steep stairs and an incredible number of rooms with an escalator and a lovely view. My grandparents are hoarders. Enabled by a large house over many years, they had SO MUCH STUFF. Helping them move really made me think about my mentality about what I own. I don't want to end up having things that have the same status as this watch had. I found it as we were going through my grandparents stuff and subsequently asked my grandpa who's it was. He had no idea, couldn't remember seeing it before. "Have it if you want, it's headed to the bin". - After some cleaning and a new leather strap, it has become one of my favourite things. I enjoy putting my ear close to it and hearing the mechanical ticks. I could get it properly fixed up, but I think it is better a bit scuffed and with a yellow tint. I wear it a lot, but not to the workshop.

My Braun watch I got as I was new to the world of design and in awe of everything touched by Dieter Rams. The minimalist design language is a nod to the great man himself, but the watch is actually produced on a license, not by Braun themselves. This is probably for the best, as this watch making company has done a good job keeping to the ethos of Rams, something Braun has proved incapable of themselves. Still, I find it does not have anything that excites me and so I rather pick up one of the other watches. I am considering if I should sell it to a better home, but I can’t quite get to that point yet.

I saw this TV during London Design Week last year and I encountered it again when I researched the Bourroullec Brothers. Then and now, the Serif TV has absolutely no appeal to me. Initially I confused this with it being a badly designed object, something I have come to realise it is not.

I don't really watch TV. I watch TV shows, I watch movies, but I never leave the TV on in the corner. When I put something on, I WATCH it. This means that when I watch I want the TV to be the best TV it can be and when I am not, I want it to disappear. This is why the best TV for me is currently a projector. It is large when on and virtually disappears when off. No TV can compete with that.

The Serif TV is not for an immersive viewing experience and it is made to not disappear. It stands proud in the living room even when it is off. I think it is great for people who leave the TV on more, who scoffs at me writing "immersive viewing experience" and who just want the TV to be less of a black plastic rectangle in the living room. The Serif TV is for people who still want a TV, just a different one, a nicer one.

I agree, the Serif TV looks great.

In a recent talk, Robert McCaffrey led us through his career (life?) from art school to working for fashion giants to launching his own brand.

Something that Robert talked about was thinking about context. What is happening around whatever you are designing? Where does your product fit in? Not in a store range sense, but where does it fit in in the situation, the moment, were it is used?

I think you can either create this, or find this. For Robert, and the (beautiful) pair of cycling shoes he designed, he started with the feeling, the moment. Summer and sunny. You are casually cycling through a green valley somewhere south in Europe. A river on your left, a mountain on your right. Warm wind hitting your face. The relaxed feeling of freedom.

I'm paraphrasing, but that's the essence of the ideal moment for those cycling shoes.

I think having such a strong sense of context can be extremely helpful. Both through a design process, and in bringing products to market.

In a design process it is something overarching that guides the decisions you make. I would argue that without such an idea you run the risk of not really designing for anything. Arbitrarily going back and forth without any clear thought behind what you are doing.

For my Pichi Kichi (10slides/10s) I researched the Bouroullec brothers. The 100 seconds that a pichi kichi allows greatly restricts what you can cover. My way of tackling that was to focus on only one aspect of the brothers: their differences.

I have always thought of the two of them as one and did not know much about the two of them individually. I found that I was not the only one unsure about the difference between them. One news outlet could not put the right names to the right photos in one of their articles.

The great designs of this duo is easily found, the story of the two parts of the duo, not necessarily so. This is why I wanted to share it.

Ronan is the older one, he was early in his life passionate about design and went to design school. On his first projects he got Erwan to help him out - because he "didn't have to pay his little brother". Thing is, Erwan continued to help and evolved from working for his brother to working with him. Now they have pretty much shared a desk their entire career.

The passionate designer of the duo is still Ronan. If he's not interested, he can't motivate himself. He wants a free view of land and sea where he works, like in north-west France where the two brothers grew up. Erwan, on the other hand, doesn't care about the view from his studio, but would instead love a factory-sized workshop. He describes himself as a person who is generally too optimistic and worries little.

I need water. We all do, of course, but personally I carry a water bottle with him wherever I go. In a lecture, a water bottle is next to my notebook, the same in the studio, the workshop, my desk at home. I have gone through everything from plastic bottles that can be bought in the grocery stores to more purpose built water bottles. I haven't necessarily thought much critically about why I like some water bottles better than others before, but looking back I realise I've developed a specific idea of what a good water bottle should be for me. 

1.Drinking feel

I don't enjoy small drips of water, I'd rather like a good mouthful and instead just stop earlier. Many plastic water bottles have a little plastic mouthpiece, I end up unscrewing the whole thing instead of drinking though the mouthpiece. Glass water bottles are my favourite to drink from, but I don't mind a normal plastic edge.

2.Grip

The bottles I enjoy the most are sturdy, straight and relatively thin, not shaped vaguely like lifting weights nor so wide they are hard to grip. It is really good that some producers of bottled water reduce the amount of plastic they use in each bottle. Still, thin walled bottles tend to be wobbly and I steer away from these for long-term use.

3.Size

I haven't yet found any reason to have a water bottle larger than 0.5L. That's a good amount of water for me when there are opportunities to refill a couple of times throughout the day.

4.Storage

I have multiple bags, but they are in general basically rectangular boxes of some sort. Things that I tend to bring in my bag include: my laptop, ipad, notebooks, lunchbox, books. All of them are a box of some sort. This means that a water bottle that fits nicely among boxes is a good thing. Irregular cross-sections do not help at all. Straight bottles work really well and slide easily in and out of my bag.

This leaves to share my favourite bottles, how exciting! My two favourite water bottles are both Norwegian and a bit similar. Strangely enough they are also bought as bottled water, instead of purpose built.

Imsdal 0.5L Water Bottle: The designers of the bottle says it is modelled after the trusty thermos. This is what makes it a great bottle for me. Comfortable to hold, sturdy, nice to drink from and it slides easily into my bag. It also has a little mountain in the bottom of the bottle, which I quite enjoy.

Voss 0.5L Glass Water Bottle: Slightly controversial brand, it sells water for quite high prices, but for me, it is a pretty reasonably priced nice glass water bottle. It has similar dimensions to the Imsdal bottle, with the added nicer feel of glass. The cap is large and is somehow quite enjoyable as you can make it spin on and off if you give it a flick. The only reason I tend to use this one less is that the glass construction of this makes me a bit worried when I toss my bag around.

Why are you talking about this?

I love Zaha Hadid's designs and have come to greatly respect her. Hearing the news of hear sudden death devastated me and saddens me greatly. I won't try to match any of the many great obituaries (like the one in the NY Times ) , but I want to convey why I have been and continue to be so drawn to her designs.

I'm excited about the future. Not in the sense of time passing, but the idea of the future. The concept about what lies ahead. The technological possibilities and the social opportunities. As stereotypical as it may sound from a person in their twenties, I am a naive optimist who thinks the future is bright.

Still, sometimes one doubts. Amidst a steadily rising temperature, an increasingly jobless population and growing xenophobia, I often worry: will things really become better?

Hadid tells me yes.

Her buildings are fast. They are fluid. They are beautiful. They are unlike anything else. They speak to me with their idea of the future and they tell me, yes, the future is bright.

We watched the episode of the BBC programme Imagine about Marc Newson, titled “Urban Spaceman”.

There was this one idea that I enjoyed and that really stuck with me after watching this and it was how Marc Newson described why he make things. He designs because of his dissatisfaction with the way things are.

I think this is great.

It’s not the only reason to design, personally I am often inspired to design more in the search of new experiences. Other times I’m like Newson, dissatisfied with the things and services around me.

A friend of mine makes fun of me for my arguments against how things are currently design. I will say, but why is not just like this?! It seems so obvious that you’d want it this way. He agrees, but goes on to explain to me the reasons why it is like this, the limitations that are put upon manufactures or service providers, the extra work it would entail, and so on. Of course, I often know all the reasons, but that still doesn’t justify as an excuse in my mind. If it’s something I can easily change, I will. In most cases though, I let it go.

TL;DR: It takes about 51kg of grass to produce one kilo of beef. If everyone in the world ate like brits, we would need grass fields covering 120% of the world’s arable land.

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Following a talk from Ben Craven, a lecturer at GSA, about the value of rough calculations, I wanted to try to put numbers on something I just have a feeling is right.

His point was that rough calculations can help you quickly get an idea of magnitudes. If your car is going to run of a solar panel on its roof, have you thought about how big does this panel needs to be? (Under optimal solar power conditions, at least the size of a tennis court). This should hopefully stop you from spending six months developing your solar panel powered car before you realise it won’t work.

I’m not vegetarian, but I think the world would be a better place if more people were. Not because I am worried about animals being killed, but because of the amount of energy and land that goes into producing a kilo of beef vs. a kilo of spinach. I currently base the idea that it is unsustainable on the idea that cows eat many many kilos of grass through their lifetime, but produces a much smaller amount of meat to be eaten by me. The grass doesn’t just go towards keeping me going, but it has to keep the cow going until it can be slaughtered too. Seems unnecessary and wasteful if the goal of food production is to feed people.

First I need to figure out what and how much cows are fed. Farmers who have to harvest forage for cows seem to be very much interested in how much the cows actually need. The Institute of Agriculture and Natural Resources have a handy page detailing how much a cow eats ( http://beef.unl.edu/cattleproduction/forageconsumed-day ), with average forage quality non-lactating cows will consume 2% of their body weight daily. The Food and Agriculture Organisations of the UN says an average cow is 500kg. (http://www.fao.org/docrep/004/t0279e/t0279e05.htm ) This gives a daily forage consumption of 10kg.

How long does a cow live then? According to the FAO article above, the best meat is at 36 months (or 3 years) and that’s the age when most beef is slaughtered. This is 1095.75 days and means over a lifetime cattle would consume 11 tons of forage. This is a bit of a high estimate as it uses the final weight of the animals so let’s say 8 tons.

The FAO also describes how much beef is produced from the live animal. 60% of the weight is lean meat + fat + bone, and 52% of this is lean. This is what is considered consumable which leaves 156kg. We are left with 8 tons of forage for 156kg of meat, or 51kg grass for one kilo meat. That’s dry grass too.

I don’t want to leave it there though, I’m intrigued to find out how much land it takes to produce this grass, as I’ve heard cattle is some of the most space-consuming food we have.

On British farming forum, a farmer estimates an average of 10 bales of grass per acre of land. A bale can, according to Wikipedia, weight anywhere from 500kg to 1000kg. Since we are considering dry grass from before, let’s take the low estimate, 500kg. We live close to a field and the farmer would come and harvest the grass every month or so during summer. Assuming four harvests a year, which means 12 harvest through a cow’s lifetime, gives 4.25kg grass needed per harvest for one kilo of meat. An acre is about 4000m^2 so if you get 500kg per acre per harvest, that’s 0.125kg/m^2, meaning 4.25kg would require 34m^2 of grass field.

The guardian has an article (http://www.theguardian.com/environment/datablog/2009/sep/02/meat-consumption-per-capita-climate-change) that tells us that brits consume about 70kg meat yearly. Assuming this is all cattle (not true, but fair enough) There needs to be 2380m^2 somewhere to sustain each and every persons meat intake. About the size of two Olympic size swimming pools. (Thanks Wolfram Alpha)

This also means that to sustain the meat eating of Britain’s 64.1 million people you need 152 000 km^2 which is about the area of England and Wales combined.