IXDA South America: Difficult Dialogues

Curitiba, Brazil: December 2010

I have long believed that many of our very basic human needs are left unaddressed, untouched by innovation and the entire design industry due to a lack of guts and a lack of intent to tackle tabboos.

In politically correct, international firms, we create ourselves very fun, informal surroundings, but these can tend to become so determined to be fun and creative, that they miss some deeper interest and exploration of dirtier, less comfortable – Difficult Dialogues.

While huge leaps are made in communication – an area easy to investigate and discuss – other areas of basic human activities, such as breast-feeding in public, remain relatively untouched.

In this presentation I suggest that all our personal aspects that determine which demographic, or target market, we fit into – simultaneously represents a social tabboo – be that gender, age, race etc. I share some stories of how important conversations were opened during previous research projects: from Death and Trauma, to Illegal Activity, Illiteracy and Class Divides.

Arriving in Curitiba after spending some time in a typical home in Rio de Janerio, and visiting Favella Rochina – I end with the possibility that in the context of Brazil, perhaps the issues of Population and the Favellas, are a Difficult Dialogue which may open conversations, as well as opportunities for important design challenges.

Service Design Network 2010: Using Social Nodes to Design Services

Berlin, 2010

Are we tending towards lonely through the creation of services which replace human contact with online tools?

We have all but lost our record store culture through the Download Revolution – realisation much later that these places served more than Points of Sale, but of interaction and recommendation – a place to share opinions and form our  individual tastes. National Record Day is celebrated across the world each year, suggesting that people are beginning to mourn the loss of these places of influence.

Following a train of thought that brought together academic experience and professional research, I held a workshop in Berlin in October 2010 to investigate the potential of Social Nodes.

The Importance of ‘Reality Checks’ in Design Education

I recently contributed to a publication celebrating ‘30 years of IDE’ – the Royal College of Art’s MA in Innovation Design Engineering which I studied and later taught on. This contribution request came soon after giving a workshop at CEDIM – Monterrey’s School of Design & Innovation – in Mexico. After being asked to review my postgraduate experience and describe the path that followed, I was increasingly reflecting the values of Design Education.

Moving into a teaching position soon after graduating allowed me to shift perspective on the whole experience. I could discover more at a student project review than at a day in the office, which, back then, was an R&D group at a London architectural firm. What was more valuable to me, personally, was discovering the value of my own education.

IDE began as Industrial Design Engineering, a course which some say worked as a template for future courses such as Stanford’s D-School. Being a solely postgraduate college often allows the RCA to more easily break from convention; the joint course between art college (RCA) and engineering school (Imperial College) was created when convergence and collaboration were less common terminology. An equal mix of designers and engineers were sought for this intense two-year experience.

The course has evolved over the years and I graduated at a time when its very name was changed from Industrial to Innovation Design Engineering. Industry and academia seemed to have understood IDE’s original notions of convergence and collaboration. In the UK especially, design thinking was now valued and applied in a much broader sense with the emergence of Innovation making design more relevant within Business. The course now had a third partner – the MBA at Imperial College.

When it came to teaching, I, like other visiting tutors at the RCA, was to bring a touch of ‘industry reality’ to the class. Of course links between industry and academia are established on most design courses, where teaching, funding, competitions and projects create useful ties between students and future employers. As a student I noticed a change in the nature and implications of these links and as a teacher, and as a designer, this change to begins to concern me.

Many success stories stem from competitions ran by firms to tap into fresh (and free) university talent. These relationships between industry and academia began as voluntary, extra-curricular opportunities. Summer internships then provided contexts for students to gain experience of the ‘real world’ during breaks. However, as a student I watched as these projects began to encroach on the curriculum, becoming larger in scale, more rigid in nature and more essential to the survival of the course itself.

During my time studying, the rise in frequency, size and implications of corporate sponsorship could be felt. Tempted, and grateful for prize money to assist the high costs of London life, at times it could feel creatively stifling. Most students arrived with experience of the ‘real world’ and already understood that clients would be accompanied with constraints. What had actually drawn us to give up the ‘real world’ for the RCA was the chance to explore our passions.

Although funding opportunities and the drive of financial incentives should not be overlooked, many courses are now introducing students to full briefs that benefit a company, rather than simply providing a context which could guide and inspire. In recent years I have increasingly seen a shift towards educational institutions submitting to the limitations of companies.

It was still possible to succeed on the course whilst experimenting with our thoughts and skills, but it took continual resistance. Looking back, we maybe learnt our most valuable lessons through this resistance, and in creating the work resulting from these efforts. It would provide more drive and design direction to help carve our future careers than any of the more corporate collaborations.

Hard financial times lead to an increasing need by schools and their students to evaluate the ‘monetary’ value of courses. Schools display the ‘return on investment’ of taking their courses, with charts depicting how many graduates went on to gain employment. Students, aware that jobs are scarce, are looking for opportunities to connect with potential employers as early as possible, networking and marketing themselves before they are even out of school.

Overlooking the need for space, thought and independence in academia threatens the very creativity of the future designers we are looking to educate and later employ.

During my recent workshop at CEDIM (Mexico), I felt the need to use ‘real-world’ constraints to guide my class and engage them with the topic. Using an educational NGO based in Mexico City – Ednica – as a case-study, I saw that this sort of ‘reality’ can both ground students within situational context, and allow them to work freely, developing interests and passions in important areas – areas which are less easy to find work in once they graduate.

Both the school and the organization deemed the project successful, and both look to build on the relationship. What is missing, from this ‘reality-check’ is the financial benefit schools are often in need of. Though challenging, I now see the opportunity of even greater collaboration and am hopeful of finding an industry partner that could benefit from the outcome of these two ambitious institutions working together.

At CEDIM, Innovation is taught as a foundation course, integrated across all disciplines to ensure all students can address the business aspects of their designs. I believe this way of thinking is, and will be, an increasingly essential part of design education. As I look back on 30 years of IDE, and my own much shorter time on the learning curve, I believe industries and institutions which rely on innovation should realize the importance of detaching funding from limitations that lack imagination; promoting instead, models that balance finance, reality and inspiration. We need funding that preserves the creative freedom of design education, needed to produce truly innovative future thinkers.

Finding Our Own Way

Arcadia University Gallery, Philadelphia, 2010

Last week I hurried to send a package out to the US in the hope it would reach its destination by Thursday. Asking my American colleagues to take it home in their luggage and post it from there, begged them to ask; What was so urgent?

“It’s a map.”

This naturally led to the question, “A map of where?”
I began to explain; “Well…nowhere really…it’s a map of a place…from a dream I had.”

The map outlines islands I had dreamt of one night, years ago, when I awoke with the vivid image of its coastline – and an urgent need to recreate it.

I often wake from sleep with a memory of thoughts or ideas that I need to capture on paper before they evaporate. I sometimes do this in the middle of the night and fall back to sleep straight afterwards. Most of these scribbles lie by my bedside waiting to be found, jolt a memory and a smile, before being thrown away. A few though, have become ‘to-do’s or plans, some, the beginnings of designs, and others, blog posts.

This particular scribble became larger and more detailed and ended up finding a place for it on my wall. If I ever had difficulty getting to sleep, looking up at it, remembering the sound of the sea from the dream, and following the ‘coast’ with my eyes helped me to nod off.

When I came to move out of my flat, it remained on the bedroom wall as other possessions were packed into boxes. It seemed a strange thing to put in storage and move to another country, but somehow I had become strangely attached to that scribble hanging on the wall. By chance, that’s when I came across the website of the Hand Drawn Map Association.

As well as doodles, scribbles and dreams, I have always had a ‘thing’ for hand drawn maps, and I was amazed to find a website dedicated to just that. Browsing the site opens a collection of expressions from people all over the world, sharing their experiences and their sense of place through sketches.

This was a way I could store and share the experience I had had that night. I scanned the map of the ‘Newfoundlands’ and submitted it to their collection. It has since featured in their book, From Here to There: A Curious Collection from the Hand Drawn Map Association, and now with a little help from the US post service, sits in Arcadia University Art Gallery amongst the other exhibits of Nowhere: Selections from the Archives of the Hand Drawn Map Association.

Since first submitting the map, I had thought of it once again when listening to a fascinating talk at last year’s The Guardian’s Activate Summit. Ed Parson, Google’s geospatial technologist – declared both his love of maps, which made sense given his live of work, and, more surprisingly his concern at the impact of the endeavors of people like himself, to make maps so accessible. Coupled with mobile device technology, he had realized one day that his teenage daughter would never in her life have to experience ‘being lost’. From his perspective, this might lead her to lose the skills we use to find our way by reading the world, rather than maps. ‘What would she do as an adult if one day her battery died?’ he asked. This question has stuck with me as vividly as my dreamt-up coastline.

I hadn’t visited the HDMA site for some time, but this rush to find the map and address it so it reached the exhibition opening led me back. Browsing through the collections, a fascinating world can be patch-worked together, with emotion and personality – features yet to be translated by Google. The mind-set and situation of the map-maker, and elements of their character can be seen through the pen strokes.

Maybe an overuse of technology might cause us to risk more than just the experience of ‘being lost’, perhaps the experience of ‘finding our own way’.

First published on 28 September 2010 at designmind.com > blogs > frogspawn

Democratic Design at the London Datastore

‘Free London’s Loos’; a Facebook request I found hard to ignore when it arrived from a friend working on public toilet design, which led me to the London Datastore:

The London Datastore has been created by the Greater London Authority (GLA) as an innovation towards freeing London’s data. We want citizens to be able access the data that the GLA and other public sector organisations hold, and to use that data however they see fit – free of charge. The GLA is committed to influencing and cajoling other public sector organisations into releasing their data here too.

The Datastore allows Londoners to search categories for Datasets that have fellow citizens have previously requested, and click ‘I Want This Too’ or to create a new request. Categories range from Arts & Culture to Education, Health and Planning. Requests can be searched by popularity, and here Transport information can be seen to be most in the demand.

Last year at the Guardian Newspaper’s Activate Summit in London, there was much discussion about the rights we have to our data, as well as the benefits and consequences it might have when it was eventually freed. What was clearly felt by delegates was that raw data alone is of limited use, and London’s Datastore does encourage developers to create meaning from its mass of content, and provides a list of Inspirational Uses for the data. Crowd-sourced requests are being transformed into crowd-sourced designs of Apps and Visualisations.

A few months old now, both its success and potential are yet to be fully determined, though its uses are evolving as Londoners continue to experiment. After recent releases of crowd-sourcing design platforms, including frogMob, frog’s exciting global research platform, it is intriguing to also observe the activites of this more local, London collaborative. Just browsing the requests provides an insight into the issues, demands and interests of London’s democratic designers.

First published on 6 August at designmind.com > blogs > frogspawn

Ladies First

Gender Divides in Mexico City’s Subways

I tend to perceive gender divides as a negative thing, and have seen inclusive design as a tool to lead us in a direction towards closing these gaps. On a recent trip to Mexico, it was clear that gender differences are both more apparent and more acceptable, so I was keen to experience one example of this; a physical Gender Divide on the Mexico City subway system.

During rush hours, the front two train carriages are reserved for ladies and children due to cases of crime and molestation in overcrowded wagons. Train guards erect a physical barrier at this end of the platform to prevent male passengers embarking. Women often wait for the platform to clear to ensure a place on the front of the next train, but those in a hurry have to join the mixed carriages.

Though a talking point in itself, the effect of this system was more interesting. The behaviour of women in female-only carriages differs from those in mixed carriages. Free from the eyes of male colleagues and commuters, front carriages fill with more gossiping and eating – notably, ladies who find a seat promptly pull a host of beautification devices from their handbags to begin readying themselves for the day ahead. Mirrors, mascara and lipsticks wave through the train as they rush beneath the city. Then – a range of ad-hoc tools – toothbrushes adapted for eyebrows and spoons, tweaked for eyelashes. Ladies observed each other’s inventions, commenting and sharing implements.

I come from a more gender-neutral city where I’ve seen a woman being insulted by the offer of a train seat based on her sex, and where cases of molestation would be tackled in a very different way. Able to notice these activities, and the novel use of products, I wonder if closing all divisions through notions of inclusivity might actually be preventing the development of some interesting innovations in isolation.

Returning to the equal-opportunity train carriages I am used to, I watch as a host of devices – designed to genderless precision – in the hands of both male and female commuters. From cars to clothes, it is increasingly tough to determine the gender of an owner. Trends see us returning to retro times and vintage fashions for inspiration – eras of design in which roles were more defined. Perhaps, in striving for equality above all else, we sometimes put at risk the ability to create something really exclusive.

First published on 27 July 2010 at designmind.com > blogs > frogspawn

Surf and the City

Learning how to design for different contexts by riding a river wave in landlocked Munich, Germany.

This morning I woke with a familiar sense of anticipation and apprehension. The kind that pushes you to an early rise on a sleepy Sunday morning, to creep out into the cold before anyone is up and squeeze into neoprene. Your bare feet itch with excitement as you spot the other surfers who were up earlier than you. It’s a new spot and you watch in awe, and in fear.

What was different about this morning’s spot, was its location, under a bridge beside the Art Museum, in the heart of Munich, Germany. In landlocked Bavaria, the best surf-spots are found at points of rivers and canals around the city, the strongest and most popular is the Eisbach (Ice Brook). River surfers line the banks and wait their turn to jump onto their board and attempt to ride the stationary wave.

A while had passed since I was last wrapped in a wetsuit. Surveying the physics of it all, I asked a local for some advice “What do you need to do differently than on an ocean wave?” He looked serious. “Place your feet further back on the board, lean further forward, focus on the tree, fall flat but importantly, ignore the audience on the bridge above.” This was surfing in a very different setting – same concept, different context.

He gave me a motivational smile and a thumbs-up, I nodded and I jumped in.

The forces were all reversed, pushing off the side into the wave instead of being picked up by it, being pulled back by the water instead of being pushed forwards. Almost immediately I was face-down in the swell, I’d felt this splash before, but then I felt the real force of this different context.

Instead of paddling to the surface to wait for a break in the waves, or to be washed up to shore and the safety of a sandy beach, I was being pulled downstream in a city river. Fast. This I had not studied, observed nor predicted. I wasn’t as buoyant as I am in the ocean, and the water didn’t taste salty. I swam frantically to the side and grabbed the wall of the river bank. My hands ripped across the stone and I realized the speed of the river.

Panicked paddling brought me back to the side and a fellow surfer grabbed my arm. Grabbing the wall again I held on and pulled myself out, grappling with my board as it pulled at my ankle. I was out.

Tourists stand with their cameras at the bridge, capturing the surreal sight of river surfing that break’s their expectations of a city tour. I stood dripping onto the grass, smelling spring leaves instead of salt air, tasting mud instead of sand, needing gloves instead of a rash vest. Captured by the surreal senses of city surfing breaking my expectations of early morning surfing.

I caught my breath and watched the drifting line of surfers pulled down the river after me, jumping out with varying elegance. I joined the line up with renewed awareness of the experience, other than the obvious, or directly translatable; the shape of the boards, the shape of the surfers, the sound of the wave, the sound of the city.

Many jumps, splashes and grapples later I was satisfied with my ability to at least stand on the wave, though far from able to navigate it. I gave in to the cold and packed up. As I rode home through the city, with my board hanging off my bike I could feel the same warmth of adrenalin as it rushed around my body. I smiled at having found a new reason to wake up in the mornings with a sense of apprehension.

It struck me that the concepts we create will inevitably reach many more users, in many more settings than we can deliberately design for – and that rather than denying or ignoring these adaptations we can learn from, understand and be inspired by our concepts in their different contexts.

First published on 3 May 2010 at designmind.com > blogs > frogspawn

Designed to Move

Last week I ran my first marathon so it was maybe no surprise that my thoughts were focused around movement. But it was more than the 42 kilometers of Parisian paving that got me thinking.

I began to consider how the role of movement has changed whilst conducting field research in India during the weeks leading up to the race. It was difficult to find any track to train on and the very idea of going jogging suddenly seemed strange, not just due to the climate, but because we were surrounded by a context of real life in which the necessity of movement and the demand of physical energy is displayed vividly.

On arrival, I noticed myself standing patiently at a sink realizing I would need to turn the tap for the water to flow. Having hotel doors opened leaves you with someone to thank and a feeling of laziness, compared to when ‘they’ open for you. In stark contrast to the automated, escalating world of our airports, the streets are packed with action and people live in a very dynamic way. Water is pumped, loads are carried and buildings are built – literally – by hand.

In many ways, the return to a more automated way of life seemed a little numbing, and it took some time to become accustomed to a certain lack of sensation, a lack of physicality and ultimately a lack of effort. As the race approached I was often posed the question of why I had really entered and hadn’t quite found an honest answer. In Paris I observed the whole thing, at times, a little detached from my body. I was amongst a herd of people flooding the city’s streets – could it be that we were all looking to push ourselves into a feeling of physical engagement, of effort, that is natural for us to seek, and from which we have become detached in our automated daily lives?

The journey to Paris itself was a marathon train-ride, broken up with a visit to ZKM (Centre for Art and Media) in Karlsruhe, Germany. Its exhibition, Imagining Media, details many of Europe’s most explorative interactive installations. More aware than usual of movement and automation, I came across If/Then Installed – a projection piece inviting us to physically imitate and virtually control a dancer, performing whole body gestures recognized from a choreographic system.

Though not the most complex of the centre’s vast collection, If/Then Installed required noticeably more effort in its interaction. It was one of the most fun and also most memorable, bringing about discussion around motor memory and the tendency for movement to improve our ability to learn. Intelligent control systems are often tied to the notion of a lack of effort and a lack of motion. The sensation of movement has all but been removed from driving and air travel, whilst the success of gestural control in gaming shows an appeal of physical engagement exists.

By the end of my marathon weekend I was excited about the opportunity to inject more physical engagement into our automated worlds, as we are designed to move.

First published on 19 April 2010 at designmind.com > blogs > frogspawn

Emerging Alternatives

Featured at PSFK on 7 April 2010

The question is posed as to how to design products while appreciating limited resources and whole life-cycle impact. Often the approach is to start from scratch or turn to science fiction, when looking for solutions. At the same time, a shift in economics, demographics and market potential is being spotted by many businesses now seeking to understand emerging markets in developing countries. Research is then increasingly focused on these developing countries, where cultural differences are sought to inform adaptations of Western products for these growing consumer groups.

While immersing ourselves in these locations, it becomes evident that travelling backwards or forwards in time not be the most sensible approach to tackling sustainable design. Inspiration for realsitic solutions might instead be gained by remaining in the present – travelling to other lands – keeping eyes and ears peeled for cultural clues.

While investigating user experience and products of daily life in locations where technology is less advanced, consumerism is less ingrained and possessions are more valued, innovative ideas can be spotted for alternative & repurposed products. Systems, services and materials have evolved to work within social structures and natural environments. As the uptake of Western values and consumerism has increased, survival of the fittest leaves the most successful products standing out amongst the plastic.

Research into emerging market opportunities is valuable, what would make it invaluable would be if ideas and inspiration are sought and used to develop alternatives solutions to existing products in Western markets – products which clearly require improvement to address issues of sustainability and life-cycle.

Not to say that we return to these ‘Original’ solutions – but this range of surviving products found as part of daily life in India highlights the potential in seeking inspiration for alternative products in our own emerged markets.

First published on 6 April 2010 at designmind.com > blogs > frogspawn

Under the Radar

Drones are launched in the iPad’s shadow.

The onslaught of Apple reviews this week is a curious thing. There is no escaping the scathing attacks and defensive support of the iPad – an internet connected portable media device. This, in a week which announces the launch of a $1 billion venture to develop pilot-less Black Hawk helicopters. Preceded with little hype, I suspect it will attract relatively little attention.

Unmanned war planes, or ‘drones’ are not new, but have never been applied to such large-scale aircraft. Technology is changing the rules of warfare and this ‘robotics innovation’ aims to create a generation of fighter pilots who can use simulated programs to fight wars, kill real people and return home for dinner with their families. This is not science fiction. With or without 3D glasses, this is the reality of today.

Not only are there massive moral implications of this innovation, allowing armies to operate completely removed from context, but these technological changes surely lead us to ask some difficult questions; will software designers be held accountable for the war crimes of our robo-future?

More worrying than this mind-boggling reality is how much harder it is to find passionate debate around this type of technological launch beneath the lines of discussion about yet another to screen to run our Apps on.

First published on 1 February 2010 at designmind.com > blogs > frogspawn