The most influential assignment of my design education
Change is good. Beware of the old dog that won’t learn new tricks. But change isn’t necessarily good. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
During my senior year as a visual communications major at Florida State University, Andrew Blauvelt had just received his MFA from Cranbrook Academy of Art, and as a precursor to his distinguished career he travelled from Michigan down to Tallahassee to teach graphic design.
Each project Andrew assigned offered a conceptual stretch. We rendered the spirit of an age as “zeitgeist cubes,” we designed posters that depicted the elemental aspects of life, and we researched designers (the work of Massimo Vignelli would become a primary source of inspiration for me). We also packaged proverbs.
The Assignment: Package a Proverb
The instructions were simple — design a package inspired by a proverb. The execution, however, led me down an existential rabbit hole, and while my concept for this particular assignment was a broad-brushed mess at best, the root question that I found myself exploring remains with me to this day — how might I know when it’s time for change, and will change make things better?
I was a naive student about to begin a career largely motivated by an idealistic desire to make the world a better place through design, yet I felt a two-sided tension within the inherent assumptions of progress. Change can be good, but it isn’t necessarily better. Instead of focusing on one half of this dynamic, I chose to express my proverb as a reversible book that juxtaposed two proverbs against each other, wrapped around the more fundamental question like slices of bread around peanut butter and jelly.
Proverb 1: You Can’t Teach an Old Dog New Tricks
Change can be scary. Change can be complicated. Change can be painful. Change can also be necessary. Keeping things as they are feels safer than making changes. Beauty fades and things break. What we make can become fragile and tarnished. It can lose resiliency and vibrancy over time. There is good in innovation and evolution. It is good to look forward. If we lose sight of the fundamental elements that breathe life into a thing, resistance to change can be harmful.
The life of a designer is a life of fight. Fight against the ugliness. Just like a doctor fights against disease. For us, the visual disease is what we have around, and what we try to do is cure it somehow with design. ~ Massimo Vignelli
There is a time for… revolution, advancement, restoration, revival, renewal, surprise, and innovation. New things and course corrections can be very good. Older isn’t necessarily better. Things break down and need to be fixed.
Proverb 2: If It Ain’t Broke, Don’t Fix It
Change isn’t always necessary. When I redesign something, whether it is a user interface for an app or a logo for a company, my hope is that it will have a very long shelf-life — that it will be useful and delightful for a long time. And it seems fair to assume that whoever made the things I am about to remake had a similar desire for sustained relevance. So a helpful question to ask before remaking anything is whether the thing on the chopping block is actually broken.
In some cases, the rationale for “better” is actually a desire for “different” in disguise. When I think of trends, this distinction comes to mind. Something becomes outdated because somebody with influence says so. Out with the old, and in with the new. Maybe the arbitrary difference between “Living Coral 16–1546” and “Ultra Violet 18–3838” is fun fun and exciting. Maybe we just get bored too easily.
We like design to be visually powerful, intellectually elegant, and above all timeless. ~ Massimo Vignelli
There is a time for… peace, contentment, satisfaction, rest, waiting, protecting, and patience. Old things and staying on course can be very good. Newer isn’t necessarily better. Old dogs don’t always need to learn new tricks.
The Question: Is it Better?
Design is a solution to a problem. The design process begins with people and needs and a desire for change — for better. It begins with seeking a deeper understanding of an assumed burden or opportunity and empathizing with those affected by it. And it includes interpreting problems and solutions through a framework of goals, principles, and taste.
Form and function. The rendering of intent. Remembering well. Determining “better” through the lens of goals achieved and delight created over time — determining “better” as usable things made in beautiful and sustainable ways.
It is imperative to develop your own vocabulary of your own language — a language that attempts to be as objective as possible, knowing very well that
even objectivity is subjective. ~ Massimo Vignelli
My idealistic desire to make the world a better place remains. It is always time to ask where the work is headed as well as how it is being made, and the lens through which we attempt to determine “better” is in need of regular cultivation. In addition to remaining curious about underlying design elements and principles, I want to remain curious about the way in which I approach the work at hand, and I want to remain curious about the effect of the work over time.
At the end of the day, our measure of “better,” both in terms of the things we make and the way in which we make them, is shaped by our values. What are the underlying assumptions in framing of the problem? Is it time for a new trick, and if so, how might it solve the problem at hand? Or after investigation, am I willing to conclude that the problem has not been framed very well— that the current trick is doing its job just fine? Here’s a list of words I keep posted under my monitor to help guide my response.
Thanks for the assignment, Andrew.
