Discovery, Deep Funk, & Divine Intervention
A Personal Design Philosophy
by Sydney Welch
This presentation was given at Senior Symposia 2023 in the South Carolina School of the Arts at Anderson University (SC) on November 30, 2023.
Presentation Transcription
Ever heard of chaos theory? Me neither, until a few weeks ago. I was digging into research concerning Monopoly, and Taxes, and an author named Oliver Jeffers. A very unlikely combination, I know. I could go on and on about those three things and what I’ve learned, but the apparent randomness of it all led me to be interested in chaos theory. What caught my attention first was the short Google definition that reads, “Within the apparent randomness of chaotic complex systems, there are underlying patterns, constant loops, interconnection, repetition, similarity, and fractals of self-organization.” I was just as confused as you probably are right now, so I did what almost all Gen Z college students would do: I listened to a podcast. I learned that technically the chaos theory is a mathematical one, but I think it applies specifically to design. The core idea of this theory says that complex systems, like design, do not operate in ways that are neat and easy to understand. It, like design, takes in a variety of data or elements and discovers what patterns emerge rather than making assumptions. Finally, it, and design, questions what’s to be found and what connections can be made.
So, let’s see what’s to be found here, and what connections can be discovered. Now entering: a variety of stories that feel chaotic but that will connect at the end of this presentation. Buckle up.
In all four years of college, I’ve done my design work on either my couch or my bed, so when senior year rolled around in August, I figured it was about time to work from a real desk. Naturally, I wanted some unique ephemera to put on my wall above said desk, so I headed to the thrift store. I didn’t know it at the beginning of the semester, but I would spend lots of time here from then until now. My time in this space was pivotal to leading me through designing, creating, and eventually to what I believe about design and what it can do. I love thrift stores for the same reason I love design — because there’s always something to be found and a story to be told. How that “thing” is discovered and what story is told is specific to every designer, but for me, it involves a lot of discovery, deep funk, and divine intervention.
I have a really bad habit of not getting gas in my car until I’m close to empty, and when I say close to empty I mean I’m rolling into the gas station already below zero, or at least close to it. (sorry dad). It’s probably one of the riskiest things I do, besides designing. Design is risky. I discovered this when spending time creating collages out of magazines and books that I got from a thrift store. As I began creating these collages, I found myself scared to put the Modge Podge down and make the designs final because I was scared of failing in front of people. Once I took that risk and made the collage it felt like freedom. Failing in front of people takes both risk and boldness, which can be intimidating, but it allows for growth to come quicker than it does when failing alone.
One of my favorite comedy movies of all time is Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. There’s one scene in particular where two little southern boys are running around causing trouble. One of them screams out “Anarchy!” while the other screams in response “I don’t know what that means, but I love it!” I can’t tell you how many times this quote has played in my head as I have been designing this semester. Traditionally, anarchy means a disorder, or chaos, particularly when there is no authority. For some, this may cause anxiousness, but for me, design is anarchy, and it’s exciting. While creating a card game where a person playing could “channel their inner critic” and define exactly what design is to them, I discovered that there isn’t one answer to that question. It’s constantly moving, changing, and evolving, and this is anarchy.
But the disorder that comes with anarchy doesn’t have to be bad. I’ve discovered that a little chaos can be good for my design practice. My desk is pretty much always in a constant state of chaos, but in an organized way. I know exactly where everything is, despite it looking like I wouldn’t. Design is organized chaos. It brings order to chaos by offering a method of thinking and taking action. The design process organizes chaos through asking questions and collecting answers. This is good for my creative mind and is often where some of my best ideas come from. The chaos theory says that there are repetitions, similarities, and fractals of self-organization that exist within a complex system, and design for me is those things. This doesn’t mean that in my process my ducks are not in a row or that there is no purpose to the decisions that I am making. It does mean that there is room for me to take risks, find hidden connections, and dream big in empty spaces.
When I was little, one of my favorite things to do on a rainy day was to go to a craft store and pick out one of the pre-assembled wooden houses to paint. The unpainted house let me dream about so many potential possibilities of how it could be painted. While I haven’t been painting any houses recently, I have been staring at empty notebook pages and blank illustrator boards many times this semester. In the same way that the pre-assembled little house offered possibilities, these empty spaces offer me the same thing in my practice. Design is in the potential, and it’s in these spaces where it comes alive.
I’ve recently realized that I love mystery stories, which makes sense considering how my sister and I would spend hours on end watching Scooby Doo as kids. The detectives in mystery stories always impressed me. I would watch as the investigator stood in front of a big corkboard, filled with pictures of suspects and evidence, with red string connecting it all. I was so drawn to how they would turn this chaos into a solution.
For me, design is discovering that there are hidden connections between objects, people, places, and things.
It proves that amongst the chaos there are indeed underlying patterns and interconnections that exist and design is the means of discovering these patterns between connections.
Design being risky, anarchy, organized chaos, existing in empty spaces, and discovery all come together in my process in a specific rhythm. In the complex system that is design, this looks like constant loops of process. It’s varied from semester to semester, but it’s always been funky. Traditional funk music is rhythmic, cultural, and full of depth of meaning. In my design process, design as deep funk looks like meaningful creative thinking followed by a rhythmical process of making. This became more true for me through the process of repainting thrifted paintings. It forced me to lean into a new rhythm and channel my inner funk, all while being intentional about the decisions I was making. The process of design is funky because it’s constantly moving, changing, and adapting to its surroundings. It’s kind of like a UFO floating by the sea, funky on the surface, but full of meaning underneath. For me, incorporating deep funk in design is a way of creating something that pivots from what’s considered to be normal, the expected, or the obvious solution.
Okay, that was a lot. Here’s our reminder to breathe. Remember me going on and on about my desk I bought in August? Let’s revisit that.
Part of my rhythmical design process has been sitting in my chair, at my desk, with my thrift store finds hung on the wall, and my favorite playlist playing. Bonus if there’s a candle lit or if the morning light is streaming in through my blinds. When I’m in this space it truly feels holy. It’s a sacred space, where the ultimate collaboration happens. Design is a collaborative process where I invite in the ultimate creator. I believe that I am made with the ability to design because I was created by God, who is the best designer I know. If God gave me the ability to design, then the work that I create is done on holy ground. Whether it’s at my desk, the floor, or my couch, depends on where I’m working for the day. In my daily practice, this shows up as inviting the holy spirit to intercede in empty spaces. It’s this divine intervention that allows design to be a collaborative and interconnected process.
The risk and anarchy that I believe is design can exist in organized chaos and empty spaces. It’s through discovering underlying patterns that it all comes together in the rhythmical loop of deep funk, and through the collaboration of the holy spirit in divine intervention. And if you can imagine, this complex system makes up my design perspective. The perspective of design is an optimistic one. It’s a glass half full. When I use design as my perspective on how I view the spaces around me, it offers a creative approach to the chaos that exists. This perspective offers hope that what is impossible can become possible through design.
So, “Within the apparent randomness of chaotic design systems, there are underlying patterns, constant loops, interconnection, repetition, similarity, and fractals of self-organization.” I’m more and more convinced that what design is to me and what I believe it can do is everything all at once. It’s never one thing, and it’s certainly complex and chaotic. It’s man-made and it’s divine. It’s silly and it’s important. It’s inconsequential and it’s authoritative. It’s form follows function and it’s seek shalom where I sent you. It’s worldly and it’s holy ground. It’s funky and it’s simple. It’s complicated and it’s right there in front of you. It has to be found and it’s in the mundane. It’s absolute chaos and it’s knowing right where things are. It’s magic and it’s tragic. It’s risky and it’s safe. Design to me is all of this, united under a singular glass-half-full perspective. It’s bringing the beauty of design wherever I go, with every step, and with everything in me.
Thank you.
Senior Symposia
Senior Symposia is an annual event for the Department of Art+Design in the South Carolina School of the Arts at Anderson University (SC) where BFA Graphic Design Seniors present personal Design Philosophies, synthesizing and summarizing their experiences and perspectives over the course the program. These presentations act as markers in their developmental journey, bringing to light what they believe to be true about design, what design can do, and what they hope to do through design.
