The Quiet Art of Functional Minimalism
Minimalism is en vogue. It’s undeniable.
We can see the recursive trends in the marketplace already. Retailers have been leveraging for the cleanest, simplest designs for the past several years. Everything from graphic and web design all the way out to hardware and furniture have embraced the mantra of “less is more.”
This new wave of marketing is hellbent on producing content and products defined by simplicity and elegance. And all of this is done under the encompassing umbrella of “minimalism.” Everything from the new iPhone to Marie Kondo’s bestselling book, to this very website focus on it.
The problem is, the lines begin to blur between two very different concepts: aesthetic minimalism, and functional minimalism.
Minimalism sells, and the marketplace has noticed. Developers and programmers have been so pushed to conform to this ideal that basic functions are chopped in favor of a more pleasing user interface. Design choices are being made to hide features, or outright remove them and market the change as a feature.
This is where cognitive dissonance occurs between aesthetic and functional minimalism. Customers content and satisfied with their products are finding themselves more and more ostracized by the movement — and especially towards the recurring theme of function removal.
Spotify’s communities boards are filled with complaints about their penchant for culling features. The latest iPhone’s removal of the home button has spawned dozens of tutorials for confused owners.
Apple’s removal of the headphone jack or home button could very well warrant its own debate, but the decisions are indicative of a larger problem for consumers.
The push towards the aesthetics of minimalism ultimately misses the entire point of minimalism — pure functionality.
Valuing form as much as, or more than function is not necessarily a bad thing — especially when trying to separate your work from the current deluge of internet content. What I’m labeling “aesthetic minimalism” could easily be dismissed as trends within graphic design or marketing. But the frustration comes from users that see the growing trend of aesthetic minimalism erode away their favorite features in their products.
The reason for drawing a clear line between aesthetic minimalism and functional minimalism is that, at their foundation, they’re two completely different concepts that live under the same moniker:
One values the art of functionality — and the other, the art of form.
This is especially frustrating as someone who ascribes himself to the concept of minimalism. The marketplace has taken something founded against excess and bastardized it into a product. How oxymoronic is that?
At its foundation, minimalism isn’t a commercialized product — it’s a mindset.
And I’d be remiss if not to try and express the quiet art of functional minimalism.
This is a photo of my bedroom. And there’s no need to comment or explain to me just how dreary the room looks — I’m acutely aware. The bedsheets are hand-me-downs; the furniture is from the early nineties and the severe lack of artwork makes the room feel more like a motel than a living space.
But all of this is intentional. I’m working with what I have. There’s no need to drive to IKEA and purchase new sheets when I’m sleeping in a warm and comfortable bed. And sure — I’d love some new furniture and photos for my walls. But until my budget increases or Christmas proves inordinately kind, I’m perfectly content with what I have.
That’s functional minimalism. It’s not pretty, or unique — it doesn’t look like your favorite blog posts or some sort of Swedish flat-packed furniture outlet. As great as those websites are, or however fun it is to eat Swedish meatballs and pronounce foreign furniture names with your friends, simplistic excess is still excess.
Aesthetic minimalism is for the rich. Functional minimalism is for the rest of us.
Don’t compare your life to some lifestyle blogger or buy into the concept that losing functionality is preferable to some cluttered alternative. Vote with your wallet when you have to, but if you can, keep your money and dig something useful out of your closet or basement. Repurpose something old. Rebuild it.
What’s new and what’s beautiful won’t ever be as valuable as what’s yours.
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