Exploring honesty and intent in design: as many sides to the coin as the number of times you flip it
Design is a term that can be associated with almost every human endeavor, whether planned or unplanned, whether conscious or not (1). Fortunately, we have more specific terms for different activities. Otherwise, we might end up using the term ‘design’ way too often.
‘Would you be so kind as to design the movement of your hand to pass me some salt?’
‘My grandpa’s apple pie recipe was SO well designed.’
Sigh all you want, but you get the idea. We design our lives for ourselves. And whether directly or indirectly, we design for others.
Honesty and intent are integral to every action we take. So it makes sense to try to understand what honesty and intent mean in design, especially for those of us who are in the design profession. Honesty and intent can seem like two sides of a coin. However, these ideas can lead to many different understandings as we keep flipping the coin and examining them over and over. A quick Google search for synonyms of ‘honesty’ leads to a variety of different interpretations.
Authentic. Conscientious. Genuine. True. Trustworthy. Virtuous.
How do these attributes relate to design? And how do we discuss what is being communicated by the things we design, especially when most of these things speak only indirectly?
When honesty is viewed as a line of communication between designers and users, when is a designed object (in the broadest possible sense of the word) being honest and when is it not? Is honesty possible to define in any absolute sense?
A common analogy for honesty in human culture is that someone is considered honest when what’s inside is outside, when a person is ‘transparent’. Similarly, design could be considered as honest when form follows function : when the aesthetic of the design does not try to hide the workings of it. This is also a usability related understanding - approaching design with this mindset makes sure that what we design can be understood and used with high levels of success by users. Such an honesty invokes in the users a sense of connection to the functional essence of the design. Legendary designer Dieter Rams spoke of honesty directly through his Principles of Good Design (2) and indirectly manifested in his work. His work holds gratuitous amounts of such honesty and leads to an experience and aesthetic which charms many, including myself.
A different argument could be made when we look at designs with a playful aesthetic, like many products by Alessi. A bottle opener shaped like a caricaturized monster may not be ‘honest’ with respect to its core function, but resides in the wonderful buffer zone of communication which humor creates. In such a case, form instead of just following the function, tiptoes behind it, taps it on it’s shoulder, and chuckles in its face. Function doesn’t seem to mind.
“Honestly, I’m just trying to have fun!”
(Image credits: “Spooky Diabolix“ by Didriks is licensed under CC BY 2.0)
The ‘what’s inside is outside’ analogy can be discussed for material choices as well. I have been writing a part of this article working at a plywood desk which my friend and architect Nathaniel Steinrueck was involved in building. It is a prototype for an architecture studio desk, and for the purpose of being easy to produce in numbers, is made with CNC machined plywood sheets which can be assembled without any fasteners or glue. The wood hasn’t been stained, finished or coated. Running a hand across the surface of the table, one can feel the texture of the wood. The unfinished wood has absorbed marks from the activities that must have have been done on this desk - smudges and marks from paint, pens, and possibly some dropped food. The desk proudly wears it’s history and feels completely unpretentious. I enjoy this desk and in one sense, it feels really honest. But, does this mean that stained or coated wood is dishonest? I don’t think so. There has to be more to honesty, right?
The history of veneered wood is a good metaphor for how truth can have different layers when viewed cross-sectionally. Wood veneering, the practice of cutting thin sliced layers out of blocks of wood and using this to cover a more structural and economical material, started off in ancient Egypt (3). More recently, veneered wood is layered over newly engineered wood based materials such as Plywood, MDF, Particle Board, etc. Aesthetically, layering cheaper structural material with a thin layer of beautiful wood may seem like artifice to some, but it may also be argued that it makes simple sense to isolate the aesthetic and structure of the material in this case. With limited natural resources, veneering wood is very economical and sustainable. To which of these truths we associate veneered wood determines our perceived honesty of it. Nathaniel Steinrueck opines that even wood is derived from trees as a raw material, and that right from the moment when we start changing the raw material, it is ‘dishonest’ unless it is transformed in a way that celebrates the essence of the material.
We are surrounded by a multitude of such objects which are made to look like a different material than they actually are. Plastic components made to look like metal, wood or other traditional materials are a common example to achieve a ‘premium’ look. We see this in numerous consumer products and interior design components. Consider a coffee maker with external components which are injection molded plastic made to look like lustrous metal. Is the designer being honest by using components which don’t look like what they are really made of to reduce manufacturing costs? Are the designers trying to lie to the buyers and sell a fraudulent sense of luxury? What if the designers are trying to generate within low income populations a false yet soothing sense of wealth? Something that comforts them?
Honesty can be looked at in terms of the context in which the design resides. Even this seems to raise more questions. We may have seen images of hotel lobbies in large cities with fountains sitting next to Roman arches, and rooms borrowing cues from the Victorian era with a design that seems out of context and seems unrelated to the hotel’s history. These examples may generate visual discomfort and seem dishonest. Victor Papanek in Design for the Real World (4) criticizes the pulling of objects out of their cultural and functional context into new ones without good reason. An example of Japanese tatami mats used in a western household is discussed. Tatami mats, which are made with rice straw packed in woven rush have a primary purpose of absorbing sound and filtering dirt particles. They are a good fit in the Japanese system and work well with the kinds of shoes worn indoors and outdoors. The difference of context, usage and environment makes tatami mats incompatible with western households. If we flip the coin yet again, is there another side to this story? I think so. Functional considerations aside, could the installation of tatami mats in a western household mean that a part of western culture yearns for exploration and evolution? Does culture have to be static? Could this mean that the design is honest about a deeper level of context suggesting where a culture is or may be heading?
This leads us to think about whether honesty exists on some level in all design, if we look at honesty as something less like a line of communication connecting designer and user and more like a window revealing deeper truths. Zen Buddhist philosophy says that ‘being oneself’ is the only thing that one can do and is something that we naturally do every moment, even in the moments when we “don’t feel like ourselves”. I feel that in the same vein, every design is honest about something. The relevant question by this definition is: what is the design honest about? Are the Roman arches in a Las Vegas hotel commenting about a culture which seeks a sense of royal luxury? Could the tatami mats in a western household speak of the resident’s tendency to want to explore new cultures and evolve? By this definition all design is honest. Such a definition could have value for designers as a reflective tool. Looking at that which has been designed in the past through this lens may allow for a deeper understanding as we prepare ourselves to design for the future.
With multiple different interpretations of honesty, the question of intent becomes very significant and almost inseparable from honesty. When choosing materials for a shelf system, why did the designers choose veneered plywood? Was it for artifice? Or was it for economy and practicality? When designing a piece of modern technology, why was a ‘simple’ and ‘clean’ aesthetic adopted? Was it to suggest through the marketing campaign that buying a slick lifestyle product would promise a slick life once purchased? Or was it to hide all signs of the guts of the machine with the intention of letting users focus on the main point of interaction, the touch screen? Or was it both of these? What is the intent?
In any case, what value does honesty bring to design? Why must we practice being honest? On the practical side of things, dishonest design leads to frustrated users and tense user-producer relationships (5). Conversely, honest design can lead to better experiences and more trust between user and producer. Let’s take the example of marketing campaigns and strategies. On a personal note, just 25 years of life experience has made me cynical enough to doubt much of the marketing that comes my way. I don’t manage to buy anything online these days without checking reviews at multiple locations until I find something that really feels trustworthy. Consumer awareness groups and campaigns worldwide are proof of this tension and of something which makes consumers want to guard themselves - not a sign of a healthy relationship. On the other hand, honest marketing (not an oxymoron) can make experiences and relationships genuinely more satisfying. An example is a 1962 ad campaign by the car rental company Avis which openly marketed the company’s second-place market share and said that this is the reason Avis tries harder to generate a better customer experience. The campaign soon took their market share from 18% to 34% (5).
More than anything, since design seems to be linked with all human activity, if there is value to honesty in anything, why not design honestly as well?
So what does this all mean for the activity of design? How must we as designers consider honesty and intent as we work? Design is a complex activity and being aware of our intent and of what we communicate at each stage of the process can be challenging. Turkka Keinonen, a scholar and professor of design at Aalto University comments in Designers, Users and Justice (1) on the difficulty of being ethical while designing, since the activity requires abandoning known models of behavior. A possible method could be to consciously make time and space for reflection and thought through projects; to really take a step back to explore nuanced effects of what one is designing. Conversations, reading, and getting to know more about domains outside of design can be another way to broaden perspective and get out of our design process ‘rabbit holes.’
Most of us work in teams with many different professionals such as designers, engineers, managers, marketers, etc. Each of these groups can include a vast number of people, with different intentions and aspirations, which can make collective intent seem almost impossible. Organizations use methods such as discussing core values and project goals to try to align intent. Collective awareness is as important as individual awareness, considering the scale and structure of industries in today’s day. This may also be an argument for smaller and decentralized businesses and organizations reminiscent of the craftsman’s era where the scale makes it realistic to build teams with aligned intent.
While thinking about how users interact with and perceive the designs, it may help to involve users more in the design process, to make users aware of the implications of different design decisions, to elucidate for them different paths a design project might take, and to listen to what they have to say and how they perceive the design. This is especially important when there are multiple stakeholders involved and the design touches the lives of many different people. It may help to at least listen to our intuition and gut which can often bring clarity and direction to the most complex situations. It may also soothe us to acknowledge the limited amount of control we have on the outcomes of our projects and on actual user interactions. Beauty and frustration can co-exist in moments when we recognize unexpected interactions and effects of what has been designed, once it is set free in its broadest context of usage.
A part of our intentions as designers which hasn’t been discussed in this article so far, but is as vital as anything else is probably the reason why we all do what we do. It is the joy of the activity of design. The joy of our experience as we work must be taken care of and nurtured for it is this joy that is our fuel moving forward as we try to design successfully whatever it is that we design with whatever intention. Honestly.
AcknowLedgements
Nathaniel Steinrueck, Joachim Gawryolek, Sara Weir and all the other good people who have been positive influences leading up to this article.
References
Designer, Users and Justice by Turkka Keinonen (public library)
Principles of Good Design by Dieter Rams, www.vitsoe.com/us/about/good-design
Design for the Real World by Victor Papanek (public library)
www.velocitypartners.com/blog/6-examples-of-insane-honesty-in-content-marketing/