Good Night Moon

http://www.artmatica.ch/blog/files/tag-moon-craters.php

Andy Goldsworthy isn't the only designer who can look to the natural world for design inspiration.  Moon Craters anyone?

Good Morning World

http://belladia.typepad.com/bella_dia/getting_to_know_me/page/2/

"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched.  They must be felt with the heart."  - Helen Keller

Comparing and Contrasting the Starbucks Coffee Logo

As a current barista at Starbucks Coffee in Dixon, California, I understand the importance of being able to walk into a Starbucks store anywhere in the world and be surrounded with a familiar environment that sells the same products. The Starbucks Coffee logo is omnipresent as a universal symbol of the consistent high-quality, hand-crafted espresso beverages available to the customer.  The inspiration for this design comes from a siren; a two-tailed, half-woman, half-fish that seduced sailors with her beautiful singing voice.  The symbolism behind this seductive figure entices people into the store to purchase coffee drinks.  The Starbucks logo has become an icon that people all around the world can comprehend.

While the logo's current design is recognizable due to its simple line work and strong color contrast, it hasn't always looked like that.  The original design for the Starbucks logo, used on the cups from 1971 to 1987,  had a more elaborate illustration and a different color scheme.  It was brown and white, and the text included coffee, tea, and spices.  The siren herself was drawn in great detail, depicting a realistic female upper body that looked three-dimensional.

In 1987, the company redesigned the logo and ended up with... 

                                                                                                                                                              this.

 

But it only lasted a few years until 1992 when the current Starbucks logo was introduced.  It is drastically different from the first one.  Though it maintains its circular shape, almost everything else has been altered in favor of a more modern design.  The siren has been reduced into black and white shapes and lines, giving her a flat, two-dimensional quality.  Her face is zoomed in so that the rest of her body is cropped out of the circle, and her long hair covers her chest.  Essentially everything that characterized her as a realistic human has been eliminated in favor of a graphic representation of her face and hair.  The textual element was also greatly simplified, changing from Starbucks Coffee, Tea, and Spices to just Starbucks Coffee. Because there are less words, the letters got bigger and bolder to fill up the space around the circle.

By changing the design, the logo became something appropriate for all ages, without the risqué nude female body in the first logo.  As a result, Starbucks Coffee could appeal to a wider range of consumers and pull in more money. The new logo carries a more powerful visual presence than the other two previous designs due to its modern simplicity.  Its use of bright green juxtaposed with the strong contrast between black and white makes the icon pop out at the viewer.

Both the 1971 design and the 1992 design represent the same company values and merchandise by using the a circular-shaped image of a siren, yet each logo employs very different design choices. These design choices impact each logo's effectiveness as the emblem of Starbucks Coffee.  The original logo is subtle, and gives the impression that Starbucks is a local, small-town hangout spot.  The nude female body seems to suggest that the store caters to a select group of people who are old enough to go inside.  

On the other hand, the current logo has a more dominating presence that calls attention to the store.  Even though some of the uniqueness of the original logo is lost, the "edited" version of the siren in the modern design makes Starbucks feel like a family-friendly place.  Along with the change in logo came a shift in merchandise to include a wider range of non dairy and caffeine-free options so that more people could enjoy the Starbucks experience.  While some of the charm of the original logo has faded with the new design, the ultimate goal is to create something people will recognize so that they return to that store on a regular basis.  And with such a flashy logo, Starbucks will not be going out of business anytime soon.

Tamagotchi Pets

Throughout my entire childhood, I really wanted a cat, but my dad is allergic so I knew it would never happen.  So when the oval-shaped Tamagotchi virtual pets came out, I was thrilled.  I remember being an eight-year-old, sitting on my grandma's couch at a family gathering one night, so engrossed in taking care of my digital pet that I didn't want to sit down at the dinner table and leave my Tamagotchi pet alone.  Finally, I had a pet I could call my own.

Years later, my parents divorced and my mom and I adopted a kitten from the Humane Society.  Once I had a real cat, the Tamagotchi virtual game seemed like a waste of time.  Why would I spend hours upon hours pushing three tiny buttons to keep a virtual pet "alive" once I had the opportunity to play with a kitten in real life?  It just simply wasn't the same.  I eventually threw my Tamagotchi away because I no longer felt the same emotional bond with it that I once had.

So what does this anecdote have to do with design?  As a DES 001 student, I started thinking about the implications of design on our emotions.  How is it that a small digital image could have such an impact on someone?  Clearly, it was designed with this in mind.  The creators of Tamagotchi appealed to the human instinct of caregiving, present even in young children.  It is an internal instinct to feel love towards other humans and animals, albeit a digital animal in this case.  The game is designed so that the pet "owner" feels obligated to do everything they can to keep the animal alive, because if it dies you not only feel personally responsible, but you also lost the game and thus have to start over again.

The game also relates to design by employing the use of universal icons familiar to all people.  The icons have to be easily recognizable so people playing the game can easily understand the needs and desires of their virtual pet.  For example, the toilet icon means the pet has to go to the bathroom, the baseball and bat means the pet wants to play, the chef hat means the pet is hungry, the heart icon means they need more attention, and the cross represents the need for medical care.  Essentially, the designers of Tamagotchi took the basic functions of life and simplified them into a few symbols displayed on a small screen, giving children the power to control another life from a very early age.

The design of Tamagotchi lets children explore what it means to help others.  Even though it is actually just a few digital lines on a screen, the moral lesson of the game is so strong that it creates emotional attachment to something that doesn't exist.  This game evokes a sense of love and caring that can be expressed in the lives of these children as they age.  Although the excitement of the game fades away as children grow up, Tamagotchi educates children about fundamental life lessons in a fun way that they never forget.

Design as a Conversation

Last week in class, we discussed the idea of design as a conversation.  To me, this means that design is a concept that sticks in people's minds as unique; anything that provokes an interesting discussion.  It is also a communication between the designer and the observer, because the designer produces something that they hope will stimulate a response from the people who interact with it.  

Music videos are a perfect example of design.  The average length of a song is about three to four minutes, so the artist only has a finite amount of time to create the experience he or she wants to convey to the viewer.  The video needs to be visually appealing and to-the-point, avoiding long, complicated narratives. It is a delicate balance between not enough information and too much information.  If the video is a white screen with the lyrics of the song flashing across the page with the singer's voice in the background, people grow bored very quickly.  But if the video tries to accomplish multiple plot twists within a small time period, it achieves the same effect of boredom because people get confused by copious details and become distanced from the visual experience of the video.

In this music video of the song "Cosmic Love" by Florence + The Machine, a current British song artist, the design concept is well-executed throughout the entire video.  The viewer is first presented with the title "Cosmic Love."  It seems to be a metaphor for being so deeply in love that the feeling spreads throughout the universe; the cosmos.  Before even clicking the play button, a sense of awe and vastness is infiltrated into the viewer's mind.  This feeling is carried throughout the music video.  The way the singer is filmed makes her seem like a small part of a big universe, as if she is being controlled by an overwhelming sense of love.  In every scene of the music video, she is either surrounded by falling leaves, sparkling lights in dark spaces, or rooms full of mirrors.  Her outfits correspond with her environment, making her fit into the overall design of the visual experience instead of being emphasized as an individual human being.  When she's in the dark, her outfit is black with dramatic cutouts, and at other times, her outfit is white and flowing with bright white lights integrated into the fabric.  The mirrored walls reflect her large waving arm movements hundreds of times, portraying a false sense of depth, suggesting that the universe, or her love, is never-ending.

This music video raises an interesting design conversation.  In making the design so omnipresent in the video, the human quality of the singer is somewhat reduced.  Some people might argue that she is being objectified as something beautiful to look at, but I think that her seamless integration into the overall design of the music video accents the individuality of the singer and the way she chose to convey the message of the song.  The fact that this video could stimulate discussion connects back to my original idea that the conversations of design feed off of unique, provocative projects such as the "Cosmic Love" music video.  For another visual design experience, watch the Florence + The Machine, "Hurricane Drunk" music video.  Her flowing outfits and dim lighting reflect the mood set by hurricanes, or in this case, emotional despair.

J-E-L-L-O-W-A-R-E

Remember that gooey, transparent, jiggly substance called Jell-o that you used to shovel down your throat for dessert as a kid? Or perhaps now you're more familiar with the term "Jell-o shot."  No matter your age or how mature you might be, there is something visually and texturally appealing about this vibrant tasty treat.

It is so pleasing to our senses, in fact, that designers have used its gelatinous quality to come up with a new product called Jelloware.  These edible cups are composed of agar agar, the substance that gives Jell-o its "jelly-like" consistency, and they are available in flavors such as rosemary-beet, lemon-basil, and ginger-mint.

In the spirit of the modern trend towards reducing waste and environmental hazards, these cups are the perfect answer.  They completely consumable and fun to look at, and the seaweed extract in the cups helps grass grow, thus benefitting the environment.  Humans use an abundance of plastic cups that end up as litter on the side of the road, but these cups will simply dissolve back into the earth if not thrown out (or eaten!).

As a current barista at Starbucks Coffee, I feel guilty every time I see a crushed Starbucks cup in a street gutter or strewn about in the grass along the freeway.  I don't like being associated with the company that manufactures these cups, even though it isn't my fault that other people litter.  I think Jelloware would greatly reduce our total amount of waste products.  While it doesn't take the place of coffee cups, it could eliminate plastic cups used at picnics and other social gatherings.

Jelloware does more than eliminate waste.  Jello glasses pose an interesting perspective on how we understand the concept of drinking.  The social construction of drinking implies the cup is merely a container to hold the liquid we swallow.  But the design of Jelloware integrates the container into a part of the consumption of the drink inside it.  With each sip, one could also take a bite out of the flavorful cup, as if it were an ice cream cone.  This new way of approaching something as simple and straight-forward as drinking could pave the way for design opportunities in realms of society never before considered.  To me, design means pushing the boundaries of what is accepted in society to come up with new creations, and Jelloware most certainly does this.

Creativity from Without

When I think of artists, my first assumption is that they are people who create works based on their own imagination, inspired by personal experiences.  It is a common stereotype that artists express their own emotions through various materials, or media.  

However, this stereotype disregards a more modern form of art that integrates pre-existing elements of the natural world into a final piece.  Rather than artists creating "from within," they are instead creating "from without."  This means that artists look for inspiration from the natural world in their work.

An example of this type of art that I find fascinating is Japanese Rice Field Art.  People have taken rice paddies, large green fields, and transformed them into aesthetically pleasing works of art.  How is this possible?  They plant different varieties of rice that naturally have varying leaf colors, allowing the plants to act as elements of light and dark contrast in the aerial images these crops become.  These rice crop artists are essentially "drawing" an image by determining the location of each plant in the field.

The amazing thing about Japanese Rice art is its large scale.  In order to fully appreciate the contrast of the different colored plants, the fields have to be viewed from a certain distance above them.  Up close, the plants do not appear to form any kind of organized visual image.  It would be easy to overlook their beauty as a composition if one simply walked through one of these decorative rice fields.

Another interesting element of Japanese Rice Art is that these rice field artists can create replicas of fine art pieces, such as the Mona Lisa.  It is a juxtaposition of the permanence of ancient art and the temporary growth of rice crops.  We normally think of art in the natural world as more abstract, such as making patterns with rocks and leaves, so the creation of Leonardo da Vinci's masterpiece in a rice paddy links this modern form of art to the legacy of the old masters of Italian art.

While most of the art created in natural environments isn't built to last, that shouldn't take away from its validity as a form of art.  Whether it lasts for a fleeting moment, a few months, or multiple centuries, all art should be appreciated as a way for people to produce something beautiful and share it with others.

Stone Soup

In the novel Stone Soup, by Marcia Brown, three soldiers come into town and plead for food.  Since none of the villagers were willing to cook meals for them, they started a soup consisting of only water and rocks.  They began asking people for simple ingredients, one by one, until the whole town had contributed to the delicious soup that everyone shared.  Though it was gone as soon as everyone had enjoyed some of their creation, the process of compiling ingredients brought a sense of camaraderie to the town.

Last week, we experienced our own form of the "stone soup" process.  While there was no food involved, we worked together with our group members to design a sculpture using materials that each person brought in.  At first, no one in our group was sure where to start.  We were all waiting for someone to initiate our project; shy about asserting our own ideas.  But once a few people voiced their ideas, we all started working on individual parts of the design and attaching them to the tree post we used as a base.  Slowly, our various ribbons, paper plates, and torn paper strips began to take shape as a unique sculpture.  Just like the soup in Brown's novel, it was only a temporary creation, an ephemeral project, that was not meant to last.  But while it was there, we all got to enjoy looking at it and appreciating what we all came together to create.

I really enjoyed this assignment.  While parts of it reminded me of doing craft projects in elementary school, I also learned some bigger lessons about the design process.  I think what stuck with me the most was the importance of collaborating with other people to come up with a design idea, rather than relying on one person to come up with an entire project alone.  This leads to final products that one person couldn't have completed without help from a team.

Crafty, Creative, Crayola!

Last week in my DES 001 class at UC Davis, Professor Housefield brought up three of the BIG Questions of Design.  In particular, the third question he posed to the class stuck in my mind:

Is design most important as an element of commerce or are there other ways to conceive of design?

My answer?  Yes, there are definitely other ways to perceive design!  Take crayons, for example.  Originally, crayons were designed to be functional art tools.  Over time, the brand name "Crayola" has become so popular that it is synonymous with the term "crayon," similarly to how "Kleenex" has come to be widely understood as another name for "tissue."  Adults worked together to design crayons, a collection of wax drawing implements, that catered to the target market of young children with their bold colors and playful names.

While it is true that the crayon was developed as a purchasable commodity, I wonder if the people who designed these colorful wax sticks might have taken it a step too far.  The clever names for the colors might be confusing to the children using them.  For example, does a kindergartener understand what "Mauvelous" means? Or do they know that according to Crayola, the color "Inchworm" means bright green?  The company developing this product took great measures to create the look of each color's individual paper wrapper so that they all look identical with different color names printed on the side, but the subjective color descriptions might make their design too complex for a toddler to fully grasp.

With this in mind, I wonder if the real designers in this crayon scenario are, in fact, the people who use the product to create their own works of art.  Instead of using crayons to earn a profit, as the original designers did, children use crayons to draw pictures before they even learn how to write or read.  And adults such as Pete Goldlust employ crayons as a medium for ornate sculptures [Check out Pete Goldlust's website for some of his amazing crayon creations].

Then there are the people who are so enamored with the design of the crayon that they collect them.  I remember in elementary school, we all compared our crayon sets to see who had the biggest set in their pencil box.  Young children take pride in having more crayons than their peers.  Other people collect the retired color crayons that are no longer being manufactured, which most likely cost more than they did in their original sets.

Admittedly, the people who are buying collector crayon items are feeding into the notion of design as an element of commerce.  Perhaps the company designed their retirement of certain colors as a plan for the value of these crayons to go up so that people would spend more money for their products.  But I think the more important message here is that people have come up with new ways to tailor the original design of the Crayola crayon to fit their own needs, whether it be drawing, sculpting, or collecting.

Crawling My Way into Design

At the same time that I was learning how to walk, the caterpillar from Eric Carle's book The Very Hungry Caterpillar was busy crawling his way through a week's worth of food each time my mom read the story to me.  I still remember the whole experience of this novel today as vividly as I did when I was a toddler.  By the age of two, I was already intrigued by the world of design.

The brightly colored foods in the book catch my eye first.  The richness of the colors suggest that the food gives off strong, delicious smells.  What is particularly interesting is that these colored objects are not realistic looking, although the shapes are recognizable.  Things like fruit, sausage, pickles, cheese, desserts, and candy are transformed into layers of collaged designs to depict the narrative.  The choice to use such stylized depictions of ordinary foods contributes to the appeal of the story.  It takes an event from nature, the life cycle of a butterfly, and presents it to an audience in a fun and unique way. 

Another captivating element of this storybook is its layout.  Each page has a hole punched out of it where the caterpillar has eaten his way through, giving the book a more three-dimentional sense as opposed to simply printing flat images on paper.  The holes make the book more interactive with the audience.  It creates a physical texture that indicates that the caterpillar ate through the pages of the book itself.  The integration of the words in the story with the pictures of the food and the hole in each page result in a comprehensive design that is universally understood by people of all ages, even those who can't read yet.

When all of the creative elements of this children's book are combined, the end result is a successful design project.  If this story had simply been a scientific explanation of the stages in the life of a butterfly, it wouldn't be nearly as memorable to me as a twenty-year-old.