The wonder of Christmas, the wonder of design
Christmas 2005. The wonder of a tinsel tree.
I have a tinsel (aluminum) tree that dates to the 1950's. 6 feet tall, with a color wheel I bought from Lillian Vernon a couple of years ago.
It's filled with glass-only ornaments from Target (purchased post-season on sale, of course) and gives the impression that the tree is completely vintage. It's shiny. The appearance is that I've designed a perfect vintage Christmas tree. As a designer, it suits my modernist sensibilities more than the traditional tree that adorns another room of the house. It's also situated in the front of the house, in a bow window so that it's clearly visible from the street.
The best part is that it's become a part of our holiday tradition, with the children begging to set it up and decorate it, even before our traditional tree is finished. Each tinsel branch is carefully removed from its wax tube and placed into the pre-drilled holes on the main trunk, and the decorations are pulled from a box set aside for glass ornaments.
What this tree does more than anything is to evoke memories from friends and family who encounter it, even without seeing it. Almost everyone has a memory of a tree like this that their parents or grandparents had. They start to talk about their memories of a certain type of ornament, or almost cry recalling the trees from their childhood.
It's this type of accidental design that I am most in awe of. This tree fits my memory of a small tree that my grandmother had, and that I enjoyed as a child. She had imported glass ornaments on it, in all shapes and sizes, and it always was set up next to the steps in their home.
And so from my experience and memories, I'm enabling others to tap into their memories by some simple design choices that I've made. This inspires me in my design practice: how can we through our design choices evoke an emotional and relational response from people?
I often make note to our clients that the best design evokes a response, and a desired action (buy, donate, order, etc.). We also (as in design professionals) also claim that design communicates -- but what is more powerful -- the communication, or the response of the user via the memory of a previous experience? And what should the end goal be?
To me, this is the heart and soul of design: to deeply move someone through what I've designed. If it's on purpose, hooray. If it's incidental, then I have to evaluate my choices in that light, and perhaps acknowledge that design happens... whether I choose it to or not.
Merry Christmas. May all your trees be bright and shiny.
I have a tinsel (aluminum) tree that dates to the 1950's. 6 feet tall, with a color wheel I bought from Lillian Vernon a couple of years ago.
It's filled with glass-only ornaments from Target (purchased post-season on sale, of course) and gives the impression that the tree is completely vintage. It's shiny. The appearance is that I've designed a perfect vintage Christmas tree. As a designer, it suits my modernist sensibilities more than the traditional tree that adorns another room of the house. It's also situated in the front of the house, in a bow window so that it's clearly visible from the street.
The best part is that it's become a part of our holiday tradition, with the children begging to set it up and decorate it, even before our traditional tree is finished. Each tinsel branch is carefully removed from its wax tube and placed into the pre-drilled holes on the main trunk, and the decorations are pulled from a box set aside for glass ornaments.
What this tree does more than anything is to evoke memories from friends and family who encounter it, even without seeing it. Almost everyone has a memory of a tree like this that their parents or grandparents had. They start to talk about their memories of a certain type of ornament, or almost cry recalling the trees from their childhood.
It's this type of accidental design that I am most in awe of. This tree fits my memory of a small tree that my grandmother had, and that I enjoyed as a child. She had imported glass ornaments on it, in all shapes and sizes, and it always was set up next to the steps in their home.
And so from my experience and memories, I'm enabling others to tap into their memories by some simple design choices that I've made. This inspires me in my design practice: how can we through our design choices evoke an emotional and relational response from people?
I often make note to our clients that the best design evokes a response, and a desired action (buy, donate, order, etc.). We also (as in design professionals) also claim that design communicates -- but what is more powerful -- the communication, or the response of the user via the memory of a previous experience? And what should the end goal be?
To me, this is the heart and soul of design: to deeply move someone through what I've designed. If it's on purpose, hooray. If it's incidental, then I have to evaluate my choices in that light, and perhaps acknowledge that design happens... whether I choose it to or not.
Merry Christmas. May all your trees be bright and shiny.
posted by BSCO at 9:13 PM
6 Comments:
Merry Christmas to you and thanks for the encouragement. You're post though, not on purpose, has been a bit convicting for me. You see this Christmas we just didn't have the income to afford a Christmas tree. Being the live Christmas tree purist that I am, nothing but the real thing would do. So, I decided that our family just wouldn't have a tree this year. Heresy! My wife and children wouldn't accept that. So, they set out to make their own out of crepe paper streamers (red and green), a 6 foot lamp, some Scotch tape and a hoola hoop (borrowed from my 5 year old's collection). Initially, I pooh poohed the idea like a good Grinch. They ignored me, and I was amazed at the wonderfully creative tree they produced with paper ornaments to boot! Another display of everyday creativity by extraordinarily creative non-designers. Good for them and a lesson for me. Pride blocks creative breakthroughs. I think we've found a new family tradition.
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This is a design blog. So where are the nice pictures of the tree?
Um. Mr. Snitch, which tree do you mean?
Mr. Snitch, I've checked with the author and the tree has been taken down without a suitable photo taken. Sorry. I guess you'll have to use your (gulp) imagination.
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
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