Loads of friends have recommended Glee to me. This is probably because they remember that I used to be a (proud) cheerleader in high school. I watched Glee. Glee is good. But it wasn't the cheerleading that lured me in: it was the 80's music. I know it's not geniune, tinny, hysterical 80's music. But it's how I'd like to remember and recall 80's music in the context of life today.
We're caught in a really interesting moment of nostalgia: longing for the past, in idealized form. And it's all mash-ed up. Bits and pieces of "fake" coming together to create something that feels real-ish and good. It's a very of-the-moment aesthetic. In a recent round of emails at IDEO, Clark dubbed it "consensual artifice." I've also been calling it "fabricated authenticity." It sounds innately paradoxical and at-odds, and it is.
Small design studios like Commune (designers of Ace Hotels, Heath L.A. studio, etc.) and Pompeii A.D. (designers behind Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters) are genius at it. Descriptions of their projects are often hilarious: "For the Ace Hotel, we looked to a mix of Bedouin architecture, tents, camping, national parks, Easy Rider, nomadic tribes, Navajo—all Native American, really—Texas, definitely Marfa, a lot of South American concrete structures, concrete-block walls, and just indoor/outdoor California living. Plus, we looked at Joshua Tree more than Palm Springs." You can read more here.
Why are we here? Is this a reaction to minimalism? Is this a natural next step in a postmodern arc? And how do design companies tap into this trendy aesthetic while substantiating their design ethos for the long haul? It's a tough question. To start, I think a design company needs to claim more than the ability to channel the aesthetic collective consciousness. At IDEO, we often like to separate "looks like" from "acts like" and ultimately, "feels like." It helps us not get bogged down in subjective, aesthetic arguments when at the heart of the design, we're trying to enable a certain kind of human experience or interaction. Distinguishing the "feels like" part of the equation prevents a conceptual metaphor from an actual, literal interpretation (for example, just because a workplace should "feel like workshop" doesn't mean that you need design in custom workbenches and a wall covered in tools). It's not rocket science, but it's a good first step in making sure that aesthetics (look like), behaviors (acts like) and emotional experiences (feels like) are considered discretely and in concert. It gives designers license to explore aesthetics all they want, since it doesn't muddy the design strategy for the whole experience.
And what's next? Are we doomed to appropriate and mash-up history forever? "Don't Stop Believing." Get inspired.
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