Democracy in Design
By megan dealSeptember 20th, 2008
This past summer, I had the pleasure of working among a small group of students to collaboratively design a series of light pole banners for six distinct Detroit neighborhoods. These particular neighborhoods, as it was explained to us, all have a high population of children, and need outside support in order to ensure the continued success of their young inhabitants. Over the 8-week class period, our task would be to design a set of publicly displayed banners that capture the spirit of each community, while also identifying the community to others in the city. The process went as such: We were given a tour of each neighborhood by appointed neighborhood leaders, who educated us on the area’s important cultural and historical details. We then would collectively distill this research, organizing notes and ideas into mind maps and word lists. Then, of course, we would discuss concepts and begin designing, designing, designing. We pumped out version after version, editing nothing. In class, the group would have small critique sessions, though these would generally be focused less on aesthetic and more on idea. We continued cycling through this process until it was time for our first community meeting, where residents of the community would see the designs for the first time. With community members gathered around a long, narrow table, we each stood up and took turns explaining the conceptual basis behind each of our designs. We elaborated on details from our tours and research, expounding upon the reasons behind many of our design decisions. When each of us were through presenting, the door was cordially opened for feedback. After all, none of us lived in the communities for which we were designing, and we understood that the success of this project depended substantially on the communities acceptance of the work. Yet none of us anticipated what happened next. Silence. Not a word. We nervously glanced at one another, half smirking with confidence, half sinking in defeat. A very boisterous and vocal woman eventually spoke up, to begin what we’d later dub “the meeting where we all really sucked.” To put it lightly, they HATED the designs! Comments ranged from “too static,” to “too boring.” Questions followed like “What’s that supposed to represent,” and “Aren’t those McDonald’s colors.” We awkwardly stood rejected and unsure of what to do next. I suppose what we did do would be what any young, tactful designer would do; we thanked everyone for their feedback, regrouped, then went back to the drawing board. (Speaking only for myself, I additionally went home to a glass of red wine and two Excedrin)
With the meeting behind us, and new ideas formulating, we tried again. We incorporated some of the community members suggestions, taking many of their ideas to heart, regardless of how the changes affected, (dare I say “ruined”) the compositions. We made the necessary revisions, then returned two weeks later to re-present the designs. Leftover hostility from the last meeting still loomed thick in the air. Some of us felt unwelcome, as if the neighborhood members viewed us as some kind of threat to their community. “Those banner designers,” they’d probably whisper to one another, “think they can just come in here, only take an hour long tour of the neighborhood, and understand what it’s like to live here.” We were the outsiders; the privileged suburban kids who didn’t have a clue about the urban communities we were so desperately trying to design for. Or at least that’s how I imagined we were being labeled.
But then, one-by-one, the banner concepts were being taped to the wall. More then a dozen tabloid-sized, colored, card-stock prints hung in a straight line, a crowd slowly gather around each. Words cannot properly describe how drastically the tone of the room changed. Almost instantly, the harsh banter shifted to surprise and pleasure. “Oh wow,” one woman shouted, “look at all the colors!” It was unanimous; our revisions were a step in the right direction. We all exchanged glances of relief as positive remarks continued to spatter across the room. Soon, we were realizing that perhaps we’d brought to many options, and that it would be a difficult task to narrow them all down to just one final banner design.
What took place next, left me shocked and bewildered, and is the main point that this essay seeks to address. With designs still hanging on the wall, it was decided that each community member would place their initials next to the designs that they liked best, so that we could quickly narrow down our ideas. And so we stood there, like the helpless students that we were, and watched the fate of our designs be decided by Sharpie wielding citizens. How is this fair, I kept thinking. Shouldn’t we be discussing the strengths and weaknesses of each design? Why some work better then others, perhaps? How some elements, like typeface or color, can be easily explored and shouldn’t be the governing factor in the elimination of an otherwise smart idea? What kind of demented process was this! When, I thought to myself, did we deem it okay to design by committee? But there it was, and there we were, and there were the top three designs, hanging lonely on the white wall, covered in initials.
The telling of this anecdote was a round-about way of addressing the subject to which my title refers, that of democracy in design. Now, we Americans all really love a good democratic process. We expect the freedom to make our own decisions, and likewise we feel violated if such freedom is stripped out from under us. Though many would argue to what degree, we Americans DO have a voice, and more often then not popular opinion does rule the decision making process. I love democracy. I am all for social equality and the right to our individual vote. But, when it comes to design, how democratic can we designers expect to be?
It is my own personal belief that everyone is a designer in his or her own unique way. In fact, we all make design decisions each and every day, often without even knowing it. Consider how you get to and from school each day. You’ve probably already designed a plan in your head before you even get into your car. If design is simply to do or plan with a specific intention in mind, then every thinking individual can be a designer. However, to assume that every individual has equal creative talent, or to assume that everyone has an equal understanding of the social, cultural, or historical factors that influence design, is to disregard the institution of design education, and further, undermine what we students are spending the time and money to learn here at CCS. I can fix the handle on my toilet in a bind, but I am not a certified plumber. I can jump-start my car if needed, but don’t call on me if you need a mechanic. My mother sends me desktop-published greeting cards for every possible occasion, but please don’t call her a graphic designer. (love them anyway mom!) A community’s residents certainly know better then anyone what makes their neighborhood unique, but does that give them a license to design? Does more votes necessarily equal better, smarter design?
As students we generally never face situations like the one I described.Yes, we’re subjected to critique, but we take our feedback with a grain of salt, ignoring some, embracing others, and ultimately deciding for ourselves. But consider a few years from now, when you’re standing in front of a client (or a room full of them) doing your best to convince him/her why one design is “better” then the other. How you retain your own design integrity? How diplomatic can you be without selling yourself short? Is it your place to have a voice or opinion, when after all they’re paying YOU to design what THEY want…right? I am glad to have had such an eye-opening experience this summer, and believe it or not, I’m still excited to work within the community/public realm. Though I myself still have more questions then answers, I can say this: never show designs you don’t like; they’ll pick em’ every time. And for Pete’s sake…never show 12!
the reality of client work for students entering the workforce can be very sobering. i often hear students talk about their experiences with clients and often it’s not flattering. a phase that all designers must go thru is learning to work with clients while educating them on what we do and how we do it.
for example: i had a similar experience a couple years out of school working in a design office. i was developing an identity for a start-up company and presented them a tremendous amount of work; one direction in particular was very exciting and in my opinion, unique. after the presentation or massacre, as i like to call it, i found myself looking at the results of the discussion disappointed that they didn’t like anything i viewed as progressive or appropriate. rather, the client walked away excited about something that the design director had poorly thrown together at the last minute. demoralizing? yes. but i realized at that moment that it wasn’t what i was showing but rather, how i was talking about it. the design director knew the questions to ask and the answers to give. i thought i had been clear about the objectives and successful in presenting ideas that were relevant to the given problem. but, in reality i didn’t help the client understand why my work was the best solution for their needs. i also failed to successfully educate them on why certain choices were better or worse.
we often talk about how designers must learn to clearly articulate their work to clients. what we sometimes forget is that as designers must also learn how to empower the client into making wise decisions. if we learn to educate our clients about design and work collaboratively to execute solutions, we certainly won’t eliminate all the problems, but we will narrow the gap of understanding. seeing eye to eye with a client is tough and takes practice. client relationships will always be a challenge, but the quicker a designer can learn to adapt to situations, the better the outcome.
Oh wow how true is that last line of the post. I had thee same exact experience with a client in high school. I was redesigning a relatively new company’s logo, product label, and website so as to help them develop a better identity before the general public became used to the original logo. The reason i said i had the same exact experience was because i did in fact present a series of logos. Some of which were good, some were bad and some were VERY bad. Who would have thought that the client would decide upon the worst design out of the six. Even after carefully explaining my reasons for liking the choice logos, he was still firm on his decision.
Needless to say i learned the same valuable lesson. I was not sure on the lesser of the designs so i should not have presented them.
I believe to a certain level that the client should have say in the final designs chosen. It should also be the responsibility of the designer to make sure the client understands why one may be better than the other. After all we are the right brained thinkers and those on the opposite side of the table are the left brained ones.