On the occasions that I have eaten at self-service eateries, I have noticed that people tend to draw a whole stack of napkins from the common dispenser on their way to the dining table. Oddly, anticipating our future needs (for napkins, among other things) seems to be a hazy affair. We think we’ll end up sloppy, messy eaters, and therefore pull an inordinate amount of napkins just in case we make a sorry mess of ourselves. We tend to lapse on the side of overestimation.

The common case is, of course, that most of us somehow manage to feed ourselves with some form of respectability. The ugly consequence: an unused stack of napkins left on the table after someone leaves. It seems untouched, but should it be returned to the common stack for the next customer? (I’ve seen a busboy at a sandwich chain do just that: transporting a unused stack of napkins from a cleared table to the sandwich pick-up point. A seemingly innocuous way to “cleanse” the napkins; from being “left behinds” to “ready to use”.)

Our expectations of hygiene products are byproducts of our fear of germs. Heaven forbid public silverware be left exposed in common stands and susceptible to multiple hand brushings. Who knows where those hands have been? And thus, we end up with individually wrapped drinking straws, plastic forks and knives; each set comes with our peace of mind hermetically sealed in.

Sustainability is a noble goal, but in the context of public silverware, cleanliness is still next to godliness. However, it serves no purpose to think of sustainable hygiene as an oxymoron. The question is, how do we design around human behavior (reaction to fear) and expectations (overestimating future needs) to set change in motion?

This past weekend when I was at the dining area of a grocery chain, I noticed a change on the tables. Each table is now outfitted with its own napkin dispenser. Rather than a “take what you need” tagline at a distant dispenser, individual napkin dispensers subtly encourages diners to take as the need arises, and helps people to sidestep their inability to accurately predict their future needs. A simple idea, but one that puts psychological ease to the champions among worry warts.

As a foreigner living in a, erm, foreign land, one of the holy grails of getting an intimate glimpse into local culture is receiving an invitation to someone’s home. Most cities feel impenetrable unless you know a local. Sometimes, they open their doors to you (The Italians offer their mothers, aunts and grandmothers and their regional Home Food to hungry visitors); sometimes they bring their domestic lives out onto the street to you (In Mumbai, the porch of a motor workshop doubles up as an airy platform for a toddler’s nap).

Driving through the residential areas of US cities, the closed fences and drawn curtains oftentimes lend an air of separation between you-the-passer-by and them-the-rooted-here. Gawking at a neighbor’s open window is rude, except during one time of the year — between Halloween and New Year’s, when carved pumpkins, Christmas trees and Hanukkiyahs are deliberately displayed at windows, a piece of the family’s private life is shared with those standing on the outside.

So, insiders and outsiders, Happy Holidays!

Hello good people of the Internet, sorry that Friday Stories is running a little late this week due to a birthday. Mine! So, to commemorate the once-a-year event, this week we ask what triggers your sense of your age. Does the smell of rain bring back memories of playing in the afternoon rain as a child? Or when the feeling that you could go on forever mid-marathon inject you with a sense of youthfulness? Or that the weight of familial responsibilities reminds you of your station in the life cycle? And, what makes you lose track of all these age-triggers?

The Stories

I feel young when the sun shines, the air sparkles, and the grass is perfectly emerald.  That is when I can empty my mind and look at everything as though I was encountering it for the first time.

I feel old when I hear very young and sweetly naive people talking.  Their innocence and lack of experience make me feel silly and old.

I forget my age when I am with the people I love the best.  Then I am just myself, accreted age and all.

It’s not quite an external stimulus for me. On days where my mind can jump off ideas toward new ideas, I feel young. And alive. The agility of the mind doesn’t seem like something I have direct control over, but has tremendous impact on the way I feel day to day. It’s strange that it is sort of an internal stimulus, but not one that I can activate on demand. Obviously, then, it is on days where my mind drags through any material (the absolute inability to find interest within anything) that I feel old and stiff. On those days I worry about getting old and losing my groove.

The Experiment

Each week on Friday, I will post a random question on Design, Thunk. Tell us your personal story: what happened? what led to it? how did you feel? what struck you most about the incident? Your story can be as short as 2 paragraphs, or a long page. It’s your call. And, there isn’t an ideal answer. We just want to understand your world.

High school graduation. Entering the final year at college. Getting your first paycheck. Breaking up with your fifth girlfriend. For some events in life, we can anticipate that our lives are never going to be the same again. Some are social milestones; goal posts painted for us when we were mere children.

What about the other stuff that don’t follow a timeline? Perhaps a realization that a close friend wasn’t who you thought she was, or an epiphany about your own life.

How did you know that things were never going to be the same again? And what did it feel like?

The Stories

I knew things would be different when I said goodbye to my best
friend from high school on the eve before I moved to college. I didn’t
think college would be all that different, and I especially didn’t
think that our friendship would be somehow forever changed. But the
look he gave me after we hugged goodbye and I got ready to head home
to sleep, as though he’d never see me again, made me wonder – will
things ever really be the same again?
He was right, things never were the same again. I would have no idea
how much I changed in college until six months later I saw my friend
again. Things were different and it wasn’t because he had changed – it
was because I was different. I don’t think I’ve stopped changing since
I left home that next day.

It was the moment of emotional clarity when I knew in every bone that I had to be a liberal arts major. There was such a distinct pull and resolve in that moment, quite unlike anything I’ve felt in my life. It almost felt like my life was a blur prior to this point.

After trying three times to get myself into the Industrial Design course and finally got it on the third try. That was the moment i really felt jubilant, literally jumping with joy, and knowing i really get to do what i like ‘academically’  for the first time in my life.

when everyone i know has an iphone…and all i want is a blackberry. screw you steve!

I don’t think you ever realise things are different in fateful “eureka!” moments… although romanticism would have us believe that. I would have wanted to believe in that.

But I think you know only after a series of happenings, a period of confusion and reflection, a long-drawn session of utter happiness and total heartbreak. Then you realise things are different… when you finally see things as they are.

The Experiment

Each week on Friday, I will post a random question on Design, Thunk. Tell us your personal story: what happened? what led to it? how did you feel? what struck you most about the incident? Your story can be as short as 2 paragraphs, or a long page. It’s your call. And, there isn’t an ideal answer. We just want to understand your world.

Email your stories to grace[at]gracecheow[dot]com by Thursday 10 Dec, and I’ll publish them anonymously (or with your initials, if you prefer) on Design, Thunk on Friday.

The Stories

that the chinese are making a hell lot more money then i will ever get. But at least i shave my armpits.

Thank God I’m alive, with a healthy, happy family and friends I can count on.

I ask myself the same question everyday at the start of the day.
“What do i have to clear today?”

That I am so happy to be studying what I am studying.

Since I alternate between feeling highly suspicious of mantras and periods of excessive preoccupation with self-help books, I rarely have a mantra that I repeat to myself. Or sometimes, some days, I’m not self-aware enough to talk to myself. Perhaps the faint thought flitting through my head is that today is another day that should see something accomplished, no matter how small. I think I see a lot of people around me who are just struggling to survive on a daily basis in Beijing that such thoughts, mantras, mottos seem really quite pointless. So maybe what I do think about everyday is how privileged my life truly is.

1) What have you done with your God given talents?
2) Have you served others before yourself?
3) End of day: Have you reflected and given thanks to it?
Last one is a statement. Look forward to tomorrow and start anew when it arrives.

I tend to ask myself “What interesting things am I doing today?” I am inherently a lazy person, and if left to my own devices, I revel in sloth. The question pops up when boredom hits, and more than anything else, it is a reminder to do something unusual and learn something new daily. I can’t claim credit for the putting this question in my head though. A close friend whom I greatly admired for the adventurous path of his life told me that anyone could have an interesting life. It’s all a matter of taking charge and making it interesting.

If I’m lucky, when I wake up I
1) remember my dreams, and try to make sense of them
or just appreciate how strange it is to dream at all and then
2) “What do I want to accomplish before lunch?”

I don’t usually say it aloud but just think it. I probably don’t ’say’ anything to myself daily,
other than a few choice expletives and the occasional deep sigh.

The experiment

Each week on Friday, I will post a random question on Design, Thunk. Tell us your personal story: what happened? what led to it? how did you feel? what struck you most about the incident? Your story can be as short as 2 paragraphs, or a long page. It’s your call. And, there isn’t an ideal answer. We just want to understand your world.

As I’m finishing up Verganti’s Design-Driven Innovation, a door wins Architectural Review’s Emerging Architecture Award. I’m completely enamored with the idea and the aesthetics of this door: the meaning of a door as a static object that interrupts a space has been totally upended.

Could a focus group have given an architect enough insight to lead to such a door? If you’ve also been thinking about the issues of democratic design vs. monarchical design, I highly recommend Verganti’s book. His work is a result of soaking himself in the Italian design system—the one that birthed Kartell’s Bookworm bookcase and Alessi’s range of Family Follows Fiction kitchen tools—which has a design process that is significantly different from the user-centered design thinking process. Even if you’ve sworn your designerly life to be an advocate of user-centered design, this is a provocative book.

A more reflective piece on the issue of democratic design vs. monarchical design is underway (but it is December and the holiday season will undoubtedly get in the way). In the meantime, you’ll have to believe me that Verganti wants you to know that the future belongs to those who can innovate meaning.

Image credit: The Architectural Review

]]> http://gracecheow.com/friday-stories-the-experiment/feed/ 0 http://gracecheow.com/friday-stories-1/ http://gracecheow.com/friday-stories-1/#comments Wed, 25 Nov 2009 18:25:54 +0000 Grace Cheow http://gracecheow.com/?p=245

The stories

I put personalities in my toys, complete with voiceovers.
All my stuffed toys are somebody, I have my own “Sesame Street” in my bedroom!
I’m a bedroom animator.

It will have to be fitness coaching which has absoutely no relevance to my current professional career. During National Service some 10 years ago, I went for a couple of coaching certification. At that point, it was a natural progression from the instructor course I took when in Army. I must say, it has changed me to become more open to different people.

What struck me most is the number of different people I met while I am a gym instructor there. From the aunties to teenagers who want to look good and fit for different reasons. To me, being fit is a journey rather than a destination which many tend to view it that way. Once they attain their desired look, they stop. It brings me to relate to a business, career or marriage where its the journey that really matters. Very much like fitness, which we constantly need to maintain and upkeep regardless of age and time. A journey where many events and people will cross your fitness path.

being able to read while walking.  it’s too frivolous.

I can fold my tongue into a U-shape. When I was 7, my aunt showed me this trick and convinced me that only a special few could do it. At that time, I couldn’t fold my tongue no matter how I tried. Using my fingers to make my tongue hold its shape, trying to get my brain to will my tongue muscles to move, nothing worked. Naturally, I got pretty peeved. Persuaded that I was not one of the select few, I moved on with my life. Then one afternoon in high school, a couple of friends and I were trying to tie knots in cherry stalks using our tongues. I was hopeless at it, but I think the workout did the trick. Since then, I’ve been able to fold my tongue!

Each week on Friday, I will post a random question on Design, Thunk. Tell us your personal story: what happened? what led to it? how did you feel? what struck you most about the incident? Your story can be as short as 2 paragraphs, or a long page. It’s your call. And, there isn’t an ideal answer. We just want to understand your world.

Curious about this experiment? Here’s the idea.

Some ten years ago, the impending demolition of a red-bricked building in Singapore stirred a passionate public debate about the importance of social memory, heritage conservation and cultural identity among Singaporeans. On the Urban Redevelopment Authority’s plan, the 40 year-old National Library at Stamford Road was slated to make way for a tunnel and a new university campus. Architects, academics, and newspaper editors sought to convince government authorities that the iconic building embodied the experiences that most Singaporeans had as school-going children, and that these common memories contributed to the Singapore identity. Though the building was eventually closed in 2004 and later pulled down, the episode stands as one of the most poignant public conversations on what makes Singapore feel like home.

This desire for the feeling of home is a central theme in Singapore Souvenirs, a participating exhibition in the Singapore Design Festival 2009 that seeks to replace the Merlion keychain. Perturbed by the absence of meaningful and representative souvenirs, the group of Singaporean designers behind Singapore Souvenirs went into the heartlands to search for everyday objects that symbolize the Singaporean way of life. The concepts that have grown out of this exploration are both heartfelt and reflective. From erasers made in the form of the popular handmade rice cake “Kueh Tutu” to journals with a dating system inspired by the quintessential parking coupon and to the fruit bowl resembling the discolored plastic colanders used in traditional fruit stalls, the concepts all draw from a rich and textured social memory. By tapping into everyday objects, the design team succeeds at connecting the average Singaporean’s personal experiences with a touristy token at an intimate level.

The problem with cultural identity, if there is one, is that it is evolves despite our control. The expressions of souvenirs in Singapore Souvenirs are also expressions of a moment in time. The institutions that some of the souvenirs seek to immortalize are disappearing. “Kueh Tutu” stalls are now far and few between; parking coupons are becoming obsolete as public car parks are outfitted with electronic parking systems; the once ubiquitous traditional fruit stalls are commonplace only in exotic Geylang. And as the demographic and cultural make-up of Singapore change with a new wave of immigrants, so too will its language and the objects it imbues with social and cultural significance. In other words, if souvenirs need to have longevity in addition to being socially meaningful and representative of local culture, then the memorabilia at Singapore Souvenirs have the challenge of remaining relevant through time.

But even if the answers may be temporal, the questions that Singapore Souvenirs raise remain critical: what is the essence of a souvenir, and whose meaning should it embody?

Singapore Souvenirs is on display till 30 Nov 2009

How do we know the (designerly) things we know?

Design Research has been called many names and projected onto many different platforms. From observing like a fly on the wall to role-playing as a participant; from collecting personal stories through an eclectic collage of images to utilizing focus groups as dipsticks to approximate product success rates; these methods have been useful in gathering (social and cultural) knowledge that design needs to know in order to do designerly things.

But questions of utility lead us to designing for task accomplishments; are there human events or experiences that current design research methods have yet to lead us to explore? Can questions about the internal lives of people and fragmentary clues provide us with a sensibility towards radical design?

To put the objective in its simplest form, I hope that we can uncover new ways of knowing and interpreting internal human events and experiences that existing methods are not designed to accomplish.

I’d like to run a little experiment to see if the field could use this method of inquiry to inspire design concepts. And I’d like you to do this with me.

The experiment

Each week on Friday, I will post a random question on Design, Thunk. Tell us your personal story: what happened? what led to it? how did you feel? what struck you most about the incident? Your story can be as short as 2 paragraphs, or a long page. It’s your call. And, there isn’t an ideal answer. We just want to understand your world.

Email your stories to me by the following Tuesday, and I’ll publish them anonymously (or with your initials, if you prefer) on Design, Thunk on Wednesday.

We can run this for 3 weeks or so, then have a discussion about the methodology (what works and what doesn’t). If it proves to be good fun for everyone, we can extend the experiment for a period of time. Hopefully, with time, we’ll gain some ground towards a new and plausible design research method that is useful for designers and innovation strategists.

So.

To be honest, I have no idea how this experiment will turn out, but I’m hoping that we can uncover some cool new stuff about design research in the process.

So, how’s this? Yay or nay?

Friday Stories #1

Friday Stories #2

Friday Stories #3