Monday, 3 November 2008

About Design...or how to avoid feeling guilty when paying the extra quid(s) for eye-candy

What goes on in your head when you buy something new? Take a photo of your favourite design object and answer this:

-why is it that we want our belongings to do more for us than just function well?
-why are we willing, as soon as we can afford it, to pay extra for something with appealing forms?


Why is it that function is not enough, I ask you, oh, fountain of wisdom? Well, most likely, it has something to do with the fact that the two things, function and form, are not two different ends which only rarely meet in a harmonious way to create what we call masterpieces, but they are rather sides of the same coin. The example that comes to my mind right away is Einstein’s obsession with the `design` of his formulae. He searched throughout his life for a wonderfully simple (read, elegantly formed, aesthetically appealing) form of his work not because he wanted to be `user-friendly` (although he did have a sense for selling himself and his work to the public), but because this belief that beauty is knowledge and truth was fundamental for him. And yes, my point is that design is not an exclusive fetish of the artists. You might have been freaked out during your high school years in advanced math classes by overly enthusiastic professors or calculus aficionados getting all excited about how `beautiful` this or that method of solving a problem is, or how graciously has a theory been applied. I mean, even demolition engineers might be caught over a glass of beer talking about how yesterdays`s BOOM was `a beauty!`.

But that’s not all. We even delight in the aesthetic decadence offered to us by the lurid, licentious, grim or plain rubbish. Admit it, you’ve stopped at least once in amazement at the intricacy of design and exquisite taste in composition that that moldy bit of last week-end’s pizza you forgot on top of the fridge presented you with. Or as Baudelaire would have it: `Art, man…art….zoo you not unzerstaand? ` The grim…god bless the Goths! Oh, and the macabre was big with Europeans in the 14th century…think of all the posters of the transi`s dancing with the stars of the day (kings, emperors, bishops). They were best sellers of the day (what have we learned today, kids: if the Black Death didn’t get you, buy, buy, buy!).

What goes on in our heads when buying something, that is, what makes us think something looks `great`, `swell`, `a beauty` and why are we prepared to get to the depths of that black-hole of doom we call our pockets to buy something? Well, I thought I would exemplify by talking about two items I found `sexy` enough to extort money from my ascetic budget. First off, let’s take a look at this book (yes, I chose to present as a design fetish a book…I knooooow!)




Black Mass: Apocalyptic Religion and the Death of Utopia was one of the books I set out to buy because of something I was working on last year, so, in this case, not much with regards design went on in my head when I bought it, especially because I ordered it online and the preview picture wasn’t all that telling. When I held it in my arms….sorry, I’m getting all sentimental here…in my hands…I realised it was possibly one of the most `handsome`/`coquettish` books I possess (and I do have a few). For once, the shiny cover, matte interior combination is really nice. Why? It’s got diversity of texture, lighting effects, contrast. With all due respect for John Gray (with whom I profusely disagree on several issues in the book, but still thank for providing me with cannon-fodder…I mean, research material for my work), I think the photo at the back is at odds with the design of the book, but, then again…
Bottom line is that I like the book because it appeals to my aesthetic exigencies even though it isn`t even close to a hypothetical top 10 of my so far favourite readings. So, would I pay more for this edition rather than another one (same text, different covers?).



Hard to say given the fact that I don`t pay that much attention to the `material`, `touchable` aspect of books (quality of paper used, cover design…though I do appreciate them). I am very comfortable with reading stuff in an electronic format. But the next item is an example of why one pays more for something that looks pretty, although a cheaper, functional version is at hand.




I already had The Longest Journey but it was a free version offered by a computer games magazine, which means there was little to no design to it. I could have bought Dreamfall separately too, yet I went for this collection. Why? For once, I think the people behind the cover should have been hired to do the conceptual art in the game too.







The ethereal-foggy-transcendental-glacial look of the cover box just states: I’m chic, I don’t need any bling and I’ll only allow for this bluish, dream-like silhouette to adorn my front. So, why did I buy it? Mr. Freud, do let’s analyse this. It very much helps re-enact visions/dreams/ pictures one uses to define a certain state of mind, which in terms are important because spacing off is an essential ingredient for keeping our mental stability and stop those nasty mood-swings taking over.

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