Dan Droz once told me this story. He may have gotten it from the Harvard Business Review:

We’re driving down the street and see a hand-painted, rough plywood sign leaning against a fence. “Lemonade 10¢,” it proclaims in drippy irregular letters (the N is backwards, of course). How great that a couple of kids got this together on this sunny afternoon. It’s an authentic moment. We’re charmed. Let’s stop.

But let’s say we have this circumstance: again the plywood, the sincere, sloppy letters, except this time the message is different: “Flying Lessons $800.” No one would go near it (or shouldn’t).

People are engaged in and perceive design thinking all the time, they just don’t call it by that name.

For example, we enter into in a design process when we get dressed. Decisions—often sophisticated ones— are made daily about the compatibility of materials (leather boots against cotton skirt), mix of colors (red t-shirt under gray shirt), proportion (belt too thin), appropriateness (Tevas with those pants???), scale (pin way too big), and cultural signals  (“I’m Surrounded By Jagoffs” t-shirt). And people generally do a pretty good job of  coordinating a coherent and consistent set of signals (that doesn’t mean they dress well, they just communicate their intentions clearly).

When I decide to have a dinner on Saturday night, a process kicks into place. I may not literally name the following concerns but they are addressed. Classic design considerations are quickly established. What do I want the evening to be like? What should be its expressive qualities? How many people will be there? How much time do I have to prepare it? Lobster? Too expensive. Nick and Kate don’t eat meat. Dennis can’t eat shellfish. The store closes early on Saturday and I have that class in the morning. The nice tablecloth? No…too fancy. Creativity within constraints.

People engage in design processes in their daily lives. These efforts are very little different than professional circumstances. People just aren’t used to thinking about it that way. The client who sees design as surface, as decoration, as “icing on the cake” need only make the link to his own life. When he does so, he might see that form communicates whether he intends it to or not.

A belt does more than hold your pants up. It’s a visual juncture and we care about it’s expressive qualities. If we didn’t care, we’d just tie a rope around our waists.

Rick Landesberg, Landesberg Design

www.landesbergdesign.com