Design Thinking
It is assumed by most of those I work with, that the name “dialog” refers to the type of conversation I presume to have with clients, but while this is undoubtedly a primary objective, it is not why the name was selected. The name, instead, refers to the conversations that inevitably exist between design elements, between volumes, planes, lines, and between negative and positive spaces — between such things as walls, fixtures, materials, lighting, trees, and all other elements that make up both the built and surrounding natural environment. These are conversations typically of assertiveness and acquiescence or facilitation, and of direction and destination/arrival. Design functions in many ways, but there are two that I see as most notable. Design functions to order our environments and settings, to create organization from randomness in the pursuit of both aesthetic and functional objectives; and design functions to communicate agendas or ideals, or simply an affiliation with a like-minded community. Both of these functions, ordering and communicating, require design elements to engage in coherent dialogs.
Design Making
I grew up in a shop in the midwest, building everything from little cannons that used firecrackers to propel ball bearings to velocities capable of unintended consequences to go carts…also capable of unintended consequences (nearly fulfilled). Within these projects, design became a way of thinking; and a relationship was developed between thinking, making, and using. When the designer is the maker, and ultimately the user, the resulting object becomes particularly and continually attentive to its purposes. It is created, revised, re-conceived and modified. It is more a living thing that exemplifies process and hands-on problem-solving, than a thing of detached, sometimes indifferent and mechanized, production.
Undoubtedly, this experience affects my professional design practice, and informs my approach to different projects. I have, I think, an unusual appreciation of materials and 3-dimensional exploration, as well as a knowledge of fabrication techniques. I also think I have developed an unusual attention to detail. And, I believe that these qualities are of value in an creative industry that is increasingly computer “confined”. Sometimes, for example, the unique success of a project comes down to such things as the type of steel used, the type of finish or texture applied, and the spacing and scale of a specific type of hardware; all of which can only be explored 3-dimensionally, with hands engaged and materials applied (in the spirit of firecracker cannons and go carts). This practice evokes the word “craft”, small-scale production characterized by what I like to call hand/brain coordination. Within my studio, a metal lathe, vacuum former, and other such tools, coexist with computers; and the versatile pencil is readily at hand. And an 8’ antique model of the Wright Bros. 1902 flyer sours over my work space. The flyer, aside from just looking really cool, is a reminder to think outside of the box, and to sometimes get out of the studio to the “field” of hands-on exploration. Fittingly, the flyer’s landing skids were never installed. It’s compelled to stay aloft, moving, exploring, revealing. As Bruce Mau states in his “Design Manifesto”, slow down…keep moving.