Theories, critiques, and interpretations can disguise the
fact that the best designs are not the ones that tickle the fancy as much as the ones that tweak the world. Design is a practice in practical magic.
This reminds me of the story about the two designers and the
bear:
Once upon a time there were two designers. One of them was a great genius, known
for his smart theories of semiotics and society, design and culture, the big
picture. He was always called on
to make presentations at conferences.
The other was just an ordinary designer of logos, posters, and other
lowly products who did not get work unless his designs solved the problem. For our purposes here, we can refer to
him as the fool.
One day this genius and this fool found themselves walking
in the woods. Suddenly, off in the
distance, they saw a bear snorting and pawing the ground. He was clearly preparing to
attack. The terrified jerk quickly
tore through his knapsack, searching for his sneakers so he could make a run
for it. The genius, however, after
years of solving complex design problems, analyzed the spacial relationship and
immediately assessed the distance between them and the bear, the optimum
velocity of a bear across open terrain, the highest known speed of humans on
foot, and realized that there was no way they could outrun the bear. She explained this fact to the fool as
simply and as quickly as she could in terms he might understand.
But the fool began to put on his sneakers anyway.
The bear started to advance.
The genius, knowing all manner of complex physics from
having designed a textbook on the subject, calculated its precise speed, its
mass multiplied by its velocity, the lateral vectors, and the climatic effects
on the bear's physiognomy. She
quickly saw that they could never, ever outrun the bear, especially now. This she shouted to the fool who
listened carefully, but simply continued to tighten his sneaker laces.
Now the bear was even closer and beginning its attack. They could smell it at this distance
and the bear could certainly smell them.
The genius – summoning all her concentration and her vast knowledge of
systems design – quickly factored in chaos theory and fractals, cardio-vascular
limits, and the probability of lightning striking the bear under such-and-such
conditions and came to one final irrevocable conclusion.
There was no way whatsoever for them to outrun the damn
bear!
She went through all this with great intensity, knowing how
little time was left. But the fool
simply pulled up his socks, crouched down into a track-start position, and
prepared to run.
"It's useless!” the genius cried, “don't you understand what I've been
saying?"
The fool merely looked up at her, with a sad expression, and
said:
“I guess that's
true, if you say so. You know
better than I do about all that.
You’re the genius. But when
you think about it, it really doesn’t matter. Because I don't actually have to outrun the bear.”
“No?” asked the genius,
standing hapless and flat-footed.
“No,” said the fool. “I just have to outrun YOU!"
And off he went.
Moral?
There are two.
First, you can apply any old joke to design because design is vast.
Second, great thoughts are great. But in the end, a great design is always a matter of doing
something that actually works.
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