Pocketbooks…

Last week I was in Manhattan for the opening of a new design showroom in the Architects and Designer’s Building. Lavish, sleek, elegant and ever so Italian, with designers like Pininfarina creating their product, Snaidero is the best of the best- well-engineered, beautifully detailed and presented. Very seductive, like any good Italian…

It also happened to be “Fashion Week” in New York, when the couture designers present their spring collections- full of fantasy, beautiful women and drama. Always wonderful to look at, always something of a dream. So many negative things have been said about fashion’s relevance in tough times, but couture remains alive for a reason.

My architect friends took issue with my contention that good design doesn’t take a lot of money. Looking at that gorgeous showroom, I can't argue- luxury has its place, and it’s in showrooms with designers like these that we get our inspiration. Like any other field, the best always stands out- the Ferraris, the Diors, the Tiffanys; iconic designers who create beautiful objects that drive our desire; we’re inspired by those beautiful objects- by artists who have the creativity and skills to make things that are unique and special.

Government statistics say we’re coming to the end of this recession. It feels a bit like the end of a tsunami. We’ve been holed up listening to the wind howl outside and we’re cautiously peeking through storm shutters assessing the damage. Some of us have been really hit hard, others shaken by the reality check. We’ve all been affected in our outlook and expectations. It’s been a long, tough year, and it will be a long time before we feel secure enough to take big risks again. But clearly we want to have things of beauty around us, and more important, need to feel that we can have dreams about what’s next.

Enough about being frugal and cautious- we know we need to assess the damage and fix the problems, and as grownups we’ll take care of business. Sometimes design- and the best things in life- are in the small extravagances, and we just want to splurge a little. And we should- just a little.

I think back to my parents and my Aunt Jessie, who came to adulthood in that last great financial cataclysm. They didn’t buy a lot and wasted nothing, but there was always room at the table for an extra person, and I can’t remember how many times we gave up our rooms to a cousin or stray friend.  Aunt Jessie used to wash the plastic forks and save the aluminum pans after a party; we affectionately teased her frugality. She had a giant pocketbook the size of a small suitcase that was always full of little treats- candies, glamorous earrings that turned our ears green,  toys to distract us when we were being pests. It was a bag of wonder she would peer into and pull out something magical- better than Santa. Aunt Jessie cooked enough food on any given Sunday to feed a family of 12 for two weeks, and feed us she did. Enough was never enough, and there was never a question of what she could give. But there she was, washing those plastic forks. Aunt Jessie lived in a little apartment above a store in Brooklyn; simple and immaculately clean, it was full of people and food and laughter and great love. Her generosity lives on after her in the spirit of her children, grandchildren and now great-grandchildren, and in the hearts of an enormous extended family.

It’s not either/ or. It’s both. Wonderful to have those with deep pockets and broad imaginations who create things of lasting beauty as inspiration to us all. No question of their significance in affecting the landscape of our imagination. And innovation most often comes from the top. We need those with money to invest in the creative pursuits of great designers. Without Charles and Ray Eames, there wouldn’t be IKEA.

So, what does any of this have to do with design? Probably nothing, except that it reflects fundamental values about what lasts and what we remember as extravagance. I love beautiful things, great art and design, and have spent my life helping people make choices to make their environments special. If I’m honest with myself,  I’ll always covet those Manolo Blahniks. But it’s that little apartment above the store in Brooklyn that I remember as home, where I couldn’t wait to go and that I think of with great affection, where I learned about generosity and what being “rich” really means. 

As we come through this “correction”- the most significant in my lifetime- I think we’ll all feel that we have less, that we need to be careful. No question. But sometimes it’s those little luxuries that we allow ourselves- the treats we choose to be a bit extravagant about- that get us through the tough times. It can be as simple as those rhinestone earrings in Aunt Jessie’s pocketbook.

Limits...

I thought I’d sidestep the fact that tomorrow is 9/11, but all week my inbox has been full of reminders. It seems presumptuous to write about it in this, a blog about design, but it keeps coming to me in different ways and I don’t want to ignore something that has been so significant in all our lives. Another year, another cycle of seasons, changes and time to heal. We’ve all been touched by and lived with the process of finding a way to keep going after what for many of us was cataclysmic, and for all of us who were touched in some way by that event, at the very least a profound moment of loss and awakening to how fragile our lives really are and what can be taken away from us in a single terrible moment.

So why start there, and what does this have to do with design?

We live.

Life does go on, and as we come through what for many of us has been a difficult time these past years, it’s good to remember what’s really important. We’re here, we were lucky, we get to live, we rebuild, we get on with things. And we plan.

I started these musings thinking about “tight times”, how the challenges of the past couple of years have colored all of our decisions and perceptions, not just in design but in our lives. Perhaps this “correction”, though certainly more severe than anyone anticipated, has pushed us to discover our limits and challenge them; what we think we can do and how to make things happen in our lives. I’m thinking that these moments have much to teach us, not only about what’s of lasting value, but what we consider the limits of our own- and our world’s- potential.

I’ve been reading a lot lately about how good design is in danger of being “sacrificed” by the state of the economy. I can’t for the life of me figure out why. In my experience, budget has little to do with creativity. If anything, limits on our funds seem to push us to find more creative solutions. And knowing what resources we have available to make our dreams happen doesn’t preclude getting there, just sets the stage for our direction. If we’re using our heads and our hearts, the results can be pretty astounding.

In the last 10 years or so there’s been a lot of movement on the part of architects to find creative and humanitarian solutions to world crises and housing problems- from housing for the homeless and displaced, to low-cost schools and medical treatment facilities in third world countries. A whole generation of young architects has been learning to think about solutions to these problems with limited resources in difficult locations. The results have been amazing and inspiring- beautiful, simple structures with ingenious use of local resources or cheap, readily available materials. The ideas are what matters, and solving the problem. 

One of the most inspirational voices for this “new humanism” was Sam Mockbee, an architect who was pivotal in using his own personal force, sense of “soul”, and deep commitment to community to forge a new sensibility in architectural education. As one of the founders and directors of the Rural Studio, a program in the architecture department at Auburn University, he profoundly changed our thinking about what is important in our purpose for design. Under his direction, students in the Rural Studio built homes and community buildings for people in desperate need, often using recycled or “found” materials- a chapel built substantially from discarded tires; stucco walls studded with wine bottle windows, recycled windshields and license plates were the building palette with which he created dwellings and structures to enrich the environment in one of the poorest parts of the country. He and his students made our trash find a new life. In the process, he altered the thinking of many architecture and design lovers beyond his own small world as to what can be achieved if we aren’t limited by a lack of imagination. An award-winning residential architect, he brought to these designs the same respect, aesthetic and creativity that he applied to private clients. In the process he reminded us of what is important and how we can achieve it.

Those engaged in this process have been finding ways to work with limited resources without sacrificing ideas- and they’ve been at the forefront of thinking clearly about how to distill what’s most important in terms of fulfilling fundamental human need for shelter. Some of those designs are inspiring, some are technologically intriguing, all are done with extremely limited resources in difficult circumstances. “Architecture for Humanity”, a not-for-profit organization based in San Francisco,  has been key in promoting this thinking and it is wonderful to see what is coming out of the collaboration of people from all walks, from all over the world. 

We’ve become more conscious of the fragility of our resources- the balance of nature and what happens when that’s thrown off, misuse and overuse of our natural materials, and much has been said and done to look at “greening” our choices. We’re rethinking what it means to use materials “honestly”, and what “honest” materials are- are plastics really an enemy, or can we find a way to use them more effectively? Is strip-mining the side of a mountain to tile our bathrooms really a good use of our natural resources? And all those rainforest boardrooms and media centers that we rip out in 10 years? It’s a process in making better choices and using what we have with more thoughtfulness. 

So are we all going to run out and build homes out of carpet samples and recycled tires? Of course not. But the fundamental concept of creative problem-solving is that we aren’t limited by our resources, but by our lack of imagination in finding solutions, and in assuming that those limits will stop us from building instead of inspiring us to build smarter. And build we will, because we can.

OK, I was a bit serious this time. Next week I promise I'll think about window treatments.

For more on Sam Mockbee and the Rural Studio, see the following link:

http://www.cadc.auburn.edu/soa/rural-studio/mockbee.htm 

For more on Architecture for Humanity:

http://architectureforhumanity.org/