A Bag of Eye Candy

Richard Mandel
Technical Editor

I was in Montreal not long ago for a conference, my first journey out of the continental US. In the course of the stay, I (and my wife, traveling for the first time with me on this kind of trip) had the opportunity to play tourist. Our walk took us to Montreal's Basilique Notre Dame, of which the original structure, a seminary, dates back to the late 17th century. The cathedral itself is not as large as the more famous counterpart in France, nor is the exterior quite as spectacular. However, designers during the Victorian era decided that the interior was plain, and they created an eye-popping, jaw-cracking confection of carved woods, brass and stained glass. If you're attuned to architectural style at all, you'll know the Victorians were into elaborate detail, and Notre Dame-Montreal is a breathtaking example of this. Can you fault me, though, that my first thought upon seeing this, no doubt inspired by innumerable conversations with engineers and product designers, was "this is the difference between engineering and craftsmanship." And that statement repeated when visiting a dealer in technical and medical antiques later that day. Among his wares was a beautiful 1921 dental X-ray machine (complete, but stripped of wiring so no fool would casually power it up), and electrical coils mounted on mahogany boxes with nickel-plated binding posts (one suspended the coil in a brass bracket shaped like a stylized "W", and that was embellished with detailing).

The modern version of all this, of course, may lack the warmth of an aged wood veneer, but the tools and materials that are available to you designers make you no less the craftsperson. My toothbrush is no longer a flat plastic stick with bristles -- it's a sinuous curve of smooth, hard plastic with a second, "grippable" elastomer molded into it. Many cameras have lost their squared edges of twenty years ago, and automobiles the same, looking more like organic objects born of a laboratory petri dish than a sheet metal shear. Same for computers, like the Silicon Graphics box with no square edges, and laptops with visual appeal mixed with their functionality. And portable CD players. Toasters. And so on.

I learned, in a technology demo lab years ago, that more flash, more blinking lights, only adds to the interest in a product. How much does it add to your production cost to embellish your product with a crease line emphasizing shape? Will your product's strength be compromised by some punched holes of diminishing size, or fanciful scrollwork? Your product may become technically obsolete in a matter of years, but the design could stand for centuries.

Originally published in the October  1998 issue of designfax.
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