top of page
Walkable City: How Downtown Can Save America, One Step at a Time
May 21, 2025
While revisiting Walkable City: How Downtown Can Save America, One Step at a Time by Jeff Speck, I found a yellowed Amazon receipt tucked inside—an unintentional bookmark from when I first purchased the book on February 22, 2016. Only recently did I finally have the chance to read it thoroughly, and it has since offered valuable insights for my draft on designing longevity communities. I’m grateful I brought the book to the U.S. and rediscovered it on my small dorm bookshelf.
What I find most compelling about Speck’s work is his ethnographic eye to human behavior and his consideration of the complex intentions behind decisions made by various key stakeholders. His use of the “level of service” lens to analyze walkability challenges mirrors context-sensitive design principles (P88).
Speck reminds us that cities exist to bring things together (P105). Further, service design facilitates interconnections, enhancing user experience through products and environments. Elevating walking to an “art form” (P70) becomes central to his argument. He identifies three core reasons to prioritize walkability: wealth, health, and sustainability (P16).
Speck also outlines four essential types of walks (P71): the useful walk, the safe walk, the comfortable walk, and the interesting walk. These are supported by ten tactical steps toward walkability: 1. put cars in their place, 2. mix the use, 3. get the parking right, 4. let transit work, 5. protect the pedestrian, 6. welcome bike, 7. shape the space, 8. plant trees, 9. make friendly and unique faces, and 10. pick your winners.
A quote by David Byrne in Bicycle Diaries resonates deeply with my current research: “If we can build a successful city for children, we can build a successful city for all people” (P283). This idea aligns with the vision of cultivating a longevity community, where the built environment is only one layer. Equally vital are the invisible social infrastructures, such as inclusive culture, perceived safety, and universal design principles, that enable people of all ages to thrive.
While revisiting Walkable City: How Downtown Can Save America, One Step at a Time by Jeff Speck, I found a yellowed Amazon receipt tucked inside—an unintentional bookmark from when I first purchased the book on February 22, 2016. Only recently did I finally have the chance to read it thoroughly, and it has since offered valuable insights for my draft on designing longevity communities. I’m grateful I brought the book to the U.S. and rediscovered it on my small dorm bookshelf.
What I find most compelling about Speck’s work is his ethnographic eye to human behavior and his consideration of the complex intentions behind decisions made by various key stakeholders. His use of the “level of service” lens to analyze walkability challenges mirrors context-sensitive design principles (P88).
Speck reminds us that cities exist to bring things together (P105). Further, service design facilitates interconnections, enhancing user experience through products and environments. Elevating walking to an “art form” (P70) becomes central to his argument. He identifies three core reasons to prioritize walkability: wealth, health, and sustainability (P16).
Speck also outlines four essential types of walks (P71): the useful walk, the safe walk, the comfortable walk, and the interesting walk. These are supported by ten tactical steps toward walkability: 1. put cars in their place, 2. mix the use, 3. get the parking right, 4. let transit work, 5. protect the pedestrian, 6. welcome bike, 7. shape the space, 8. plant trees, 9. make friendly and unique faces, and 10. pick your winners.
A quote by David Byrne in Bicycle Diaries resonates deeply with my current research: “If we can build a successful city for children, we can build a successful city for all people” (P283). This idea aligns with the vision of cultivating a longevity community, where the built environment is only one layer. Equally vital are the invisible social infrastructures, such as inclusive culture, perceived safety, and universal design principles, that enable people of all ages to thrive.
Designing for Service: Key Issues and New Directions
May 12, 2025
I recently came across an insightful resource: Designing for Service: Key Issues and New Directions, edited by Daniela Sangiorgi and Alison Prendiville (Bloomsbury). Recommended via my Amazon shopping list, this book is especially timely as I prepare my forthcoming book, which connects the Design for Longevity (D4L) concept with service innovation to explore design-led approaches to complex problem-solving (P201).
Robert Young (2009) introduced a content model outlining three design impact levels: products, systems, and policy, spanning from the tangible to the intangible and from micro to macro scales (P141). I see service design as occupying the interstitial space between product–system and system–policy. In the context of New Service Development (NSD), Stefan Holmlid, Katarina Wetter-Edman, and Bo Edvardsson note that “service design can thus embrace advanced views of service as configurations of resource integration” (P95).
NSD is further elaborated through the concept of “serviceability,” as presented in Chapter 14 (P205) by Tracy Bhamra, Andrew T. Walters, and James Moultrie. They decomposed the characteristics of services, including accessibility, modularity, potential failure modes, and others, to explore service-oriented business and product serviceability (P204).
I was particularly drawn to Lucy Kimbell and Jeanette Blomberg’s The Object of Service Design in Chapter 6, which offers a distinct lens from the concept of boundary objects (Star and Griesemer, 1989). They propose three ways to frame the object of service design: the service encounter, the value co-creating system, and the socio-material configuration (Figure 6.1, P82). These are thoughtfully connected to Richard Buchanan’s (2001) framework, which includes an external view of product elements (materials, manner, function, and form), an internal view of product experience (useful, usable, and desirable), and a systems view that considers natural, social, and cultural environments.
I recently came across an insightful resource: Designing for Service: Key Issues and New Directions, edited by Daniela Sangiorgi and Alison Prendiville (Bloomsbury). Recommended via my Amazon shopping list, this book is especially timely as I prepare my forthcoming book, which connects the Design for Longevity (D4L) concept with service innovation to explore design-led approaches to complex problem-solving (P201).
Robert Young (2009) introduced a content model outlining three design impact levels: products, systems, and policy, spanning from the tangible to the intangible and from micro to macro scales (P141). I see service design as occupying the interstitial space between product–system and system–policy. In the context of New Service Development (NSD), Stefan Holmlid, Katarina Wetter-Edman, and Bo Edvardsson note that “service design can thus embrace advanced views of service as configurations of resource integration” (P95).
NSD is further elaborated through the concept of “serviceability,” as presented in Chapter 14 (P205) by Tracy Bhamra, Andrew T. Walters, and James Moultrie. They decomposed the characteristics of services, including accessibility, modularity, potential failure modes, and others, to explore service-oriented business and product serviceability (P204).
I was particularly drawn to Lucy Kimbell and Jeanette Blomberg’s The Object of Service Design in Chapter 6, which offers a distinct lens from the concept of boundary objects (Star and Griesemer, 1989). They propose three ways to frame the object of service design: the service encounter, the value co-creating system, and the socio-material configuration (Figure 6.1, P82). These are thoughtfully connected to Richard Buchanan’s (2001) framework, which includes an external view of product elements (materials, manner, function, and form), an internal view of product experience (useful, usable, and desirable), and a systems view that considers natural, social, and cultural environments.
Design without Project
May 3, 2025
I discovered Design without Project (DwP) by Octavi Rofes (published by Corraini Edizioni) in 2023 at the Venice Biennale bookstore while preparing my speech and exhibition for Venice Innovation Design (VID). The book immediately caught my eye, and I purchased it as a potential “commute read,” something lightweight yet intellectually provocative.
Spanish designer Martí Guixé (2020) described DwP not as a prescriptive design tool but “a monolith, whose functions are unknown and yet to be explored. There is no handbook, no step-by-step process to follow.” This characterization raised my curiosity: what if we conceive of our design works not through conventional project-based structures but as open-ended, evolving practices? When the scope and constraints of a project dissolve into the creative process itself, does design become more advanced, complex, or simply more systemic?
DwP includes a manifesto that challenges traditional notions of design, social change, and politics. A few compelling excerpts (P13) include: 1. DP processes end up with new forms, while DwP set up cognitive traps. 2. DP aimed to transform the whole world, DwP wishes to be entirely transformed by it. 3. DP identity was a noun related to “what you are,” DwP identity is an action, “the who you are in the process of becoming.” 4. DP battled against uncertainty, DwP only expands in a volatile environment. 5. DP was to coexistence what DwP has become to survival. 6. DP political acts were based on matters of fact. DwP politics are about matters of concern.
As Guixé (2020) puts it, “DwP is not a tool held between us and the world; it is we who stand between DwP and the world. DwP and its unknown possibilities, abilities, and powers await the challenges our new century is beginning to reveal.” These DwP manifestos prompted me, as a designer, to reflect on a transformational shift—from being a project-driven problem solver to becoming a purpose-driven culture shaper. Perhaps DwP can be understood as an artifact of latent, unexplored creative potential, an invitation to rethink design as an open-ended, evolving practice.
I discovered Design without Project (DwP) by Octavi Rofes (published by Corraini Edizioni) in 2023 at the Venice Biennale bookstore while preparing my speech and exhibition for Venice Innovation Design (VID). The book immediately caught my eye, and I purchased it as a potential “commute read,” something lightweight yet intellectually provocative.
Spanish designer Martí Guixé (2020) described DwP not as a prescriptive design tool but “a monolith, whose functions are unknown and yet to be explored. There is no handbook, no step-by-step process to follow.” This characterization raised my curiosity: what if we conceive of our design works not through conventional project-based structures but as open-ended, evolving practices? When the scope and constraints of a project dissolve into the creative process itself, does design become more advanced, complex, or simply more systemic?
DwP includes a manifesto that challenges traditional notions of design, social change, and politics. A few compelling excerpts (P13) include: 1. DP processes end up with new forms, while DwP set up cognitive traps. 2. DP aimed to transform the whole world, DwP wishes to be entirely transformed by it. 3. DP identity was a noun related to “what you are,” DwP identity is an action, “the who you are in the process of becoming.” 4. DP battled against uncertainty, DwP only expands in a volatile environment. 5. DP was to coexistence what DwP has become to survival. 6. DP political acts were based on matters of fact. DwP politics are about matters of concern.
As Guixé (2020) puts it, “DwP is not a tool held between us and the world; it is we who stand between DwP and the world. DwP and its unknown possibilities, abilities, and powers await the challenges our new century is beginning to reveal.” These DwP manifestos prompted me, as a designer, to reflect on a transformational shift—from being a project-driven problem solver to becoming a purpose-driven culture shaper. Perhaps DwP can be understood as an artifact of latent, unexplored creative potential, an invitation to rethink design as an open-ended, evolving practice.
Urban Experience and Design: Contemporary Perspectives on Improving the Public Realm
April 28, 2025
Right after my defense, another short trip awaited me. Luckily, I had grabbed a book for the flight: Urban Experience and Design, edited by Justin Hollander and Ann Sussman. Although I haven’t finished it yet, Chapter 6—“Exploring Eye-Tracking Technology” by Frank Suurenbroek and Gideon Spanjar—caught my attention. I was particularly intrigued by their discussion on how urban design impacts human well-being across multiple dimensions (P91).
They identified three key design principles to discuss human-scale streetscapes: 1. Active Ground Floor: Transparent windows, doors, and functions on the first floor create a strong connection between interior and exterior spaces, fostering openness and ownership. 2. Ornate Façades: Variations in building height, width, and rhythm enrich the streetscape, offering visual interest, enclosure, and pedestrian guidance. 3. Tactility: Textured surfaces in building skins, pavements, and street design enhance detail and scale, encouraging engagement between people and their environment.
Through case studies and visual analyses, the chapter prompted me to reflect on the physical-behavioral relationships embedded in streetscapes (P102), and how we develop cognitive maps—mental representations of spatial information such as identity, location, distance, and direction (Downs & Stea, 1973). Cognitive maps serve as internalized expressions of the spaces individuals experience (P124). This also reminded me of Charles and Ray Eames’ film Powers of Ten (1977), which explores the relationship between scale, perception, and design.
Right after my defense, another short trip awaited me. Luckily, I had grabbed a book for the flight: Urban Experience and Design, edited by Justin Hollander and Ann Sussman. Although I haven’t finished it yet, Chapter 6—“Exploring Eye-Tracking Technology” by Frank Suurenbroek and Gideon Spanjar—caught my attention. I was particularly intrigued by their discussion on how urban design impacts human well-being across multiple dimensions (P91).
They identified three key design principles to discuss human-scale streetscapes: 1. Active Ground Floor: Transparent windows, doors, and functions on the first floor create a strong connection between interior and exterior spaces, fostering openness and ownership. 2. Ornate Façades: Variations in building height, width, and rhythm enrich the streetscape, offering visual interest, enclosure, and pedestrian guidance. 3. Tactility: Textured surfaces in building skins, pavements, and street design enhance detail and scale, encouraging engagement between people and their environment.
Through case studies and visual analyses, the chapter prompted me to reflect on the physical-behavioral relationships embedded in streetscapes (P102), and how we develop cognitive maps—mental representations of spatial information such as identity, location, distance, and direction (Downs & Stea, 1973). Cognitive maps serve as internalized expressions of the spaces individuals experience (P124). This also reminded me of Charles and Ray Eames’ film Powers of Ten (1977), which explores the relationship between scale, perception, and design.
Urban Code: 100 Lessons for Understanding the City
April 22, 2025
I am honored to have been invited by Professor Matthew Wizinsky to serve as a guest critic for the course "Design and Urban Inquiries" at the University of Michigan. During the two-hour short flight, I read “Urban Code: 100 Lessons for Understanding the City” by Anne Mikoleit and Moritz Pürckhauer (MIT Press), an insightful ethnographic-style book that offers thumbnail sketches and anecdotes based on field studies of Manhattan’s SoHo neighborhood.
This compact volume presents an alternative lens for perceiving urban environments, revealing patterns of individuals' behavior and spatial dynamics. For instance, hot dog stands are strategically located at crossroads (P66), food vendors act as magnets for pedestrian flow (P67), and trash serves as a critical prop in the active theater of street life (P73). Street vendors, as visual representatives of vibrant urbanity (P28), position themselves in relation to the sun’s path and the crowd (P10).
The book highlights that cities are structured by both scientific principles and distinct areas that contribute to spatial orientation (P74). Human-centered urban spaces can foster intergenerational and socially interdependent relationships (P62), with streets acting as melting pots where diverse lives converge—for example, a taxi driver’s existence blending into the fabric of street life (P54). Locals and tourists navigate the streets at different rhythms (P48), each forming a unique mental map of their surroundings (P17) and possibly reshaping their unique servicescapes (Bitner, 1992). At times, passersby might also lose themselves in reflections, reawakened by an enticing display (P43).
The authors emphasize that well-designed cities need to accommodate older adults through thoughtful street configurations, including accessible sidewalks, traffic signals, pedestrian crossings, resting niches, playground-adjacent benches, scenic viewpoints, and communal seating in public squares (P59). Beyond functionality, urban design need not continuously pursue purposeful outcomes; sometimes, the objective is simply leisure, playfulness, or even idleness (P98).
I am honored to have been invited by Professor Matthew Wizinsky to serve as a guest critic for the course "Design and Urban Inquiries" at the University of Michigan. During the two-hour short flight, I read “Urban Code: 100 Lessons for Understanding the City” by Anne Mikoleit and Moritz Pürckhauer (MIT Press), an insightful ethnographic-style book that offers thumbnail sketches and anecdotes based on field studies of Manhattan’s SoHo neighborhood.
This compact volume presents an alternative lens for perceiving urban environments, revealing patterns of individuals' behavior and spatial dynamics. For instance, hot dog stands are strategically located at crossroads (P66), food vendors act as magnets for pedestrian flow (P67), and trash serves as a critical prop in the active theater of street life (P73). Street vendors, as visual representatives of vibrant urbanity (P28), position themselves in relation to the sun’s path and the crowd (P10).
The book highlights that cities are structured by both scientific principles and distinct areas that contribute to spatial orientation (P74). Human-centered urban spaces can foster intergenerational and socially interdependent relationships (P62), with streets acting as melting pots where diverse lives converge—for example, a taxi driver’s existence blending into the fabric of street life (P54). Locals and tourists navigate the streets at different rhythms (P48), each forming a unique mental map of their surroundings (P17) and possibly reshaping their unique servicescapes (Bitner, 1992). At times, passersby might also lose themselves in reflections, reawakened by an enticing display (P43).
The authors emphasize that well-designed cities need to accommodate older adults through thoughtful street configurations, including accessible sidewalks, traffic signals, pedestrian crossings, resting niches, playground-adjacent benches, scenic viewpoints, and communal seating in public squares (P59). Beyond functionality, urban design need not continuously pursue purposeful outcomes; sometimes, the objective is simply leisure, playfulness, or even idleness (P98).
Convivial Toolbox: Generative Research for the Front End of Design
April 8, 2025
I am grateful to the journal paper reviewers for recommending Convivial Toolbox: Generative Research for the Front End of Design by Prof. Liz Sanders and Prof. Pieter Jan Stappers (published by BIS Publishing). Reading this work significantly helped me refine my manuscript.
Co-creation, co-design, and design research are foundational to generative research. Actively involving users in the design process has become increasingly crucial for fostering more diverse and inclusive ideas. As Sleeswijk Visser et al. (2005) note, users can be seen as “experts of their experience,” making them valuable contributors to the design team (P24).
The growing complexity of contemporary design challenges calls for a reexamination of the role and boundaries of design disciplines. We are witnessing a shift from a traditional focus on the objects of design to a more purposeful approach centered on the intent behind designing. Conventional disciplines—visual communication, industrial design, interior design, architecture, and interaction design—are typically delineated by their domain. In contrast, emerging disciplines are defined by motivation, such as designing for experience, service, innovation, transformation, and sustainability (P17).
Sanders and Stappers’s insights on experience and service design are especially compelling (P29): “In experience design, the focus lies on creating meaning or affect in the user, rather than simply producing a physical artifact that serves a functional purpose. In service design, the emphasis is on creating complex systems that deliver value to people through both material and organizational means.”
These disciplines are deeply connected to the notion of everyday creativity (P38), which encompasses four levels: doing, adapting, making, and creating. This concept aligns with Koestler’s (1964) method of bisociation—the generation of new ideas through the intersection of previously unrelated concepts. This lens offers a practical approach for understanding how service and experience design can converge (P46), enabling the emergence of innovative solutions through unexpected connections.
I am grateful to the journal paper reviewers for recommending Convivial Toolbox: Generative Research for the Front End of Design by Prof. Liz Sanders and Prof. Pieter Jan Stappers (published by BIS Publishing). Reading this work significantly helped me refine my manuscript.
Co-creation, co-design, and design research are foundational to generative research. Actively involving users in the design process has become increasingly crucial for fostering more diverse and inclusive ideas. As Sleeswijk Visser et al. (2005) note, users can be seen as “experts of their experience,” making them valuable contributors to the design team (P24).
The growing complexity of contemporary design challenges calls for a reexamination of the role and boundaries of design disciplines. We are witnessing a shift from a traditional focus on the objects of design to a more purposeful approach centered on the intent behind designing. Conventional disciplines—visual communication, industrial design, interior design, architecture, and interaction design—are typically delineated by their domain. In contrast, emerging disciplines are defined by motivation, such as designing for experience, service, innovation, transformation, and sustainability (P17).
Sanders and Stappers’s insights on experience and service design are especially compelling (P29): “In experience design, the focus lies on creating meaning or affect in the user, rather than simply producing a physical artifact that serves a functional purpose. In service design, the emphasis is on creating complex systems that deliver value to people through both material and organizational means.”
These disciplines are deeply connected to the notion of everyday creativity (P38), which encompasses four levels: doing, adapting, making, and creating. This concept aligns with Koestler’s (1964) method of bisociation—the generation of new ideas through the intersection of previously unrelated concepts. This lens offers a practical approach for understanding how service and experience design can converge (P46), enabling the emergence of innovative solutions through unexpected connections.
Scenario Planning for Cities and Regions: Managing and Envisioning Uncertain Futures
March 31, 2025
Lately, I’ve been flying almost every week. To make the most of those long travel hours—and to stay awake—I always bring along a good book. Last week, I dove into Scenario Planning for Cities and Regions: Managing and Envisioning Uncertain Futures by Professor Robert Goodspeed (published by the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy) and finally had a peaceful weekend evening to "digest" everything I’d read in the air.
Transformation is the fundamental goal of planning practice (P175). That idea resonated deeply with me since it holds true not only in urban planning but also in service design and organizational change projects. Change is complex and beautiful, requiring planners and designers to continually navigate the creative tension between long-term vision and short-term action (Albrechts, 2010).
I especially appreciated Goodspeed’s use of four interconnected approaches—forecasting, strategic planning, visioning, and consensus building (P50)—to generate meaningful strategic insights effectively and efficiently (P145). His Urban Scenario Planning Outcomes Evaluation Framework (P163) maps outcomes across three performance levels (city, organization, individual) and three categories (learning, institutional change, system change).
Jane Jacobs famously described cities as systems of organized complexity in her seminal book The Death and Life of Great American Cities (1961). In today’s experience- and longevity-driven economy, our definition of a “city” must evolve to include not only the built environment but also service innovation, lifestyle, transportation, housing, community, policy, education, and broader social and cultural infrastructure. Here, collective planning theory and systems thinking offer essential tools for navigating the intricate realities of urban governance (P3).
Effective and elegant urban planning needs to consider how residents envision and actively shape their environments while also recognizing the impact of more extensive, often uncontrollable external forces (P50). In the face of complex, systemic socio-economic and technological challenges, designers and planners increasingly shift the focus from static, product-level solutions to dynamic, platform-level conditions that enable ongoing adaptation and resilience.
Lately, I’ve been flying almost every week. To make the most of those long travel hours—and to stay awake—I always bring along a good book. Last week, I dove into Scenario Planning for Cities and Regions: Managing and Envisioning Uncertain Futures by Professor Robert Goodspeed (published by the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy) and finally had a peaceful weekend evening to "digest" everything I’d read in the air.
Transformation is the fundamental goal of planning practice (P175). That idea resonated deeply with me since it holds true not only in urban planning but also in service design and organizational change projects. Change is complex and beautiful, requiring planners and designers to continually navigate the creative tension between long-term vision and short-term action (Albrechts, 2010).
I especially appreciated Goodspeed’s use of four interconnected approaches—forecasting, strategic planning, visioning, and consensus building (P50)—to generate meaningful strategic insights effectively and efficiently (P145). His Urban Scenario Planning Outcomes Evaluation Framework (P163) maps outcomes across three performance levels (city, organization, individual) and three categories (learning, institutional change, system change).
Jane Jacobs famously described cities as systems of organized complexity in her seminal book The Death and Life of Great American Cities (1961). In today’s experience- and longevity-driven economy, our definition of a “city” must evolve to include not only the built environment but also service innovation, lifestyle, transportation, housing, community, policy, education, and broader social and cultural infrastructure. Here, collective planning theory and systems thinking offer essential tools for navigating the intricate realities of urban governance (P3).
Effective and elegant urban planning needs to consider how residents envision and actively shape their environments while also recognizing the impact of more extensive, often uncontrollable external forces (P50). In the face of complex, systemic socio-economic and technological challenges, designers and planners increasingly shift the focus from static, product-level solutions to dynamic, platform-level conditions that enable ongoing adaptation and resilience.
Closing the Loop: Systems Thinking for Designers
March 21, 2025
I came across Closing the Loop: Systems Thinking for Designers by Sheryl Cababa (published by Rosenfeld Media) on my tiny dorm bookshelf—a thoughtful birthday gift from my friend Hung-Hsiang Chen in 2023. I ended up finishing the book during a long round-trip journey to give a job talk, making the most of the airport transfers and extended travel time.
The book is helpful for designers looking to deepen their understanding of systems thinking. It introduces foundational frameworks and tools such as the causal loop diagram (CLD), Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems theory (including the individual, microsystem, mesosystem, exosystem, and macrosystem layers, P103), the fishbone diagram, and the iceberg model—all of which can be applied meaningfully within design contexts.
CLDs allow designers to map relationships between nodes, directions, and values (P124), revealing how challenges and solutions are interconnected and often underpinned by power dynamics. The fishbone diagram—introduced in Dr. Kaoru Ishikawa’s Guide to Quality Control (1972)—is a visual tool for identifying the root causes of issues. Originally structured around the 6Ms: manpower, method, machine, material, mother nature, and measurement, the diagram supports comprehensive discussions on contributing factors. On the other hand, the iceberg model provides a way to articulate different levels of systemic influence—from visible behaviors to institutional structures and deeply held mindsets (P140). It’s a potent tool for unpacking how power operates within systems.
No matter which tools are used, Cababa emphasizes that effective systems maps should address three essential aspects of systems thinking: causality, connectedness, and wholeness (P99). What visible and invisible relationships trigger causality? How do we connect physical, virtual, informational, and social elements? And how can we cultivate a comprehensive perspective to reframe, readdress, and refine complex socioeconomic and technological challenges?
These questions resonate with a key insight from David Peter Stroh in Systems Thinking for Social Change (2015): solutions from the past can become the problems of today (P125). In an era shaped by relational design (Escobar et al., 2024), interconnectivity, and computational complexity, embracing a systems-thinking mindset is no longer optional—it’s essential.
I came across Closing the Loop: Systems Thinking for Designers by Sheryl Cababa (published by Rosenfeld Media) on my tiny dorm bookshelf—a thoughtful birthday gift from my friend Hung-Hsiang Chen in 2023. I ended up finishing the book during a long round-trip journey to give a job talk, making the most of the airport transfers and extended travel time.
The book is helpful for designers looking to deepen their understanding of systems thinking. It introduces foundational frameworks and tools such as the causal loop diagram (CLD), Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems theory (including the individual, microsystem, mesosystem, exosystem, and macrosystem layers, P103), the fishbone diagram, and the iceberg model—all of which can be applied meaningfully within design contexts.
CLDs allow designers to map relationships between nodes, directions, and values (P124), revealing how challenges and solutions are interconnected and often underpinned by power dynamics. The fishbone diagram—introduced in Dr. Kaoru Ishikawa’s Guide to Quality Control (1972)—is a visual tool for identifying the root causes of issues. Originally structured around the 6Ms: manpower, method, machine, material, mother nature, and measurement, the diagram supports comprehensive discussions on contributing factors. On the other hand, the iceberg model provides a way to articulate different levels of systemic influence—from visible behaviors to institutional structures and deeply held mindsets (P140). It’s a potent tool for unpacking how power operates within systems.
No matter which tools are used, Cababa emphasizes that effective systems maps should address three essential aspects of systems thinking: causality, connectedness, and wholeness (P99). What visible and invisible relationships trigger causality? How do we connect physical, virtual, informational, and social elements? And how can we cultivate a comprehensive perspective to reframe, readdress, and refine complex socioeconomic and technological challenges?
These questions resonate with a key insight from David Peter Stroh in Systems Thinking for Social Change (2015): solutions from the past can become the problems of today (P125). In an era shaped by relational design (Escobar et al., 2024), interconnectivity, and computational complexity, embracing a systems-thinking mindset is no longer optional—it’s essential.
The Image of the City
March 15, 2025
I discovered Kevin Lynch’s The Image of the City (published by MIT Press), a classic in the fields of architecture and urban planning, during my visit to the bookstore in Budapest last winter. I first encountered this book in college when I took an urban planning class. Revisiting it was a delightful and intellectual satistied experience, mainly because of the small thumbnail sketches in the margins that effectively illustrate key concepts, such as the five elements: path, edge, district, node, and landmark (P46, P109), which serve as the analytical components of the environmental image at the city scale (P83), essential for evaluating city form and constructing an imageable landscape.
Lynch emphasized that cities should not be understood merely as physical entities but as environments perceived by their inhabitants (P3). His exploration of how people experience and interpret urban spaces provided an insightful perspective. This notion of perception and behavior resonated with me, leading me to think about the concept of boundary objects (BOs). In Susan Leigh Star’s paper The Structure of Ill-Structured Solutions: Boundary Objects and Heterogeneous Distributed Problem Solving (1989), she identified four types of BOs: Repositories (e.g., BOs as repositories function similarity to libraries or museums), Ideal Type or Platonic Object (e.g., Deletion or local contingencies and global rules), Terrain with Coincident Boundaries (e.g., BOs share common boundaries but differ in resolution and content), Forms and Labels (e.g., BOs serve as standard references to maintain consistent information).
Whether considering Lynch’s five elements or Star’s four types of boundary objects, both frameworks help us shape, articulate, and communicate mental representations—whether of a cityscape or the conceptual understanding of objects, systems, or behaviors. However, the image of a city or an individual’s mental map is not static; it varies not only based on spatial relationships or chronological ages but also due to broader factors such as novel perspective, time of day, season, life stages, and social infrastructure (P86).
I discovered Kevin Lynch’s The Image of the City (published by MIT Press), a classic in the fields of architecture and urban planning, during my visit to the bookstore in Budapest last winter. I first encountered this book in college when I took an urban planning class. Revisiting it was a delightful and intellectual satistied experience, mainly because of the small thumbnail sketches in the margins that effectively illustrate key concepts, such as the five elements: path, edge, district, node, and landmark (P46, P109), which serve as the analytical components of the environmental image at the city scale (P83), essential for evaluating city form and constructing an imageable landscape.
Lynch emphasized that cities should not be understood merely as physical entities but as environments perceived by their inhabitants (P3). His exploration of how people experience and interpret urban spaces provided an insightful perspective. This notion of perception and behavior resonated with me, leading me to think about the concept of boundary objects (BOs). In Susan Leigh Star’s paper The Structure of Ill-Structured Solutions: Boundary Objects and Heterogeneous Distributed Problem Solving (1989), she identified four types of BOs: Repositories (e.g., BOs as repositories function similarity to libraries or museums), Ideal Type or Platonic Object (e.g., Deletion or local contingencies and global rules), Terrain with Coincident Boundaries (e.g., BOs share common boundaries but differ in resolution and content), Forms and Labels (e.g., BOs serve as standard references to maintain consistent information).
Whether considering Lynch’s five elements or Star’s four types of boundary objects, both frameworks help us shape, articulate, and communicate mental representations—whether of a cityscape or the conceptual understanding of objects, systems, or behaviors. However, the image of a city or an individual’s mental map is not static; it varies not only based on spatial relationships or chronological ages but also due to broader factors such as novel perspective, time of day, season, life stages, and social infrastructure (P86).
The Urban Improvise: Improvisation-Based Design for Hybrid Cities
March 9, 2025
I am honored to be a thesis reader for the MIT SMArchS Urbanism Master’s program, where I mentor Minghao Du and Kaicheng Zhuang on redesigning and developing longevity communities. This experience significantly expanded my research interests, broadening them from product service design to encompass urban planning systems. Recently, I explored The Urban Improvise: Improvisation-Based Design for Hybrid Cities by Professor Kristian Kloeckl (published by Yale University Press). A key question emerged: How can we move beyond the traditional focus on control and prediction models to embrace improvisational and flexible approaches that accommodate ambiguity at the urban scale for longevity societies (Scott, 2024)?
Conventional methodologies may no longer suffice for these transformations (P46). Instead, we need to create frameworks that facilitate meaningful dialogues among designers, citizens, communities, and even artifacts (P22). In this context, improvisation becomes increasingly essential for designing interactions within hybrid cities (P56). Kloeckl identifies six types of cities—networked, real-time, virtual, smart, hybrid, responsive, and ad hoc (P26). The hybrid city stands out as a complex integration of people, places, and information through digital networks (P47). Observational studies remain valuable in this setting, especially when combined with improvisation-based design (P184).
One illustrative example is the OpenLines project (2017) by Jonathan Carr, Mark Sivak, and Kloeckl, which examined improvisation-based interactions within responsive urban environments. The project explored how human behavior and physical, digital, and informational artifacts dynamically engage and interact. We live in the platform economy era, where platforms serve as business models that enable value-creating interactions between external producers and service recipients (P31). Companies like Airbnb, TripAdvisor, Uber, and eBay exemplify this model. In our everyday lives, platforms like Uber transform any roadside into a taxi stand, Airbnb redefines the concept of hotels across the city landscape, and cafés and parks evolve into open co-creation workplaces (P40). This prompts an intriguing question: What kinds of platforms and services could be envisioned to benefit a longevity society?
A particularly inspiring connection lies between the Design for Longevity (D4L) concept and hybrid cities. Hybrid cities transform spatial dimensions and redefine our experience of time (P31). This perspective aligns with Kevin Lynch’s The Image of the City (1960), which shifted the focus from Nolli’s bird’s-eye view (1748) to a sociocultural comprehension based on the mental maps of city dwellers (P23). Just as individuals construct their own mental images of a city, the dimension of time might reshape the meaning-making process within longevity societies (P186). This evolving understanding has profound implications for planning and delivering longevity planning services (P50).
I am honored to be a thesis reader for the MIT SMArchS Urbanism Master’s program, where I mentor Minghao Du and Kaicheng Zhuang on redesigning and developing longevity communities. This experience significantly expanded my research interests, broadening them from product service design to encompass urban planning systems. Recently, I explored The Urban Improvise: Improvisation-Based Design for Hybrid Cities by Professor Kristian Kloeckl (published by Yale University Press). A key question emerged: How can we move beyond the traditional focus on control and prediction models to embrace improvisational and flexible approaches that accommodate ambiguity at the urban scale for longevity societies (Scott, 2024)?
Conventional methodologies may no longer suffice for these transformations (P46). Instead, we need to create frameworks that facilitate meaningful dialogues among designers, citizens, communities, and even artifacts (P22). In this context, improvisation becomes increasingly essential for designing interactions within hybrid cities (P56). Kloeckl identifies six types of cities—networked, real-time, virtual, smart, hybrid, responsive, and ad hoc (P26). The hybrid city stands out as a complex integration of people, places, and information through digital networks (P47). Observational studies remain valuable in this setting, especially when combined with improvisation-based design (P184).
One illustrative example is the OpenLines project (2017) by Jonathan Carr, Mark Sivak, and Kloeckl, which examined improvisation-based interactions within responsive urban environments. The project explored how human behavior and physical, digital, and informational artifacts dynamically engage and interact. We live in the platform economy era, where platforms serve as business models that enable value-creating interactions between external producers and service recipients (P31). Companies like Airbnb, TripAdvisor, Uber, and eBay exemplify this model. In our everyday lives, platforms like Uber transform any roadside into a taxi stand, Airbnb redefines the concept of hotels across the city landscape, and cafés and parks evolve into open co-creation workplaces (P40). This prompts an intriguing question: What kinds of platforms and services could be envisioned to benefit a longevity society?
A particularly inspiring connection lies between the Design for Longevity (D4L) concept and hybrid cities. Hybrid cities transform spatial dimensions and redefine our experience of time (P31). This perspective aligns with Kevin Lynch’s The Image of the City (1960), which shifted the focus from Nolli’s bird’s-eye view (1748) to a sociocultural comprehension based on the mental maps of city dwellers (P23). Just as individuals construct their own mental images of a city, the dimension of time might reshape the meaning-making process within longevity societies (P186). This evolving understanding has profound implications for planning and delivering longevity planning services (P50).
Autographic Design: The Matter of Data in a Self-Inscribing World
March 2, 2025
While weekdays are filled with project-oriented tasks, weekends offer a chance to focus on purpose-driven activities. Ripple Café, located next to the MIT Museum, has recently become my favorite spot for weekend morning reading. This week, I delved into Professor Dietmar Offenhuber’s Autographic Design: The Matter of Data in a Self-Inscribing World (published by The MIT Press) and was fascinated by the concept of autographic design and its novel approach to interpreting traces (P67), data, and material.
Our environment is rich with latent information, such as the invisible wind that stirs the grass or the tiny particles in the air that attach to a facemask. These invisible and often subtle traces are inherently ambiguous, presenting a wide range of hypotheses for designers and researchers to investigate (P81). Traces can serve as an unobtrusive method for observing and measuring human activities (P78).
I appreciate Offenhuber’s research-through-design approach (P22), which positioned traces as autographic data — capturing latent information (P47) and examining the relationships between material traces, analysis, and phenomena (Offenhuber, 2019) to shape potential autographic systems (P63). Autographic design can be divided into four levels of design operation (P52): focus (establishing perceptual space), tune (adjusting intensity and arrangement), inscribe (creating traces), and encode (comparing and measuring). This approach involves processes such as framing and constraining, aggregating and separating, coupling and registering, annotating, and coding.
Viewing design as a dialogue with materials suggests treating these materials as active agents within their environment. This perspective involves engaging with phenomena, developing skills, or designing instruments (P201). Donald Schön’s concept of design as a reflective practice complements this view (P49), framing the design process as a form of experimentation — a conversation with the materials at hand, as described in Educating the Reflective Practitioner: Toward a New Design for Teaching and Learning in the Professions (1991). In this context, a trace can be seen as a diagram embodying direction and topology (P75), potentially and poetically transforming how we interpret urban environments and our daily life (P79).
While weekdays are filled with project-oriented tasks, weekends offer a chance to focus on purpose-driven activities. Ripple Café, located next to the MIT Museum, has recently become my favorite spot for weekend morning reading. This week, I delved into Professor Dietmar Offenhuber’s Autographic Design: The Matter of Data in a Self-Inscribing World (published by The MIT Press) and was fascinated by the concept of autographic design and its novel approach to interpreting traces (P67), data, and material.
Our environment is rich with latent information, such as the invisible wind that stirs the grass or the tiny particles in the air that attach to a facemask. These invisible and often subtle traces are inherently ambiguous, presenting a wide range of hypotheses for designers and researchers to investigate (P81). Traces can serve as an unobtrusive method for observing and measuring human activities (P78).
I appreciate Offenhuber’s research-through-design approach (P22), which positioned traces as autographic data — capturing latent information (P47) and examining the relationships between material traces, analysis, and phenomena (Offenhuber, 2019) to shape potential autographic systems (P63). Autographic design can be divided into four levels of design operation (P52): focus (establishing perceptual space), tune (adjusting intensity and arrangement), inscribe (creating traces), and encode (comparing and measuring). This approach involves processes such as framing and constraining, aggregating and separating, coupling and registering, annotating, and coding.
Viewing design as a dialogue with materials suggests treating these materials as active agents within their environment. This perspective involves engaging with phenomena, developing skills, or designing instruments (P201). Donald Schön’s concept of design as a reflective practice complements this view (P49), framing the design process as a form of experimentation — a conversation with the materials at hand, as described in Educating the Reflective Practitioner: Toward a New Design for Teaching and Learning in the Professions (1991). In this context, a trace can be seen as a diagram embodying direction and topology (P75), potentially and poetically transforming how we interpret urban environments and our daily life (P79).
The New Long Life: A Framework for Flourishing in a Changing World
Feburary 22, 2025
It was a four-hour trip from Boston to Houston, and I spent the journey immersed in The New Long Life: A Framework for Flourishing in a Changing World by Andrew J. Scott and Lynda Gratton (published by Bloomsbury). As a big fan of their first book, The 100-Year Life: Living and Working in an Age of Longevity, I was eager to jot down my thoughts.
Human ingenuity has driven technological advances that, while transformative, also threaten to undermine existing economic and social infrastructures. In response, a different kind of ingenuity is required—social ingenuity (P2). A crucial aspect of social ingenuity aligns with the concept of Design for Longevity (D4L), an active approach to life design, particularly relevant in an era shaped by AI, robotics, and an aging society (P4). One of D4L’s key objectives is to foster human flourishing and ensure long-term success (P164).
Retirement experts Joshua Gotbaum and Bruce Wolfe (2018) once said, “Most people hope their retirement will be like a warm bath: you work your way in slowly and gradually.” Yet, in reality, modern retirement often feels more like a cold shower. How can we refashion retirement (P146) through the lens of D4L?
Technology is reshaping how businesses operate, becoming a driving force in redefining work and thus impacting retirement. Longevity is changing how people perceive the relationship between work and time, as well as what matters as work (P164). Companies' structures are encouraged to shift from a rigid model of vertical promotions to a more flexible horizontal career movement (P146) to reconstruct the delicate relationship between age and wages. Additionally, the traditional old-age dependency ratio (OADR)—which measures the proportion of individuals over 65 (the assumed retirement age) relative to those of working age (16-64)—needs a fundamental transformation (P198). Instead of defining retirement and working age by fixed numbers, we should rethink these stages in life, integrating relational, cultural, social, and political perspectives into a revised OADR model.
Regardless of age, as longevity and technology continue to reshape our lives, individuals—and society at large—need to be prepared to adapt and experiment. This includes families, corporations, educators, and governments working together to create resilient D4L ecosystems (P5). At the core of D4L is learning—not just acquiring knowledge but establishing the foundations for a lifetime of continuous learning (P166). Dynamic lifelong learning must be both broad and inclusive (P182). As Satya Nadella, CEO of Microsoft, put it, in the long run, the “learn-it-all” will triumph over the “know-it-all” (P166).
It was a four-hour trip from Boston to Houston, and I spent the journey immersed in The New Long Life: A Framework for Flourishing in a Changing World by Andrew J. Scott and Lynda Gratton (published by Bloomsbury). As a big fan of their first book, The 100-Year Life: Living and Working in an Age of Longevity, I was eager to jot down my thoughts.
Human ingenuity has driven technological advances that, while transformative, also threaten to undermine existing economic and social infrastructures. In response, a different kind of ingenuity is required—social ingenuity (P2). A crucial aspect of social ingenuity aligns with the concept of Design for Longevity (D4L), an active approach to life design, particularly relevant in an era shaped by AI, robotics, and an aging society (P4). One of D4L’s key objectives is to foster human flourishing and ensure long-term success (P164).
Retirement experts Joshua Gotbaum and Bruce Wolfe (2018) once said, “Most people hope their retirement will be like a warm bath: you work your way in slowly and gradually.” Yet, in reality, modern retirement often feels more like a cold shower. How can we refashion retirement (P146) through the lens of D4L?
Technology is reshaping how businesses operate, becoming a driving force in redefining work and thus impacting retirement. Longevity is changing how people perceive the relationship between work and time, as well as what matters as work (P164). Companies' structures are encouraged to shift from a rigid model of vertical promotions to a more flexible horizontal career movement (P146) to reconstruct the delicate relationship between age and wages. Additionally, the traditional old-age dependency ratio (OADR)—which measures the proportion of individuals over 65 (the assumed retirement age) relative to those of working age (16-64)—needs a fundamental transformation (P198). Instead of defining retirement and working age by fixed numbers, we should rethink these stages in life, integrating relational, cultural, social, and political perspectives into a revised OADR model.
Regardless of age, as longevity and technology continue to reshape our lives, individuals—and society at large—need to be prepared to adapt and experiment. This includes families, corporations, educators, and governments working together to create resilient D4L ecosystems (P5). At the core of D4L is learning—not just acquiring knowledge but establishing the foundations for a lifetime of continuous learning (P166). Dynamic lifelong learning must be both broad and inclusive (P182). As Satya Nadella, CEO of Microsoft, put it, in the long run, the “learn-it-all” will triumph over the “know-it-all” (P166).
Research for Designers: A Guide to Methods and Practice
Feburary 15, 2025
Two weeks ago, I received the latest edition of Research for Designers: A Guide to Methods and Practice by Gjoko Muratovski (published by SAGE) as a gift. I’ve been enjoying it during my short round trip to Columbus, Ohio. Unlike a typical design research textbook, this book presents a series of conversations between Muratovski and leading design practitioners and educators, exploring how research methods can be applied to real-world case studies and uncovering the creative philosophies of the interviewees.
How can we integrate research into design? In the post-industrial knowledge era, where artificial intelligence (AI), computational technologies, and immersive media are reshaping industries, the lines between designers and researchers are increasingly blurred, projecting the similarity of their roles, skills, and practices (P76). Design, as an applied science, requires structured methodologies such as practice-based research, practice-led research (P293), and action research (P294). These approaches equip designers with an academic framework to initiate research projects, define objectives and scope, monitor processes, and evaluate outcomes and overarching strategies.
The research process is primarily inquiry-and-evidence-driven (P348), extending beyond functional and aesthetic considerations to encompass environmental, social, political, and ethical dimensions. This aligns with Prof. Ezio Manzini’s perspective that designers should observe the world without making generalizations (P309). It also resonates with John Berger’s (1972) insight in Ways of Seeing that we never look at a single object in isolation; instead, we perceive things in relation to one another and ourselves. Berger argued that how we see things is closely embedded in our knowledge, beliefs, and culture (P246).
Comprehending the capability of framing challenges is as valuable as comparing multiple design solutions; they can gain deeper insights by analyzing different design frameworks, methods, and thought processes (P347). Design education can be built on a project-based, self-discovery curriculum supported by curated readings and activities (P348). Ultimately, it aims to foster self-organizing equilibrium systems that contribute to reweaving the social fabric and support sustainable learning (P305).
Two weeks ago, I received the latest edition of Research for Designers: A Guide to Methods and Practice by Gjoko Muratovski (published by SAGE) as a gift. I’ve been enjoying it during my short round trip to Columbus, Ohio. Unlike a typical design research textbook, this book presents a series of conversations between Muratovski and leading design practitioners and educators, exploring how research methods can be applied to real-world case studies and uncovering the creative philosophies of the interviewees.
How can we integrate research into design? In the post-industrial knowledge era, where artificial intelligence (AI), computational technologies, and immersive media are reshaping industries, the lines between designers and researchers are increasingly blurred, projecting the similarity of their roles, skills, and practices (P76). Design, as an applied science, requires structured methodologies such as practice-based research, practice-led research (P293), and action research (P294). These approaches equip designers with an academic framework to initiate research projects, define objectives and scope, monitor processes, and evaluate outcomes and overarching strategies.
The research process is primarily inquiry-and-evidence-driven (P348), extending beyond functional and aesthetic considerations to encompass environmental, social, political, and ethical dimensions. This aligns with Prof. Ezio Manzini’s perspective that designers should observe the world without making generalizations (P309). It also resonates with John Berger’s (1972) insight in Ways of Seeing that we never look at a single object in isolation; instead, we perceive things in relation to one another and ourselves. Berger argued that how we see things is closely embedded in our knowledge, beliefs, and culture (P246).
Comprehending the capability of framing challenges is as valuable as comparing multiple design solutions; they can gain deeper insights by analyzing different design frameworks, methods, and thought processes (P347). Design education can be built on a project-based, self-discovery curriculum supported by curated readings and activities (P348). Ultimately, it aims to foster self-organizing equilibrium systems that contribute to reweaving the social fabric and support sustainable learning (P305).
Politics of the Everyday
Feburary 10, 2025
While drafting my recent paper on relational design, system dynamics, and service innovation, I found Politics of the Everyday by Prof. Ezio Manzini (published by Bloomsbury). His thought-provoking insights provided a valuable source of inspiration for my upcoming book, Design for Longevity. Inspired by Manzini’s ideas, the concept of a “city of the citizens” means that a city is not only made for its citizens (as users) but also made by its citizens (P116). Similarly, the design and development of longevity planning services should not only be created for clients but also co-designed with them alongside their financial advisors or longevity coaches.
Manzini introduced the concept of design capabilities (P38), which include critical sense, creativity, analytical ability, and practical sense. To him, design capabilities are akin to singing: everyone can do it. While not everyone possesses the same level of talent or skill, with practice, we can all contribute—just as one can sing in a choir (P39).
Design capabilities also shape local and global communities, influencing various economic models such as the sharing economy, collaborative economy (P90), platform economy (P88), and longevity economy. How can we leverage these design capabilities to envision and create locally rooted yet interconnected platforms owned by and serve intentional users (P89)? One aspect of such platforms is their ability to generate relational value through collective entanglement (P65). This value emerges from recognizing the significance of friendship, trust, and empathy—qualities inherent in collaborative projects. Furthermore, experience reveals that relational value can be better fostered when individuals work together toward shared visions (P65).
Design capabilities also contribute directly and indirectly to design culture (P125). Design culture is a blend of values and accumulated knowledge derived from reflecting on past experiences. Its existence enriches social discourse, allowing us to generate new thoughts and envision various creative potentials (Manzini & Tassinari, 2016). This emerging and dynamic design culture redefines normality, reshaping the social, political, and environmental meanings of everyday life (P72) to enable the resilient and fluid conditions for this critical notion of “transform normality (P84).”
Economics, in many ways, encapsulates the well-being of communities and societies. At times, society functions as an inescapable control system (P80). Yet, the complexity and unpredictability of our world cannot be distilled into a single design framework. Instead, it requires multiple conceptual models, each offering partial but valuable insights.
While drafting my recent paper on relational design, system dynamics, and service innovation, I found Politics of the Everyday by Prof. Ezio Manzini (published by Bloomsbury). His thought-provoking insights provided a valuable source of inspiration for my upcoming book, Design for Longevity. Inspired by Manzini’s ideas, the concept of a “city of the citizens” means that a city is not only made for its citizens (as users) but also made by its citizens (P116). Similarly, the design and development of longevity planning services should not only be created for clients but also co-designed with them alongside their financial advisors or longevity coaches.
Manzini introduced the concept of design capabilities (P38), which include critical sense, creativity, analytical ability, and practical sense. To him, design capabilities are akin to singing: everyone can do it. While not everyone possesses the same level of talent or skill, with practice, we can all contribute—just as one can sing in a choir (P39).
Design capabilities also shape local and global communities, influencing various economic models such as the sharing economy, collaborative economy (P90), platform economy (P88), and longevity economy. How can we leverage these design capabilities to envision and create locally rooted yet interconnected platforms owned by and serve intentional users (P89)? One aspect of such platforms is their ability to generate relational value through collective entanglement (P65). This value emerges from recognizing the significance of friendship, trust, and empathy—qualities inherent in collaborative projects. Furthermore, experience reveals that relational value can be better fostered when individuals work together toward shared visions (P65).
Design capabilities also contribute directly and indirectly to design culture (P125). Design culture is a blend of values and accumulated knowledge derived from reflecting on past experiences. Its existence enriches social discourse, allowing us to generate new thoughts and envision various creative potentials (Manzini & Tassinari, 2016). This emerging and dynamic design culture redefines normality, reshaping the social, political, and environmental meanings of everyday life (P72) to enable the resilient and fluid conditions for this critical notion of “transform normality (P84).”
Economics, in many ways, encapsulates the well-being of communities and societies. At times, society functions as an inescapable control system (P80). Yet, the complexity and unpredictability of our world cannot be distilled into a single design framework. Instead, it requires multiple conceptual models, each offering partial but valuable insights.
Defuturing: A New Design Philosophy
Feburary 6, 2025
Right after my last committee meeting yesterday, I felt relieved—it was a crucial steppingstone before my defense. Today, the cold and heavy snow mirrored my thoughts as I reflected on my recent readings in Tatte coffee shop. While preparing a draft for a conference paper, I came across Tony Fry’s Defuturing: A New Design Philosophy (published by Bloomsbury). Intrigued, I focused on relationality as a key concept, linking it to system dynamics and causal loop diagram (CLD).
Relational design is an approach that emphasizes the connections between various entities, including people, objects, systems, and spaces, rather than treating design as the creation of isolated artifacts. It is grounded in the idea that design is not merely about producing static objects but fostering dynamic interactions and experiences. The concept of relationality is essential for understanding these connections—much like CLDs and system dynamics, where relationships and hypotheses are dynamically articulated, formed, and entangled. I am particularly curious to explore how relationality can be examined through the lens of “cause and effect (P11).”
Fry suggested that relationality provides a framework for comprehending modes of being-in-the-world in relation to the being-of-the-world—a condition of active involvement. He positioned relationality as a cornerstone of worldmaking, where design could play a crucial role in shaping our environments and experiences (P193).
Although I may not yet fully grasp the depth of Fry’s argument, I appreciate his unique perspective, which draws from history, cultural studies, and design scholarship to reframe our understanding of design’s past, present, and future. Defuturing presents a thought-provoking path to design philosophy that challenges us to rethink how futures are shaped (P242). By embracing multiple possibilities and dynamic, systematic conditions, design is confronted with the challenge of continuous reinvention and limitation while offering new pathways for practical reasoning and transformative action.
Right after my last committee meeting yesterday, I felt relieved—it was a crucial steppingstone before my defense. Today, the cold and heavy snow mirrored my thoughts as I reflected on my recent readings in Tatte coffee shop. While preparing a draft for a conference paper, I came across Tony Fry’s Defuturing: A New Design Philosophy (published by Bloomsbury). Intrigued, I focused on relationality as a key concept, linking it to system dynamics and causal loop diagram (CLD).
Relational design is an approach that emphasizes the connections between various entities, including people, objects, systems, and spaces, rather than treating design as the creation of isolated artifacts. It is grounded in the idea that design is not merely about producing static objects but fostering dynamic interactions and experiences. The concept of relationality is essential for understanding these connections—much like CLDs and system dynamics, where relationships and hypotheses are dynamically articulated, formed, and entangled. I am particularly curious to explore how relationality can be examined through the lens of “cause and effect (P11).”
Fry suggested that relationality provides a framework for comprehending modes of being-in-the-world in relation to the being-of-the-world—a condition of active involvement. He positioned relationality as a cornerstone of worldmaking, where design could play a crucial role in shaping our environments and experiences (P193).
Although I may not yet fully grasp the depth of Fry’s argument, I appreciate his unique perspective, which draws from history, cultural studies, and design scholarship to reframe our understanding of design’s past, present, and future. Defuturing presents a thought-provoking path to design philosophy that challenges us to rethink how futures are shaped (P242). By embracing multiple possibilities and dynamic, systematic conditions, design is confronted with the challenge of continuous reinvention and limitation while offering new pathways for practical reasoning and transformative action.
Relationality: An Emergent Politics of Life Beyond the Human
January 30, 2025
On a short trip to Detroit, squeezed into a tiny economy seat, I took the opportunity to immerse myself in Relationality: An Emergent Politics of Life Beyond the Human by Prof. Arturo Escobar, Prof. Michal Osterweil, and Prof. Kriti Sharma (published by Bloomsbury Visual Arts). Chapter 5—Designing Relationally: Envisioning Paths Towards Pluriversal Transitions (P151)—left a lasting impression on me.
The authors describe designing relationally as a process of creation grounded in the awareness that we exist in inextricable relationships—not only with one another but also with the earth and numerous nonhuman entities. This perspective frames design as a transformative force for social change (P53), influencing territoriality, communality, autonomy, re-existence, pluriversal transitions, and politics.
The concepts of relationality and designing relationally were new to me. The authors explore these ideas through philosophical and theoretical lenses. I have always considered design an action shaped by our lived experiences and rich narratives. This perspective offers the potential for an ontological shift (P151) toward designing pluriversally.
Designing pluriversally suggests designing from, with, and within a system of many systems, embracing diverse scenarios. It is based on the premise that life is fundamentally interdependent, where all interconnected entities. Its goal is the reconstruction of the intricate web of meanings that shape our minds and spaces (P182). As Anne-Marie Willis states, “We design our world, while our world acts back on us and designs us” (P155). This notion transcends beyond aesthetics or functionality; it is about reconstructing social, economic, political, ecological, spiritual, and cultural relations to foster more harmonious relationships in the context of humans, humanity, and the natural world (P161).
Designing pluriversally also contributes to repairing the social, ecological, existential, and emotional damage caused by relentless individuation, de-communalization, de-localization, displacement, and defuturing—consequences of modernity (P182). Today, more than ever, we need diverse ways of being and thinking that enable collective mobilization toward alternative ways of dwelling on the earth (P182). This reminds me of Prof. Ezio Manzini’s perspective on how system change can create a meaningful impact on a local scale, as discussed in Politics of the Everyday.
Additionally, powerful narratives are emerging at the intersections of older ontologies and a surge of new or renewed ontologies, cosmovisions, and practices linked to struggles for social justice and environmental defense (P157). How can we reimagine the design dimensions necessary to redefine the human experience (P40)? As the authors suggest, a loving future begins in a loving present. We can expand our capacity to confront previous and present failures and open our imaginations to possible future.
On a short trip to Detroit, squeezed into a tiny economy seat, I took the opportunity to immerse myself in Relationality: An Emergent Politics of Life Beyond the Human by Prof. Arturo Escobar, Prof. Michal Osterweil, and Prof. Kriti Sharma (published by Bloomsbury Visual Arts). Chapter 5—Designing Relationally: Envisioning Paths Towards Pluriversal Transitions (P151)—left a lasting impression on me.
The authors describe designing relationally as a process of creation grounded in the awareness that we exist in inextricable relationships—not only with one another but also with the earth and numerous nonhuman entities. This perspective frames design as a transformative force for social change (P53), influencing territoriality, communality, autonomy, re-existence, pluriversal transitions, and politics.
The concepts of relationality and designing relationally were new to me. The authors explore these ideas through philosophical and theoretical lenses. I have always considered design an action shaped by our lived experiences and rich narratives. This perspective offers the potential for an ontological shift (P151) toward designing pluriversally.
Designing pluriversally suggests designing from, with, and within a system of many systems, embracing diverse scenarios. It is based on the premise that life is fundamentally interdependent, where all interconnected entities. Its goal is the reconstruction of the intricate web of meanings that shape our minds and spaces (P182). As Anne-Marie Willis states, “We design our world, while our world acts back on us and designs us” (P155). This notion transcends beyond aesthetics or functionality; it is about reconstructing social, economic, political, ecological, spiritual, and cultural relations to foster more harmonious relationships in the context of humans, humanity, and the natural world (P161).
Designing pluriversally also contributes to repairing the social, ecological, existential, and emotional damage caused by relentless individuation, de-communalization, de-localization, displacement, and defuturing—consequences of modernity (P182). Today, more than ever, we need diverse ways of being and thinking that enable collective mobilization toward alternative ways of dwelling on the earth (P182). This reminds me of Prof. Ezio Manzini’s perspective on how system change can create a meaningful impact on a local scale, as discussed in Politics of the Everyday.
Additionally, powerful narratives are emerging at the intersections of older ontologies and a surge of new or renewed ontologies, cosmovisions, and practices linked to struggles for social justice and environmental defense (P157). How can we reimagine the design dimensions necessary to redefine the human experience (P40)? As the authors suggest, a loving future begins in a loving present. We can expand our capacity to confront previous and present failures and open our imaginations to possible future.
In Studio: Recipes for Systemic Change
January 25, 2025
Before the Chinese New Year, I have been working on the chapter on systems for my Ph.D. dissertation. During this process, I found In Studio: Recipes for Systemic Change by Bryan Boyer, Justin W. Cook, Marco Steinberg, and the Helsinki Design Lab (published by Sitra) to be an inspiring and invaluable resource. The book offers a fresh perspective on the intersection of systems and strategic design.
In the era of longevity and experience economics, designers have expanded their focus, evolving their capabilities to choreograph services, interactions, and systems (P29). I resonated with how the authors describe the shift from design as “giving shape to objects” to “using design to give shape to decisions” (P29). It highlights that design represents a creative tension between strategically framing and analyzing problems and developing long-term, purposeful solutions (P40).
Strategic design, as discussed in the book, is a practice rooted in optimism—a notion that the present can be transformed into multiple better possibilities (P138). Designers are not just individuals with attitudes, approaches, and abilities (P26) but also cultural shapers, as renowned industrial designer Karim Rashid described. Design is presented as a culture that bridges the concerns of science and the care of humanities, seeking balanced and opportunistic processes and results grounded in reality yet driven by human aspirations (P25).
The authors also frame intuition as a form of pattern recognition—the ability to instantly identify and comprehend relationships without conscious analysis (P36). Regardless of our design training backgrounds, I believe our lived and professional experiences shape our design intuitions. These include how we pragmatically balance imagination with research, learn through making, communicate through tangible artifacts, pursue strategic intent with iterative action, and integrate systems thinking with humanity-centered design (Norman, 2024), all underpinned by an optimistic belief in progressive and impactful transformation (P139).
This book is a delight to read and savor. Its content, layout, design, and overall user experience are thoughtfully curated. Since I couldn’t find a physical copy, I printed and bound the digital PDF to enjoy while making notes, sipping coffee, and basking in the winter sunlight on the MIT campus.
Before the Chinese New Year, I have been working on the chapter on systems for my Ph.D. dissertation. During this process, I found In Studio: Recipes for Systemic Change by Bryan Boyer, Justin W. Cook, Marco Steinberg, and the Helsinki Design Lab (published by Sitra) to be an inspiring and invaluable resource. The book offers a fresh perspective on the intersection of systems and strategic design.
In the era of longevity and experience economics, designers have expanded their focus, evolving their capabilities to choreograph services, interactions, and systems (P29). I resonated with how the authors describe the shift from design as “giving shape to objects” to “using design to give shape to decisions” (P29). It highlights that design represents a creative tension between strategically framing and analyzing problems and developing long-term, purposeful solutions (P40).
Strategic design, as discussed in the book, is a practice rooted in optimism—a notion that the present can be transformed into multiple better possibilities (P138). Designers are not just individuals with attitudes, approaches, and abilities (P26) but also cultural shapers, as renowned industrial designer Karim Rashid described. Design is presented as a culture that bridges the concerns of science and the care of humanities, seeking balanced and opportunistic processes and results grounded in reality yet driven by human aspirations (P25).
The authors also frame intuition as a form of pattern recognition—the ability to instantly identify and comprehend relationships without conscious analysis (P36). Regardless of our design training backgrounds, I believe our lived and professional experiences shape our design intuitions. These include how we pragmatically balance imagination with research, learn through making, communicate through tangible artifacts, pursue strategic intent with iterative action, and integrate systems thinking with humanity-centered design (Norman, 2024), all underpinned by an optimistic belief in progressive and impactful transformation (P139).
This book is a delight to read and savor. Its content, layout, design, and overall user experience are thoughtfully curated. Since I couldn’t find a physical copy, I printed and bound the digital PDF to enjoy while making notes, sipping coffee, and basking in the winter sunlight on the MIT campus.
Diagrams of Power: Visualizing, Mapping, and Performing Resistance
January 21, 2025
The connection between the noun or verb “power” and design has always fascinated me. Last year, I found Diagrams of Power: Visualizing, Mapping, and Performing Resistance, edited by Patricio Dávila (published by Set Margins’), at the Ulises book exhibition at The School of the Museum of Fine Arts (SMFA) at Tufts University in Boston.
What is the map of power, the power of maps, or power by maps?
Visualizations and maps are often perceived as objective representations of truth and authority, produced through scientific inquiry or statistical analysis by experts in research institutes or governments. However, I see maps as boundary objects, a concept introduced by Susan Leigh Star and James R. Griesemer in 1989. Boundary objects facilitate collaboration among individuals or groups with diverse perspectives without requiring consensus. While we typically think of maps as physical artifacts, they can also be visual, informational, or digital expressions that guide discussions or facilitate communication. Representing data tangibly further expands the scope of what a map can achieve.
As the authors denoted, most maps carry inherent politics, often concealed beneath an “objective” skin (P191). Maps can easily bridge and connect places, people, and power, revealing systemic and inter-relational struggles through their context of use (P267). One way to demonstrate the objective surface is by applying a self-ethnographic approach, which not only mirrors designers’ or artists’ visualization processes but also explores individuals’ identities, intricate geography, layered narrative, and cultural history and context (P168). Moreover, considering data as relational and representational (P269) can highlight its potential to shape broader urban forms and complex societal structures.
The community’s role in creating and controlling maps is crucial. Sharing this information depends on a shared understanding of the power of maps and a collective decision to manage community data (P270). Communities, as types of open platforms for action (P269), can leverage maps to drive social change. I am intrigued by the potential impact of mobilizing and disseminating this information and data more effectively (P279). Such efforts could enable data-led storytelling for meaningful social impact.
The connection between the noun or verb “power” and design has always fascinated me. Last year, I found Diagrams of Power: Visualizing, Mapping, and Performing Resistance, edited by Patricio Dávila (published by Set Margins’), at the Ulises book exhibition at The School of the Museum of Fine Arts (SMFA) at Tufts University in Boston.
What is the map of power, the power of maps, or power by maps?
Visualizations and maps are often perceived as objective representations of truth and authority, produced through scientific inquiry or statistical analysis by experts in research institutes or governments. However, I see maps as boundary objects, a concept introduced by Susan Leigh Star and James R. Griesemer in 1989. Boundary objects facilitate collaboration among individuals or groups with diverse perspectives without requiring consensus. While we typically think of maps as physical artifacts, they can also be visual, informational, or digital expressions that guide discussions or facilitate communication. Representing data tangibly further expands the scope of what a map can achieve.
As the authors denoted, most maps carry inherent politics, often concealed beneath an “objective” skin (P191). Maps can easily bridge and connect places, people, and power, revealing systemic and inter-relational struggles through their context of use (P267). One way to demonstrate the objective surface is by applying a self-ethnographic approach, which not only mirrors designers’ or artists’ visualization processes but also explores individuals’ identities, intricate geography, layered narrative, and cultural history and context (P168). Moreover, considering data as relational and representational (P269) can highlight its potential to shape broader urban forms and complex societal structures.
The community’s role in creating and controlling maps is crucial. Sharing this information depends on a shared understanding of the power of maps and a collective decision to manage community data (P270). Communities, as types of open platforms for action (P269), can leverage maps to drive social change. I am intrigued by the potential impact of mobilizing and disseminating this information and data more effectively (P279). Such efforts could enable data-led storytelling for meaningful social impact.
The Design of Tactics: Critical Practices Transforming Public Spaces
Januray 18, 2025
At a design conference in Italy 2023, I discovered The Design of Tactics: Critical Practices Transforming Public Spaces, edited by Francesca Gotti, Jacopo Leveratto, and Cristina F. Colombo (published by DPR-barcelona). With some leisure time during the long weekend on campus, I immersed myself in its thought-provoking content.
The book presents a series of case studies from contemporary European cities, exploring how marginalized and neglected public spaces can be revitalized through tactical interventions, co-creation practices, and ethnographic research. These approaches aim to foster meaningful encounters between people and cultures, ultimately enhancing the quality of urban living.
This examination of human connections, relationships, and culture brought to mind the service encounter experiment in the Design for Longevity (D4L) project (Lee et al., 2025), which explored interactions between service providers (e.g., longevity coaches or financial advisors) and participants (e.g., clients or users). Extending this concept to encompass culture and public spaces adds layers of complexity but also opens up profound opportunities. Modern cities are increasingly characterized by “in-between” spaces—those transitional or undefined areas that challenge traditional urban typologies and frameworks, including settlement principles, planning scales, and design agencies (P185). This invites us to reconsider and redefine the evolving roles and interpretations of the “third space.”
The discussion resonates with Booms and Bitner’s (1981) servicescape framework, which examines how the physical environment and artifacts can potentially shape and reshape service processes and people’s interactions. Incorporating cultural dimensions into this framework encourages more sophisticated dialogue and layered engagement between people and spaces, enabling them to adapt to dynamic conditions. Adaptation, in this context, becomes a transformative process—a negotiation where individuals and communities shape their environments to align with their desires and aspirations while simultaneously adjusting their behaviors, social norms, and even belief systems to suit the evolving context (P13).
Traditional research methods may need to evolve due to the increasing complexity and systemic socio-economic design challenges. This transformation entails a shift from research on practice, research by practice to practice as research (P10). This method could empower design researchers and academics to delve deeper into the value of co-creation, dialogic cultural engagement, and the potential of “in-between” spaces, fostering innovative and inclusive urban strategies.
At a design conference in Italy 2023, I discovered The Design of Tactics: Critical Practices Transforming Public Spaces, edited by Francesca Gotti, Jacopo Leveratto, and Cristina F. Colombo (published by DPR-barcelona). With some leisure time during the long weekend on campus, I immersed myself in its thought-provoking content.
The book presents a series of case studies from contemporary European cities, exploring how marginalized and neglected public spaces can be revitalized through tactical interventions, co-creation practices, and ethnographic research. These approaches aim to foster meaningful encounters between people and cultures, ultimately enhancing the quality of urban living.
This examination of human connections, relationships, and culture brought to mind the service encounter experiment in the Design for Longevity (D4L) project (Lee et al., 2025), which explored interactions between service providers (e.g., longevity coaches or financial advisors) and participants (e.g., clients or users). Extending this concept to encompass culture and public spaces adds layers of complexity but also opens up profound opportunities. Modern cities are increasingly characterized by “in-between” spaces—those transitional or undefined areas that challenge traditional urban typologies and frameworks, including settlement principles, planning scales, and design agencies (P185). This invites us to reconsider and redefine the evolving roles and interpretations of the “third space.”
The discussion resonates with Booms and Bitner’s (1981) servicescape framework, which examines how the physical environment and artifacts can potentially shape and reshape service processes and people’s interactions. Incorporating cultural dimensions into this framework encourages more sophisticated dialogue and layered engagement between people and spaces, enabling them to adapt to dynamic conditions. Adaptation, in this context, becomes a transformative process—a negotiation where individuals and communities shape their environments to align with their desires and aspirations while simultaneously adjusting their behaviors, social norms, and even belief systems to suit the evolving context (P13).
Traditional research methods may need to evolve due to the increasing complexity and systemic socio-economic design challenges. This transformation entails a shift from research on practice, research by practice to practice as research (P10). This method could empower design researchers and academics to delve deeper into the value of co-creation, dialogic cultural engagement, and the potential of “in-between” spaces, fostering innovative and inclusive urban strategies.
Engineering for Industrial Designers and Inventors: Fundamentals for Designers of Wonderful Things
Januray 14, 2025
In 2020, I was honored to receive Engineering for Industrial Designers and Inventors: Fundamentals for Designers of Wonderful Things (published by O'Reilly Media) as a gift from Professor Thomas Ask. This book not only shaped my approach to preparing the syllabus design for last week’s academic job interview assignment but also serves as a profound source of inspiration for my upcoming book, Design for Longevity (D4L).
The book highlights that design is both an applied science and a social act, distinct from art, which is often deeply personal but can also raise social awareness and inspire personal reflection. Design, however, operates within a broader context (P3). While the engineering side provides the technical foundation, exploring its non-technical aspects requires ethnography, empathy, curiosity, and a drive to synthesize insights (P10).
Designers bring or curate new order out of chaos, a process closely aligned with systems thinking. This perspective addresses the interconnectedness of objects, services, and systems through innovative lenses. Design is inherently cross-disciplinary, bridging diverse fields, and reflects the author’s assertion that most disciplines operate within social contexts. The intellectual ecology of these contexts profoundly shapes individuals’ behaviors and opinions (P11).
One of the book’s most thought-provoking insights is that designers often lack sufficient information to make purely scientific decisions. This “bounded rationality” compels them to rely on abductive reasoning—forming conclusions based on limited data rather than adhering strictly to established rules. In this approach, the end often justifies the means (P11). However, sometimes, this unconventional path might spur innovations!
The era of celebrating individual “hero designers” is behind us. Today’s design challenges are complex and systematic, encompassing climate change, aging populations, and wildfires. As designers, we collaborate to navigate these challenges, continually adapting to new environmental conditions. Crucially, we should ask ourselves what political, social, and ecological consequences our actions may have (P156).
In 2020, I was honored to receive Engineering for Industrial Designers and Inventors: Fundamentals for Designers of Wonderful Things (published by O'Reilly Media) as a gift from Professor Thomas Ask. This book not only shaped my approach to preparing the syllabus design for last week’s academic job interview assignment but also serves as a profound source of inspiration for my upcoming book, Design for Longevity (D4L).
The book highlights that design is both an applied science and a social act, distinct from art, which is often deeply personal but can also raise social awareness and inspire personal reflection. Design, however, operates within a broader context (P3). While the engineering side provides the technical foundation, exploring its non-technical aspects requires ethnography, empathy, curiosity, and a drive to synthesize insights (P10).
Designers bring or curate new order out of chaos, a process closely aligned with systems thinking. This perspective addresses the interconnectedness of objects, services, and systems through innovative lenses. Design is inherently cross-disciplinary, bridging diverse fields, and reflects the author’s assertion that most disciplines operate within social contexts. The intellectual ecology of these contexts profoundly shapes individuals’ behaviors and opinions (P11).
One of the book’s most thought-provoking insights is that designers often lack sufficient information to make purely scientific decisions. This “bounded rationality” compels them to rely on abductive reasoning—forming conclusions based on limited data rather than adhering strictly to established rules. In this approach, the end often justifies the means (P11). However, sometimes, this unconventional path might spur innovations!
The era of celebrating individual “hero designers” is behind us. Today’s design challenges are complex and systematic, encompassing climate change, aging populations, and wildfires. As designers, we collaborate to navigate these challenges, continually adapting to new environmental conditions. Crucially, we should ask ourselves what political, social, and ecological consequences our actions may have (P156).
User Friendly: How the Hidden Rules of Design Are Changing the Way We Live, Work, and Play
January 9, 2025
I sat at Tatte Coffee Shop in Kendall Square, facing the floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking the road. As I reflected on my next big leap, I jotted down thoughts inspired by User Friendly: How the Hidden Rules of Design Are Changing the Way We Live, Work, and Play by Cliff Kuang and Robert Fabricant (published by MCD), a book that has lingered on my small but ever-changing bookshelf for some time.
Unsurprisingly, the concept of design thinking is often invoked to address problems of every scale (P24). I prefer the term “design process,” as it acknowledges the interplay between design thinking and design making—both essential and complementary aspects of design. At its core, design assumes that we can craft objects, services, experiences, and systems that are more humane. Achieving this requires adopting a new way of seeing our world (P46). For instance, after the infamous Three Mile Island nuclear accident in 1978, interviews with Don Norman revealed a critical insight: “We were building technology for people, but some technologies didn’t understand people” (P25). This realization spurred Norman to research and advocate for design approaches centered on human factors, human-machine interactions, and cognitive psychology (P95).
Kuang and Fabricant interpreted user-friendliness as the alignment between the objects in our world and our behaviors (P96). In Fabricant’s 2009 presentation Behavior Is Our Medium, he noted that the essential material for innovation isn’t aluminum or carbon fiber but the behavior itself (P96). Our behaviors are deeply influenced by our physical, mental, and metaphorical space. Metaphors, often embedded in our daily experiences, shape our understanding of the world. Phrases like “time is money,” “life is a journey,” or “the body is a machine” illustrate how metaphors structure our environment. Many of these metaphors have been intentionally designed (P135). For example, the metaphor of horse riding could inspire a new paradigm for driving (P144). In creating new technologies, we climb a ladder of metaphors, each rung helping us ascend to the next breakthrough (P147). This transformative power enables metaphors to carry ideas from specialized domains into broader social contexts (P134).
To grasp the essence of the book, I recommend starting with the Afterword (P301), which offers a compelling overview of its themes. Then, explore the appendix (P331) for a brief history of user-friendly design. My favorite chapters delve into metaphor (P129), empathy (P161), and humanity (P187). These sections encouraged me to reflect on the hidden rules of design and how they manifest in my everyday life.
I sat at Tatte Coffee Shop in Kendall Square, facing the floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking the road. As I reflected on my next big leap, I jotted down thoughts inspired by User Friendly: How the Hidden Rules of Design Are Changing the Way We Live, Work, and Play by Cliff Kuang and Robert Fabricant (published by MCD), a book that has lingered on my small but ever-changing bookshelf for some time.
Unsurprisingly, the concept of design thinking is often invoked to address problems of every scale (P24). I prefer the term “design process,” as it acknowledges the interplay between design thinking and design making—both essential and complementary aspects of design. At its core, design assumes that we can craft objects, services, experiences, and systems that are more humane. Achieving this requires adopting a new way of seeing our world (P46). For instance, after the infamous Three Mile Island nuclear accident in 1978, interviews with Don Norman revealed a critical insight: “We were building technology for people, but some technologies didn’t understand people” (P25). This realization spurred Norman to research and advocate for design approaches centered on human factors, human-machine interactions, and cognitive psychology (P95).
Kuang and Fabricant interpreted user-friendliness as the alignment between the objects in our world and our behaviors (P96). In Fabricant’s 2009 presentation Behavior Is Our Medium, he noted that the essential material for innovation isn’t aluminum or carbon fiber but the behavior itself (P96). Our behaviors are deeply influenced by our physical, mental, and metaphorical space. Metaphors, often embedded in our daily experiences, shape our understanding of the world. Phrases like “time is money,” “life is a journey,” or “the body is a machine” illustrate how metaphors structure our environment. Many of these metaphors have been intentionally designed (P135). For example, the metaphor of horse riding could inspire a new paradigm for driving (P144). In creating new technologies, we climb a ladder of metaphors, each rung helping us ascend to the next breakthrough (P147). This transformative power enables metaphors to carry ideas from specialized domains into broader social contexts (P134).
To grasp the essence of the book, I recommend starting with the Afterword (P301), which offers a compelling overview of its themes. Then, explore the appendix (P331) for a brief history of user-friendly design. My favorite chapters delve into metaphor (P129), empathy (P161), and humanity (P187). These sections encouraged me to reflect on the hidden rules of design and how they manifest in my everyday life.
Modern Educational Dance
December 29, 2024
In 2023 summer, while giving a speech and exhibition at Venice Innovation Design (VID), I stumbled upon Modern Educational Dance by Rudolf von Laban, the renowned Austro-Hungarian dance artist and choreographer, at a second-hand bookstore in Venice. I was immediately drawn to it and decided to delve into it over Christmas, juggling dissertation drafting and journal paper revisions.
Laban’s innovative approach to translating body movement into text and his space-orientation framework (P35, 37) captivated me. His exploration of 16 basic movement themes, the rudiments of free dance technique, and the concept of the “sphere of movement” across ages sparked new design perspectives for me. Although I am not an expert in modern dance, I was fascinated by how Laban’s elegant calligraphy and notations resonated with the creative process. His work extended beyond stage performances to encompass social dancing and everyday behaviors, revealing how conscious or unconscious movement embodies aspects of the art of meaningful expression (P9).
Laban asserted that movement is essential to life (P133), describing it as a cultivated sensibility (P134) and a form of human expression (P10). He wrote that dance allows individuals to create, express, and interpret rhythms and forms (P109), echoing his insightful remark: “Movement is the essence of life, and all expression, whether it be speaking, writing, singing, painting, or dancing, uses movement as a vehicle, we can not help seeing the importance of understanding this outward expression of the living energy within, and this we can do through effort study (P101).”
Through the movement of our bodies, we can connect our inner selves to the outer world (P109), a sentiment that aligns closely with the design of embodied experiences. As designers, much like dancers, we immerse ourselves entirely in the material of movement, exploring its possibilities and challenges (P117).
This book has created an intriguing synergy with my thoughts on design. Design, like movement, is dynamic, a dance of momentum between creators and users. Design is also fluid, like water, capable of penetrating potential possibilities.
Highlighting passages with my pink highlighter felt like marking moments of inspiration—a new movement within me sparked by Laban’s insights.
In 2023 summer, while giving a speech and exhibition at Venice Innovation Design (VID), I stumbled upon Modern Educational Dance by Rudolf von Laban, the renowned Austro-Hungarian dance artist and choreographer, at a second-hand bookstore in Venice. I was immediately drawn to it and decided to delve into it over Christmas, juggling dissertation drafting and journal paper revisions.
Laban’s innovative approach to translating body movement into text and his space-orientation framework (P35, 37) captivated me. His exploration of 16 basic movement themes, the rudiments of free dance technique, and the concept of the “sphere of movement” across ages sparked new design perspectives for me. Although I am not an expert in modern dance, I was fascinated by how Laban’s elegant calligraphy and notations resonated with the creative process. His work extended beyond stage performances to encompass social dancing and everyday behaviors, revealing how conscious or unconscious movement embodies aspects of the art of meaningful expression (P9).
Laban asserted that movement is essential to life (P133), describing it as a cultivated sensibility (P134) and a form of human expression (P10). He wrote that dance allows individuals to create, express, and interpret rhythms and forms (P109), echoing his insightful remark: “Movement is the essence of life, and all expression, whether it be speaking, writing, singing, painting, or dancing, uses movement as a vehicle, we can not help seeing the importance of understanding this outward expression of the living energy within, and this we can do through effort study (P101).”
Through the movement of our bodies, we can connect our inner selves to the outer world (P109), a sentiment that aligns closely with the design of embodied experiences. As designers, much like dancers, we immerse ourselves entirely in the material of movement, exploring its possibilities and challenges (P117).
This book has created an intriguing synergy with my thoughts on design. Design, like movement, is dynamic, a dance of momentum between creators and users. Design is also fluid, like water, capable of penetrating potential possibilities.
Highlighting passages with my pink highlighter felt like marking moments of inspiration—a new movement within me sparked by Laban’s insights.
Linda Rampell: The Shopmodern Condition
December 23, 2024
The Shopmodern Condition by Linda Rampell (published by Art And Theory Publishing) is a thought-provoking and visually striking book featuring a beautifully designed cover that immediately caught my attention. I purchased it earlier this year at ISBN+, a contemporary art center and bookshop in Budapest, Hungary. As the Christmas and New Year holidays approach, I’ve managed to carve out some in-between work time to dive into its pages.
Interestingly, I started reading the book from the middle, bypassing the suggested sequence. From the outset, it became clear that this book was not easy to grasp. Reading, in this case, does not necessarily equate to understanding, especially in the context of design consumption. In Rampell’s perspective, consumption is no longer merely about purchasing and using goods. Instead, it represents a more profound phenomenon of being consumed by images, where even personal identities are commodified.
Rampell introduces the concept of “Designdarwinism,” describing it as a life-and-death struggle for self-improvement in an image-dominated culture. The history of design is inseparable from the history of capitalism. She presented a critical exploration of contemporary design capitalism. Since design is inherently created to be sold, any critique of consumption by designers themselves inevitably carries an element of irony.
Rampell writes, “A life without capitalism is a life without design and designers (P248).” She provocatively asks, “How can we induce a person to buy our goods without feeling forced into purchasing (P237)?” Design constructs a context for a product or service before it even exists (P207). Design is neither an object, like a chair, nor a behavior, such as sitting, but a capitalistic process that shapes our thinking. “The aim is not to produce design but to use design as a means for reproducing money; design is a capitalistic prosthesis” (P171), she declares.
The design inherently involves subtraction as much as an addition. “Design always involves designing away something and someone else. Though generally considered an addition, design is a subtraction: removing the undesigned (P232).” This subtractive nature makes design a powerful tool for “social engineering.” From what she terms an “aesthetonomical” perspective, design serves as a mechanism for socializing and assimilating the plural into a homogenous identity, essentially reshaping the other into the same (P233).
Rampell’s insights critique design's role in perpetuating capitalist structures, making The Shopmodern Condition an intellectually challenging yet deeply rewarding read.
The Shopmodern Condition by Linda Rampell (published by Art And Theory Publishing) is a thought-provoking and visually striking book featuring a beautifully designed cover that immediately caught my attention. I purchased it earlier this year at ISBN+, a contemporary art center and bookshop in Budapest, Hungary. As the Christmas and New Year holidays approach, I’ve managed to carve out some in-between work time to dive into its pages.
Interestingly, I started reading the book from the middle, bypassing the suggested sequence. From the outset, it became clear that this book was not easy to grasp. Reading, in this case, does not necessarily equate to understanding, especially in the context of design consumption. In Rampell’s perspective, consumption is no longer merely about purchasing and using goods. Instead, it represents a more profound phenomenon of being consumed by images, where even personal identities are commodified.
Rampell introduces the concept of “Designdarwinism,” describing it as a life-and-death struggle for self-improvement in an image-dominated culture. The history of design is inseparable from the history of capitalism. She presented a critical exploration of contemporary design capitalism. Since design is inherently created to be sold, any critique of consumption by designers themselves inevitably carries an element of irony.
Rampell writes, “A life without capitalism is a life without design and designers (P248).” She provocatively asks, “How can we induce a person to buy our goods without feeling forced into purchasing (P237)?” Design constructs a context for a product or service before it even exists (P207). Design is neither an object, like a chair, nor a behavior, such as sitting, but a capitalistic process that shapes our thinking. “The aim is not to produce design but to use design as a means for reproducing money; design is a capitalistic prosthesis” (P171), she declares.
The design inherently involves subtraction as much as an addition. “Design always involves designing away something and someone else. Though generally considered an addition, design is a subtraction: removing the undesigned (P232).” This subtractive nature makes design a powerful tool for “social engineering.” From what she terms an “aesthetonomical” perspective, design serves as a mechanism for socializing and assimilating the plural into a homogenous identity, essentially reshaping the other into the same (P233).
Rampell’s insights critique design's role in perpetuating capitalist structures, making The Shopmodern Condition an intellectually challenging yet deeply rewarding read.
Belonging & Belongings
December 18, 2024
On my flight back from Minneapolis to Boston, I spent three hours engrossed in Belonging & Belongings by Geke Van Dijk, Bas Raijmakers, and Daijiro Mizuno. Despite being published in 2014, the book remains highly relevant to design research, design ethnography, and video ethnography. Its thought-provoking approach and research topics still resonate deeply with contemporary practices.
Jean Rouch (2009) pioneered a method of using film in ethnography, bridging cinema and anthropology. This approach aligns with Stoller’s (1992) argument that film is not merely a tool for data collection but an “arena” of inquiry (P65). The book emphasizes contextual inquiry, inspiring curiosity and passion about how people are seen and how they see others (P77). Through keen observation, visual materials in ethnographic studies provide valuable insights into everyday practices (P174). These materials offer a dual benefit: they represent contemporary phenomena while serving as a timeless reference and inspiration for design (P 174).
Design ethnography encompasses a wide range of human behaviors and experiences. For example, technology can be viewed as a cultural practice, with technological objects acting as expressions of identity (P49). Devices like Sony’s Walkman and Apple’s iPod have embodied individuals’ identities, tastes, and social status, reflecting the cultural context of their respective eras. Jan Chipchase, Founder and Director of Studio D and former Executive Creative Director of Global Insights at Frog, highlighted this intersection in his 2007 TED talk, The Anthropology of Mobile Phones. He observed, “If you ask people what the three most important things they carry are… across cultures, gender, and contexts, most people will say keys, money, and if they own one, a mobile phone” (P93).
The book also explores how people define their “superselves” — whether they align with their authentic selves, online identities, or somewhere in between (P181). It raises questions about how much control we have over our online personas and how accurately they reflect who we truly are (P163). The enduring value of design ethnography lies in its focus on humanity—our everyday needs and the intricate relationships between individuals, systems, and societal structures. As the book notes, this makes its insights timeless, speaking to universal aspects of the human experience (P92).
On my flight back from Minneapolis to Boston, I spent three hours engrossed in Belonging & Belongings by Geke Van Dijk, Bas Raijmakers, and Daijiro Mizuno. Despite being published in 2014, the book remains highly relevant to design research, design ethnography, and video ethnography. Its thought-provoking approach and research topics still resonate deeply with contemporary practices.
Jean Rouch (2009) pioneered a method of using film in ethnography, bridging cinema and anthropology. This approach aligns with Stoller’s (1992) argument that film is not merely a tool for data collection but an “arena” of inquiry (P65). The book emphasizes contextual inquiry, inspiring curiosity and passion about how people are seen and how they see others (P77). Through keen observation, visual materials in ethnographic studies provide valuable insights into everyday practices (P174). These materials offer a dual benefit: they represent contemporary phenomena while serving as a timeless reference and inspiration for design (P 174).
Design ethnography encompasses a wide range of human behaviors and experiences. For example, technology can be viewed as a cultural practice, with technological objects acting as expressions of identity (P49). Devices like Sony’s Walkman and Apple’s iPod have embodied individuals’ identities, tastes, and social status, reflecting the cultural context of their respective eras. Jan Chipchase, Founder and Director of Studio D and former Executive Creative Director of Global Insights at Frog, highlighted this intersection in his 2007 TED talk, The Anthropology of Mobile Phones. He observed, “If you ask people what the three most important things they carry are… across cultures, gender, and contexts, most people will say keys, money, and if they own one, a mobile phone” (P93).
The book also explores how people define their “superselves” — whether they align with their authentic selves, online identities, or somewhere in between (P181). It raises questions about how much control we have over our online personas and how accurately they reflect who we truly are (P163). The enduring value of design ethnography lies in its focus on humanity—our everyday needs and the intricate relationships between individuals, systems, and societal structures. As the book notes, this makes its insights timeless, speaking to universal aspects of the human experience (P92).
Viewfinders: Thoughts on Visual Design Research
December 14, 2024
Oops, there was another job rejection after the first round of interviews. It did dampen my mood over the weekend, but it didn’t deter me from my weekly passions: reading and reflecting on design.
Lately, I’ve been diving into the work of Dr. Bas Raijmakers, particularly his doctoral dissertation on Design Documentaries at the Royal College of Art (RCA) in June 2007. He explored documentary film as a performative exchange between the people in the film, the filmmakers, and the spectators (P39). A film, he suggested, becomes a reality, a language, and a conversation (P36). It serves as a tool for translation, utilizing formal qualities such as image framing and editing techniques, though these are often underutilized (P36).
I also discovered and thoroughly enjoyed his book, Viewfinders: Thoughts on Visual Design Research (published by STBY Ltd. in 2016). The concept of “viewfinders” itself offers a fascinating lens on how visual material can be captured, analyzed, synthesized, presented, and revisited throughout the creative process (P86). It provides an alternative way to translate and reinterpret cross-cultural and cross-generational diversity (P49).
One idea I found particularly interesting is the notion of multiple meanings (P58). Dr. Raijmakers emphasized that an image never has “one true meaning.” The same image may carry varied (and even conflicting) interpretations at different stages of ethnographic research and representation. Ambiguity, he argues, is a resource for design inspiration. Often, design spaces emerge when our perspectives oscillate between the facts captured by the lens, and the imagination sparked in our minds (P15).
Visual ethnography studies social organization and culture in everyday life through photography, video, or film (P58). In this context, the design researcher takes on the role of a photographer (P49). Video, as a participatory design material, has much to learn from the traditions of documentary filmmaking. Dr. Raijmakers beautifully encapsulates this idea with the phrase: “Eyes like a shutter, mind like a lens.”
Oops, there was another job rejection after the first round of interviews. It did dampen my mood over the weekend, but it didn’t deter me from my weekly passions: reading and reflecting on design.
Lately, I’ve been diving into the work of Dr. Bas Raijmakers, particularly his doctoral dissertation on Design Documentaries at the Royal College of Art (RCA) in June 2007. He explored documentary film as a performative exchange between the people in the film, the filmmakers, and the spectators (P39). A film, he suggested, becomes a reality, a language, and a conversation (P36). It serves as a tool for translation, utilizing formal qualities such as image framing and editing techniques, though these are often underutilized (P36).
I also discovered and thoroughly enjoyed his book, Viewfinders: Thoughts on Visual Design Research (published by STBY Ltd. in 2016). The concept of “viewfinders” itself offers a fascinating lens on how visual material can be captured, analyzed, synthesized, presented, and revisited throughout the creative process (P86). It provides an alternative way to translate and reinterpret cross-cultural and cross-generational diversity (P49).
One idea I found particularly interesting is the notion of multiple meanings (P58). Dr. Raijmakers emphasized that an image never has “one true meaning.” The same image may carry varied (and even conflicting) interpretations at different stages of ethnographic research and representation. Ambiguity, he argues, is a resource for design inspiration. Often, design spaces emerge when our perspectives oscillate between the facts captured by the lens, and the imagination sparked in our minds (P15).
Visual ethnography studies social organization and culture in everyday life through photography, video, or film (P58). In this context, the design researcher takes on the role of a photographer (P49). Video, as a participatory design material, has much to learn from the traditions of documentary filmmaking. Dr. Raijmakers beautifully encapsulates this idea with the phrase: “Eyes like a shutter, mind like a lens.”
bottom of page