DESIGNING FOR UNCERTAINTY

It is in times of uncertainty that we need to rise to change and to design a better future. Ed Muscat Azzopardi explains.

After the second world war, there was hope and loss and a community that was closer than it had ever been, united by a feeling that collective will could help lift the planet out of its misery. All the technology that had served the war effort was being repurposed— faster airlines so we could travel the world economically, more efficient and affordable cars, and we even had the promise of a man on the moon. Imagine that.

But that feeling of unity took just a decade to dissipate once the Cold War gripped the world and imbued it with fear. Product and technology design was on an accelerating spiral of innovation, driven by one of two broad sentiments that pervaded the developed world—the optimism of the space race and the fear of the bomb.

Design and creative were broadly split into two, echoing the main sentiments of this polarised zeitgeist. One did not replace the other. They coexisted and spoke to the audiences that identified with each side. The pessimistic mostly engaged with design and story based on fear while the optimistic gobbled up the tales of a space-faring species.

You couldn’t buy a toaster that didn’t look like it belonged on the highly stylised illustrations of what man’s first base on the moon would look like. From Dr Strangelove to The Sound of Music, movie posters told the tale of two

stories that competed for the attention of a public that was willing to pay to watch a story that reinforced their position.

How do we tell the story of our brand or product during a time of collective concern? Which side would we like to take? What matters is that we pick a direction and create remarkable, functional creative. This is not a time to be silent.

We start by looking at our audience. Who are we speaking to? What’s on their mind right now? What’s the collective sentiment?

And what version of reality is most likely to resonate? During the best of times, there is no single sentiment that is likely to echo with everyone. But during the worst of times, it is easier to have a finger on an almost ubiquitous pulse.

Uncertainty is the one certainty. It is on the minds of many, and it is an unnatural state for the human condition—we like to know where we are and where we’re going, at least most of the time.

Economic hardship is also a widespread state or cause for concern, a state that’s compounded by general uncertainty. If I’m in a financial pickle now and can’t see when this will end, the concern is even more acute.

Where does design fit in? Well, good design always fits in. Every epoch left its mark by producing work that was right for its time, and that survived to tell the tale. The excesses of the Art Nouveau movement during the glittering 20s quickly gave way to the more restrained Art Deco style that was considered more appropriate to the Great Depression. The 1950s, a decade that we keep drawing design inspiration from to this day, was a period of great optimism sandwiched between the crippling effects of WWII and the grip of fear of the Cold War. It gave us bold colour, optimistic product design, an unusually rich spread of typography, and the feeling that all will be forever good with the world.

And good design that is entirely in tune with the times can leave effects that linger decades after the original work was produced. Consider the incredible canon of Dieter Rams’ work for Braun. It has been cited as the significant influence for the design of an incredible spread of products, including overt tributes by the likes of Jony Ive when presenting the iPod—arguably the big bang for everything Apple that succeeded it. Le Corbusier’s beautiful functionality and unashamed portrayal of structures endure— can we look at a building like Renzo Piano’s parliament in Valletta without seeing what Le Corbusier pioneered in the 20s?

In a reality where our homes have suddenly become the majority of our surroundings, how do we react to the sweeping tide of minimalism that has been rearing its head for a long time now, aided and abetted by the likes of Marie Kondo? Now that we are captives in our own home, design has the opportunity to focus far less on pure utilitarianism and must bring joy and comfort into our lives. Empathy is at the core of designing for uncertainty, so our design must show plenty of empathy and have the ability to do the elusive and manage to ‘warm the heart’.

There are broad thematic principles to consider during uncertain times. These could include the notion of solidarity in design that shows a clear sense of camaraderie, the kind of work that reassures us that ‘we’re all in this together’.

Then there’s distraction. There’s no harm in taking our minds off things for a while. We will look back at this time as one where our thumbs took the shape of whatever device we use to control Netflix and consume social feeds.

A third approach to design could be described as understated aspiration. Of course, we don’t want to see too much work that places beauty out of our reach, but we do want something to look forward to when times are less uncertain. This might be the toughest to approach with sensitivity, but it has the potential to be a rugged route, showing our

audiences that if we hang in there, a reward will be forthcoming.

There is always the get-out-of-jail-free card that’s designing for instant gratification. This is a bit of a cheat-card, but it can tide us over while we plan design that’s more forwardlooking and empathetic. After all, little bumps of gratification during our day can help stave off the anxiety and the uncertainty. This is design for concise time preference—it addresses the bit of our monkey brain that would like something to make us happy right now, even if we know it won’t last.

Then there’s design for longer time preference, the work that we produce with the intent of a longer consumption moment and a more prolonged sense of satisfaction with the consumer of our design. In effect, the world has slowed down; it has time to breathe. We are taking a break from a society that had reached a fever-pitch. That was rushing along at a pace that was the most manic in human history. Depending on what your area of specialisation maybe, this might be the time to push for that project that expected a little more of your audience but would ultimately deliver more reward.

During the best of times, there is no single sentiment that is likely to echo with everyone. But during the worst of times, it is easier to have a finger on an almost ubiquitous pulse

In general, this is a time to design for good— we ought to design with the future in mind, and we need to design with good intent. But we also need to design what’s relevant, timely, and useful. Design that serves an immediate purpose and that will vanish ones the times have changed is useful, but we can’t expect it to last. Beautiful face masks are a delightful way to distract us from the minor annoyance of wearing a mask, but we look forward to a time when we don’t have to think about them anymore.

However, those designing a better way to combine our living space with a functional working area will likely be remembered for a long time. Some shifts in the way we work. In the manner in which we interact, and in the way we regard the functional spaces we inhabit (home/office/retail/etc.) will last longer and, hopefully, form part of the fabric of the society we will come to regard as usual.

Let’s learn lessons from the past as we design a better future. I’m pretty sure that during WWII, there were plenty who wished the world would go back to what it was before the war. Looking back, it is pretty evident that the world could not and would not simply revert to a previous state. Retail environments have changed and will continue to do so, the way we interact indoors and shift to the outdoors will remain. We’re crafting new ways to be connected. We are revisiting education, workplaces, and commutes around this, and this is just a handful of examples of contextdriven design that’s being demanded on all fronts.

Let’s put design to good use. Whether the world acknowledges it or not, design has pulled us out of the toughest of times and has left beauty and functionality in its wake, creating movements that have defined the visual landscape of the times. This time around, the world is once again asking for certainty, functionality, and relevance. And once again, it is time for designers to step in and, in a distributed and cumulative way, save the planet.

Ed tells stories for a living, running a bustling brand and digital agency called Switch. When he’s not there, he engages in a host of activities that don’t involve actual physical activity—mainly related to food, film, travel, and photography.