Who do you imagine would enjoy this dining room? Donna Summer? John Travolta? To me, it’s a horrible (if computer-generated) mix of the 1980’s and the disco 70’s. The stretchy fabric on the chairs is just eeeewww. And what’s going on with the glass insets in the dining table? Is there a TV monitor under there? Actually I know a lot of people who might like that. Consider it filed.

This is actually an image I was sent to promote Schonbek’s Da Vinci chandelier. Apparently, it’s a light fixture with multiple personalities. Are they all named Sybil?

It changes color! “Cool colors melt into hot, subtle colors shift to bold.” The crystals are Swarovski. Yippee. Can never have enough of those in my house. One good thing about the Da Vinci fixture is that you can put it in the dishwasher. Maybe it would be best to keep it there. To see their Youtube video go here.

I don’t want to bust Schonbek too much. I’ve used their fixtures in several rooms. But I think this is what happens when companies over-embrace a new technology. They’re so eager to use it that good taste flies out the window.

Nevertheless, I’m wondering why they couldn’t take the time to style a real room? The computer generated image makes the fixture look worse. So let’s spruce it up ourselves. What would you put on those shelves? What’s going on in the living room? Can we fit those chairs in the fireplace and burn them? Let’s have some Friday fun.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a huge fan of design that goes beyond the typical. However, sometimes I find that my fantastic idea for something runs smack dab into a little problem called reality. I understand the desire to really, really want to create something because it would be soooo cool. Can’t you?

Unfortunately, there are these really pesky things called Building Codes. And another called Common Sense. Which bring me to The Bangalore Express.

This newly opened Indian restaurant is located in London (across from the Waterloo tube station in case you want to visit). I think the idea of having patrons climb a ladder to reach their table is fairly cool. Definitely different. It’s also an interesting way to expand the restaurant’s occupancy. However, as interesting as it is, I’m peering into the future and here’s what I’m seeing:

The sound of dishes crashing and food flying everywhere as waiters, loaded down with trays groaning with plates of Aaloo Gosht, Tandoori Chicken and Tikka Masala, miss the last step “by that much.”

Lots of lawsuits from patrons who drank a few too many Kingfishers and forgot about that dang ladder.

It might be a good idea to give the diners on the lower level sticks. They could use these when the Kingfisher Crowd gets a bit too rowdy. Bang, bang bang! “Keep it down up there!”

And you just know that as the evening wears on, the server is going to skip climbing up there to talk about the specials. Instead, he’ll be yelling, “OKAY! Listen up! The specials today are…” Perhaps a bullhorn would come in handy here. But he’ll have to steer clear of the sticks.

Finally, there is no doubt in my mind that everyone will want the top bunk. Fighting will ensue.

Okay, so that’s my list. Now I’m off to whip up some Mulligatawny Soup. What are your thoughts?

via: thecoolhunter

I think I’m having a flashback. Design Hole friend, Melissa, suggested I take a trip over to Waverly and look at their wallpapers. Here’s what I found.

Personally, I think the designers at Waverly misunderstood the mid-century aesthetic idea when they came up with these 70’s-inspired prints. These remind me of my grandmother’s kitchen.

Waverly is a budget-conscious choice. While no one loves a bargain more than I do, the downside is the quality. Their printing process and paper quality isn’t always what I’d wish for. One thing I will say is that their website is very user-friendly. You don’t need special access to view their patterns. And they list the suggested retail price, which is nice since Waverly is often discounted.

I’m wondering what your opinion is of these patterns. Is it just me? Or do these prints look horribly dated?

Designers are always dealing with the curse of having their creativity knocked off and sold for a lot less money. I thought that from time to time I’d highlight a few and ask you to judge which you’d prefer. Today’s case in point is Marc Sadler’s Twiggy Lamp for Foscarini, versus CB2’s Bauhaus Arc Lamp. 

The Twiggy version is made of a compound fiber material, has a beautiful, graceful line, and comes in a variety of colors. CB2’s version is quite awkward in comparison, yet looks mysteriously like the original. It’s made of aluminum with an iron base and comes in two colors.
The difference in price is substantial. Twiggy retails for $2,022 (including free shipping if you buy it from Hive Modern). It’s also available from Property. The CB2 sells for $199, plus $20 for shipping.

To be honest, one can often argue that something is an inspiration based on someone else’s design, as opposed to an actual knock-off. But where do you draw the line? So I’m wondering…

What’s your opinion on buying a copy? Does this count as one, or is it an inspiration? Is price more important than design theft?

All the famous designers have these rules, like “Seven Rules of Good Design.” I only have two, which is why I’m not on TV. But I’m just getting started. Anyway, my first rule is Choose the Paint Last. The second one I invented today and it’s Never Buy A Sofa That Looks Like This.

It doesn’t matter what this specific sofa is. It’s an example of something you see everywhere. My suggestion is that if you’re in the furniture emporium and you find yourself thinking, “Gee, that sure is a good price!” step away - fast.

The problem with these is that they’re ugly and puffy. Moreover, they’re inexpensive for a reason. They’re manufactured from the cheapest of materials and fabrics. Within a year they’ll have turned to lived-in shiny lumps.

There are far better choices that will stand the test of time. I’ll focus on those in tomorrow’s Design Dilemma.

I told Arthur when were started dating never to buy me a gift that needed to be plugged in. I was talking about things like irons and microwaves. For some strange reason, those don’t say gift to me. I will admit that I changed my mind and asked for a fancy sewing machine. Once.

Anyway, I thought this was pretty funny. It’s from an email from Ace Hardware with gift suggestions for Mother’s Day.

Okay, I guess the wind chimes aren’t so bad. The planters are cutting it close because (a) they’re from a hardware store and (b) ugly. But the paint?! What kind of gift is that?

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. And make sure you don’t fall off the ladder.”

If the paint comes with the painter, that’s another thing altogether.

My first trip to the Salone del Mobile was in 2005, and as product design student I was blown away by the sheer amount of creativity, colors, forms, ideas and energy that came from every which way you looked. I felt both inspired and humbled upon my return to school. It all seemed new and different and on the cutting edge of what was coming.

This year I returned as a design professional, and while I knew I would be even more critical than before I likewise anticipated something that went beyond just another chair or lamp. I expected there to be something different…something unique and meaningful that would somehow underly the work at the Salone itself and the surrounding events in Milan.

To cut straight to the point, I certainly expected there to be more than just a handful of designers, companies, schools and manufacturers that gave a damn about the environment and how they were conducting themselves as designers. I also felt there would have to be some new way of thinking that went beyond the object itself; how did it get there, what was it made of, who made it and with what process, and where if anywhere does it belong?

Now that our world is an ever changing landscape of converging technology, and communication is instantaneous and permeating, I thought there would be some thread of enlightenment that would be picked up and explored by the mass collective of creative minds that converges upon Milan once a year.

What did I discover? Tired themes and cliched ideas that have been re-hashed into bad copies of themselves. Phillipe Starck’s XO exhibit looked like a yard sale put on by a Las Vegas based lawn-furniture manufacturer that was going out of business…however you knew it was his stuff because there was a 25-foot picture of him looking at himself in the mirror plastered on the wall above.

Kartell, as always, made me feel like I was having a bad acid trip, and Moroso which had some very nice pieces also had some very not-nice pieces, and a claustrophobic exhibit that was no where near as beautiful as it was in 2005. The Satellite, which I was the most excited to see, had a rather large sign saying GO GREEN! as you walked in, yet this seemed to simply mean they would paint all the walls green and hope you didn’t notice the lack of sustainable content.

I was left pondering the meaning of the whole thing. It seemed like a social event rather than a celebration of good design…an event with quite a massive carbon footprint to say the very least.

However now that some of that is off my chest, I will be able to share with you some good things that I discovered while there and the things that made the trip more than worth it.

Not everything at the Salone di Mobile reeks of contemporary correctness and virtue. There’s an entire section called “Classico” that showcases what Jennifer calls “pirate furniture” – you know, ornate, gold–leafed, lacquered, mirrored, etc.

However, the modern exhibitors also have bouts of questionable taste.

Zannotti, for one, showed what must have been a last minute inspiration, a “couch” whose back rest consisted of Moooi–like seat backs jammed onto a leather pad.

But the first day’s champion of weirdness went to the folks from EDRA. Their stand was one eye-popping adventure after another, starting with a (for lack of a better description) Disco-Era Ziggurat.

Close on its heels was a satin “couch” that looked like a deflating Jiffy Pop container.

Still more delights abounded. This chair had random flaps of leather draped across its frame.

This chair featured the no-doubt celestial comfort that only artfully-arranged nylon lanyards can provide.

And to put a real exclamation point on the EDRA experience, they showed an articulated “couch” which could be adjusted to one’s personal comfort, and was available in either lime green or white faux-reptile vinyl.

I promise not to bore you with more peculiar furnishings, unless something really mysterious strikes. Are you surprised to see furniture like this at a presitigious show like the Salone?

I was surprised at the riotous colors I ran into at the show. Maybe because of economic conditions back in the States I was expecting things to be more somber. They weren’t. The last show I attended here showed a fair amount of orange stuff - as is true of one of these casual Giovanni Pouffs.

But this year, Orange was just the start. There were fuschia chairs and foot stools.

I saw purple shelving…

Even a hideous aqua “day bed” or “neck destroying device” - I’m not sure exactly how to use this piece.

Finally a note about green - the movement, not the color. If I find the time, I’m going to post about the extensive use of plain wood I’ve seen at the show. But even the companies that were making an eco-statement had a magnetic attraction to color. Here, for your sitting around pleasure, some nicely painted logs-er-footstools.

Tomorrow, (once I’ve recovered from jet lag), I promise a more thorough coverage of things I liked and things I think you’ll like, too. In the meantime, Jennifer has a much more interesting point of view on our first day at the show.

The next time you go to Las Vegas you might want to wear nose plugs. A scientific study proved that in a scented environment, customers linger longer - a theory that was applied at a Las Vegas casino. It resulted in a 45% increase of revenue at the slot machines. That’s revenue, not losses. Which makes me wonder what you need to smell in order to win.

According to the Scent Marketing Institute’s founder, Harald Vogt, tests show that scent increases the perception of value for certain products for which people would ultimately pay more money. Apparently, this led to the genial idea to define the four towers of the City Center in Las Vegas with individual scents. Word is that buyers made a purchase decision or picked one tower over the other solely based on the scent they experienced.

Scent-filled apartment in the City Center, Las Vegas

“It won’t take long and we will find a scent delivery infrastructure in commercial and residential buildings,” says Vogt. “Technology exists to either scent individual rooms or pipe it into the HVAC system. Almost every hotel does it in their lobby areas.” He sees scent as an opportunity for architects, commercial property developers and homebuilders to differentiate their work add character to the building environment.

Last year people spent more than $5 million on home fragrances. So, “customer acceptance should be a no-brainer, ” says Hoyt. In that category and beyond, the aroma-therapeutic potency of fragrances has not even been scratched. Bergamot reduces stress, orange eases depression, grapefruit lessens fatigue. All you need is your tenants’ consent and you can make a new or renovated office building a better place to work.” 

Can Orange scents make you happy? 

I’m guilty of enjoying the occasional scented candle. But this whole concept gives me the creeps. I think a home should generally smell like a home. I can see that it has its place in retail. To a degree. Just don’t make it so cloying. The really big issue to me is that people react so differently to scents - one person’s perfume heaven and another’s hell. Febreze is a good example. I bought some laundry detergent, not realizing it was Febreze scented. It was so cloying and awful I threw it out. I can’t stand that smell.

What’s your opinion. Does the idea of scents environments smack of Big Brother? Do you feel manipulated? Or do you feel that if a scent makes you happier, who cares if you lose a bit more at the slots?

image: Brayan Haraway

I’d like to introduce Leon Fitzpatrick, an industrial designer for Motorola. He’ll be guest blogging for Design Hole during our trip to the Salone del Mobile in Milan which starts on April 15th. Leon and I were students together at The College for Creative Studies. Our hard work as students won us a trip to the Salone three years ago. Leon was a wellspring of design knowledge during our trip. I know you’ll enjoy what he has to say.

So to kick things off, here is Leon’s first post regarding, in part, his thoughts on the world of celebrity industrial design. Take it away Leon.

When people ask me what it is I do, I tell them I’m an Industrial Designer. This, more often than not, draws a blank stare followed by a moment of realization and then a response such as “is that like engineering?” I then go on to explain, using various hand gestures, pointing, and other descriptive motions how most things they come in contact with have been thought out, developed, refined and realized by some kind of design professional. More specifically, industrial design is that which covers everything from shoes, furniture, lighting, appliances, cutlery, packaging and cell phones to trains, planes and automobiles… to say the very least.

Perhaps it’s a cultural disconnect, but then again people seem to understand what a car designer is, they know what a fashion designer does and could name a few rather easily, and both graphic and web design are instantly recognizable today as our consumption of both digital and printed media increases. So it always comes as a slight shock that not many people fully understand what (arguably) the most common form of design is all about. To me it’s not about “making life easier” or selling things based on the way they look to window shoppers. Industrial Design should uplift people’s everyday experience of their physical world by providing a human layer with which to interface with utilitarian functionality.

This sounds simple, yet all you need to do is walk into a mall to see how it’s become just the opposite. Good design is literally good packaging; cell phones package the technology inside, a shoe surrounds a foot, a vehicle envelops a space and an engine in which to make it mobile.

You would of course think that with the rise of celebrity Industrial Designers, such as Philippe Starck, Karim Rashid, Marc Newson and so on, there would come a heightened sense of awareness about Industrial Design as a profession. They and others like them tend to wear the ‘designer’ label with such pride and advertise themselves so well that many of them now have a carte blanche approach to design that provides them an unlimited bankroll with some of the biggest design-centric clientele on Earth. Yet here, unfortunately, is exactly where it all falls down.

I truly believe that the original intent of Industrial Design, by definition, has been lost (if not slaughtered) by shelves full of faux-functional products and endless overly-analytic praise by a mille-feuille of design publications every time some a so-called Product Designer creates a gun-shaped lamp, a useless piece of “playfully metaphoric” yet inane furniture, or a conceptual bubble car that would never have any right being put into production simply for the sheer ludicrousness of it.

We live in a world with increasingly serious issues that need serious and thoughtful solutions. That is not to say that we return to a function-over-form pre-Bauhaus existence. Should designers with the world as a captive audience not use that momentum to create things with some real social and environmental benefit? Instead we have cone-shaped vacuum cleaners, enormously impractical juicers that surprisingly haven’t been involved in any violent crimes, and a rather pricey ‘concept jet’ which of course doesn’t actually fly.

So when it comes down to it, perhaps it’s purely semantics…perhaps the label of ‘designer’ should be separated as much as possible from ‘artist’. Not that design isn’t a form of art; it most certainly can be. Yet mass-produced art isn’t really art, and art disguised as functional design isn’t really design. So perhaps we should develop a new category for designers who have lost sight of what good design is all about. ‘Wankist’ comes to mind, but I’m sure I could come up with some other options; most would not immediately identify themselves as such.

So when people ask me what it is I do…instead of saying “I’m an Industrial Designer, you know like -(fill in the blank)-”, I instead point, gesture and describe not only what it is I do, but what I should ultimately be doing as a good designer and good global citizen.

This is to say I’d rather take what I do seriously and not lean on a crutch of self-promotional sensationalist crap sold under the guise of Industrial Design.

Yesterday I was talking to a designer friend of mine about Barbara Barry’s furniture designs. She felt that Barry’s furniture made her feel sad. I wondered if those emotions weren’t more nostalgic. To me, the furniture evokes the post-World War II era, when the US had a booming economy and everyone was happy. Given our current economic situation, it makes sense that we’d be dreaming about a better time.

Perhaps that does translate as sadness. It’s the first time I’d really thought about furniture design and its associated emotions. When I look at Barry’s designs I think of Hollywood for some reason. Maybe that’s because I’ve only seen this look in movies. It went out of style, transplanted by mid-century modern, fairly quickly.

Her work also reminds me of designs from Grosfield House, a company that did a booming business during the 1940’s. I suppose that combines melancholy memories of the war with the ensuing post-war revelry.

Anyway, it got me thinking about how emotions and memories affect our attraction, or aversion to certain styles. I thought this would make a good discussion today. This post is also inspired by a wonderful book I’ve just finished called “The Architecture of Happiness“, about which I’ll be writing more later.

When you look at Barbara Barry’s particular style, do you feel any particular emotion? Does it evoke a certain era? Do other styles (Baroque, Victorian, Mid-century Modern make you feel happy, nervous or nostalgic? No three page essays required here. Just your thoughts.