As a kid, I loved Disney movies–particularly the animated ones. I remember the opening blue screen with Cinderella’s Castle. In the context of 2-D animation, it was a perfect opening–simple but recognizable.

As Pixar’s 3-D prowess increased, they updated the original blue opening and added a few three-dimensional flourishes. It was a literal reinterpretation of the Disney opening.

The requisite blue background remained, but the flags waved and a slightly more realistic castle floated in mid-air awaiting the introduction of the title. The original was iconic and in many ways, not subject to reality; however the rudimentary 3-D work in the follow-up lost the simplicity and magic.

Enter version three:

The latest iteration captures the magic of Disney in ways 2-D animation could only dream: a mystical start in the heavens, a moving camera point, fireworks and lighting complexity. This is the perfect introduction to the magical world of Disney.

Whereas the first 3-D version captured all of the requisite elements of the original, the design was constrained based on past considerations. Instead of rethinking what made a Disney movie (and intro) great, they simply slapped a new coat of paint on the intro.

A proper re-imagining of the intro led to something that captured the essence of Disney while taking advantage of technological improvements. It was everything that the original offered but appropriately updated.

As designers, I wonder if we fall prey to the ease of slapping paint on something old. Technology has opened up new worlds for designers, and it would be a shame to miss what the new allows us to do.

If I create something that is beautiful, stunning, and unique yet has no purpose, was it worth my time? Think of some of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen…now think of how effectual they were. It’s not universal, but some of the best designed pieces cause little impact.
If I create something that has purpose yet is ugly, have I done a good job? Consider MySpace, arguably one of the ugliest and least cohesive designs on the internet. Is it effective? Maybe…they have scores of hits and have signed a multimillion dollar advertising contract.
In the end, purpose outweighs beauty hands-down. This is partially a lament and partially a realization of nature. However, the best things are the ones that combine good design and meaning.

This is beautiful. What do you think?

via SVN | Original

Have you ever designed something only to sit back and stare at what you just created?
It happened frequently during my studios in college-I would glue a piece on a building, sit back, and leer at my beautiful craftsmanship. Or when I design a website, I’ll recline and look at my completed work, admiring work I’d done.
As I was working on some Helpdesk software at the church, I realized that I had fallen into this trap once again. You see, there were a couple details that I had fallen in love with. A few buttons. A few navigation elements. A few icons. Each piece was nice, but I was forgetting that they were only pieces.
As I was discussing the project with my boss, he made some suggestions regarding one of my favorite elements. In an instant, my attitude shifted from one of discussion to one defense. I became completely defensive and unresponsive to suggestions. Why did this happen? This happened because I was enamored with a piece of the puzzle.
I think this happens all to frequently with designers. You work with a project so long and hard, that you see certain elements as the best. Those elements somehow “make” the project in your mind, and when someone questions these pieces, you no longer respond reasonably.
You may fall in love with an icon, a link, a corner, a font, a color, a logo, or an image-a piece of the puzzle of your design. The key is to be able to step back from the design and take the critiques and suggestions, even when the suggestion is about the detail you fell in love with.

This is taken from Fast Company [Link to Article] – October 2005. Maurice Blanks, COO and cofounder of Blu Dot is speaking (emphasis is added):

Architecture is a profession everyone fantasizes about. Like George on Seinfeld; he’d always say he was an architect. But people who can’t keep fighting in the storm get weeded out early. When I started architecture school, one of the professors said only 25% of us would make it. Of those, many drop out of the field by age 40. I did that in 2002. I closed my practice in Chicago and moved to Minneapolis to devote myself full time to Blu Dot, which I helped found in 1996.
Architecture is about keeping track of thousands of pieces of information and making sure they’re all covered in the design. The implications of failure are pretty high if you don’t: People could get hurt. Therefore, you learn that you must be very efficient with information and organization, which naturally translates to running the day-to-day operations of a company.
It’s funny how the word “sell” is never used in architecture school, but to me the critiques were kind of informal lessons in sales. For exams, you’d present your work to a jury–your professors, peers, local architects, and so forth. Their job is to shell you; your job is to defend yourself. It’s pretty brutal. Typically, you’ve pulled at least one all-nighter. Tears are not uncommon. But it taught me how to communicate ideas quickly and tailor information to an audience. When I show a coffee table, I’ll talk about the decisions we made, how we designed one part to hold magazines, or why having wheels makes it easy to move around. You can’t possibly cover every single aspect. You have to figure out what’s important and how your design solves their problems.
Architects say yes more often than they should, and I still do that at Blu Dot. It often brings about unexpected opportunities. Last year, a pharmaceutical company wanted us to make a custom bookend for a trade show within three months. It was an unusual project, but we figured out a way to do it–and discovered a whole new market that was perfect for one of our desk-accessories lines.”

That’s why I’m so glad I went to architecture school.