Design in one sentence

What is design? The sheer number of suggestions alone discourages from clarifying the question. With all the different speakers, approaches, and degrees of abstraction, the answer is once again: it depends.

This is, of course, unsatisfactory for those asking the question, so I would like to come up with an outline for home use. So that the word is not completely useless (i.e., bad design), there should be some reasonably sophisticated definition and, at the same time, understandable enough for non-experts. To this end, and to keep it concise, I looked for “One Sentence Wonders” with ChatGPT and Claude AI — in other words, definitions that dare to get to grips with the topic in just a single sentence.

This results in a bunch of statements whose meaning shifts with and against each other. The observer sees similarities, affinities, divergences, and contradictions. A kind of coarse-meshed reading in which not only thicker chunks of meaning get stuck, but also the semantic movements themselves appear. The top dogs of design always have to offer something new to attract attention and stay in the conversation. Such a survey seems to me to be more interesting and productive than clinging to a single definition.

The visible and the invisible
To begin with, I think the following definition is a useful starting point for a broad understanding:

“Design is the method of putting form and content together.”

Paul Rand, 1985

We are probably all familiar with the distinction between form and content from school and even use it occasionally in everyday life. It signals that we are dealing with something concrete and perceptible (form) as well as something abstract and imperceptible to the senses (content). The task of design is to bring these two aspects together methodically, i.e. in a reflective way.

Let’s contrast this statement with the notorious saying that a certain Mr. Sullivan relatively immodestly proclaimed as a law in the 19th century:

… form ever follows function. This is the law.

Louis Sullivan, 1896

At least three things stand out when we compare these definitions:

1. Both statements use “form” as a fundamental category.
2. We have two places in the sentence, one of which is occupied by “form” and the other by “content” OR “function.”
3. While form and content appear side by side on an equal footing, form follows function establishes a hierarchy — the function is the leader, the form the follower.

Based on these three points, we can trace a large part of the conceptions of and discussions about design — in theory, among practitioners, and in everyday understanding.

Point 1, as mentioned above, concerns perception. Design concerns objects, spaces, sound, and surfaces. In the context of design, the concept of form refers to materiality and physicality. What is designed confronts me so that I can see, hear, touch, and smell it.

Point 2 shows that the invisible marks a position that various candidates may occupy. The invisible appears in variable word forms: content, function, meaning, purpose, plan, invention, innovation, culture, and environment. This is a wonderful way for experts to argue about what design is “really” about.

Point 3 works in the same terrain, creating additional upheavals and debate dynamics. Who is the leading agent?

Function and aesthetics

Based on these two statements (and as an anticipated result of filtering other definitions), I will now construct my personal is-sentence using Luhmann jargon:

Design is the unity of the difference between function and aesthetics.

yours truly

“Aesthetics” signals two things. On the one hand, as a quasi-neutral term, that design is a matter of perception (Greek “aisthesis”). Bodies and surfaces can be experienced by the senses; we see, hear and/or touch them (point 1). On the other hand, it introduces the question of the quality of the sensual, which we will not concern ourselves with here. What is beautiful, what is ugly?

The “function” names the invisible, takes its place (point 2). It is my preferred placeholder because it not only ties in with the well-known dictum mentioned above, but also outlines a relatively large semantic corner: purpose, plan, problem, solution, benefit — all these words are close to function. It indicates that design is in the service of and for something.

In this conceptualization, function, and aesthetics form a distinction that cannot be further resolved. In this way, the term “design” indicates that both sides are always in play — and that it is itself the unity that encompasses both sides (if an artifact were only about aesthetics, we would have called it “design”).

The semantics of these words are naturally slippery at the edges. The function, the utility value of an object, can always also result from its aesthetics (e.g., for show-offs), just as the lack of frills of a perceptually agnostic functionality is sometimes perceived as beautiful. Aesthetics and function are “only” two perspectives arising from their differences. What is important when talking about design is that both are meant.

Insert: One Sentence Wonders on Function and Aesthetics

»Design forms things, spaces, people.« Gerd Selle

»Design is a plan for arranging elements in such a way as best to accomplish a particular purpose.« Charles Eames

»Design is art people use.« Ellen Lupton

»Design is the human capacity to shape and make our environments in ways that satisfy our needs and give meaning to our lives.« John Heskett

»Design is not just what it looks like and feels like. Design is how it works.« Steve Jobs

»Design is where science and art break even.« Robin Mathew

Loss of form

Something interesting appears when you look at more abstract one-sentence definitions. By “more abstract”, I mean that “form” is no longer part of the definitions. The inclusion or exclusion of form then determines whether one still thinks of design in terms of concrete forms, i.e., perception and objectivity.

The omission of form also opens up a new semantic field (and one could ask whether it is this field that excludes concrete forms). Now, it is about states, conditions, problems, solutions, communication, or even the whole world. So, it is no longer just about spaces, things, or surfaces but also about structures, processes, and mental constitutions. In short, everything that can be understood as the result of a chain of decisions. Form may disappear from the “inside” of the definition, but in the “outside” it takes over quasi-totally: design itself is the form, and the form is design.

Insert: One Sentence Wonders: Loss of Form

»Design is the transformation of existing conditions into preferred ones.« Herbert Simon

»Design is the conscious and intuitive effort to impose meaningful order.« Victor Papanek

»Design is a solution to a problem« John Maeda

»Design is the art of planning or inventing something that does not yet exist.« Richard Buchanan

»Design is really an act of communication« Don Norman

“Good design is as little design as possible.” Dieter Rams

»Design is the methodology of understanding and reinvention of the universe.« Bruce Mau

“Design is a practice of contemplating the world” Dirk Baecker

Finishes

These circular logics built on self-reference are fun but also dizzying. Above all, however, their complex vanity ensures that everyday communication — e.g., between colleagues — becomes difficult, does not help, causes dissonance, and breaks down. Communication about design becomes dysfunctional above a certain level of abstraction of the term, so this form of speaking should probably be left to scientists.

My rule of thumb for home use is that the further you move away from aisthesis, from concrete objects, the more the concept of design threatens to become blurred. In principle, designers shouldn’t care — they can design perfectly well without reflection and definition. However, when it comes to the relevance and positioning of design in a company, it is better to know what you are doing and to be able to argue abstractly.