JKR

Ever thought you’ve stumbled on the answer to a complex issue and become very excited. Then, the more you think about it, the more deflated you get, as you realise the solution just throws up more issues?

There was a really good piece recently in The Guardian by Justin McGuirk about how dull much sustainable design and eco messaging is. And how, in shades of brown and beige, it underwhelms and confuses, turning us off rather than seducing us into making responsible purchasing decisions.

The article began by pointing out that designers, who might generally consider themselves a rather benign breed, are actually rather toxic. After all, we are in the business of generating more and more ‘stuff’ at a high cost to the planet. A sobering thought and hard to argue with, even though we set out to bring the world, to paraphrase William Morris, things which are ‘beautiful and practical’. Which brings us to the article’s conclusion, one that for a moment seemed to be the solution I’d been looking for:

“The answer, it seems to me, is to buy fewer things that we value more: to design products that endure and that we can repair more cheaply than replace. And the real way to win the public over to sustainable design is not with a war of words but by tapping into their desires. We want things with sex appeal, not ones that look as though they are made of Weetabix.”

Ah-ha, I thought. How obvious, how insightful, what a great way to think about it. The answer isn’t sustainability; it’s longevity and desirability. What a great mantra. Then the light bulb that had gone on in my head started to flicker like a wonky eco-bulb. Because tapping into our desires is what got us into this mess in the first place. In pursuit of design that delivered the beautiful, we ended up producing the fashionable. And fashion is all about disposability. The iPad certainly taps into our desires, but in a couple of months it will be upgraded and the ‘old one’ will lose its caché. In a surprisingly short time it will be highly un-green rubbish, as the software starts to flag, and a shiny new model beckons. Desirability and disposability are close relatives for our easily turned heads.

It’s all very well thinking that we can produce items of quality that will last, but how does that work for say food packaging? While refills are an option, as Kenco are showing, it will take much to change this to make it the norm. If the supply chain won’t fundamentally change, then the best we can hope for is greener materials and suchlike.

Also, long lasting desirable design is typically pricey. Wishing for a world of beautifully made design could be considered elitist from the perspective of those on a tight budget. I would love a house full of Eames chairs, but given my budget, I go for the cheap Ikea version. Which doesn’t last too long. And anyway, I am shallow enough when it breaks to be happy to get a new one in a new look.

The real challenge for sustainable design isn’t practical, it’s emotional (as the article says). It’s about people and the selfish choices we make. It’s about why we collectively rejected cardboard boxes of Roses chocolates at Christmas, because we want the more desirable, (longer lasting) but less ‘green’ tin. Desirability, sadly, is as much part of the problem as it is part of the solution. Perhaps in my excitement I read more into the words than was intended. Perhaps the author is just asking sustainable design to be a bit less drab. But just for a moment, I wondered if building things to last that would be eternally cherished was an answer people would vote for with their hearts and their wallets. Then I thought about technology brands. And cars. And convenience. And I though ‘nahhh…’

Anyway, if you are still with me, I recommend the article. While it raises more questions than answers, the points it covers (many more than there’s time for here), are really thought provoking.