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A review by ericfheiman
The Shape of Design by Frank Chimero
2.0
I was intrigued by this book due to its Cinderella Kickstarter funding story and seeing the author on a number of conference lineups in the last few years. It's a short read (125 pages) and has a nicely understated, well-considered design that implies a gravitas rare in the world of design writing. The Shape of Design doesn't live up to the packaging or the surrounding hype, but it's an admirable failure. To paraphrase a notion in the book, how Chimero presents his ideas has some appeal. Why he chose to present them at all is the bigger (and even troubling) question.
Chimero is an eloquent writer. You can sense every syllable of the manuscript has been scrupulously considered in the best detail-attentive way, and it rarely gets bogged down in designer jargon. But I kept getting sidetracked by the endless analogies (some clever, some forced) and highbrow references. (To use a poor analogy—I'm not as pro as Chimero) It's akin to the annoying person who is always unnecessarily flaunting their highbrow intellectual and cultural knowledge, not to contribute to a discussion, but to simply establish their superior airs. The ideas and observations in this book are sound and, on occasion, freshly insightful. But strip away all the posturing and you have about 15-20 pages that really matter. Chimero is constantly pushing the importance of storytelling in design (which is old news), yet the narrative here suffers mainly from using too many other authors to tell the tale and not enough confidence in his own voice. His connections and insights are usually interesting, but bereft of any soul or humanity. (A classic designer trope, no?) Chimero's single stab at humor had me longing for more, because I felt as if I was finally hearing his true voice.
The bigger question is who is this book for? For seasoned designers, Chimero's observations will be familiar, even if they are presented more eloquently than usual. Non-designers will be scratching their heads. Chimero is very lucid about the "shape" of design, but frustratingly abstract when talking about it in manifest form. The best audience for this might be students, but the odd combination of the instructional and the reflective might be confounding, since undergraduate students won't have developed enough of a process or body of work to really reflect on as Chimero has. The first reading assignment upon entering grad school, maybe?
If anything, The Shape of Design illustrates the paradox inherent in such an endeavor. In an age where designers are being asked to define their process as concretely as possible, creativity still stubbornly resists to be codified. (Jonah Lehrer faced a similar hurdle in his recent book, Imagine.) Artists and designers are special because alchemy is part of the process. It's why most biographies and biopics of artists fail to illuminate creative genius—most of the subjects themselves can't explain where the unique spark in the work comes from. Truly grappling with this challenge might have resulted in a better book. Instead, The Shape of Design comes off as a young design writer's attempt to establish himself as an authoritative voice yet with surprisingly very little new to say.
Chimero is an eloquent writer. You can sense every syllable of the manuscript has been scrupulously considered in the best detail-attentive way, and it rarely gets bogged down in designer jargon. But I kept getting sidetracked by the endless analogies (some clever, some forced) and highbrow references. (To use a poor analogy—I'm not as pro as Chimero) It's akin to the annoying person who is always unnecessarily flaunting their highbrow intellectual and cultural knowledge, not to contribute to a discussion, but to simply establish their superior airs. The ideas and observations in this book are sound and, on occasion, freshly insightful. But strip away all the posturing and you have about 15-20 pages that really matter. Chimero is constantly pushing the importance of storytelling in design (which is old news), yet the narrative here suffers mainly from using too many other authors to tell the tale and not enough confidence in his own voice. His connections and insights are usually interesting, but bereft of any soul or humanity. (A classic designer trope, no?) Chimero's single stab at humor had me longing for more, because I felt as if I was finally hearing his true voice.
The bigger question is who is this book for? For seasoned designers, Chimero's observations will be familiar, even if they are presented more eloquently than usual. Non-designers will be scratching their heads. Chimero is very lucid about the "shape" of design, but frustratingly abstract when talking about it in manifest form. The best audience for this might be students, but the odd combination of the instructional and the reflective might be confounding, since undergraduate students won't have developed enough of a process or body of work to really reflect on as Chimero has. The first reading assignment upon entering grad school, maybe?
If anything, The Shape of Design illustrates the paradox inherent in such an endeavor. In an age where designers are being asked to define their process as concretely as possible, creativity still stubbornly resists to be codified. (Jonah Lehrer faced a similar hurdle in his recent book, Imagine.) Artists and designers are special because alchemy is part of the process. It's why most biographies and biopics of artists fail to illuminate creative genius—most of the subjects themselves can't explain where the unique spark in the work comes from. Truly grappling with this challenge might have resulted in a better book. Instead, The Shape of Design comes off as a young design writer's attempt to establish himself as an authoritative voice yet with surprisingly very little new to say.