By Patty O’Connor Lauritzen
A true designer is akin to a true composer. Anyone who studies music can play an instrument, but not everyone who plays an instrument can compose beautiful music. The same is true in design. And the difference is artistic complexity.
A true designer is akin to a true composer. Anyone who studies music can play an instrument, but not everyone who plays an instrument can compose beautiful music. The same is true in design. And the difference is artistic complexity.
This week I had the pleasure of hearing presentations from
two very talented designers. And by talented, I mean a caliber of talent that
puts these two designers at the top of their respective categories: web
designer and garden designer.
Executive Creative Director at Wire Stone, Molly O’Shea,
presented new designs for a tech client this week in Mountain View. She spoke of
how the musicality of web design encourages the eye to dance as it moves across
the visual elements of the page.
She masterfully moved a very simple brand into an elegant
page design that focused on the basics: contrast, overlays, and clean
typography neatly framed by the guiding rhythm of a 12-column grid. It is not a matter of using overlays like a composer writes the notes for the flutist. It is more like crafting their usage, transparency, and placement like a composer cues the flute, tempers the tone, and establishes the cadence.
The following day, internationally acclaimed garden
designer, Luciano Giubbilei, gave a lecture at The Presidio in San Francisco. He shared slides of his work and anecdotes of
traveling the world designing gardens that soothe the soul.
The components of his green gardens include tiered
hedges, water features, and sculptures. Think of the reliability of the bass, the tinkling of bells, and the romance of violins. He spoke of planting flowers as
arranged bouquets, incorporating structures that live and breathe, and thoughtfully
placing sculptures from renowned artists. The ultimate element of his garden is natural light. Light is the melody; it is the natural movement of light cascading through leaves, backlighting bunch grasses, and casting late afternoon shadows.
He writes in his book, Gardens
of Luciano Giubbilei, “I can think of nothing that reminds me more of
eternity; my mind is relaxed observing the play of light.” The garden of his
design is one to linger in because there is nowhere you would rather be. Time
is inconsequential. The added complexity of celebrating light creates the
symphony of his gardens.
Both of these designers extend an invitation to share a
complex vision that creates a pleasing reaction. And it struck me that this type of work is not just a deliverable, it is truly a work of art.
