The madness behind the method
Please step into my laboratory...
Please step into my laboratory...
As a self-professed notebook and #2 pencil (Dixon Ticonderoga, that is) addict, I am consistently fascinated by people's unique working processes- how ideas are captured, reworked, noodled with and evolved. When I'm meeting and interviewing potential job candidates for my design team, I always feel a little leap of excitement when someone brings along their sketchbook.
When we creative types share our work, we tend to focus on the finished product, our polished and vetted ideas, tweaked into submission, err, I mean, perfection. Our resumes show what we do, but not really how we do it. So I thought I might pull back the curtains on an example of my own working process, trying to figure out the form and flow for the Philips Listening Lab (you can see actual deliverable examples elsewhere in this here portfolio). Obviously my approach varies and morphs per project: working with different people, different ideas and so on. But my raw materials generally stay the same, and I think I've created a sort of toolkit of ways and means that seem to work every time.
When we creative types share our work, we tend to focus on the finished product, our polished and vetted ideas, tweaked into submission, err, I mean, perfection. Our resumes show what we do, but not really how we do it. So I thought I might pull back the curtains on an example of my own working process, trying to figure out the form and flow for the Philips Listening Lab (you can see actual deliverable examples elsewhere in this here portfolio). Obviously my approach varies and morphs per project: working with different people, different ideas and so on. But my raw materials generally stay the same, and I think I've created a sort of toolkit of ways and means that seem to work every time.