I've talked a bit about ditching industrial design-style sketches (not that I've religiously followed that in the first place). My thought is that polished sketches with expensive markers and steep learning curve can communicate at a similar efficacy as a smudged thumbnail scribble blown up 300%, cleaned up by adjusting the levels, white eyedropper selecting the paper and black eyedropper selecting the darkest part and just comic sansing a short description right next to it.

15 minute rendered sketch vs a 2 minute quick hack job. Wow...

But then again, did I reach this point because I have some knowledge in the design sketching process?

Actually probably not. I've found some drawings from middle school and it's basically the same (or better) quality as stuff I've made during undergrad and beyond. Me as a middle schooler can communicate with drawings better that me right now (albeit with less confident, chicken-scratchy lines).

This is the theory of diminishing returns. There's a point where the amount of effort put into a task will output only a minimal amount of improvement.

This is especially good to know when you're dealing with a client or audience. For example, Ryan's World is a franchise centring around a kid named Ryan. This is a perfect example of diminishing returns:

All the characters are basically clipart-level art (except for the kid maybe). Different art styles, line weights, and probably image resolutions and spot colours. But the audience don't care, and the business people probably care even less. And if any designers raise an issue, they can simply say something like, 'it's intentionally a vernacular and homely design' and they'll all be on their merry way to the green hills of Windows XP.

Despite the supposed shortcomings, they are probably hugely successful, given how much billion-dollar corporations are buying and pushing the IP.

Diminishing returns. If they put more effort, the product will definitely be more polished, but the return will probably not be that noticeable. They made the call, and it paid off remarkably well.

But that's not to say that I'm going to follow Pocket Watch and Ryan's World scheme of diminishing returns. my point is further ahead than them, and I'll try to scrape as much as I can for my own benefit. Since I understand that, my quality of design isn't reliant on any sort of arbitrary perfectionism, but on an informed decision. I know that the extra few hours will pay mostly for my calm of mind over the lining of pockets (although there is some correlation to higher perceived quality and extra pocket lining). There are -- however -- places where this concept will definitely work tremendously:

Internal design showcases probably don't need to be too polished. Just enough to get the work done and communicate the right ideas. Everyone probably have the same design language lexicon to get by.

If you need some examples, Oki Sato from nendo exhibit this idea miraculously well.

I'm not making promises anymore. I'll write what's more or less what I think about at the moment and I'm also not going to inhibit myself (maybe just a little). You'll probably find contradictions and repetition, fragmented thoughts and cynical writings.

But think of it as a way for me to sort out some thoughts -- being able to change is part of being a person in the first place.

Things written here does not reflect the person.

I haven't realized how much I love designing toys and gimmicky objects of desire until about 5-or-so years ago. Even during undergrad, it never occured to me that this could be a legitimate industry that I could pursue. In the same way as I have never imagined industrial design to be a legitimate career path in high school.

Since industrial design is traditionally a function and ergonomic-centric industry -- that is to say, I had a very strange idea that industrial design dealt with the creatively vasectomized spectrum of spoons and kitchen faucets -- I've never really considered toys to be in the same level of prestige as the umpteenth chair design.

'Oh, an elegant reclaimed lumber seating! How posh! How quaint! '

And yet, I've always had a knack in designing kinda quirky, not-so-functional designs and sketches. Function was always a bit of an after-thought that comes after I've made the said pieces. But alas, these are the things that was first to be hammered down as I trudged begrudgingly through my undergraduate years. But that was my own undoing (and a little bit of the false pretense on the way industrial design was taught -- yes, I'm pinning some blame on the school).

For the past few years, I've been going through an epoch I would like to name 'The Great Unlearning ', the process of sorting through the mental library of things I've learned in design school and tossing out stuff that was either of little use or detrimental to my creative process.

A big part of that is the actual design sketching process touted by the esteemed marker and gouache renderers of old. Luckily, I've always managed to somehow scrape by and come out as rather average in that area, so there's not too much I need to unlearn.

Another great area to bin into the hellfire inferno of your mind is the needlessly redundant design thinking ideologies. It's superfluous, because people that make things naturally do the stuff talked about in the theory. It's made specifically for peasants that are in the 'not so creative' field to be like the righteous, glorious, sinless designers with their million-dollar startup idea. I think that it's basically a ploy to inject industrial designers into research sectors or alternative roles such as UX design, since industrial design positions are quickly drying up. It's a desperate attempt to keep the diminishing schools of industrial design alive without lowering the enrollment rate or change the curriculum too much in an industry with very low demand.


Some things that was most definitely necessary