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I snagged this monstrosity from one of our designers who was referencing it on a recent project – If ever there were a package in desperate search of a “Horrible Graphic Design” contest… well this is it.

Starting with the use of no less than a dozen fonts – several of which are illegible –  is only the first insult.  The generally crummy choice of contrasting colors, weird background gradient and beginner’s Photoshop halo effect around the model  layer on additional and profound pain.  The text density is positively excruciating and the multiple language execution??? Quelle dommage!  And finally, there’s the photograph itself.  Simply freakishly spooky . From the cake frosting mud pack to the shocking ruby red lips to that odd, smug tilt of the head.   And what in the hell is going on with the stuff piled on her eyes???  What exactly is that?  Rocks?  Meal loaf?  Decomposing mouse remains?  Dog feces?   

Ok… I know.   I get it.  Or rather they get it and I don’t.  I know this is a big, smart company selling bazillions of these things at major retail establishments.  I’m sure this is package design is really their “thing” and I simply lack … oh I don’t know.. the intellect? – design sensitivity? – sense of irony? – whatever-  necessary to fully appreciate their genius.  All I know is that for my money that’s one seriously ugly packaging job.  For crying out loud people.   

Sometimes I think we’re regressing as a species. 

For the last few years, we’ve heard a great deal about STEM education – science, technology, engineering and math – and the critical need to encourage kids in these disciplines. In fact, the National Science Foundation has shared daunting statistics speculating that 80 percent of all jobs created in the next ten years will require math and science skills.

And if that doesn’t impress upon us the importance of kids’ engagement in STEM, we can re-watch Math, Science and the Future of Our Nation – A Town Hall Meeting (2010) and the ominous picture it paints. As the narrator warns in the first 5 minutes, “For kids in middle school today, by the time they enter the job market, it will be nearly impossible to succeed without a good foundation in math and science.” Music majors everywhere, take notice.

I recently tweeted a link to an article that seemed to suggest encouraging kids to participate in these subjects might be like ladling cheese on top of broccoli – heavily engage kids in STEM subjects by packaging the classes with things they already enjoy. And while we know that model works – parents everywhere can testify to the power of cheese – we’re collectively missing the innovation boat.

Frightening the humanities out of us will not make us better engineers or mathematicians. Isolating STEM education from other subjects to build the best and brightest can never address the broad and deep knowledge needed for true innovation.

Creativity, artistic vision, divergent thinking or the ability to communicate our ideas will always continue to play a powerful role in the innovation process. Educating for a particular skill set may only create a commodity and not encourage the broader design thinking that drives innovation. Yes, I said design thinking. Empathy, creativity and rationality, as Ms. Norvaisas would say, all sitting side-by-side.

Innovation isn’t taught through individual subjects, no matter how valuable STEM subjects may be. True innovation may best be accomplished through an holistic approach that embraces a broad range of subjects, including the humanities, as equal partners in the innovation process.

I don’t know exactly why, but I guess I find this sort of depressing.

A wonderful article in the Wall Street Journal either heralds or laments – depending on your perspective –the end of the “age of speed”.

The basic premise is thus: Up to the 18th century, mankind was pretty much speed limited. Preumably short of a precious plunge off a cliff (world speed record holder – posthumous), we were going to top out in the (very) low double digits for miles per hour. A horse or two might add a bit of upward range but in general that had pretty much been the state of the art since – well – forever.

Then came the industrial revolution and it was speed-game-on.

For the last 200 or so years, mankind has been engaged in a game of velocity leapfrog. Until now. The last–fastest occupied vehicle was the single shot moon rockets at around 25,000mph. With the retiring of the space shuttle we’re basically to the 1960s… or as the article points out Today, jet-setters are back around 600 mph, the same speed their grandparents reached on early jetliners 60 years ago.

Sigh… almost enough to make you to jump off a cliff.

I spent some time this weekend screwing the glove box back into my car.  Odd.  I know.  The story of how a perfectly good glove box came to be outside of the car is interesting and left me contemplating the general degree of isolation and detachment we often have from the people who influence myriad aspects of our modern life. Of course that’s not universally the case.  We can see the actors who star in our favorite movies.  We know the authors who write our favorite books and the athletes that compete for our favorite teams.  I guess with the advent of the Internet and a more seamless flow of information I can often figure out who wrote my latest iPhone App. 

But with a few notable exceptions, we generally have little or no personal connection to—or awareness of—the people responsible for the products that shape, interact and influence our daily lives.  I have absolutely no idea who designed the building I work in, the bicycle I ride, the computer I’m typing on.  I put my eyeglasses on every morning and suspect John Varvatos (I had to look him up. He’s a famous designer ironically from Detroit – see below … shows what I know) lent little more than his name.  Mostly I never give much thought to who designed my possessions and, heck, I’m in the profession.  I suspect many of you give it even less.  Our forefathers might find this strange—but they lived in a world where a larger portion of their lives was contained within the sphere of their daily influence.  Such is no longer the case where today our detachment is so profound we often don’t know the person who grew our food or cooked our meal.  So maybe it’s not so odd that we don’t have a clue who designed our products. 

I guess one reason for this is that product design is much more a team sport than say, for example … team sports.  Really.  By the time any reasonably complex product or service winds its way to market it’s actually sort of rare that any one individual or small group of individuals can legitimately claim singularly meaningful credit. Likewise, if product design is the ultimate team sport, then who exactly lays claim to being the quarterback?  Unless you’re remarkably self-centered or egotistical, this probably isn’t the right profession if you’re into adulation and fame.   

I look at the brilliant product designers who work here at Design Concepts, and although it’s really cool to see a product you worked on in a store, in general they know they’re toiling away in some degree of anonymity.  I know they realize they’re a small but important part of the complicated tapestry of sweat and effort it takes to move a product from the spark of an idea to a place in our lives and – if they’re really good – our hearts.   

So back to my glove box.  Some time ago I bought a new Cadillac CTS 6-speed manual.For me the car is an absolute joy – one of those rare evocative products that can connect with me at a visceral level.   I can take a client out to dinner in it, but it has everything the 17-year-old boy in me relishes.  It’s all black, aggressively styled, brutally quick and the stereo goes really, really loud.  What in the world could be better?

And unlike the vast majority of products I alluded to above, I actually have a personal connection to the car.  Before joining Design Concepts I worked for General Motors and a friend of mine – Lee Visci – a brilliant engineer and superb manger – went on to become the assistant chief engineer on the CTS.  That was sort of beside the point – I’ve actually always liked the CTS and when I went looking for a new car the CTS was a great match.  But since I knew she worked on it I always joked with Lee that someday I’d have her autograph it.  When I ended up traveling to Detroit a couple of weeks ago on business, I lamented the fact that I was going to have to fly until it occurred to me that I could bring the mountain to Mohammad, so to speak.  So I (carefully) tore a perfectly functional glove box out of my beloved car and carefully packed it into my suitcase where I was able to wrangle it past a somewhat bemused TSA agent at the airport.  In Detroit, I delivered it to a probably likewise bemused Lee who, out of the kindness of her heart, arranged to have a few of the people responsible for the CTS autograph the inside of the glove box door. So I’ve now got a one-of-a-kind autographed CTS.  How freakin’ cool is that????  

The signatures inside include Lee; Dave Leone, Cadillac Global Vehicle Chief Engineer; Liz Pilibosian, the CTS Chief Engineer; and Eric Clough, Director of Interior Design, and responsible for the awesome CTS Interior.  Rock stars, the lot of you! 

So to Lee, Dave, Liz, Eric and all the rest of you out there who worked on my CTS – here’s a shout out.  I’ve been thinking of you.  Thanks.  You didn’t toil in anonymity.  Great job and it’s appreciated.

Daniel Lee, senior mechanical engineer, project manager and DJ, brings us this cymatic study with cornstarch, water and a speaker. Sure there’s science behind this non-Newtonian fluid experiment. But at it’s heart, it’s dancing cornstarch.