Dick Wilkinson (OSR 8) reviews a remarkable book on collaborative design

Stefen Sagmeister's, Things I Have Learned in My Life So Far has edged out Gordon MacKenzie's, Orbiting the Giant Hairball as my favorite book in whole systems design.  Both books are remarkable celebrations of the imagination.  Both are bold; both are inspirations.  Yet as a visual, intellectual and aesthetic demonstration at the intersection of collaboration, storytelling, design and art, Stefan wins by a nose.

I learned of Things in April of this year at the eLearning Guild annual conference in Orlando.  I missed Stefan's keynote presentation, having been consigned that morning to deal with a disgruntled employee in India.  Later I heard that Sagmeister's presentation was the hit of the conference (of course!).  So I bought his book.  Wow!

It's like no book I've ever encountered.  For example, you can change the cover.  It contains 15 separate pamphlets that work as chapters, except that these can be read in any order.  One pamphlet works as the introduction, the rest feature one or more of the 24 lessons, a design, and a short essay.  

In isolation the lessons may seem simplistic.  "Everybody (always) thinks they are right," may  not mean much.   But picture this: six 33-foot inflated white, angry monkeys, each one holding a single word, scattered in multiple locations in Edinburgh, Scotland.  Then repeat in Glasgow, Dundee and three other cities as part of the Six City Design Festival.  Imagine kids climbing on the monkeys or people having their pictures taken with them.  Then read, “Every human conflict through history, every war and every dispute, traces its origin back to this one sentence...David Chase, creator of HBO's The Sopranos, once remarked that he built his entire show on this singular maxim.”  I tell you, it works!

“Worrying Solves Nothing” is depicted using over 25,000 black and white hangers assembled by schoolkids and displayed along an entire city block in Linz, Austria.  “Keeping a Diary Supports Personal Development” is composed of human-height typography using bamboo scaffolding displayed in a dilapidated amusement park in Singapore.

How has this man composed a life and made a living with such outlandish and impractical designs that somehow get the reader to slow down, reflect and appreciate?  How does he corral so many colleagues and button-down business types to support and then collaborate in creating such astonishing works?  What process enables him to open the gates of the imagination so wide and vanquish the inner voice of judgement?

This book is not cheap—around $40—but, oh my, where it takes you!