Myth of the Design Process
August de los Reyes
Microsoft Corporation | augustdlr@hotmail.com
During our college days at a
small, boho-prep institution
tucked away in a sleepy corner
of New England, my Bulgarian
friend Iskra studied philosophy
while I spent my time running
between the arts building and
the computer labs doing “that
design and computer thing”—
back then, none of my classmates knew exactly what to call
my field of study. It had been at
least a decade since I had last
seen Iskra, whose name means
“sparkle.” In the years after graduation, Iskra and I had lost touch
as our paths twisted around the
globe through our respective
careers, only to be reunited just
a few months ago—first through
Facebook, and then in person,
sitting at her dining room table
enjoying Sunday brunch in front
of a vast picture window framing a swathe of the Arizona
landscape.
As a resident of Seattle, I find
the Southwest to be about as
opposite a terrain of the Pacific
Northwest as possible—although
the two are equally matched in
beauty and splendor in their own
unique ways. I had recently finished teaching my first course, a
graduate seminar in design, as a
visiting lecturer at the University
of Washington. To reward
myself, I decided to go on a road
trip during spring break. I have
long held a personal goal of visiting all 50 states, and the end of
the academic term afforded me
the opportunity—well, provided
me the excuse—to pursue num-
ber 38, New Mexico. I flew into
Arizona, the starting point of my
week-long journey, and ventured
into the neighboring Land of
Enchantment. This way, I could
visit Iskra and another friend
of mine, who had retired from
Microsoft to go live in the sun.
Aside from reminiscing about
our salad days, Iskra and I
discussed all the usual things
longtime friends catch up about:
families, friends, adventures,
careers. Iskra talked about her
journey through law school, and
I followed with my experience
as a designer. In trying to relate
my work to hers, I mentioned all
design is political; design centers on transformation by which
the designer triggers a behavior,
in a way enforcing a policy, and
thereby being political. This
statement sparked a vigorous
conversation about ethics and
aesthetics—but I digress. I am
recounting my visit with Iskra
not because of the topic of ethics and aesthetics; we ended my
visit talking about homemade
Bulgarian yogurt, the petite madeleine of this discussion.
During brunch, which Iskra
had meticulously prepared, I
savored a bowl of kiselo mljako,
a yogurt cultured from a strain
of Lactobacillus delbrueckii subsp.
bulgaricus. I intimated that I
wanted to start making my
own. Iskra happily gave me
some yogurt as a starter, and
outlined the methods by which
to make the rich fermentation—
both the strain and the process
had been in her family for
(what I imagine) time immemorial. The technique is quite
straightforward: Boil the milk
until small bubbles form; cool
the milk for a couple of hours,
until you can comfortably stick
your small finger in the liquid
for 10 seconds (based on what
Iskra referred to as a Bulgarian
standard of body temperature);
distribute the milk into jars and
add a few tablespoons of starter
mixed with warm milk into
each jar; stir once; close the jars
and wrap them in towels for 10
to 12 hours; refrigerate; serve.
Since I received the starter,
making yogurt has become part
of my weekly routine. Upon
my first attempt, Iskra’s directions were not clear to me. In
a follow-up email exchange, I
questioned some of the logic
behind the numerous steps.
In her reply, she referenced a
scene from Jacob Bronowski’s
documentary “The Ascent of
Man.” Bronowski suggests that
when people do not have precise technical measurements,
they use ritual to set the procedure for doing or making something. His example was sword
making in ancient Japan—how
it was all about the ritual, but
in fact the ritual was designed
to get technical measurements
exactly right. Iskra immediately
thought of yogurt making and
how ritualistic it is in Bulgaria.
For some reason, she performs
the ritual just as her mother
did—without variation—even
September + October 2009
