zfaust
Digital Mingei
One things I’m excited to study this semester is mingei.
Described by the Japanese philosopher, Soetsu Yanagi as the “art of the people,” mingei uplifts the common crafts that create the everyday objects we use that seemingly go unnoticed.
Objects that fall under mingei are typically things like servewear, utensils, and fabrics. They’re distinguished from other objects in that they rely on natural materials found within the ecosystems where they’re created, are made in mass by everyday artisans, and allow for imperfections in the repetitive process of creating.
I’m interested in this concept because it’s the antithesis of what I loath about modern design that priortizes the creator, relies on “innovation” for the sake of newness, and speculative work that doesn’t provide applicable solutions to real problems.
As Yanagi states in The Beauty of Everyday Things, mingei “... is a world of utility. There is no avoiding reality, no way of escaping it, for the sole purpose of these objects is to serve the people’s needs.” I think in some way I feel that is my purpose as a designer - to fulfill the designerly needs of everyday people.
Working as a designer in New York I’m overstimulated by beautiful work. Complex, overcomplicated designs that look marvelous, but I can’t help but to think that the systems they rely on are not accessible.
I immediately think of the New Museum that recently opened in Manhattan with it’s beautiful, modern design. Although gorgeous it’s a nightmare to walk through with it’s slippery steps, cracking cement floors, and overcrowded galleries with overtly long wall texts. It feels like it was almost designed for the post-human world.
It’s like the design of the museum prioritizes the collection it houses, or the concept of a modern museum, instead of the guests it’s supposed to welcome. It’s existence exceeds the needs of everything else.
This isn’t to say all the work in the city is like that. But there is a culture of experimentation and implementation for the sake of calling something innovative.
In reality, a lot of design work doesn’t need to be new. Or look new. And for the most part, work that synthesizes this is just a remix or copy of something created just a little bit earlier.
Scrolling on any design template site like Fiver, Creative Market, or Framer shows galleries of regurgitated work that looks new, but all share the same color palettes, fonts, and imagery.
Which in a way isn’t that bad. That’s what mingei kind of promotes. The repetition, and the little differences created through each new rendition. But the big difference is mingei isn’t advertised as being new or innovative.
So that begs the question, can digital designs be mingei? Can we translate them to something that applies the same principles?
According to Yanagi, these things, “must stand the test of reality. They cannot be fragile, lavishly decorated, or intricately made... (they are) thick, strong, and durable... They cannot be flimsy or frail in nature; neither can they be overly refined.” Which for the most part, digital can fulfill these traits
In the always updating world of digital maybe it’s not all-encompassing. But maybe it can be as long as we create our own systems. Nothing is stopping us from employng legible fonts in our templates, or host websites on our own servers that aren’t frequently updated with new features, and dispose of old ones that we may rely on.
Although we forsake a large component of mingei (nature) maybe it’s still possible in some way, as long as technology persists?
In the same breadth nothing is forever. Pots made of clay rely on it being locally available, the laquer plate requires new generations of artisans to learn the skills to make it, and the maple coffee table requires there to still be an ecosystem that grows that kind of tree. Nothing is truly permanent, but the creators adapt as best as they can.