In contrast to the double diamond process, design in an improvisatory mode is characterised by open-ended time frames, where action is underpinned by the desire to improve aspects of what one is working on through iterative changes in concert with others (Gatt and Ingold 2013). This reconfigures designing not as a process of problem-solving but as a process that is concerned with continually responding to and adapting one’s ways of being-knowing-&-doing in the situations and contexts in which one works (Halse 2013). At The Weekly Service this seemed to cultivate the emergence of more relationally attuned ways of being over-time. We used our creative capacities to gesture forth visions of a more beautiful world, by sharing musical skills, poetry or by paying close attention to how a space was decorated and people were welcomed. Improvisations were made in an additive way, that built on what had been done previously, with an eye towards how that could be further enhanced. When we improvised together in this way, we tended to become inspired by one another’s contributions, which would encourage further cycles of improvisation.
This improvisatory mode, sat in contrast to my design training and my perception of the role of an embedded designer in community settings. Problem-solving has a long history in design thought and practice. Herbert Simon’s (1996) oft quoted definition: ‘[e]veryone designs who devises courses of action aimed at changing existing situations into preferred ones’, points to how design is a process of creating solutions within problematic presents. The social scientist Donald Schön (1983) brings a more nuanced reading to this process by suggesting that rather than set out to solve a problem, designers ‘set’ the problem through exploration, observation, and prior experience. Design as a problem- solving process is also commonly used as a way of framing how collaborative design unfolds. Ezio Manzini (2015b) defines designing with communities as a process where ‘design experts collaborate with active groups of people in making a given solution more accessible and more capable of lasting well into the future’ (60).
When I reflected further on my desire for a structured design process, I came to see it as an attempt to create order while building my own credibility as a ‘designer’ within the core team, through the use of a recognisable ‘designerly’ framework. By drawing upon an existing framework, I tried to appear knowledgeable and capable of steering us through uncertainty towards potential solutions. This is also what I thought a designer in collaborative settings should be doing. A small diagram (Figure 25) I drew at the time, indicates my perception of the increase in fluidity within the work of The Weekly Service (image bottom) when compared with the more directed movement of the design process that I was familiar with (image top). From my own professional experience, I understood visual communication (especially identity design) to be more commonly about fixing things in place through processes of form-giving, so as to create assurance and a sense of know-ability across time. In my reflections I wrote ‘…because our team is so well equipped I don’t feel like I quite know what my role is.’ I wondered whether it had something to do with materiality, given my design background, ‘I sense that my role is in the materiality of what we’re doing, and transforming that and working with that?’ However, discovering the ‘materiality’ of what we were making was part of the challenge. In this fluidity where everything was moving, I was out of my depth and it was unsettling and intriguing to watch myself as I floundered, searching for a focus.
Through my work with The Weekly Service, I began to understand that resisting the urge to problem-solve is an important design strategy in transitional times. In addition to the notion that the present doesn’t stay long enough to be changed, problem-solving can function as an avoidance strategy for feeling or grieving. As philosopher and gender theorist Judith Butler (2006) writes, when grieving is feared, quickly designed solutions to remedy painful situations can perpetuate a fantasy of the world as orderly and devoid of suffering. In other words, problem-solving might actually be a recipe for perpetuating the status quo, especially if the solutions that are devised stem from the same mindsets that created them.
In December of 2016, through a partnership with Climates, these ideas were further solidified through practice when I helped to curate an event titled ‘Inner landscapes in a changing climate’. The event was framed around how we might share our experiences of these troubling times, where it remains difficult to know what to do – how to be and how to act. We planned the event carefully, so that people would first be greeted and then led into a room with chairs seated in a circle. The event was designed to provide space for people to talk about how
Formless
Form
Formless
Form
Figure 25: Practice transitions Above: How I previously conceived my practice as a process of form- giving. Below: How I perceived the work of The Weekly Service as being open-ended and fluid.
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they were feeling. Three storytellers led us into a discussion. Each touched on their own challenges and feelings about climate change. I sat silently in the middle of the room and drew at this event, while Henry facilitated and Cam played music. Being in the middle of the room was an intense experience. I positioned myself there, because I intuited that some point of focus (other than the conversation) would be needed to allow people’s feelings to swim around the space. Many people voiced strong emotions, such as a loss of hope. Some people also found the emotional expressions uncomfortable, preferring to speak in a more intellectual way about the issue and what might be done. This event highlighted to me how the ecological crisis can provoke strong responses and the importance of airing these feelings in group contexts. Furthermore, it was through events such as this one that I was ongoingly reminded that the ecological crisis was a very real concern of those that attended The Weekly Service, even if it wasn’t voiced as openly and frequently as I would have liked. It provided further evidence that there is a need for inclusive spaces, where people can disclose how they are feeling in these transitional times.
Transition towards a relational ontology can be incredibly challenging for those of us who are more familiar with keeping problems at a distance through analytical modes of understanding and problem- solving. If designers want to concern themselves with transition towards more holistic or relationally orientated world-views, then we must also grapple with what this entails from a felt experience. Being more relationally attuned also means feeling the effects of the colonial / modern world-view. A shift in world-view entails mourning not only what ‘we have lost, but also what we have destroyed’ (Menning 2017, 40). In order words, ‘to be conscious in the world today is to be aware of vast suffering and unprecedented peril’ (Macy and Brown 2014, 21). Put more simply, ‘pain is the price of consciousness’ (Noorgard 2011, 59). Through my work with The Weekly Service I began to explore how I might create processes and relational spaces that validated difficult emotions and encouraged group sense-making. This shifted my understanding of design, from a process associated with solving problems to a process concerned with reorienting how we relate to each other and the broader ecological crisis through improvisation.
4.4 In summary
In summary, this chapter reveals that in the early phases of this research I held assumptions surrounding how I might participate in doing collaborative design with the core team and the members of The Weekly Service. When I joined the core team, I held a desire to ‘do something’ about the ecological crisis, by initiating projects that Figure 26: Inner landscapes in a
might address the complicity I felt towards my role in perpetuating the problems I was aware of. I tried to assert myself as a designer within the core team through recognisable frameworks. When this failed to produce the results I had anticipated it would, I noticed how I felt further unsettled and less sure of what constituted the materials of my practice. Over time, and through conversations, I became further attuned to how the work of The Weekly Service progressed in improvisatory ways, rather than through a structured design as problem-solving process. This was a significant shift in my understanding of design.
In this chapter, I have also taken stock of how I was approaching the ecological crisis as I worked with others at The Weekly Service. In the early phases of this research I made assumptions about people’s lack of willingness to care about climate change. These assumptions were continuously revealed to be incorrect. Through sustained experiments I began to open up ways of approaching the ecological crisis that appeared to be generative of further conversation. These attempts highlighted how emotive climate change is as an issue and the ongoing ways in which people’s emotional needs remain relatively unmet. Creating spaces in which its possible to share our experiences together, prioritises people’s experiences in the present. Here, design becomes the means through which we can begin to engage with difficult issues that are unfolding in our midst and create supportive environments that foster further engagement.
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