WHY THROWING TECH AT A PROJECT DOESN’T ‘FUTURE-PROOF’ IT…

This glimpse
of the future was crafted by: Matt
Capon

The smartphone (tech) era allows
us to capture every good (and bad) hair day down to the finest detail and the
selfie has become as routine as brushing one’s teeth, yet – retro-styled
mechanical cameras that go ‘click’ and spit out faded photos are making a
gigantic comeback. Fujifilm, makers of the popular Instax camera, sold 5
million of these last year, representing a 30% increase year-on-year. What’s
more, this analogue camera is outselling digital devices four times over.

Why is
this throw-back, analogue technology enjoying such popularity? Is ‘retro’ just
a passing flashback ‘fashion’ trend or is there something deeper at work?

Professor
of Leadership and Innovation Roberto Verganti believes that “What makes people
really passionate is not a solution; it’s the discovery of new meaning”. Could
it be that an (instant) image in hand represents something ‘authentic’ and
‘real’ in an age of high-resolution yet all too often edited, retouched or
#filtered?

The
Fujifilm camera has managed to capitalise on an era in which authenticity is
sorely lacking and develop that (pun intended) into a thriving business
opportunity. It’s also a reminder that the people at the centre of our designs
are just as important as the technology we’re expecting them to use.

Digital
photography is gaining ground; but if users aren’t keeping pace, they risk alienating
their own market. Put another way: throwing tech at a project or product
does little to future-proof it.

 

The world
of manufacturing is littered with tales of woe – products that
possessed technical superiority, yet were ‘beaten’ by lower tech rivals that
managed to capture the hearts as well as the minds of the users.

The video
cassette recorder (VCR) ‘war’ saw the Sony betamax video recording system lose
out to the VHS despite being technically superior. Sony hadn’t made a flawed
product, but they’d misjudged the home video market. Their one-hour recording
limit wouldn’t cover a baseball game or a movie and
consumers flocked to own tape formats that could record two hours or more.
Betamax was, in theory, a superior recording technology in terms of resolution,
sound, and a stable image as well as recorder quality, yet these differences
were negligible to consumers.

In 1972,
the Nakagin
Capsule Tower was dubbed ‘the future of housing’ and its sci-fi
appearance had everyone predicting that similar capsule towers would eventually
dot the Tokyo skyline. Today, however, only 40 residents remain – the tower was
the first and last architecture of its kind to ever reach completion and is a
monument to a path not followed. Its cardinal error was the failure to test how
its user’s interaction with technology might evolve. The round, frosted glass
windows were a ‘technical’ feature, but made living inside the capsules
unbearably bright.

Today’s
developers (and engineers) are faced with the challenge of designing buildings
for a future person living in a futuristic world. Given lengthy project design,
approvals and funding processes, it could take years for a project to move from
concept to completion – and after this period of time, the original design is
no longer ‘new’. How do they know what to design when they don’t know what
is to come?

The
implementation of technology for technology’s sake isn’t enough to sustain a
product or infrastructure into the future, without a sense of purpose or
meaning inappropriate technology can ironically shorten a project’s
lifespan rather than increase it. An intimate understanding of a user’s
technology needs today and how these might evolve is key to future-proofing any
product, process of infrastructure.

QV.1, a 40-storey
modernist skyscraper in Perth, Western Australia was completed in 1991. The
fourth-tallest building in Perth, architect Harry
Seidler won numerous awards for its innovative design and energy
efficiency. Despite the advent of Green Star and new technologies, 15 years
later, QV.1 and its sister designs in Melbourne, Brisbane and Sydney are still
highly desired and very functional premium grade office spaces. Harry understood how to ensure
a project’s relevance long after inception.

Likewise,
the Aeron
Chair has outlasted fad. A radical design at the time, its performance
is as good today as it was in 1994 and it is featured in the Museum
of Modern Art‘s permanent collection. According to Bloomberg,
the Aeron Chair “made a fetish of lumbar support…because that’s what people
think is required for it to be a scientifically ‘good’ chair”. Their
understanding of consumer expectations paid off – with the chair dubbed
‘America’s best-selling’.

And for a
technological equivalent, look no further than the computer mouse. In 1980,
Apple asked IDEO to
develop a mouse for their new computer, the Lisa. It is as good today as it was
back then. The Apple mouse was required to be more reliable but less than 10%
of the cost of the earlier version. Their improved and cheaper mechanism proved
mechanically and economically sound and was changed only slightly for use on
the first Macintosh computer. This basic mechanism design is now used in
virtually all mechanical mice.

All of
these examples were designed to address widely different but very explicit
meanings for their users – causes which have proved timeless.

As we
move deeper into the digital age, technology with real meaning and
value for the user will rise to the top of the pile of all things digital.
Likewise, the places and spaces we inhabit must be aligned not only with our
technology needs now, but also going forward.

Fujifilm’s
camera was able to transcend a couple of decades of relatability because it
speaks to the core needs of the user – it answers the call of humanity for
meaningful technology. As we move into a technology-saturated market in future,
designing our projects to fulfil a range of meaning or purpose for the people
that will live, work and play in them will see us start to future-proof our
designs.