Big Bang Theory

The essay I wrote for RACER magazine is now available online.

You can find it here on pp. 34-35.  The topic is Game Changers.  At the risk of tooting my own horn, I think it's one of the better things I've written on the subject of innovating.  Here's an excerpt:

How to spot one?  Beware of self-proclaimed game changers; most are just marketing hype.  Real game changers trigger resistance from competitors and rule makers.  Or, like Jim Hall's fan car, they violate unspoken taboos…

I hope you like it!  Thanks.

Email stinks

I’ve lost count of the number of misunderstandings, missed opportunities, and attenuated outcomes I’ve brought into being via the tips of my fingers.  No, I’m not talking about mediocre blog posts, I’m speaking to the thousands of emails I send each year. 

When it comes to the pursuit of creative outcomes, email stinks.  I wrote a few weeks ago about the debilitating effect of sarcasm in a creative workplace.  In that same context, email has its problems, too.  With email, not only is it difficult to discern whether sarcasm is at play, but it’s also hard to confidently parse out things like humor, fear, anger, defensiveness, kindness, curiosity… you get the picture.  And the give and take of a healthy in-person conversation becomes at best a somewhat disjointed verbal volley, at worst a damaging pissing match.

The solution?  Whenever possible, talk.  By phone, Skype, or even in person.  Talk.  Listen.  Talk some more.  Digest. 

It’s so much better to talk in person.  It is truly an imperative for teams and organizations pursuing any kind of creative outcome.  Email simply can’t deliver the critical nuances which help shepherd a process along to greatness.  And as critical as it is to talk directly with people within your own organization, it’s even more critical to do so with folks who sit beyond the confines of your four walls.  While it’s even harder to find ways to talk face-to-face with “outsiders”, you have to try, because you can’t rely on things like a shared culture or mission to provide the mutual trust which bridge the inherent deficits of email conversation.

Of course, for messages which need a scale of delivery, email is still one of the only tools at our disposal, but hopefully that will change soon.  Myself, I receive something over 300 emails a day, and I send something like 50. 

Emailing is a necessary evil, but if you commit to talking more and emailing less, then I will, too.

RACER 3.0

RACER 3.0 Delta Wing May 2012 cover metacool

In 1992 I received a direct mailing talking about a new magazine called RACER.  The mission of RACER, to provide a window into the world of racing, was tremendously exciting to me.  As a mechanical engineering student who wanted to become an engineer with Penske Racing or McLaren,  it was very difficult to find reputable sources of information about what was going in the world of racing and racecars.  I didn’t own a TV, the internet at that time was about very bare text message boards, and the few European racing magazines were too expensive for me to contemplate subscribing to. I would read as much as I could for free when I had the time to hang out at a local café and bookstand (which was not very often), so as a result I barely knew anything.  Case in point, when I applied for a job at Rahal Racing, tracking down their address in Ohio required an entire afternoon of card catalog searching at Stanford’s Green Library.  I kid you not.  Things have changed in the past 20 years.

I became a charter subscriber.  RACER went on to blow my mind as it expanded my horizons.  To feed my design engineering curiosity, it featured achingly gorgeous monthly photographic profiles of important race cars.  It helped me understand the complex strategies – sporting, business and organizational – which drive successful racing teams.  From a people perspective, RACER gave me insights into the thought and behavioral patterns of legendary design innovators such as Dan Gurney, Adrian Newey, Gordon Murray, and many more. 

Above all, RACER’s crisp editorial point of view helped me crystallize a deep belief in the power of acting over just talking, the value of making decisions, and the stark reality that in order to win a race, you have to first show up and start.  It made a big impact on this impressionable college kid.  For those of you who don’t know much about racing (or perhaps don’t care – which is fine, just keep reading metacool!), being a racer is a lot like being an entrepreneur (and most racers are entrepreneurs): it means making the most of what you’ve got, and putting everything you’ve got into what you’re doing.  It’s about being remarkable.  It’s a world where, in the words of racer Roger Penske, effort does indeed equal results.

RACER celebrated its 20th anniversary this past weekend with a big party (it was a good one, I must say!) at the Long Beach Grand Prix.  And as part of this big milestone, it is being relaunched as RACER 3.0, with a new aesthetic approach and a big new attitude – with a bunch of future innovations in the works.  The extremely gnarly relaunch cover of the May 2012 issue is pictured above, and it features my favorite new race car, the Delta Wing.  Does that look killer, or what?  The theme of the issue is “Game Changers”, and I’m deeply honored to have written its introductory essay.  Thank you, RACER.

If you happen to already subscribe to RACER, I hope you like what I wrote.  If you don't subscribe, please do!  Here's a link to an online version of the article.

For now, let’s all get back to making a dent in the universe!  WFO, people, WFO.  Be a racer!

Director’s Commentary: Jeep Mighty FC

Here's a great look at the Jeep Mighty FC concept car, as told by its designers.  Though this director's commentary doesn't illuminate much of the actual design process which led to the creation of the Might FC, it does a wonderful job of showing us the importance of identifying and holding a strong point of view as you make your way through that process. 

In particular, I like this quote from Mark Allen, the lead designer:

Although we work for a very, very  large corporation, and you'd think there would be board meetings and all this stuff, really it's a few guys just saying, "I want to build this because it's cool."  To have that kind of flexibility in our corporation is great.  I've got great support to do this, and the vehicles come out very, very pure in thought.  They're not watered down through a bunch of meetings and decisions.  There's really never any regrets when we get it done.

Not only is it critical to establish a solid point of view, it is essential to trust the people who hold that vision to do the right thing.  A team of talented designers can create a compelling concept car like the Mighty FC.  An extremelky well-structured and led product development organization like Apple can take the vision of talented designers all the way to market.

I love this design.  I hope they find a way to make it — it would be such a boon to the Jeep marque.

Ferdinand Alexander Porsche and the Porsche 911

Porsche-Type-901-911-with-Ferdinand-Alexander-Porsche-1963-600

Ferdinand Alexander Porsche, a designer who shaped many beautiful products, passed away yesterday.  He is pictured above astride one the truly iconic designs of the 20th century, the Porsche 911.  His Porsche, his design.

As an aside, how cool would it be to pose for a photo on a product of your own imagination?  Pretty cool, I think.

To my eyes, the Porsche 911 is an object I never tire of.  Particularly in its early incarnations, there's a very clean and pure design aesthetic at work.  I also love the later 911's, with their shapely hips and bulging flares and scoops and spoilers, but the original design offers something different: formal, modern minimalism very much in keeping with the work of Dieter Rams from the same period, yet still connected to the flowing, ur-Porsche shapes and surfaces penned by the great Erwin Kommenda in the 1930's.  In many ways that link between the streamlining period of car design and the very rational approach of the 1960's drives my abiding love of the 911 aesthetic: it is emotional in the right places, technical in the rest, and the combination just feels the way a sports car should: emotive, efficient, compact, agile.

I often think about cars I would want to have parked in my living room as sculptural objects, and an early 911 is at the fore, along with a Citroen DS, a Fiat 500, or a Saab 92.  They all have their genesis in a certain time period, which probably says more about me than it does about them.  But what I do think we can learn from all of these, and from Ferdinand Porsche and the 911 in particular, is the paramount importance of having a crisp point of view.  Product experiences that are remarkable to use, to behold, to feel, are always the result of talented people who not only know what they're shooting for, but know what good looks like.  If you want to have a thriving business concern, focus on creating great offerings first by hiring the best talent you can find an letting them run.

As an engineer, I can't help but admire the 911 from a dynamic standpoint.  Here is a classic example of an approach which works in practice but not in theory.  Who would have thought that this rear-engined architecture would go on to win everywhere from Le Mans to Daytona to Pikes Peak?  The inherent maneuverability and traction advantages of the 911, when put to good use, provide a textbook case of strategy being the art of making the most of what you have that other's don't.  A 911 is not a normal car, does not drive like one, and therefore can win in ways different from the mainstream.  For a more visceral perspective on that thought, please see my other blog.

Back to the man.  For me, the lesson I take from his story is that we must all strive to design our own lives.  He was lucky enough to be born into a successful family which was also a company.  On the other hand, imagine being born as Ferdinand Porsche, with a genius grandfather who defined many aspects of the automobile, and a successful industrialist father, who created a startup and navigated it to become a world-class brand.  That would be a tough legacy to live up to.  For some, that would be too much weight to carry.  I think for Ferdinand Alexander, the key was that he was honest enough to say that he would be an industrial designer, and not an engineer like his father and grandfather.  By doing so, he was able to express a deep congruence between his own dreams and the path of the firm, which resulted in the 911.  When those two diverged, he expressed the entrepreneurial instincts which I believe all great designers carry, and founded his eponymous design firm, which went on to create many lust-worthy products. 

So at the end of the day, whenever I see a 911, I'll think of the individual behind its shape, whose most worthy design was perhaps the arc of his own life.