The Soul of a Design

When we talk about music, or people, or animals, or food, or corporations, sometimes this hazy concept of a soul comes up. When we hear it, it seems familiar, yet elusive. Relatable, yet undefinable.

I recently wrote about design trending towards resembling biological systems. Maybe then it helps to think of “soul” as the other side of this coin. A side characterized by feeling and connection, rather than pure systems, scenarios, and utility. Let’s look at some examples.

Take home cooked Indian food. It’s rich with spice, round with flavor, color, and often crafted by cooks who refuse to use measuring cups. And the feeling after eating it is one of warmth and fullness, and a connection with the person who poured their heart into it, sans blueprint.

Or a Tesla. It knows you, it adapts to you. It has a name. It keeps you safe, treats you to music, knows the way home. Your kids and family grow up in it. It’s that crackling winter fireplace you get to come home to after a long day at work.

Or an old motorcycle. The engine doesn’t run perfectly, but that’s okay because it’s just another sign that it gets you, it can relate to your own imperfections. And you know that the moment you fire it up and cruise down the highway, it’s just you with a smile and everything is alright.

Or the status light on the old Macbooks, pulsing to the cadence of the human breath. You spend a lot of time together, and all you want is something to share in your rhythm as you charge through the day.

So can a design have soul?

Soul seems to relate to connection and empathy. Life affirmation. Inspiration. Confidence in oneself. Reminders of something larger – home, history, an idea, a story, a memory.

But isn’t that the domain of Art?

Maybe. But who cares. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

I can’t end this without sharing a story on LinkedIn that I came across while writing this. Should be worth checking out.