Transcript
Roman Mars (0:10)
Today's bonus episode of 99% invisible is proudly sponsored by PNC Bank. The world's most remarkable designs are often the ones that are the most overlooked. In fact, a hallmark of great design is that you don't notice it. So it's important to take time to recognize how the boring things spearhead the brilliance all around us. PNC bank believes in the power of reliability amidst the chaos. While life may offer surprises at every turn, your bank should provide a steady foundation. PNC bank is committed to being that unwavering partner, a solid foundation of support for your day to day life. PNC bank calls their philosophy brilliantly boring, which is a mindset I completely relate to and in an alternate reality could have been the name of the show 99% invisible. But we will get to that. Embrace the beauty of dependability with PNC bank by partnering with a bank that keeps your money boring so your life doesn't have to be. Find out more about how PNC's boring philosophy for your money can help deliver brilliance to your life@pnc.com brilliantly boring PNC bank brilliantly boring since 1865 PNC Bank National association member FDIC this is 99% invisible. I'm Roman Mars. I'm going to take you back into the room where it all began. It was 2010 and the San Francisco chapter of the American Institute of Architects approached the radio station where I was working, KALW 91.7 about co producing a series of short one to two minute stories about local architecture. I was working on several different public radio shows as a freelancer, but this idea was immediately compelling to me. My first instinct was to modify the pitch in two key ways. First off, I felt that the scope should be all kinds of urban design, not just buildings. And secondly, I knew the stories would need to be a little bit longer than two minutes to be compelling and for the audience to really fall in love with these tiny mundane details. So I advocated for the stories to be four and a half minutes long. That's what I felt was the difference between like a story and love a story. Two and a half minutes. I had no idea how long 99% of episodes would eventually become. But at the time I was making a tiny radio show about design that would fit into a very crowded radio broadcast clock. So the running time of the episode was of paramount concern. This is all preamble to the room I mentioned a minute ago, the room where the show really began. In the offices of the American Institute of Architects, the executive director, Margie O'Driscoll gathered for me a group of designers of all kinds. There was a prominent architect, a structural engineer, a landscape architect, a product designer. And I asked them what it meant to be a designer. I. I was looking for insight about how they saw the world. I was looking for leads, for stories that I should follow. But most of all, I was looking for a name. I knew I didn't want the word design in the title of the show. I don't know why I was so against that, but I was certain of that. In an effort to brainstorm a name for the show, I asked them if there was a certain set of protocols or processes that they all shared, something that unified them, like a scientific method. And at some point we came to the conclusion that if they were all doing their jobs right, it was mostly invisible. And then someone pulled out the book Massive Change by Bruce Mao, and on the very first page, printed on the endpaper itself, is the line, for most of us, design is invisible until it fails. And then further in the introduction, there's another sentence about the book's mission, as laid out by the architect and philosopher Buckminster Fuller, to comprehend the total integrating significance of the 99% invisible activity which is coalescing to reshape our future. When I heard the phrase 99% invisible, I knew I had a name, and in a way, I knew I had a premise. I would focus on the invisible parts of design. The under noticed, not the failures, but the good parts. I would highlight the everyday and the boring and the mundane and talk about how this world is full of genius if you just know how to look for it. What I didn't realize then, but something that I came to realize after working on the show for almost 15 years, is that recognizing all the thought and care that goes into everyday objects is actually really important. It's more important than a podcast. When your eyes are open to those things, you can feel yourself in the embrace of smart people looking out for you. It's a form of gratitude. People who probably weren't all that heralded, designed and made all the things that make your life possible. It's also important to stop and recognize the everyday so that the everyday continues to thrive. Like anyone who gets annoyed by a road closure or a bit of construction that impediment to my all important forward progress, I fail to recognize the world being made better for my benefit right in front of me. Tapping into the spirit of appreciating all the things we make and build for each other is important for getting more of what we need. It's a way to buy into a society that seems like it's ignoring you, but actually isn't. Of course there is bad infrastructure that does harm. Elliot Kalan and I are spending a whole year talking about a book that covers that in minute detail. But still, on balance, overlooking the functional and good is too easy to do. So we need reminders. Which brings me to the manhole covers in Osaka, Japan. Now, Japan is the most thoughtfully designed place I've ever been to. The simple act of providing clean public restrooms wherever you might need one feels revolutionary in and of itself compared to the dog eat dog world of public facilities in the US but even people in Japan need to be reminded of the miracle of reliable infrastructure. What is probably the loveliest manhole cover ever is located in Osaka, Japan, and it shows a blue Osaka Castle in relief, wrapped in blue waves and white cherry blossoms. It looks like an ornately etched woodblock print, even though it is in fact a manhole cover. This beautiful disc was commissioned in the 1980s to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the modern sewer system. It's strikingly artful, but this design approach is not unique to one city or celebration. Colorful illustrations of flowers and animals and buildings and bridges and boats and mythical heroes and rising phoenixes all adorn stylized manhole covers across Japan. Now, Japanese cities have had various kinds of sewage and drainage infrastructure for over 2000 years, but subsurface systems with standardized access points are still a relatively modern phenomenon. With standardization came attempts at creativity. In the mid-1900s, city specific covers merged, but these are relatively muted and largely colorless. According to a Tokyo based association of manhole cover makers, the rise of the more expressive covers started in the 1980s with a ranking Construction Ministry bureau bureaucrat named Yasutaki Kameda. At the time, just over half of Japanese households were connected to municipal sewer systems. Kameda wanted to raise awareness around this vital water infrastructure, in part to get locals on board for a modern expansion. It's hard to levy the tax money required to improve and expand these kinds of networks when they are unseen and underappreciated. So Komeda zeroed in on manhole covers as the obvious target for a visibility campaign, a surface expression of an otherwise underground and largely invisible system. So he began encouraging towns and cities to develop and deploy location specific motifs. And soon municipalities were competing to create the coolest covers around, drawing inspiration from nature, classic folklore, and contemporary culture, including a hello Kitty manhole cover. The tactic worked, and Minhoru Mania has since inspired photography and rubbings and pins and stickers, and even quilting. Design books based on the art and design of Japanese manhole covers. The various designs have some features in common. Complex patterns with lines and curves running in different directions from one another. This cross hatching offers traction, helping to reduce wheel slippage on wet metal surfaces in rainy or icy conditions. Many manhole covers in Japan have other, less visible features designed with safety and quality of life in mind. Tapered designs which angle inward towards the bottom of the COVID rattle less than conventional round covers with vertical edges when they're driven over, thus reducing noise pollution. For areas that are prone to flooding, including much of Japan, special hinge lids have been engineered so that the COVID can flip up but remain attached to the road and then fall back into place when danger passes. This system helps prevent catastrophic lid launches due to high pressure buildups, which in turn leave behind potentially deadly empty holes in the street. And yes, there have been people sucked into open manholes. While many of these innovations are regional, many basic aspects of manhole cover design also have some underappreciated genius. Take the round geometry of most covers. A circle is an amazing shape. A circular lid can't fall into the holes that they cap. A square lid or oval lid could be lifted up and turned sideways and chucked into the hole. Once they're lifted out using a pick point or electromagnetic device, heavy round covers can be rolled along the streets like a wheel. So we should all give a round of applause for circles. And while Japan has become well known for the aesthetics of its manhole covers, other places have distinctive designs as well, some with regional significance or clever functionality. The triangular manhole covers of Nashua, New Hampshire, for example, point in the direction the subsurface water flows. In Seattle, a series of manhole covers feature embedded city maps. The raised city grid pattern on these also function as a multidirectional anti slip element. Manhole covers can also be designed to lock into a single right position and function as wayfinding devices with arrows oriented toward different neighborhoods and other points of interest. In Berlin, one artist known as Die Rob Drukeren, or the Pirate Printer, rolls paint onto the city's distinctive skyline manhole covers and then presses down shirts to create casual streetwear. And I would also argue that the completely standard US Metal manhole cover has a real municipal design beauty to it. And even if you can't get excited about that, it's worth getting excited about underground water and sewage infrastructure. Like if you're at Thanksgiving and you're forced to go around the table and say what you're thankful for. Indoor plumbing is a perfect perennial example. Even if the manhole covers near your home aren't painted like in Osaka. After the break. An overlooked, brilliantly boring foundational structure that was the bridge to the 20th century. After this. In architecture, the most impressive structures often begin with simple, dependable foundations. They embody a timeless balance and solid frameworks that create space for creativity to flourish. PNC bank wholeheartedly embraces the concept of being brilliantly boring. Even the most impressive buildings depend on essential but boring elements to achieve their brilliance. Regardless of the building's appearance, there are countless behind the scenes components that, though seemingly mundane, are crucial to its stability. This philosophy mirrors what PNC bank stands for. Just as in architecture, where reliability and consistent consistency pave the way for innovation, they provide financial stability to bolster your aspirations. The best designs aren't always the great leaps forward that wow you with their innovation. They are the things that work, use after use, year after year. Things that you do not notice because they work so well. Sometimes boring is the best design. Embrace the dependability of PNC bank because much like in architecture and in life, a steadfast foundation empowers you to dream boldly and build with confidence. Find out more about how PNC's boring philosophy for your money can help deliver brilliance to your life. Visit pnc.com brilliantly boring to learn more. PNC bank brilliantly boring since 1865 PNC Bank National association member FDIC there's a well known literary technique called Chekhov's gun, named after the Russian playwright. Basically, if a gun appears in the first act, it better be fired in the following act. There are no unnecessary details. You see a gun, that gun gets used to shoot someone. I have a corollary principle of my own invention, and it relates to movies where there is a scene at a construction site and it is this. If on the screen you see an ugly shaft of exposed rebar, somebody's getting impaled. There's something about rebar that fascinates me, if nothing else, because there are very few things that invoke a fear of being skewered. My pathological preoccupation with metal reinforcement bars dovetails nicely with a structure in San Francisco that I'm pretty obsessed with. A tiny bridge in Golden Gate Park.
