Stefan Sagmeister: Why Are Things Less Beautiful Today?

Summary

Podcast Summary: How I Write with David Perell

Guest: Stefan Sagmeister
Episode: Why Are Things Less Beautiful Today?
Date: October 22, 2025

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Episode Theme

This episode dives into the intersection of design, beauty, and writing. David Perell interviews world-renowned designer and writer Stefan Sagmeister about his creative process, reflections on beauty and function, the importance of honesty in work, and why so much of our built environment feels less beautiful today. The conversation explores strategies for creativity, the changing role of beauty in art and design, the psychological and societal impacts of aesthetics, and what it means to make work that is both meaningful and popular.

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Key Discussion Points and Insights

1. Generating Novel Ideas Through Random Associations

• Sagmeister on Creativity:
  Instead of starting with traditional points of reference (e.g., how glasses have always been made), begin with something random (like "your sock") to shift your thinking and spark novelty.
  • “Would have never thought it if I wouldn't have started with your sock. Never.” (03:04)
• Edward de Bono’s Method:
  • Our brains favor efficiency and well-worn paths, making new connections difficult.
  • Random starting points force the formation of new neural pathways—essential for truly original ideas.

2. The Power and Practice of Diary Writing

• Influence on Design:
  Daily diary writing, which Sagmeister began as a child, became a way to revisit self-truths and spark new ideas.
  • “There was a list that said, things I've learned in my life so far... I'll pick one of those and I'll make very complicated typography out of it.” (06:18)
• Reflection and Growth:
  Reviewing old diaries revealed persistent personal struggles and inspired new directions in his work.

3. Clarity vs. Obscurity in Communication

• Making Texts Accessible:
  Sagmeister rails against “outspeak” (opaque, academic exhibition text), emphasizing that clarity should come first—even if it risks being perceived as simplistic.
  • “In the exhibition on beauty, I worked my ass off to make the text as short and as precise as possible.” (09:36)
  • On art criticism: “I can translate it... it's 15 sentences in outspeak, and here it's in four sentences in very clear speak.” (08:22)

4. Human Touch vs. Machine-Made Aesthetics

• Rejection of Pure Functionalism:
  Modernism’s shift from ornament and craft to machine-made coldness eventually led to creative stagnation.
  • “Functionality is so unbelievably easy... if you need to design a chair that is functional but also beautiful... this is one of the biggest design problems in the world.” (13:09)
• Handcrafted Elements:
  Sagmeister advocates for visible proof of human care and handiwork in design, especially as AI and digital tools proliferate.

5. The Psychological Impact of Beauty

• Influence on Behavior:
  • “People feel better and they behave better [in beautiful places].” (18:24)
  • Example: The High Line vs. the surrounding Meatpacking District; Grand Central vs. Penn Station.
• Societal Self-Policing:
  Well-designed environments inspire respect and self-regulation in their users.

6. The Decline (and Niche Survival) of Quality in Design

• Book and Album Cover Quality:
  Modern mass-market production often sacrifices materials and design quality, though niche markets (e.g. vinyl records) maintain high standards out of passion rather than commercial pressure.

7. Translating Emotion: Album Cover Design

• Process:
  Interviews and studio visits focus on the emotional core of an album rather than literal interpretations.
  • “Translating that emotion in the music into something that we love... is still, I think, a super interesting endeavor.” (24:56)
• Anecdote:
  Charlie Watts of The Rolling Stones did not recognize iconic album covers from his own band.
  • “He had no idea... that was just so amazing...” (27:07)

8. Refining Personal and Professional Taste

• Exposure and Context:
  Your sense of beauty and taste depends on breadth and context of what you’ve experienced.
• Popular vs. Critical Taste:
  Critics, exposed to more, may have tastes divergent from the general public—especially problematic for public art.
  • “It becomes a huge problem when it becomes to... public art, which by definition... should be for the public. Critics hate public art.” (29:33)

9. The Trap of Over-Intellectualization

• Authenticity for Mass and Elite:
  Sagmeister and Perell discuss how intellectual circles can overcomplicate both design and writing, undermining appeal.
  • “The hardest thing to do is to make something popular and good.” (32:01)
  • On over-intellectualization: “People will spice up, fluff up their writing... but like, no, people don't want that.” (31:25)

10. Beauty as a Necessary Function

• Sustainability Tied to Beauty:
  Beautiful things are valued and maintained, extending their life far beyond “eco-friendly” but ugly counterparts.
  • “Pantheon in Rome... never was broken down because every culture... thought it was beautiful and didn't want to get rid of it.” (43:18)

11. Long-Term Thinking vs. Short-Term Panic

• Media and Perception:
  The predominance of negative, short-term news obscures long-term positive trends (e.g., in flight safety, democracy).
  • “If you look at it from the short term, it looks like shit. You look at it from the long term, it looks fantastic. It's literally 180 degree differently.” (61:21)
• Paralysis from Anxiety:
  Apocalyptic narratives foster passivity, especially among young people.
  • “Anxiety and depression, as you and I know, are not empowering. You know, they're debilitating. They don't make you do anything.” (64:38)

12. Globalization and Loss of Local Identity in Design

• Homogeneity:
  Design worldwide is increasingly "sameified," with only regions under existential threat (e.g., Ukraine) fiercely holding onto their design roots.
  • “I think that's one of the real downsides [of globalization]... that you cannot tell... what was done in London or in Helsinki...” (70:05)
• Critique of Template-Based Design:
  Even "innovative" design often feels generic and lacks locality.

13. Personal Philosophies & Practices

• Making Room for Experimentation:
  The importance of sabbaticals, experimentation, and "sketchbook years."
• Weekly Self-Evaluation:
  Sagmeister grades himself weekly on personal goals to stay aligned with his intentions and avoid autopilot.
  • "Weekly works. Weekly is fine. Like, it takes me no time at all." (75:00)

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Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• “Functionality is so unbelievably easy... but if you need to design a chair that is functional but also beautiful... now suddenly you're fighting 5,000 years of chair history.” (13:09, Stefan Sagmeister)
• “If you're obsessive about a certain piece and you obsessively try to make it better, try to make it more beautiful, try to push it to the point where you can't push it anymore, where you think, okay, this is right now my level of pushification... that often is a good piece.” (54:13, Stefan Sagmeister)
• “People feel better and they behave better [in beautiful places].” (18:24, Stefan Sagmeister)
• “The hardest thing to do is to make something popular and good.” (32:01, Stefan Sagmeister)
• “Every building that's lasted for 2,000 years—like the Pantheon in Rome—is because every generation found it beautiful enough to keep.” (43:18, paraphrased)
• “If you look at [any problem] from the short term, it looks like shit. In the long term, it looks fantastic.” (61:21, Stefan Sagmeister)
• “Trying to look good limits my life.” (52:10, Stefan Sagmeister)
• “Honesty is interesting. That's the core of it. And I thought, wow, this is so fantastic. All you have to do is be honest. It will be automatically interesting.” (45:12, Stefan Sagmeister)

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Timestamps for Important Segments

• Finding Good Ideas (Edward de Bono Method): 00:55 – 03:08
• Diary Writing & Rethinking Restraints: 04:13 – 06:49
• Clarity in Communication & 'Outspeak': 07:27 – 10:02
• Typography & Human vs. Machine-Made: 10:02 – 14:17
• Psychology of Beauty and Human Behavior: 17:53 – 20:49
• Decline of Material Quality in Books/Design: 21:10 – 23:43
• Translating Music Emotion to Visuals (Stones Anecdote): 23:43 – 27:58
• Popular vs. Critical Taste in Art & Design: 27:58 – 34:48
• Beauty as Function and Sustainability: 41:21 – 44:47
• Obsession and Creation (‘Pushification’): 53:31 – 56:02
• Navigating Popularity vs. Selling Out: 32:39 – 34:48
• Long-Term Perspective on Progress: 59:20 – 64:38
• Design Homogeneity & Local Identity: 68:07 – 73:34
• Weekly Self-Evaluation Ritual: 74:19 – 76:21
• Most Moving Building/Artwork (James Turrell Skyscapes): 76:44 – 79:33

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Closing Reflections

The conversation is rich in both practical advice and philosophical inquiry, stressing that “beauty”—far from being superficial—is essential to how we experience, maintain, and even behave in the world. Sagmeister stands as a passionate advocate for clarity, honesty, handcraft, and long-term thinking. Whether designing for mass audiences or personal growth, he suggests the ultimate challenge (and highest art) lies in bridging quality and popularity without resorting to cliché or conformity.

“All you have to do is be honest. It will be automatically interesting.” — Stefan Sagmeister (45:12)

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For deeper detail, listen for the timestamps above to catch specific stories, Sagmeister’s candid wisdom, and actionable creative philosophy.

Transcript

[A]

Stefan Sagmeister is the author of six books and honestly one of the most influential designers in the world. I couldn't believe it. He's won multiple Grammy awards for his designs because he's designed album covers for people like Jay Z and David Byrne, the Rolling Stones. But he's a writer. And what does he write about? Well, design, beauty, how to find good ideas. And you'll notice when you pick up one of his books that the form, the style, the vibe, the typography is every bit as important as the content. The this is really about design, beauty and why our world looks the way it does. And this conversation starts with a strategy for finding good ideas. Tell me about this Edward De Bono method of when you're starting to think of some new idea and you're looking for a venturing off point, you start off with a very random point of departure.

[B]

Well, let's say I have to design a glass. My usual way, or normal way would be is okay, I look at the existing glasses, I try them out, I see what everybody else has done, I look at the history of glasses, and starting with that, I probably would design a glass that's very similar to the existing glasses. Now if I want to design a glass that's new, my chance of designing something new are better if I don't start with a glass, but with something random. Let's say I start designing with your sock. Because I just see them.

[A]

Yeah.

[B]

So, okay, so then we already have. Do we have fabric around the glass? Do we have something that is maybe elastic? Do we have. Is there a possibility for a drinking container that's actually elastic? Is there something that could be nice that is hard here, but can we make something that is hard here but soft here? So when I put it down, it doesn't make the noise, but it kind of stands. And it could stand in all things. Not even bad. Took me 10 seconds. That was pretty good. And I think we could possibly prototype this specifically now where we can injection mold different materials together so that we have a hard thing up here and a soft mold. Let's say if we do it out of some sort of artificial material, this could be injection molded so that this thing is much, much, much more rubbery and this thing is super, super hard, much more plasticky, so that when we put it down, it can stand in all directions. Maybe for camping, this could be a very nice thing. So specifically, if you put it down on an uneven ground, like, you know, on grass or the stones, that this just takes on the form, you're getting somewhere. Would have never thought it if I wouldn't have started with your sock. Never.

[A]

It's good answer.

[B]

And of course, the Bono explains why this works. Because our brain is lazy and it's very difficult for the brain. It's very energy heavy for the brain to think so it doesn't want to think so when we are just looking at other glasses, those are the synapses that it already has a connection, doesn't have to make a new one. When I force it to start with your sock, it has to make new connections. Now suddenly it has to think. It cannot just go at the end, we'll wind up as a glass. The end result, the end ways. But I forced the brain to go through some other things and form a new synapses or a semi new synapses. And that's of course also the reason why so many designers constantly repeat themselves, because that's the strongest connection between the synapses. It's like when they try to do something new, they're doing something that they did two years ago because that synapses in their brain is already connected. Yeah.

[A]

Well, one of the reasons I'm really excited to talk to you is that you've built such a coherent, cohesive worldview. And I feel like a lot of that has been born out of your practice of writing diaries.

[B]

You are correct. Yeah. I started writing diaries, as many young people do with like 10 or 12, and I think I found them really to be helpful. Strangely, once I switched to doing them on the computer because my handwriting was so sloppy, specifically in the most interesting times when I'm doing really badly or doing really well, that I could never read it again. So it was never something that I could recheck. And I found the rechecking super interesting because, you know, sometimes there is a situation where I wanted to change something in my life eight years ago, and I still haven't changed it. And I'm like, wow, I already wanted to do something about this eight years ago. And I'm still, I'm still suffering on. On. On this particular issue, so. And then I think as design was more close to my heart, the diary writing by itself really influenced the design. Then in the design world, the diary started to impact what we were doing significantly. There was a time after the first sabbatical where we got clients in the studio that had open briefs, meaning there was a client in France, a billboard company, they had billboards and they said, do something, whatever. So I could have, I don't know, take a photo of this water glass. And they actually would have run. It literally was open. And this turned out to be super difficult for me because I was not used to work that way.

[A]

Not enough restraints.

[B]

Yeah, there's not with zero restraints. And when it came to what should we do? I went back into the diary and there was a list that said, things I've learned in my life so far. Oh, wow. And it had like 15 things on it. And I thought, well, I'll pick one of those and I'll make very complicated typography out of it. Because at least I know, because I wrote it for myself in the diary. I know this to be true for me.

[A]

So tell me about the process of writing the diary, because you've just. You've such refined views about many of the core things that would go through a designer's head about beauty, about utility, about function, about the world that we live in. And the context here is when you go on your website, there's a whole answers page and there's probably answers to 100 different questions that you've really thought through. And I'm very curious about the process of how you arrived at such clean thinking, because I know that clean thinking always has a messy process that leads up to it.

[B]

Sometimes in the design world, but very heavily in the art world, there is this notion of speaking in tongues, meaning in outspeak, meaning I sometimes make. I take the pictures at the entry text in an exhibition.

[A]

Yeah, academia is the same way.

[B]

That's so ridiculous. I mean, like, I probably have 100 picture of is among the most important artists working today. That's the first sentence, and then it goes on. And I'm now versed well enough in outspeak that I can translate it. And we have an exhibition going on right now at a museum called Mas in Mexico. And the entry text is in outspeak and is crossed out. And then in handwriting, it's the same text. I love that. Three sentences, exactly the same content. Here it's 15 sentences in outspeak, and here it's in four sentences in very clear speak. And I can tell you, for example, in the beauty show, I worked my ass off to make the. In the exhibition on beauty, I worked my ass off to make the text as short and as precise as possible. Because I know if you're standing in a museum, you don't want to read 15 sentences. You might do two, and you want to get them immediately. Because there is so much stuff in museums that are not gettable or where people kind of feel stupid, which I think is a terrible thing to do to a person in any way. But the result was that I should have kept one or two in outspeak. I later on heard an interview of an astronomer and he said he worked so hard to make his first book very transparent and then some people, specifically colleagues, thought that it was for children. So now he always includes at least one chapter that's quite opaque so that people appreciate the clarity more.

[A]

Yeah, well, one of the things that you have a keen understanding of is how typography can enhance content. And when I look through your work, oh my goodness, it's like a zoo of typography. It's just all these different folks forms from, oh my goodness, I didn't know that style exists, that that shape existed. And it's not just most people think of typography of you're going to go on, you're going to look at 74,000 different fonts and then you're going to choose one. A lot of your typography is stuff that you literally hand drew and created yourself. And I'm curious to hear, and I'm sorry for how broad this is, but I don't have a better way to ask the question. I'm curious to hear about how you think of the relationship between the, the form of the type and the content of it.

[B]

Well, I think early on, or I would say I came of age and I became a designer when modernism was maybe 60, 70 years old, let's say starting at 1900, 1910 and then going on. And so by that point it has sort of become the dialect of the corporate world. And with that unbelievably boring and machine made and cold and not really something that I felt was good in communicating anything. So very early in the studio, we tried to make things very obviously human made from an idea that if you call a company and you have this is commercial world work, now that we're talking. So if you call a company and you're getting an answering machine, it's just not as nice as if you get a human being.

[A]

Of course.

[B]

And I thought the same would be true online and in print. If you're making something that's very clearly has been made by a human, it's just going to be already a little bit more interesting than if it's something like almost all work that came out of modernism that in 1910 was very proud to be machine made. You know, this was sort of the idea like, you know, oh, it's a sitting machine, it's a place, it's A machine for living. You know, all of. Yeah, yeah, it's all of that stuff. Which 1910 was super interesting because you had to get rid of all that crap from the 19th century, all of that bullshit.

[A]

Thinking of the Bauhaus.

[B]

Yeah, but by the 1980s, when I came of age, this was super boring. This has run its course. This was like. And you still had the most conservative of designers and architects clinging to that crap. My view is out of pure laziness, because they all thought functionality. That's where it's at. But functionality is so unbelievably easy. If I have to set a typography so that it's good, well readable. I mean, it's like I could, you know, I can do thousands of it in an afternoon. It's super easy once you know the rules. I mean, you know, give me a break. And the same is true for a chair. I'm meaning if I have to design a chair that all it has to be is functional, meaning like reasonably comfortable. I can do 50 of them in an afternoon. It's like it's nothing because, you know, the ideal sitting height and ideal angles and you know, the materials and then that's that. But if you need to design a chair that is functional but also beautiful, and then let's put also on make sense in 2025, this is one of the biggest design problems in the world because now suddenly you're fighting 5,000 years of chair history and this is a completely different deal. And all these lazy functionalists just say, well, all I need to do is make it ergonomically fine. Yeah, it's just stupidity and laziness.

[A]

Well, a lot of what you did with typography was actually make things by hand. And it got me thinking.

[B]

I don't know why.

[A]

It does take some skill. But it would be really interesting for authors to think about designing their book covers by hand. It's just not something that people do. I have a friend in town, he runs a restaurant called Jeans, and he just designed the logo by just doing a bunch of handwritten drawings. And then he took the handwriting and then put that into the computer. And to say that he designed his own fonts is way overstating the case. But he was able to make that digital. And in this world, especially with AI Geez, where things are going to become more of that sort of machine, computerized, synthetic, whatever it is, it just seems like having these strategies to communicate. Hey, hey, hey. This is handmade. This was made with care by a human being, is an Important thing to consider.

[B]

And I think it goes beyond the form, let's say. I mean, there was a time when handwriting became so ubiquitous that you had IBM ads being in crixel, fraxel headlines. I think the form is one thing, but then also the content, like the way you communicate, the way you say or the way you design the book cover, you know, can be that clearly this is a crafted piece that could be, that could go all the way, which you know, is possible. That there really is something handmade on the COVID which is possible. If you figure out the system and how to get that done. Ultimately, I think in all of this, in this entire world, be it's the logo for your friend's restaurant or the book cover is. We feel as viewers, if something has been done with love and care.

[A]

Yes.

[B]

Then we are quite generous. Meaning like, I've recently stayed a hotel in Milano in Italy, which was really not my style. It was kitschy, it had butterflies, it was really not my thing. But I felt pretty comfortable there anyway. I mean, probably wouldn't if I would have, if I would stay there a month, but for a weekend it was totally fine. Because the person who put this together, the organization who put this hotel together, they did it with love and care. There was clearly they felt that this was something that was beautiful and that was good. That was good enough for me, even though I would never decorate my place in that way. But I think we all don't go on holiday in the places where you have discount furniture stores, gas stations and fast food places. You very rarely see a hotel in those places. You might see a motel because there's also a factory there that needs something. But you very rarely see a hotel there because we go there if we need our cars gassed up or we need cheap furniture, but we will not want to stay longer out of our free will there because. And the reason is because these places have been created without love and care.

[A]

Yeah.

[B]

Somebody needed a discount furniture store. Well, they said, well, let's put a box there, put our logo on it and that's good enough.

[A]

Yeah. They've been created for convenience and efficiency and utility without any regard for the aesthetics. And even deeper, there's a kind of. One of the questions that you answer on your page is basically to the effect of does beauty matter? And you basically say, of course it does. People feel better, they feel different in beautiful places. But it's this weird modern moment that we're in right now where we've come to doubt that very obvious and intuitive truth.

[B]

I would say it goes even beyond that. They feel better and they behave better.

[A]

Oh really?

[B]

Yes. And you know, meaning we are now on 26th Street a couple of blocks away from the High Line.

[A]

Yeah.

[B]

If you look at the High Line, you almost never see a piece of paper, a cup thrown away on the High Line. Basically never. True. You leave the High Line, you go into the Meatpacking district. It's everywhere. Yeah. In the gutter. It's all over the place. Be or I can tell you, I'll tell you this.

[A]

When I was in college, I went to a beautiful school called Elon University. And you wouldn't dare litter if you were walking. Like if you littered and someone saw that you threw down a Tootsie Roll wrapper or something like that, you would get the eyes of Sauron on you from all the other students. And there was just a self policing that was embedded in the culture because of how beautiful it was.

[B]

Yeah. I can tell you that if I'm at a mall here and in a similar mall in Europe, I would say people behave very similarly. If I'm at an airport here and at an airport in Europe, people behave much better in Europe. And the reason is the shitty architecture. I mean it really is. Even if you meaning there should have been a study and I'm sure they didn't. But I would have loved to see a study of aggressive behavior at LaGuardia five years ago. And now I bet you anything that people calm down after the remodel. Yes. Yeah, 100%.

[A]

Same thing with Grand Central and Penn Station. I thought it was so interesting what you said about how the average photo at Penn Station had a negative vibe to it whereas the average photo at Grand Central to positive.

[B]

Well, on average that it was at institute in Boston. Did a very. It's actually live. You can look at it all the time. Did the big study on this Twitter or X now that basically is geographically based and they can measure how many they can measure up if a tweet is positive or negative.

[A]

The sentiment.

[B]

Yeah. And basically and then color the map of Manhattan in green. But it's more positive than negative. And red when it's more negative than positive. And Grand Central is always green 24 hours a day. And Penn Station is always red 24 hours a day.

[A]

Well, it's funny because I look at the books that are published now and the print quality is just so lame. I mean it's crazy. I just moved from my place in Austin, Texas and I moved to New York and I had the opportunity to Sort of look at my books and I was amazed at how many books that had been printed two or three years ago had covers that had basically been washed out by the sun. And the sun wasn't that intense. And it was the new books that have been washed out, not the old books. And you see the same thing with paper quality and design and all over the place, just this slow degradation of the quality of what we produce.

[B]

I mean, I don't think that that's true for every segment of our lives. I think that there is meaning. I would say that very clearly when it comes to certain technology. Meaning, well, a new iPhone is clearly better than the one 10 years ago. I have to admit I didn't really notice it that much in books, but it might have something to do with that. I mostly go to my local beautiful bookstores that have high quality authors where the authors often take care or at least insist on a good cover design. I know that, let's say in. In. In the area that I know something about in album cover design. And of course the big mass design is basically dead because the tiny little picture on Spotify doesn't really matter much. But in vinyl design, the quality is very high. Very high. Like, of course it's. It became from a mass market, it went into a tiny little niche market. You know, we used to two albums with a print run, with a starting run of 5 million that probably in vinyl is now 5,000. So it's a very different market. But the quality is super high. If you go to a store that sells albums and you look at what came out last year, the quality is super. But it's basically a hobbyist profession because it pays so little that you could never really run a design studio. Like it's impossible now to have a design studio like we used to. Where we concentrate in the 90s. Yeah. Where we concentrate on album cover design and we made a living from it. You couldn't do that now.

[A]

Yeah. Tell me about how you went from listening to the emotional tenor of a song to translating that individuals. I mean, you're doing this for Brian Eno, David Byrne, Talking Heads, the Rolling Stones. How did you go about that process?

[B]

Well, I think you basically already mentioned it. That was the interesting part. You're picking something. I mean, if I go a second back, we usually were asked by the band to design the COVID during. While they were in the studio.

[A]

Okay.

[B]

And so I would go to the studio. They put. Depending on how famous the band is, they would give me 10 songs half finished, not finished or when it became to bigger people like Jay Z or the Stones, they wouldn't give you the songs. You had to listen to them while you were there because they were afraid of leaks and things like that. But in general, you listen to the songs almost always. We could get some songs, and we played that in the studio and tried to talk to the band only about why they're making a new album. Where does it come from, what they think it is about, and not about the COVID at all? Because I felt that that translation of that sort of emotion in the music into something that we love, the fact that music by design is not visual and translating that into a visual is still, I think, a super interesting endeavor. Yeah. And that was the job, translating this emotion. And in some cases, if the band had a lot of history like the Stones, also that whole brouhaha of information and baggage into something that would work. And then, of course, also listen to what the band thought about in general. Like, in the case of the Stones, it was very, like. It was very commercially oriented. Like, Mick Jagger wanted something that looked good embroidered on a baseball cap. Right. Because the Stones actually make more money with merch than they do with the music.

[A]

Right. Is there a story from one of those album covers that really stands out to you?

[B]

Well, if we stick. I mean, there's many stories, obviously.

[A]

Sure, yeah.

[B]

If we stick with the Stones, one. I think one of my favorite moments there was when I met them first in Los Angeles. This was just Mick Jagger and Charlie Watts. And I asked Jagger what his favorite Stones covers would be. He said, Exile on Main Street, Some Girls and Sticky Fingers. And I said, well, that's fantastic. These are my favorite three Stones covers. I would have set them in a different order. I would have said Sticky Fingers, Some Girls and Exile on Main Street. And then I see Charlie Watts leaning over to Jagger and asking what songs they giving us.

[A]

He didn't know.

[B]

He had no idea. And. And. And Jagger explained it to him. You know, it's the one with the zipper. It's the one that Andy did. Andy, of course, being Andy Warhol. And like, to me, that was just so amazing that every Stones fan would know Sticky Fingers, but that somebody who's in the band, that has been in that band forever, would be so incredibly uninterested in anything but the drumming or the core music that he would not be aware of. That was amazing, because for many other people, including me, Sticky Fingers is one of the best covers of all time. Yeah.

[A]

How do you go about refining your visual palette and sense of Taste, you're.

[B]

Doing more and you're seeing more. I think our taste, including our view on beauty, depends very much on how much we've seen already. And obviously then the context we've seen it and how we feel when we're seeing it. But that's also a big problem between an audience, let's say an audience, a curator and a critic. Because an audience, by definition, will have seen much less than the criticism. So their tastes can be very, very different. And it becomes a huge problem when it becomes to, let's say, public art, which by definition, because it's called public art, should be for the public. Critics hate public art. If you listen to Jerry zols, he's saying 99.9% of all public art is crap. Yeah. From a critic point of view, that's very much likely true because you've seen so much that everything to you looks lame. But if you're working 9 to 5 and you take the subway and you see some mural on the subway wall, you probably want it to be pretty. You definitely have a very, very different point of view of that mural wall than if you are thinking and dealing with art 16 hours a day. And in that way, it's almost irrelevant what the critic thinks about public art, because it really is for the public. I think I'm thinking that way because I'm coming from design. And in design, it is paramount, it's in the center of the profession that you take the public seriously, of course. Well, in art it's very different. I've talked to many artists who couldn't give a shit about the public, which becomes difficult and sometimes odd. If you then exhibit, let's say, in a very popular museum like MoMA, where you have a gigantic percentage of the audience being tourists that might visit a museum every three years and goes into that place kind of not understanding anything and ultimately having, well, at least they can see, you know, Starry sky by Van Gogh or a couple of others. So they probably get at least a little bit of fulfillment. But there is an odd thing going on where you have a significant percentage of the audience not being talked to, not being communicated well.

[A]

What comes to mind? This is a slight diversion from what you're saying, but what came to mind is where things can frankly be over intellectualized to the point where the intellect can see something as good that is actually the opposite of maybe what your intuitive sense thinks is really good. We're joking at dinner the other night that the ugliest building on many college campuses is the architecture building. And if you look at the preferences that architects have versus the preferences of ordinary people, they're exactly the opposite, you know, and you see the same thing in we were talking about bad writing earlier. You see the same thing where in order to fit into some club, people will spice up, fluff up their writing in some sort of fancy schmancy way. But like, no, people don't want that. And because of that, I think it's important to have some sort of hall of heroes in your head of people who are popular and good. Popular and good.

[B]

I think that's also by far the hardest thing to do.

[A]

Popular and good.

[B]

Yeah. Like if you can make a film, if you can write a book, if you can do anything that is really good, but it actually talks to a mass audience. That's my highest. That's the highest bar. That's by far the most difficult thing to do. And there's people out there who think that you're selling out when you do that. But no, like, you know, I think that. And there's examples in all of that. I mean, there's examples in books, there's examples in movies that actually were able to achieve that. Yeah, yeah.

[A]

I mean, there's totally people who do sell out in order to reach the mass market, for sure. But the problem is, if you think that everyone who's successful is just a sellout, then what does that mean? If you become successful, are you going to be like, well, I sold out. No, no, no, no, no, no. That's not the way it always works. And I think that a lot of this just comes down to people over intellectualizing, especially architects, especially writers. Oh, my goodness.

[B]

I mean, you have that same gap that we just talked about that if you are an architect, you specifically, if you're a good architect, you are breeding to 16 hours a day. And of course your taste, what you feel is beautiful, is very different from somebody who doesn't think about architecture at all. And there was a case maybe a year, maybe two years ago where you had 10 experts or a dozen experts in the New York Times electing their. Whatever it was, 20 or 50 favorite buildings. Oh, my God, you should have seen the comments afterwards. It was like, you know, everybody was like, you guys are nuts. This is all shit. This is terrible. And it was very odd because the majority of these buildings were important boxes. You know, it was all rectangular boxy by the Bauhausy buildings. Of course, many of them early, many of them were quite new when they were done, but the audience did not appreciate that at all. And I'd say it was very. There was almost no living architect among them. I also felt it was kind of pissy, you know, like nobody wanted to have a colleague on the list. It was safer to have the dead people on there. Yeah, it was not like. I also didn't. I know more about architecture than, I guess the usual commentary in the New York Times. But I also thought it was a little bit unfortunate.

[A]

Tell me more about that process of refining taste. You were talking about consuming a lot and basically having a broad palate. But what else have you done when.

[B]

It comes to a taste of beauty? I think a lot of it is just. A lot of it is just the desire to make it beautiful. But I would say between the 1950s and the year 2000, roughly, there was a concentration on functionalism that completely left beauty aside. When I studied, which was in the 80s, in art school, you couldn't mention beauty. You would be laughed out of the classroom. It was. You were thought of as either conservative or surface related, or maybe totally commercial, like in the beauty industry, or possibly a Nazi. Or in any case, if you talked about beauty in the 80s, in my art school, you were not considered a serious person because it was not something that a serious person would waste their time on. And so there was no thought given to making it beautiful. It was just not something that was in the air. Definitely not in design, but also in architecture, definitely in art. It was a tuum non grata for sure. And. And I think we are in the process now definitely of that changing where very fantastic architects like Herzog and a good number of others, top architects, very openly talk about the need and the desire for beauty.

[A]

What I took from that is this. When you did your beauty show, the main sentence was basically this. Beauty is a combination of shape, form, color, composition, material and texture to please the aesthetic senses, especially the sight. And what I took from that is part of what you're doing when you look at the world is you're looking at what is the shape of this? What is the form? What is the color, the composition, the material and the texture? What are all those things? Looking at every single part and then asking, how do I elevate that? I think it was Enzo Ferrari was once asked, how did you make such a beautiful car? And he said something to the effect of, I just looked at a normal car. And at every single thing I saw, I asked, how do I make this thing better?

[B]

It would be exactly the same technique. I mean, or the same sort of thinking, yeah, exactly the same. Yeah.

[A]

But it's that constant questioning. And I think that's a very important felt sense that one needs to have whenever they work on a project is when you have just tweaked a thousand things to make them better. And it's the ensemble of all of those things that makes the feng shui, or whatever it is, perfect. You know what I mean? Or at least really of quality. Because I think that what you don't get a sense of until you make something is that excellence is really just the byproduct of 10,000 things that are thought of consciously and tweaked and refined.

[B]

Yeah, yeah, 100%. I mean, you just made a film. No, so that's at the very meaning there. This is like truer than almost anywhere else. Yeah. You have 10,000 things that need tweaking.

[A]

Yeah, maybe 100,000 films. Yeah, yeah. I noticed so many designers, so many creatives, they just end up getting in a rut where they become a parody of themselves.

[B]

Yeah, I think that that's very, very much that. See, when I was very young, I only liked the changers and I never liked the Stay the Samers. So I preferred the Beatles over the Stones. I preferred, I don't know, Andy Warhol over Roy Lichtenstein. Like, I preferred David Bovey over Bob Dylan. You know, like, you get the idea.

[A]

Yeah.

[B]

And as I got older, I think I appreciated some of the stadiumers. Also. I actually quite like the Bob Dylan state in a more narrow way because he could really go deeper there, or very obvious to me as James Turrell, so. Meaning he basically not only stayed the same, but he's doing some ideas over and over again. Like his skyscape, you know, the space with the square or oval or round hole in the ceiling. Meaning he's done dozens of them and they become better and better and better to the point where I don't even. I now look, if a museum has a skyspace, I look at the date. If it's too old, I don't even go and see it, because the new ones are so much better than the old ones. And I'm so glad that he stuck with it, that he was willing as a person to just make it 2%, 5% better every single time he does a new one.

[A]

Yeah. I always think of Japanese craftsmanship. That's what's just remarkable about the Japanese, is their persistence. After 40 years of making knives, we're going to do another decade, then another decade and another decade, and it's just refining that practice. Same thing with sushi.

[B]

Over and over and over you see it in those Edo temples that are. Basically the whole idea is that it's been rebuilt every 20 years so that every generation can learn how to rebuild it. And there's Edo temples, meaning it's whatever 800 years old, but of course it was rebuilt whatever dozens and dozens of times. And the whole design idea is that it's being redone all the time and they are planting the trees to rebuild it in 40 years from now and blah, blah, blah. Yeah. Wow.

[A]

Let's talk about the relationship between beauty and function, because a lot of people see them as kind of opposites, but you have strongly rejected that.

[B]

Yeah, well, I mean, beauty is of course a function in itself. Beauty makes things work much better. That actually was what brought us in the studio to beauty, because we noticed that whenever we did a project that, where we took the form very seriously, that project seemed to work much better. And when I looked into it, that really became clear. And I mean, there's so many.

[A]

What are examples of that?

[B]

Well, one I think I have right here is a bag. I've had this bag for. Well, this bag is a new bag, but I've just had that remade in Mexico. But I've had basically the same bag. I've bought the same bag 35 years ago. And I've had it for 35 years. And I had it for 35 years. It was repaired maybe every five years because I liked. Doesn't really matter if other people think. Many people think it's beautiful, but probably not everybody. But I thought it was beautiful, which meant that I had it repaired all the time, which made this much, much, much, much more sustainably proper than, you know, those yuta bags or those cotton bags that you get under the guise of sustainability and meaning. Of course, my favorite example would be the Pantheon in Rome, you know, the longest. All the time having been used building in the world, 2000 years old, never was broken down because every culture that occupied it thought it was beautiful and didn't want to get rid of it. That, of course, is the single most sustainable building in the world. Much more sustainable than any bamboo hut or any of those places that we now think of as being sustainable.

[A]

It's crazy to me that the sustainability movement hasn't co opted beauty as their friend.

[B]

Very, very odd where so much of the sustainability world, you know, meaning those ugly solar panels on houses very often, but you not so much see that's here, but we see it a lot in central Europe where houses have been, you know, have some added isolation that is just really dreadful. And all of this stuff can be made. I, of course, am a big friend of solar panels, but you need to create them with beauty in mind, and you have to install them with beauty in mind, and then it will be fantastic. I am sure that if you installed solar panels gorgeously on your roof, when it comes to resale value, that will reflect in that resale value if that whole thing is beautiful and the sun.

[A]

Will be so excited to be next to the solar panels that more rays will come to you.

[B]

Sun is our friend for sure.

[A]

All the rays will be running there. I want to go through some of the lessons that you shared in your book, and I just want to get your quick take on why you've chosen these. The first one is that everyone who is honest is interesting.

[B]

Well, that actually was not even my lesson. That came from a guy called Quentin Crisp who came to visit my students and he told the students that he used to say, everybody's interesting. And then journalist said, well, you're wrong. People are so. Many are so boring. And he said, well, everybody who is honest is interesting. And that. That hit me like a lightning bolt. Because as a designer, obviously as a writer, you want to be interesting. I mean, that's the core of it. And I thought, wow, this is so fantastic. All you have to do is being honest. It will be automatically interesting. In many ways, it's easier to be honest than to have a great. Than to sit down and needing to have a great idea. But the honesty, of course, is also true in writing. Obviously, we feel it. I spent a good amount of time at conferences speaking and I hear other speakers. You feel it in a second. In a second. If the person who speaks is not honest about it, if it's just whatever cliche or if it's something that he picked up, or if it doesn't come from the heart, the audience knows immediately.

[A]

Immediately. My friend Jeremy has a great line. He says the solution to writer's block is just to be more honest. And I think that that's very often the case that a lot of times when people don't know what to say, don't know what to create, they're not actually tapping into what they believe to be true. There's a so social filter. Either somebody is. They have the filter of what am I supposed to say? Or if I say this, somebody else won't like me. And so the lack of honesty just becomes like muck in the water stream and the water just can't move.

[B]

Yeah, 100%. Yeah. Couldn't agree more.

[A]

Next one. If I want to explore a new direction professionally, it is helpful to try it out for myself first.

[B]

Trying experimenting for myself lowers the hurdles because I can find my sea feet while the stakes are very low. And I'm more free to try this, try that, because if nothing comes out at the end of the day, I might be a bit frustrated. But okay, so what? Yeah, I think it's sort of like a way to get me through times when my level of guts are not so high, just to experiment for myself. And then if something worked, then it's much easier to do it on the bigger stage and on the big. Yeah, 100%.

[A]

Well, that seems to be a huge theme for your career and how you structure life is to make room for experimentation. I have never met someone who, like you, consciously said, I'm going to do a full year on sabbatical every seven years.

[B]

It turned out to be a very good decision.

[A]

This was the year 2000. No, it was 99, I think it was because it was the dot com boom. Exactly.

[B]

Famous dot com boom. Everybody made a lot of money. It felt very unprofessional to close the studio now that it was running, now that it was finally happening. We had good clients and yeah, that was scary for me. And in the year, I literally did not produce anything. I just did ideas. So at the end of the year, I had a full sketchbook. I had a large sketchbook. It was filled with stuff. I had a more carefully written diary because I had more time. The diary was longer, much more often was probably I could get into thoughts deeper a little. And at the end of the year, I was happy that to go back into a more regular studio environment and ultimately this whole series of things I've learned in my life so far that became exhibitions and books came out of that because that was part of the diary of that year. And then the second sabbatical was super easy, meaning the first one had so clearly a big impact on the studio and not just on the quality of the work of the studio, but also of how I felt in the studio because I could get rid of in the first seven years that when it was super busy, I had all sorts of thought of, oh, my God, I would love to do this if I would only have the time. And some of that stuff I really loved to do when I had the time. Some of that stuff, I was delusional. I didn't want to do that at all.

[A]

Oh, wow.

[B]

Including, for example, reading, which was a huge surprise to me. I always thought, my God, if I would only have more time, I would read so much more. Didn't at all. Like, I'm just coming back from a sabbatical, first four months in Madrid and then in Mexico, in Guadalajara. And I probably read 20, 25 books, which is what I read in the busy, normal times. So that didn't increase whatsoever. But many other things, of course, I did have time for.

[A]

Well, it seems like what you do is you set up a hierarchy of what you want to learn when you go on sabbatical. You say, I want to learn this, this, this. And then you basically block out your Monday through Friday, 9 to 5, and you say, I, I'm going to have time for this, I'm going to have time for this, I'm going to have time for this. And my understanding is you did not do that the first time. The first time it didn't work super well. So you're like, all right, this is what I need to do. This is what I need to do. Okay, if I can do this, then the sabbatical. Good.

[B]

Yeah. First time I thought I should have no plan whatsoever, and that didn't work out. I was just busy and frustrated that I didn't really create anything. And so I needed the plan. But also by now I know that I need the plan literally only for maybe the first two or three months to really get it going. And by then, by month three, I have so many projects running that I don't need to have any plan anymore. Then they are just running.

[A]

Tell me about this one. Trying to look good limits my life.

[B]

Well, that harks back to this. I think it's also relative in there with the honesty where this idea that I always have to look the way that people will like me, do things that are likable. That is a limitation that and I definitely had. That's a problem that I think that I probably have more so than other people.

[A]

Me too. Me too. Me too.

[B]

Like, I definitely want to be like, Me too. Definitely to a fault. Yeah. And I think my life would be richer without having to necessarily make other people's life poorer if I would sometimes care less about being liked. Yeah. Yeah.

[A]

I'm always catch myself daydreaming about if I do this thing, then this person will approve, think highly of me. I'm like, dude, what? Like, are you really going to make that the telos of your life? And all the things that it blocks me from doing and saying and standing up for not proud of it? Obsessions make my life worse. And My work better.

[B]

Yeah. I mean, you know, I think I'm already an obsessive personality, as in. Meaning I have. I. I fall easily for addictions. I had to stop drinking alcohol. I had definitely stopped smoking cigarettes. First cigarettes. And then for a while in sabbaticals, I said, well, it's sabbatical. I'm allowed to smoke cigars. Yeah. The last. That was still not in this sabbatical, but that was still the case in the sabbatical eight years ago. And first day, two cigars. Second day, 12.

[A]

You did 12 cigars in a day.

[B]

And that was. And at the end of the sabbatical, I was inhaling them so very clearly. Unsupportable, unsustainable. And of course, I had to stop. But in the professional life, in work, it's, of course, extremely helpful because if you're obsessive about a certain piece and you obsessively try to make it better, try to make it more beautiful, try to push it to the point where you can't push it anymore, where you think, okay, this is right now my level of push ification. Like that. This is where I can go. I don't know now where to go. I think that if you can go there, that often is a good piece.

[A]

Man, I love that word, push ification. That is such a good word. I know exactly what you mean by that. So this is my interpretation of what you're saying. When you're at a certain point in your life, there's a limit of talent and pace that you have. And when you do work that you're proud of, you've pushed to that limit. It's not the best that you can do over the course of your life. What ends up happening, which is great, is you look back at where you had pushified in the past, be like, dude, I could have done so much better. But in every moment, I think that the goal of whatever project you're working on is to pushify as much as you can. And I love that word, which I think you've completely made up, because it implies a level of progress over time while also giving yourself some grace to say at that moment in time, that was as good as I could do. While also giving yourself some motivation to really pushify to the utter horizon of what you're capable of.

[B]

And that's really all you can do. There might, of course, be, at the same time, other people who could push much further. 100% totally possible. And if I push to the point where I can't anymore, or I Don't. I'm lost. Like, okay, this is. I think this is where I am right now. There's always other people who like it. I think that I'm enough within the mainstream that this sort of relatability is there.

[A]

How much when you're designing, when you're writing, do you think about you yourself as the creator? I'm going to focus on my taste versus the taste, the wishes, the desires, the consumer, the audience.

[B]

It depends. Let's say in when we did album covers, I found it my responsibility to serve the world of that band. So I would say if I did a cover for Lou Reed and the Lou Reed fan base thinks this is a shit cover, you failed. Even if I felt it was a very good cover. Because I do think that within the world of design there has to be that sort of functionality. You know, we haven't done any commercial work in years and so a lot of the stuff that we're doing now is design, but it's distributed in museums, in galleries. There is sort of a client because the gallery or the museum, you know, they sometimes have a sale, they sometimes have a. A thing, but of course it's not a commercial client and it's much wider and there, I feel it's also like it runs under my name, like it says on the museum wall, Stefan Zagmeister. Now it says the exhibition that we are running right now is called Finally Something Good. And like when we create the piece, I'm not thinking to serving a community necessarily, but I still want, and this is why it's design and not art. I still see the exhibition has to have a functionality, as in, I want the people to have a different view of the world after the exhibition than they had before the exhibition. So I want that switch to go and I want the pieces in the exhibition and hopefully to be bought and somebody hangs it on top of their sofa as a reminder. Because it's all about long term thinking, as a reminder that what they just saw on X or read in the New York Times does actually not mean the end of the world. And that the long term view shows a completely different possibility of human development.

[A]

Yeah, it always strikes me how much our time horizon shapes what it is that we make, what it is that we produce, I mean, and what it.

[B]

Is what we think.

[A]

Say more.

[B]

Yeah, basically all news is short term now, of course. We used to read yearly almanacs and 10 monthly magazines. Now everything is of this very moment. And even the stuff that's, let's say a daily newspaper is 100% influenced by their online version that is hourly or by the minute. And scandals, catastrophes, all happen in the short term. They happen very quickly and they work brilliantly in that short term system. But things that become good take a long time to become good and they always fall out of that system and are never reported about. So, meaning a quick example, if we look at flight safety, we had two months ago, there was this accident with the helicopter in Washington with a couple of people dying. It was the front page of the New York Times for days with all sorts of investigations in all directions. And the fact that United States Airlines flew for before, for light years, for two light years without an accident.

[A]

All the planes combined.

[B]

Yes. Wow. Was never mentioned. So if you look at, let's say, the last, if you look at the last decade of United States Airlines, the record is fantastic. Fantastic. If you look at it on that day or that hour, it's terrible. And this is true for basically every human endeavor. You look at it from the short term, it looks like shit. You look at it from the long term, it looks fantastic. It's literally 180 degree differently.

[A]

Well, it's the same thing. If you're writing something that you want to be really good and this isn't. I think a lot of writers end up procrastinating because they think like this. That's not what I'm saying. But if you want to write a really good book, that's going to take you a year or two, maybe more. And I've been thinking, sort of as a thought starter for myself, I just sometimes struggle with anxiety and just a lack of patience. And I was just thinking, what have I not been able to produce because I just don't have the patience to stick with it. And a lot of anxiety is basically a short term time horizon of saying I want to get what it is that I want right now. Because then I take a step back at things that I really admire in the world. They necessarily had a long time horizon. I mean, you go to the Sagrada Familia, been building it for 98 years. And it seems to me this strange fall that we've had as humanity, where one of the most lovely and wonderful things about the human project is when we're working with multi generational goals. And then I look at myself sometimes and I can't even keep a goal for a month or a year. And this project, this question of how do I work with a longer time horizon and to have the daily discipline, but also the patience that comes with Working on something for a long time just seems like that question is an avenue that opens up the possibility and potential for a lot of grace work in our lives.

[B]

Yeah, no, it's. And I think from how do we feel about the world point of view? Because the almost only the vast majority of all of what we get is the short term version. We almost very rarely get the long term version. We have, many of us have a completely wrong view of the world. Like I started this project seven years ago now because I had a discussion, I was at the American Academy in Rome and I had this discussion with the guy next to me, the salon, like dinners. And this was this very smart, super well educated lawyer, worked at the European court. And he told me what we're seeing right now in Poland, in Brazil, but also in Hungary really means the end of modern democracy. And when I looked it up that night, what is modern democracy? When did it start? It turned out well 200 years ago there was a single democratic country, one the United States. 100 years ago there were 16. Now we have 86. The United nations, say 86 of our countries are the democratic. It's the first time in human history that more than half of humanity lives in a democratic system. So this guy who reads five newspapers in three languages every day had no clue about the state of the world that he lived in. No clue, super educated. And in the meantime, this was seven years ago. Poland has become fully democratic again. Brazil has become fully democratic again again. So this idiosity of living in this short term thing, oh, a country is now less democratic than now, oh, it must be the end of democracy. I think part of that is also an incredible desire for a romantic self importance, like we're at the end of things. This goes all the way to the end of the world. In the, in our new exhibition, we have these inverted faces into the wall. So it's like inverted death masks. So people like, you know, it's the. Instead of it coming out of the wall, it goes in the wall. And I chose, I mean there's thousands of people who predict at the end of the world. I chose only smart ones. But we have I, Isaac Newton, we have Sandro Botticelli, we have Martin Luther, who all predicted the end of the world and clearly were wrong because I mentioned the date when they thought the end will happen and clearly did not happen. And I think that whole, the entire story of dystopian movies is also part of that overworld cloud. I think there is a feeling that clearly we couldn't have been the first people on Earth. So maybe we want to be the last. There is some self important thing going on there that creates that sort of desire and it has unbelievably serious consequences. Meaning. There was a Survey last year, 10,000 young people participated. 53 of them said that they're going to see the end of humanity within their lifetime. 53% of young people around the world. And these people don't do anything against global warming. They don't do anything about the deaths of species. They sit depressed in their home, in their bedrooms. Because anxiety and depression, as you and I know, are not empowering. You know, they're debilitating. They don't make you do anything. Meaning if I'm anxious, I'm of no help to my friends and family. If I'm doing well, I can do something. So that's why I 100% believe and really dedicated my last five or six or seven years to it. It is super important to not just have the short term negative news, but also have the long term positive news. Because in the long term everything looks fantastic. But we really need both. We kind of need the carrot and we need the stick and the carrot. And right now media, both social and traditional, really delivers a fantastic version of the stick. And we try to give a little bit of the carrot.

[A]

What do you make of the homogeneity that has infected the design world? You talk about a font where you can tell if something's a Swiss typeface or a Norwegian typeface. A poster, you can tell if something's a French poster or an Italian poster going back. But now there's this homogeneity. My first question is, do you think that will continue? And second of all, how do you break from that?

[B]

Well, war is a good place.

[A]

Let's go to war, baby.

[B]

I can tell you we had two exhibitions in Ukraine and nowhere else have I seen so much designs rooted in their own history.

[A]

Huh?

[B]

Because they are attacked.

[A]

Oh, interesting. So it's like the tree goes deeper into its roots. Once there's like heavy winds, you know.

[B]

They are in danger of losing their identity because if they would become part of Russian of Russia, of course it would all be Russian. You know, obviously they would even forbid the language. It would all be like the whole country has to speak Russian. There is meaning. The Russians did that already, of course, when they took Ukraine after World War II, they already got rid of the intellectuals, had everybody speak Russian. But of course that will return. And so there is an incredible amount of new publishers that only publish in Ukrainian. There is an incredible amount of designee stores where everything is. It's contemporary, but it's. Everything has Ukrainian roots, Ukrainian stories, Ukrainian patterns. It done it very, very well. But if we go back to the whole world, I 100% agree with you. And I think it's a huge problem. And it's. I think that's one of the really. I mean, there's some real fantastic advantages that came through globalization lifted so many people worldwide out of poverty. Incredible. And one of the real downsides is the same ification of the world that you cannot tell in most cases what was done in London or in Helsinki or in whatever in Johannesburg.

[A]

So as you think of breaking out of this sameification of the world, because, man, it really, really is bad in the world of design, because it's not just the aesthetic semification, but it's the templification of design. And you can just see it all the time. I mean, I. Working with designers drives me nuts because there is so much generic stuff that is thrown at me. And even the innovative stuff is generic. Do you know what I mean?

[B]

Even the stupidity is everywhere. Meaning, like, what happened to bathroom doors, like, to shower doors? It's like every hotel you go to now, there's no more door on the shower. I recently talked to an architect about it. What the fuck? Why do you guys hate shower doors? And he said, because they don't look good on drawings. Yeah, because on the drawing you have all these things then there, and the drawing just looks so much cleaner without the door there. It's like, it's that too stupid. It's literally that stupid. But for a while, for a second, I thought that the design hotel might be. I had some hopes in the design hotel because of course one of the significations were the chain hotels that the Hilton, whatever it is, or the Radisson needed to look the same everywhere. Because some people want to have exactly the same wherever they go. But it turned out that the design hotel, with some exceptions, but they look the same everywhere else. Maybe it has like a little material gimmick. You know that the box that you go into in Kuala Lumpur has some bamboo outside, but it's the same shit box that you also go into in Frankfurt, where it's made out of stone. Architects and designers seem to have to think the same way pretty much anywhere. And specifically in an easy thing like a hotel where you can be really outrageous, because even if you would get sick of it for three days, it would be fun to be in a space that is completely different and totally local and completely of that time. And that doesn't mean that you have to go nostalgic or. Anyway, but it. Wouldn't it be great to be in Saigon and be in a room that's totally Saigon? Like, complete, like, real Saigon, like, including. It's what that means politically, what that means historically, what that means to live in Saigon right now, get the real taste of that.

[A]

Yeah.

[B]

As opposed to lippy in the same modernist thing. And have the little stupid coffee shop downstairs that serves the same latte that I can get here on 23rd Street. Yes.

[A]

Same neon sign and all that nonsense and.

[B]

But first coffee sign on that.

[A]

Exactly. You know, the entire conversation, I've been thinking of this quote from Heinrich Hein. So he goes to Amen's Cathedral and he says. He looks at this majestic cathedral and he says, people in those old times had convictions. We moderns only have opinions. And it needs more than a mere opinion to build a Gothic cathedral. I want to end here. Which is one of the coolest things that you do, is that you grade yourself at the beginning of years, and then you pick a number of things that you want to improve, and then you give yourself a weekly rating on how you're doing. Tell me about that.

[B]

Well, it's. You know, I was born three miles from the German border, so I'm a list maker. And when we did the Happy film, oh, my God, I had like, eight lists running like this, all sorts of tests of how I felt, what this makes me feel, blah, blah, blah. But I still do this. I think Benjamin Franklin had a very tight version of that list.

[A]

That tracks was the kind of thing you would do.

[B]

I used to do, you know, good intentions in the beginning of the year. And then, of course, by January 5th, they're kind of gone. So I feel I need a reminder of what. What I want to do in my life, how I want to behave, what I want to be. And weekly turned out to be well for me. I was actually in Mexico right now. There was a woman who I admire who had an app that did it daily. And I switched for three months or so to that, to her app, and it was too much for me. It was like. It was too. I don't know, like. And then I did it too sloppily. It was just like. It was bothersome. Weekly works. Weekly is fine. Like, it takes me no time at all. Basically, I have a reminder in my now, of course, electronic calendar that I have to do the diary. I write the diary every Saturday morning. It comes up on my to do list automatically. Okay. So I. I do the diary, and I do do the. And I do my list. Yeah. And it's. It doesn't mean like that. You know, sometimes I have one thing that I get terrible marks for weeks. So it's not like that. That I really then have to. But it's. It's still a good reminder that. No, I really. That's what I thought I shouldn't do. Yeah.

[A]

I have one more question. Out of all the buildings you've interacted with, designs you've seen, what is the one that has moved you the most that you recommend that we should engage with buildings or buildings, artistic projects? What is something that just really moved you?

[B]

Oh, my God, there's so much. You got to pick one. So the one that's just. Maybe it resonates because we just talked about him, but I would say the Skyscape by James Turrell. Or if you can pick a new one. You said you're from Texas?

[A]

Yeah. There's one at University of Austin.

[B]

There's Rice at Rice University. That's a big one at Rice in Houston. There's a fantastic one at Rice.

[A]

Really?

[B]

Yeah. Basically, it's a space. It's a room with a hole in the ceiling. But the way the hole in the ceiling is designed is so that it's super, super thin at the edges, so you can't really see it. So when you look up, you kind of. Let's say if it's a blue sky, you just see a blue space there. But the skyscapes are by far the best at sunrise and at sundown, by far. Even though you don't see the sunrise and the sundown because you're looking straight up into the sky, you see the subtle differences in the color, and those subtle differences as it changes are so gorgeous. And there's such a beauty in there that it's like I just had goosebumps. Goosebumps talking about it. So it's. And for example, if you're at Rice or at any of the many other skyscapes and you stay long and it's basically already night, it never really goes black. It just goes into an extremely dark, dark, dark blue. But it's the darkest blue you'll ever, ever see, because it's not. You couldn't print it, you couldn't weave it, you couldn't dye it, because it's the fucking universe that makes that blue. And that there is a gorgeousness and a beauty in that blue. Blue that. Well, for lack of a Better explanation. You have to see to believe there's really something. There's really something.

[A]

Well, the thing that the skyscape did for me is it made me appreciate the way that colors are complementary. And then whatever the opposite of complementary is that they. When you see two colors together, it actually changes both of the colors. And as you watch a skyscape, you'll have. Have a few moments where maybe you'll watch the way that orange engages with blue or pink bee engages with blue. And you'll just see, oh, my goodness. And there's something. Psychedelic isn't the right word, but there is something that is extra sensory or something about a skyscape where you've seen. You're so attuned to the relationships between color and form like you never are otherwise in real life.

[B]

And I think it puts everybody immediately into quiet moods. Talk about how beauty changes our behavior. I mean, there's a skyscape in Lech in the place, maybe in Austria, where we go skiing and you can ski up to it. So people come with their boots on and they go in there and they look up and they sit down. And even though they are in their ski outfits and they have ski boots which are noisy, when they come in and stuff, it's clear. There's no sign. Don't talk, don't run, nothing. And it's completely clear. It totally demands that sort of behavior. And it's great. Yeah.

[A]

Well, thank you very much.

[B]

Was a pleasure. Yeah, that was fun.

[A]

Thanks for coming on.

[B]

Very much so.

[A]

Yeah.

[B]

Excellent.