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032018: Design Won’t Save the World

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As we’re jumping into the moving van, Felix asks me to hold a bag of medical supplies he brought from the hospital. Tubes, syringes, needles, disinfectant spray, all packaged separately in thin plastic bags. What’s that for, I ask. Felix’ friend—a doctor, too—was going to start his first job next week, and Felix promised to help him practice injections and blood sampling.

The way he handed me the bag with supplies was very casual, but I felt weird and—all of a sudden—very useless. When I help my friends and colleagues with work stuff, it’s usually about color choices, or whether the copywriting of an input field is clear enough. It doesn’t have any relevance at all. Whereas Felix, he f-ing helps friends take blood cells out of a body to put them into a laboratory to check them for diseases, and to actually cure them.

The whole tale that “Design can change the world!” has already been demystified a while ago. Another poster won’t save the world, nor will another app, or another chair, or typeface. Design does have the ability to make things better, but looking at our world full of over-designed products and services, it hardly ever is executed in a way that it does so. Design is often used to make bad things look better, and through that, it multiplies its negative impact. To be honest, that sometimes make we want to quit design altogether.

On the other hand, I am very lucky to work with people who are striving to use design for the better. Maybe that’s also because I waved goodbye to the startup world quite some time ago, and I try to work only with people and companies who I find relevant and/or pleasant as human beings (not only as colleagues). No bad vibes are worth the money, especially when you decided to make your passion your job.

Other stuff:

1 — Words: I’ve read a couple of good essays recently. In The Good Room, Frank Chimero explores the missing soul of our digital environment. A while ago, James Bridle wrote about the disturbing loopholes YouTube’s algorithm creates. And I love Jean Hannah Edelsteins newsletter “Thread”. Pre-order her book if you enjoy her writing, too.

2 — Pictures: I created a meme-inspired “starterpack” about my personality. Check it out here and make your own—I’d be curious!

3 — Life Hack: I unfollowed everyone who calls theirself “influencer” on social media and posts tons of ads. It just makes the web a shitty place. Please stop it.

4 — Lesson learned: Negative people are not worth your energy. It’s okay to stay away from them.

So, I helped Felix move last month. I also helped two friends paint their walls, and I re-arranged my furniture (it looks shit, so I’ll have to move it back again tomorrow). I will continue to design stuff, even if it’s worthless compared to the benefit a doctor brings into the world. I simply can’t do anything else; so I might just use it well. Have a great start into spring (Yes! We made it through the winter! Isn’t that something!).

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122017: You Think You Might Not Get Through It But You Do

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On the other side of the train wagon, a man is sitting alone in a four-seat arrangement, his computer on his lap. He smiles while he types furiously; he seems completely sunken into his task. I imagine him writing a draft for his novel, or a sweet message to a loved one, but maybe also he is just calculating his tax payments, and had a successful year?

While the train rattles through Berlin Grunewald, I see the day turn into night: The blue hour passed by and let the darkness come through. I don’t like darkness, but sitting in a cozy train after a long day, being carried through it safely, feels okay.

Looking back on 2017, my year hasn’t been that great. Lots of uncertainties and bad feelings. The most dominant one was probably fear—fear of all kinds of things. I managed to get rid of some of those fears (I am not scared of terrorism that much anymore, or of the movies “Panic Room” and “Seven”, as I watched them and they were not as horrible as I imagined when I was a child). But new fears developed, without control, and it takes time and hard work to get through them. I’m still on it.

However: As you are probably reading this in 2018 already, I don’t want to write about the past. There are a lot of learnings from 2017 that will carry me through the upcoming year. The most important one is this: Emotions are not rational. Explaining a fear or a feeling doesn’t always work, and it’s still okay to feel it. The only way to cope with it is to be okay with it.

Also: It’s so soothing to make things that make you happy. I struggled a lot with a seminar paper I had to write for university, but I really wanted to succeed. So I made a project out of it; I wanted it to feel like a creative project rather than a task I was forced to do. So I made a website for the paper; made something out of it that’s sharable and that fits my style—as a designer, but also as a person. It reflects me and the stuff I am thinking about, that it feels good to have that represented by some sort of artifact. If you want to know what that is: Read the paper I wrote about Invisible Computers here.

Some other things that might sound really lame but made me surprisingly happy: Living in a tidy apartment. Taking care of houseplants, watching them grow. Looking outside the window, listening to the neighbors singing. Give some money to people who ask kindly on the train. Invite people for coffee instead of going out somewhere.

For the upcoming year, I want to spend less time with people I am not really interested in. I want to say No to things I don’t like. I want more moments that allow me to smile about something I write, draw, make, say, see—the guy on the train, with his laptop, during that blue hour, was a good inspiration.

Have a great start into the new year. As last year: Make it count—but this time: don’t stress. We all should stress much less.

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032017: Stay Golden

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As the sun is making an appearance after a couple of weeks of rain and cold weather here in Berlin, I am sitting on the back seat of the M41 bus line (the only bus line that has its own song). Next to me, a woman—probably in her early sixties—explains to her friend: “For a long time, I was only able to take selfies with this phone, because I didn’t know how to switch the camera around! Yesterday, my daughter explained it to me. Look!” She clumsily points at the camera interface to take a photo of the sun breaking through the dirty windows. It’s autumn, friends! Welcome back to this newsletter.

So many things happened within the last months, and at the same time, nothing exciting happened at all. Life just passed by; I passed through it. The woman’s situation on the bus reminded me of all the bad technology that we’re surrounded with. Like the visit to my parent’s house earlier this month, where my dad has a technology setup I just don’t understand anymore (and therefore hardly can help with tech problems). He switched to an Apple ecosystem a while ago, but the Windows DOS mindset is buried very deeply within his brain and pedantry. Everything could be so easy, but people don’t want things to be easy. (Except that one time, when Microsoft announced a couple of months ago that their infamous MS Paint software would be discontinued—no worries though, it will be around somehow). Sometimes, it’s the dumb and simple things that have a strong cultural and emotional impact.

Speaking of dumb: I watched “The Circle” the other night. To clarify: I haven’t read the book, so I can’t compare the differences there, but even though the movie was fine as a simple piece of entertainment, it had so many flaws within the storyline and the topic in general! I just didn’t believe a word Emma Watson said as her character Mae, and I got tired by the very thin dialogues. Half of the story and all possible twists were left open-ended. There was simply nothing either desirable or dystopian—it was just silly most of the time. The semi-futuristic interfaces looked like they were designed in 2002 (check out this great film on how to depict the internet and messaging in film!). Even to logo of “The Circle” was horribly executed! The one Jessica Hische drew for the book in 2013 was much nicer. To sum it up: I was very glad that in my reality, we already overcame platforms like Facebook and 24/7 oversharing of boring nonsense. The movie’s topic almost became obsolete for me.

Most of the time, at least. I’ve been consuming Instagram excessively during the last months, and experimented with their Story feature a couple of times. What bothers me there: People don’t take the time to actually tell stories. They just use it as a dumpster for candids. If you have recommendations for great Instagram story tellers, ping me! My current favorites are Jürgen Siebert’s “Fontstories”, Kübra’s diary posts and Sophie Passmann’s jabbering.

Some more personal and project-related news: At ZEIT ONLINE, we launched a new digital magazine called “Arbeit”. It’s a platform about our relationship to work and work-life-balance, about changes and chances, and failures, too. I designed the thing (and am still totally in love with Milieu Grotesque’s Patron font family).

I was also working on a book which will go to print later this month—my first assignment as a copywriter, which was exciting and fun. Also, I am still working on a seminar paper, which I’ll publish in a couple of weeks, too. Follow me on Twitter and Instagram to never ever miss out again about my exciting life (spent on my couch for 80 percent of the day).

Ok. So far. Have a great start into autumn, and let’s hope that the sun makes a couple of more appearances before it finally gets grey and cold outside for good. Also: remember to switch your phone’s front camera to the back from time to time, to capture some of the rays and golden leaves. Happy October!

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Du kannst jetzt aufgeben

In letzter Zeit wache ich oft mitten in der Nacht auf. Ich bin dann nicht todmüde und sauer, dass ich nicht schlafen kann – so ist das ja manchmal – ich bin einfach nur wach und mache eine Schlafpause. Dann stehe ich auf und tapse durch die dunkle Wohnung, ohne Brille. Alles ist verschwommen und und meine Augen gewöhnen sich nur ganz langsam an die Dunkelheit. Ich manövriere meinen Körper durch die Zimmer, weiche blind den Möbeln aus, deren Position ich kenne – hier drüben steht der Wäscheständer, hier hinten stoße ich mir immer das Schienbein.

Dann genieße ich die Geräusche der Nacht, die durchs geöffnete Wohnzimmerfenster kommen. Die Lastwagen, die über die Sonnenallee rauschen, die Hundebesitzer, die schlaflos um diese Uhrzeit ihre Hunde ausführen. Der Person, die zum dritten Mal bei meinen Nachbarn anruft, will man am liebsten durch die Leitung gut zureden: »Ich hoffe, bei dir ist alles okay, aber du kannst aufgeben. Es ist vier Uhr Nachts, da geht jetzt niemand ran.« Und auch ohne mein Handeln gibt sie irgendwann auf. Dann gehe ich zurück ins Bett, für die zweite Runde Schlaf.

Remembering 2017

Wird man sich später an diese Zeit erinnern, und sich dann denken: Waren die sich eigentlich bewusst, wie schrecklich alles war? Die lauten und schmutzigen Innenstädte, all die Autos, die AfD und der Hass in sozialen Netzwerken, die Schere zwischen Arm und Reich, die Härte des Wohnungsmarkts, und der Müll in den Ozeanen?

Wird man sich später an diese Zeit erinnern, und sich dann denken: Wussten die eigentlich zu schätzen, wie toll alles war? Die Krankenversicherungen, die Haftpflichtversicherungen? Die Möglichkeit, zu demonstrieren, die Sicherheit der Öffentlichkeit, und die Tatsache, dass hier niemand verhungern muss?

Wird man sich später an diese Zeit erinnern, und sich dann denken: In dieser Zeit hätte ich gerne gelebt?

Oder wird man sich später erinnern und sagen: Gott sei Dank ist dieses finstere Zeitalter vorbei?

Fledermäuse

Es passierte gegen 22 Uhr 30, als ich mal wieder meine verträumten fünf Minuten hatte, am Fenster stand und der Nacht beim Ankommen zusah. Da passierte es.

Ein dichter Schwarm Fledermäuse flatterte an meinem Fenster vorbei, nur knapp über den Baumkronen hinweg flogen sie Richtung Sonnenallee. Ich hatte hier in der Stadt noch nie Fledermäuse gesehen, obwohl sie bestimmt noch häufiger vorkommen als Füchse. Sie wiederum hatten mich sicher schon des Öfteren hier im Schlüppi am Fenster stehen sehen, sonst wären sie mir ja nicht so nahe gekommen.

Und dann musste ich an diese Fernseh-Doku neulich denken, in der eine Mutter gemeinsam mit ihrer Tochter (beide hatten krauses schwarzes Haar, das mit einem Haarband aus der Stirn gehalten wurde) über 50 Fledermäuse groß zog. Sie lebten in einem abgedunkelten Käfig im Wohnzimmer, und machten furchtbaren Lärm. Mutter und Tochter hatten die Tiere bei sich aufgenommen, weil ihr Lebensraum – ein maroder Baum – direkt vor ihren hässlichen Fledermausschnauzen weggesägt worden war.

So nett ich das fand – so wollte ich nicht werden. Ich will kein Haarband, und keinen kreischenden Käfig in meinem Wohnzimmer. Seitdem öffne ich das Fenster nach Einbruch der Dunkelheit nur noch selten. Manche Fledermausarten leben 20 bis 30 Jahre – die Vorstellung, ein Tier so lange hier nicht aus den dunklen Winkeln meines Schlafzimmers zu bekommen: Nein Danke!

Tretmiene Rabatte

Manchmal stehe ich wie ein alter Mann am Fenster und beobachte die Straße. Meistens mache ich das, während ich Zähne putze; ich bin also oft auch nur wenige Minuten am Fenster. Gerade steckte ich meinen Kopf mal wieder samt Zahnbürste raus in die Nacht und beobachtete:

Ein Mann, der den Gehweg entlang schlich, und aus seiner Tasche einen kleinen Gegenstand zückte. Er näherte sich der Rabatte, und plötzlich – das Gerät enttarnte sich als Mini-Taschenlampe – durchleuchtete er das Beet! Den ganzen Boden suchte er ab. Erst vermutete ich, dass er auf der Suche nach Pfandflaschen war, aber wer sucht denn in einem kargen Beet nach Flaschen? Nach einigem Zögern und Leuchten dann: steigt er einfach mitten hinein, hindurch, um die Tür seines Wagens zu öffnen, einzusteigen und loszufahren.

Als jemand, der selbst ständig in Hundehaufen tritt, konnte ich seine erst seltsam wirkende Vorsichtsmaßnahme plötzlich nur zu gut verstehen.