A Good Design is a Toaster

It seems like everyone is a designer. With the advent of desktop publishing programs, a do-it-yourself culture has emerged, one in which anyone with a computer, some software, and a dash of self-confidence can put together the departmental newsletter or annual report. But how good, and how effective, is do-it-yourself design that is executed by individuals without a design education or experience in marketing or advertising?

It is my observation that really good design requires expert knowlege of design principles and the tenets of typography use, as well as artistic skill and sensitivity to content and audience. There is great value in investing in good design. Whether you need a brochure or a Web site, the investment pays off because a good design makes you and your organization look professional, polished, legitimate. Professionally designed communications are good not only for your image, but they also are more likely to achieve your desired result.

So, to get back to the title of this blog . . . a good design is a toaster. I happen to like toast. To start the day with a perfectly toasted slice of whole grain bread with real butter and strawberry jam . . . well, there is nothing better. Perfectly golden toast with melted butter and something sweet. I feel nourished and ready for the world. What creates my toast? That's the best part. My toaster was a wedding gift from my friend Katie and it is a work of art. A 50s-replica silver chrome behemoth capable of accomodating four thick bagels. It is the finned Chevy of toasters, both aesthetically pleasing and functional. It makes perfect toast and it is cool to look at. I'm convinced that it makes the best toast on the planet. It has great lines, it uses the space on my counter efficiently even though it has a substantial presence, and it makes me feel good about the concept of toast.

I'm sure if I stuck my bread in a cheaper, less artful unit with a heating element and slots, that it would still end up as toast. But the experience wouldn't be as satisfying, and I probably wouldn't be convinced it was as delicious. It's the good design that makes it work for me, makes toast an event. The moral of my story: if you want to go beyond heated white bread or stand out in a world of Wonder toast, then you might want to invest in professional design.

And now. . . I think I'll go plug in the Chevy on my counter and turn the dials to medium. All this talk of toast is making me hungry.