In starting to answer this question, I’d like to pose the counter-question: what does society understand by design and what does it expect? Design that’s worth talking about is the kind of design that creates value. A few weeks ago in Sweden, I took part in a conference entitled “Design of Prosperity”, about design for affluence and growth. And this, in my view, is the only way of talking about design and the only reason for talking about it. The creation of affluence, prosperity and quality of life through design means not only that we have better things, but also that our lives are better, wiser, enriched in all ways.
If society still considers that design means fast cars and exclusive fitted kitchens, then we can certainly do without it. The social role of design is to solve problems, and to solve them elegantly, using the minimum of resources to obtain the maximum result. The added value of design is that it also gives rise to positive emotions: ideally, a design solution will be aesthetically attractive, socially responsible and ecologically sustainable. Technology is impersonal, while design relates to humanism, to the human and the individual touch. The developed West has come to design as the last and most important instrument for developing and enhancing its competitiveness. Previously, technical solutions played the decisive role, but nowadays technical quality is taken as read, for without it a product will not be able to stay on the market at all, since nobody’s going to buy a technically imperfect product. If we can manufacture anything whatsoever, what are we going to manufacture? Nobody does anything according to an impulse of genius any more: the process involves design study or research, analysing social development and needs; design is becoming ever more complex and ingenious. But the design process involves not only specialists from a variety of fields, but also the users of the product. The internet encyclopaedia Wikipedia is an example of a product created entirely by its users, and many other products, too, show increasing involvement on the part of the user – it’s no longer a one-way process.
As regards the situation in Latvia, it seems to me that at the moment we don’t really have designers we can refer to. Had we a local star, some sort of example to strive after, that would enable the issue of design to be highlighted publicly. At a retrospective level, it’s all fine: we can present painted plates, radio sets and mopeds and take a pride in them, just as we can refer to the history of film or architecture. On the other hand, the Finns, for example, have major figures of the past, as well as the stars of the 1960s and contemporary authorities. We all make use of design, which means we’re all in the game, but is there a place for Latvian designers in this game at all? Only they themselves can answer this question. The situation is partly saved by architects, such as Kronbergs, Sîlis or Kalinka, who’ve been capable of creating contemporary values that we don’t have to be ashamed of. We need new “true stories” – both for our own consumption, and to tell others. If we say “Mikhail Eisenstein”, we can show people Alberta iela. But if we say “design from Latvia”, then what have we to show?
There are two sides to the question of the role of design in the country’s economy: designers and business. The business community can look for designers from other countries, while designers can seek work abroad. In both cases, we can take a pride in our achievement in the field of design. Everyone gains from good design: the creator, the client, the user and society. Here we see a very clear parallel with good architecture. The state can organise the process of design to the degree that it can act as a good client for design. So far, our state has not demonstrated its good will: neither in terms of the country’s overall identity, nor in the public image of particular institutions, which is quite mediocre. The state is not leading this process, and this could be one of the ways for design to develop at the national level. The state or municipality as a major client – as it is in the Nordic Countries – can lay down its conditions in setting the task, for example, requiring that the designer utilise wood as the material. Our engineers, manufacturers and designers then work on a specific solution. In this way, identity is consciously shaped, putting across the message that wood is ecological, sustainable, visually attractive and says something about us as a nation, and at the same time supporting the development of our own timber industry. The fact that, in a country as rich in forest as Latvia we’re replacing wood-frame windows with plastic, may seem amusing, but in truth it’s nothing to be amused at. Our country presents itself as exceptionally educated, and Latvia has one of the highest figures for student numbers in Europe, but it’s possible to be educated and still show a lack of comprehension. We ourselves can choose what kind of life to live. If we each had a little designer sitting inside us, then perhaps we’d be able to do without those stars.
Material prepared by Ilze Martinsone