Dr. Mark Breitenberg Icsid President-Elect Chair of the Education Committee Dean of Undergraduate Education, Art Center College of Design, USA "Education by Design" -  A regular series of original articles on issues in design education.

Paul Rand was once asked, “What are the fundamental skills of a designer?” He answered, “It’s all intuition. And you can’t teach intuition.”  The source of this cherished element of the creative process—the genius theory of the divinely inspired artist—is evident in the follow-up question. Asked the difference between a designer and an artist, Rand said: “There is no difference between a designer and an artist. They both work with form and content. I try to create art, whether I make it or not is not up to me, it’s up to God.” In Design Form and Chaos, Rand elaborates. Intuition is a “flash of insight” which “cannot be willed or taught.” Like God, it “works in mysterious ways.” And that is because, again quoting Rand, “good ideas in the field of communication take shape unconsciously.” Whether derived from God or from our unconscious, Rand believes intuition is mysterious, inexplicable and un-teachable. You either have it or you don’t. This way of thinking puts design educators in a difficult position.

In American graphic design, the inheriting Prince to Rand’s throne is David Carson, once referred to as “the pied piper of intuition,” leading the rats off the cliff. According to Carson, “intuition is the only way you can create something unique in design.” And he sounds just like Rand on the mystical power of intuition in his book, 2ndSight: “there comes a leap in consciousness, call it intuition . . . and the solution will come to you and you don’t know why.” You don’t know why. I’m not sure that answer by a student would lead to a productive critique in the classroom.

Today, this way of thinking is rarely questioned. It is the basis of the cult of genius and our model for originality. But it is a very old-fashioned idea, going back at least to the Renaissance attribution of genius to its artists inspired by God, as the historian Vasari writes. There is also Descartes’ Enlightenment model, in which “intuitive knowledge is an illumination of the soul whereby it beholds in the light of God.” Wordsworth, speaking for Romanticism, observes that “faith is a passionate intuition.” Or the philosopher A.N. Whitehead, who argued that all knowledge is derived from and verified by intuition. The history of intuition is inseparable from our religious history; intuition is either literally or figuratively a religious, spiritual affair. In this long history, the postmodernist would argue, intuition functions as a signifier of genius, authority, power and unquestionable truth. But is this really how the creative process works?

 
It is contradictory that David Carson is seen as both postmodern rebel and intuitive artist at the same time. Carson relies on pastiche—a key postmodern concept—but since pastiche comes from borrowing and re-arranging, it is really the opposite of originality in the old sense. Therefore Carson uses the idea of intuition to elevate his process to a higher level and to claim the status of genius. His attachment to intuition supports his personal mythology more than it describes his actual process.

Carson is a very innovative and effective designer, and so was Rand. But I do not believe intuition is the key to their success. Some design inspired by intuition is good, and some of it is not. The question for design educators is whether or not the traditional idea of an intuitive design process is useful in the classroom.

In an effort to demystify intuition, here are some of the questions I think we should ask.

First, exactly what is it? Is it really something particular or is it a vague, inexact word that stands for many mental and physical operations? For if we really don’t know what it is, and yet it’s at the center of the design process, how can we create a learning and teaching process that promotes it?

Second, to what extent does the intuition model derive from design’s inferiority complex in relation to fine art? In the 19th and into the 20th century, art was for the educated and upper class, while design was largely a trade activity for those who couldn’t attend university. Do designers still claim intuition as our source to elevate and legitimate the design professions? If so, we don’t need to anymore.

Third, does the intuitive process necessarily produce good design? Does it produce good form making? It might, and it might not. It’s certainly possible to produce bad design through intuition just as easily. Either way, I don’t believe that the degree to which one follows one’s intuition is the key to the quality of the work.

Fourth, how do you critique your own work or have it critiqued by others if everything happens by intuition? It’s like arguing with a religious fundamentalist. You need to be able to explain your creative process in order to have a useful critique, and the intuition largely prevents that process.

Fifth, how do you persuade others, especially potential clients, that what you’ve come up with is the best and most effective design solution? How do you convince corporate people who are probably already nervous about intuitive leaps to hire you? How do you persuade them to put a lot of money and in some cases, considerable risk behind your work if “you don’t know why,” to quote David Carson again.

There is no doubt that many decisions in the designer’s creative process are made “intuitively.” Very often you don’t know where you’re going until you get there. But creativity is not just an inspired journey into one’s own unconscious; it also comes from engaging with culture and with other people.

A sociological model of creativity would be based on the idea that the more cultural and historical ingredients in the pot, the richer the stew. As Mike Csikszentmihalyi writes in Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention, creativity arises from the synergy of many sources and not only from the mind of a single person . . . it is based on the interaction between a person’s thoughts and a socio-cultural context.” Further, “in our age of specialization . . . creativity generally involves crossing the boundaries of domains.” So instead of the largely individual, spiritual model of intuition, creativity and innovation are deeply embedded in the world around us.
In this model, the more knowledge you can bring to the creative process, the better. This means that liberal arts and sciences education—courses in psychology, critical thinking, ecology, economics and business, public policy, writing and oral presentation, philosophy and ethics—become even more important to the designer’s education. And so does a general awareness of the world around us—everything from politics to pop culture. In the last decade, design has taken a more expansive and important role on the world’s stage. We now talk about designing systems, environments and experiences that improve our quality of life, and we see designers playing leadership roles in corporate direction and strategy. In this expanded field of design, the old fine art model of the intuitive genius who works alone makes less sense. Let’s still make intuitive leaps. But let’s make them informed by the world around us and by the critical challenges of our time.