André Ricard (1929) is a Catalan industrial designer and the creator of more than 300 objects. This interview was conducted in 2003 after the publication of his memoir, ‘En resumen…’ (‘In brief…’).
Beauty is the expression of perfection
Daniel Giralt-Miracle says about you in the preface: ‘He is the most practical and least rambling person I know.’ Do you agree?
It is difficult to judge oneself, but it is true. It is not that I dislike ideas. Therefore, if I think something is a good idea, it is not feasible, I set it aside. One of the phrases I often repeat is that you need to limit your ambitions to your possibilities, so you don’t end up disappointed.
This is also noticeable in the style in which the book is written—very direct and without embellishments…
I don’t know how to write any other way; one writes as they feel or as they know.
How did the idea of writing a memoir come about?
When I reached a certain age, about five or six years ago, I started typing details of my life on the computer to keep track of them, and gradually I structured a file. Starting from the day I was born up to today, I would write dates and events so they were stored in an electronic memory. Occasionally, I would reread these files and add things I remembered or had discussed with my family, and gradually it transformed from mere data into a text. I thought it would be of interest to my family or friends to remember in the future, so I gave it a more coherent form. But someone who read it said, ‘This could be of interest; after all, it is the life of a person, and not many people have lived through these complicated years with wars.’ I wrote to some publishers, one of them responded before the others, and they are the ones who eventually published it. I combined texts from other experiences, like the Olympic Games or writings intended for conferences, and from all of that, this book emerged.
You describe your father as a self-made man. Would this expression also apply to you?
Yes. Nowadays, there are schools for everything, but back then, there were no design schools. As explained in the book, I have been involved in the establishment of schools, but I never attended one myself. Therefore, I had to learn through experience. It’s not impossible even now; I believe that despite the schools, if someone has the calling, they can build their own profession. We must not forget that not so long ago, there were still master craftsmen and apprentices who worked with them, starting as learners and eventually becoming masters themselves.
In another of your books [“Design and Quality of Life”], there is a phrase that defines your conception of design: ‘Good design is achieved when it is impossible to separate the aesthetic from the functional, when the useful becomes beautiful and the beautiful becomes useful.’
This is very clear; I often use the button as an example. The button is a marvel of aesthetics and is extremely comfortable. Other things have appeared, such as Velcro, zippers, and countless other fastening systems, but we all have buttons somewhere on us. Why? Because it works very well and is also a beautiful object. Given how many buttons we have around the house, we don’t notice them, but if we made a two-metre marble button and placed it in the MNAC museum, people would be amazed. ‘What is this?’ they would ask. ‘Is it an Aztec symbol?’ The same can be said for the pencil [he picks one up from the table]. The fact that good pencils have these ridges or facets makes them easier to grip, prevents them from rolling off the table… Where does the beauty end, and the function begin? It’s hard to determine. There are many other examples: the spoon, the fork, the comb… Even the nail is beautiful! And it is because it works; it’s not beautiful for the sake of being beautiful.
In industrial design, usefulness is something objective, but how is utility and functionality valued in graphic design?
Graphic design isn’t my area, but I suppose the same principle applies. For example, I’ve been told that this book is very pleasant to read, and not just because of the text but the way it’s published. Someone said to me, ‘I even liked the quality of the paper.’ It has a pleasant feel. It isn’t glossy, which can be annoying, and the font is of a size and clarity that aids readability. Therefore, regardless of the content, the pages are beautiful and comfortable.
Is the book as an object among those difficult-to-improve objects? In other words, will they eventually be replaced by electronic screens?
The book is not the only medium for conveying thoughts, obviously. There’s television, radio, DVDs… But you have to consider its longevity—the book remains. Moreover, I believe that books have a greater impact on society than films. There’s no doubt about that. Nowadays, there’s a lot of talk about “The Da Vinci Code”, and perhaps if it were just a film, it wouldn’t have made as much of an impact. There was a remarkable and gripping film called “Dancer in the Dark”, which was a harsh critique of the death penalty, and yet it didn’t make much impact. Conversely, discussions about the book are widespread, with some praising it and others criticizing it… I believe books have a significant influence. The same is true for photography. Today, with digital photography, you can store thousands of photos and view them on a computer. But a good photo album, one that lets you revisit your life page by page… I think it will be hard for that to disappear.
In the creative process of a design, which aspect comes first, aesthetics or function?
They emerge simultaneously; there’s no priority. In another book, I clarify this by saying that beauty is the expression of perfection. In executing a design, one seeks perfection. The closer you get to perfection, the more beautiful the object will be. This is demonstrated by the elementary examples of the button or the nail that I mentioned earlier. In this sense, one seeks solutions that, if they’re good, are more beautiful than the bad ones. As one approaches a solution that is better than another, it inevitably results in a more beautiful object.
In the book, you talk about creativity, but you rarely use the word ‘art’ to refer to design…
Coinciding with the release of this book, another one has been published by Gustavo Gili in which I participate. It’s called “Art? Design” and in it, I explain my viewpoint on this topic alongside eleven other people. The title of my chapter is “Design, the Art of Today”. It should be clear that when I talk about art, I’m referring to the fine arts. For example: to what extent are posters or advertisements not a substitute for paintings? This chair [points to a chair next to the one he’s sitting on] is from 1927 and remains a marvel of function and aesthetics. It’s easier to have this at home than a sculpture. The works, even if not labeled as ‘art’, also convey messages of sensitivity, pleasure, and emotion… I don’t think that art has disappeared, but in part, design has been supplanting it. Thus, in the same way that photography has, to some extent, replaced figurative painting—Brueghel or Bosch depicted their villages and times through their paintings—today we have other means. Photography has marginalized painting in terms of documentation. Similarly, we might wonder if industrial and graphic design have not supplanted sculpture and painting. People can be moved by objects rather than sculptures.
What is the current state of design in Barcelona?
It’s in quite an exceptional position. There was a boom, some moments of craziness, but now things have calmed down, and what was too superficial and ephemeral has disappeared, leaving only the solid parts. There is a lot of solid material in terms of creativity in Barcelona, both in people and institutions. Institutions are very sensitized to design. At the moment, there’s talk of a design center or museum in which I’m somehow involved. In any case, Barcelona is a reference city worldwide. I live outside Spain for part of the year, and when people talk about Barcelona, they convey the idea that it’s a well-designed city. There are good designers here, but the city itself—the new expansion and everything that has been done since 1987—is exemplary. People come to see how we do it. This has influenced the fact that we’ve had strong design roots here for many years.
Speaking of architecture, don’t you think there has been an excess, with certain architects just aiming for eccentric and spectacular designs? Architecture, like graphics, isn’t my field; but I think if I approached an architectural project, I would do so with a more pragmatic outlook. I am very surprised that in current architecture—I’m generalising, we have great architects in Barcelona—no one takes passive energy into account. We have a lot of sunshine, for better or worse—in summer it can be quite bothersome—and architecture continues with walls, curtains, heating, air conditioning… I’m not even talking about the ecology card, which is easy and sometimes a bit demagogic, but from a practical and economic standpoint, if you have solar panels, you save money, or if you have a system of blinds or sunshades… All of this has already been studied. Le Corbusier developed a system for protecting against heat, yet we continue to build as if this knowledge didn’t exist, which baffles me. Introducing this functional consideration into aesthetics—as we said earlier—should also apply to architecture.
I suppose this is what the NGO Design for the World aims for…
It’s a bit different; Design For the World’s goal is to bring design to those who need it but cannot afford it. There is already an NGO for architecture called Architects Without Borders. Design for the World isn’t so much about taking advantage of passive energies. I mean that in this society, where we talk about ecology and the Kyoto protocol, we could save energy both for pollution and economic reasons. Let’s avoid air conditioners that cause legionnaires’ disease and consume a lot of energy! It may seem easy to say, but no one is ‘sewing up the wound’; I haven’t seen a building in Barcelona that considers this.
Going back to the previous question, perhaps the focus is more on the facade, making it eye-catching and prominent…
There are certain things that surprise me. I don’t understand architecture well enough, much less engineering, but I get the impression that architects like Calatrava spend a lot of money to achieve what could be done for much less. For instance: the City of Arts and Sciences in Valencia. It’s a spectacular work, there’s no doubt—you can’t pass by without looking at it. But for the square meters it covers, was all that structure that resembles a dinosaur’s skeleton necessary? I think not. It aimed for spectacle. The Guggenheim is a similar case. They are sculptures embedded within the city, and if you see them as that, it’s fine. But the house of the person living on the corner doesn’t need sculptures; they need to save energy and avoid excessive heat in the summer.
Finally, what advice would you give to young design students today?
Advice is difficult in any field. My first book was called “Design, What For?”. I wrote it 22 years ago, in 1982. I had been involved in this profession for 20 years, and I asked myself the question: What on earth is design for? One of the main conclusions was that I think you need to have an ideology. You can’t design just for the sake of designing. You have to know what you are aiming for.