"The real questions are: Does it solve a problem? Is it serviceable? How is it going to look in ten years?"
About this Quote
Eames doesn’t romanticize design as self-expression; he demotes it to a kind of public utility with manners. The triad of questions is a quiet rebuke to the glamour industry that so often clings to modern objects: the chair as status symbol, the house as manifesto, the gadget as lifestyle. By leading with “Does it solve a problem?” he frames design as an ethical transaction. If there’s no problem being solved, the object is at best decoration and at worst clutter dressed up as innovation.
“Is it serviceable?” drags the conversation out of the gallery and into daily life. Serviceable is a modest word with sharp teeth: it insists on use, maintenance, wear, bodies. It’s also implicitly democratic. Eames isn’t asking whether it wins prizes; he’s asking whether it survives contact with the real world and the people in it. The subtext is that good design is not precious. It’s resilient, repeatable, and repairable enough to keep its dignity under pressure.
Then the time bomb: “How is it going to look in ten years?” Not “will it still be trendy,” but whether its form will age with grace rather than shame. In the postwar context Eames helped define - mass production, consumer optimism, plastics and plywood - this is both practical and moral. He’s warning that novelty is easy, but durability (material, functional, aesthetic) is the real test. The line reads now like an indictment of planned obsolescence: if you can’t imagine the object living a decade, you’re not designing a solution, you’re designing a churn.
“Is it serviceable?” drags the conversation out of the gallery and into daily life. Serviceable is a modest word with sharp teeth: it insists on use, maintenance, wear, bodies. It’s also implicitly democratic. Eames isn’t asking whether it wins prizes; he’s asking whether it survives contact with the real world and the people in it. The subtext is that good design is not precious. It’s resilient, repeatable, and repairable enough to keep its dignity under pressure.
Then the time bomb: “How is it going to look in ten years?” Not “will it still be trendy,” but whether its form will age with grace rather than shame. In the postwar context Eames helped define - mass production, consumer optimism, plastics and plywood - this is both practical and moral. He’s warning that novelty is easy, but durability (material, functional, aesthetic) is the real test. The line reads now like an indictment of planned obsolescence: if you can’t imagine the object living a decade, you’re not designing a solution, you’re designing a churn.
Quote Details
| Topic | Decision-Making |
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