Without mark

Some time ago I found that I enjoyed my home more when there were fewer printed words visible. A literate adult has no defense against words—we couldn’t help but read it and understand it. So consciously or unconsciously, I put wine bottles and cereal boxes away, covered up “Whirlpool” on the fridge, and stopped buying things that had prominent labels that can not be removed. Ephemeral printed matter like books and magazines are welcome, but not the permanent stuff that is silently read everyday, a dozen times a day. It’s like turning off a radio station that played only static—I liked what came after.

You may know that the Japanese product maker Muji’s name means “no brand,” or more literally, “without mark.” Muji is clearly onto something. For me their products immediately bring back memories of my childhood in China and in my travels, where there are few things in one’s home and all precious, and all anonymous. There was one kind of enamelware for eating and storing food, one kind of book bag, one kind of bamboo folding stool that shone brightly from use. You counted on these things as long as they lasted and when it’s finally done, you bought another. The price was little matter, because you need them. They’re generally well made and have an elegant, minimal design edited by time. Yet they were humble things, almost commodity—a dirty word in the world of brand and design consulting. The Latin root for commodity means appropriate. So what I suggest is that we design products in the spirit of commodity—so appropriate and seamlessly fitting in, that we will take their role in our lives for granted.

Strive to make products that approach commodity. As a first step, don’t put that logo on it. The product should always speak without words. Create designs that grow more silent with time, folding into our lives and not stand apart.