The ANTIDESIGN

In the spirit of Halloween I think it fitting to take a look at the incredible pumpkin carvings of Ray Villafane. This sculptor has worked for both DC Comics and Marvel, so his pumpkin carvings are nothing short of jaw dropping.

I thought this was a great example of ephemeral artwork. We can't help but be reminded of the inevitable decomposition of the materials used in these masterpieces. With ephemeral artwork, it's easy to ask the question of why someone dedicated so much time and effort to something that simply will not last. Pumpkin carving is a tradition, which is a crucial point to make in these pieces. Part of the fun in this tradition is the ephemeral nature of the work. It gives us leave to experiment and grow, knowing that if we make a mistake, it wont haunt us forever.


Taking an activity that is inherently very childlike, and putting skill and experience to use through it is one of the great ways that artists and designers play. Through this kind of enjoyable and relaxing play time, Villafane was able to find his pumpkin carving talents and share them with the world.

This artists' already astounding reputation as a sculptor, is leveled when his fans see him 'playing' and doing the very same thing that we all should be doing this Halloween. If I'm not referring specifically to carving pumpkins (which by the way, is something we could all enjoy!), then hear me referring to play itself. Play is what helps cross boundaries in creativity, because in play, there are no boundaries. In play, Villafane doesn't have to worry is the medium for his work will stand the test of time.

Take a look at Ray Villafane's carving techniques and more pictures of his fabulous pumpkins at http://www.villafanestudios.com/pumpkins.htm

Richard Scarry's Busy Town series was a memorable part of my siblings and my childhood. I think playing the Busy Town video game was the first time I really appreciated the design in something that I was using. The colors were so pleasing, so simple, and the user interface just sucked me into the game. I remember playing this game over and over again, and reading the Busy Town books with my brother.

I barely remember anything about the books or the game's plot, but I remember repeatedly going into the world to experience the characters and interact. I remember appreciating the layout of the map for the town. This was definitely one of the first times I even thought about things like that as a child. I noticed the pleasing thick black lines on the animation and the simplistic painterly look of the coloring within them. It mimicked my coloring books, and because of that it all felt very familiar. I know that I recognized this as a child because I don't have to go back and look at the game to remember exactly how the various scenes were pixelated. I remember which one's had a more painterly style and which parts were cell shaded. I noticed that the cats' fur was gradated  in some places, and I have the colors and sound effects from the game burned into my memory.

These memories of taking my first real look at the way that something was designed for me actually takes me back to the first things that i started using in design. To this day, I find thick lines to be a significant part of my work, and a mix of sharp line work with a watercolor paint is actually something I have been distinguished by. It's interesting to look back and see where my personal values in design may have actually originated.

When I think back to objects that made an early impact on me, lamps continue to come up. As early as 6, I was recognizing that light played a huge role in how much I enjoyed my surroundings.

One lamp that I had when I was 7 (and kept until I started high-school) was one of those artsy spider-like bouquet floor lamps (similar to the picture below, although mine had six lights, and they were all in white). The stems were extremely malleable, so you could bend the lights in every which way. In fact, I often did change the lamp’s appearance. I was obsessed with redecorating and re-arranging. The lamp tended to fit in a corner, where I would either direct the lights outward and toward the wall to make an epic spidery effect, or keep some bending down to highlight things like a collection of dolls or my child sized drum set.


This lamp had a shiny silver metallic stand, and cone shaped shades over halogen-bright bulbs. It gave my room the feel of a gallery or an art showroom. The shades were matte and pure white. At the time for me, this lamp was the very essence of design; it screamed cutting-edge and 'modern art'.

This lamp was something that I can remember every part of, because it was one of the first pieces that I owned that made me really look at the design of the things around me. Because it was so customizable, I got to play a part in the overall look of the lamp and the light that is created. This made me think about and put effort into design in a way that I hadn't before.

To me, it is meaningful that I can remember this lamp so well. We all have objects that we will never forget, because they defined who we are or were at the time. Feeling like an object is an extension of us is part of why consumerism prevails. It is enjoyable to attach ourselves to objects and to add them to our family. Giving up that lamp was actually hard for me to do when the time came. It is worth noting that the way our attachments to objects can grow over time directly opposes our need to continuously dispose of objects as they wear out, break, or become outdated.

As a child, choosing what we want to do for a living seems like a most crucial and time-sensitive decision. I remember just knowing that everyone in my third grade class already knew exactly what they wanted to be when they grew up, and were already working towards their goals. I was behind. I never felt like I knew what I wanted to do for a living. What I knew was that I was fascinated by things that made me feel intensely, and had some kind of unusual draw towards dramatic situations. Since I was 7, I have gone through many passions, but they always change, and I always get bored. Choosing to major in design was not an easy decision for me to arrive at, in fact, it's one that I chose in the last few days of registration. This isn't the first time that having a deadline to make has eased the decision making process a bit. Although I was rushed, I know that design was the right choice for me personally, not only because of future goals, but also by looking back at what I enjoyed and found interesting when I was young.

When I think about design as a career choice, I still find myself thinking that it's best suited for someone who has a passion for creating new things. That isn't my experience. Personally, I do not consider myself a creator, or even one who is passionate about the idea that we can create new things. What I'm really passionate about is being inspired. Seeing new things makes me excited, and it always has. It is enjoyable and effortless to soak up style, technique, mood, and composition of new artwork that I see, but also by structures and objects I find as I move through the world. Being in a new place in the way that novels, video games, movies, and travel can offer is absolutely a source of inspiration to me. That truly encompasses what being a designer is about for me personally. Designers are just pros at being inspired.