Interesting post by Deron Bauman on the clusterflock blog

I'm not sure how familiar lay-people are with the term design language but design language is used to describe the family of physical attributes associated with a particular brand.

We can speak of the BMW design language, for instance, and although the phrase might be confusing, we can conjure an image of what a BMW looks like; we can remove the badging and see the car and know which company designed and made it.

The concept is fairly new, but the attributes are as old as Plato.

What I am beginning to suspect however is that contemporary designers are spending more time creating products that reflect the design language of the brand than are perpetuating beauty.

For instance, it seems more important to create a car that looks like a Pontiac than to create a Pontiac that is beautiful.

He continues:

"Looking at cars that were created in the sixties, for instance, it appears that the emphasis was on design rather than with branding.

For some companies (think Apple) the design language is beauty, to create extraordinarily aesthetically realized objects; in those instances, the design language of the company reaches for and achieves the exemplary. The design language of the brand becomes a byproduct of the beautiful forms rather than the master of them."

Deron has a point. There seem to be two very different schools at work here in the world ofproduct design: The first believes that great design will enhance or validate a brand (Apple is a great example), while the second believes that "design" is a branding tool that needs to be consistent.

A few years ago, when I was in charge of product development for a certain company, my design team (at my request) started presenting modern designs for a new line of products. The idea was to modernize the product line and bring the brand into the 21st century. The project was met with a lot of resistance from management because none of the designs "looked" like what "people" (our customers) were used to. In order to get the project approved, we had to make some design compromises. We ended up having to incorporate elements of the old design language into the new products so that they would still look like what "people" would expect.

The company was very conservative in its business approach, and didn't see design as a way to innovate, solve user problems or bring aesthetics and utility together. It saw design simply as a way to visually affirm its brand.

The difference between the two schools is purely cultural. Some company cultures promote true design, while others prefer to use design as a means to remain consistent through an ever-evolving product offering.

Designers who are lucky enough to work for the first of the two get to design cultural icons like the iMac, the iPod, or something as old school as a Hermes scarf of a Birkin bag. Everyone else gets to design around a template. A set of rules and parameters. This isn't to say that the latter group isn't talented or doing "real" design. Not at all. In fact, you could argue that they have a tougher job since they have limitations to deal with. But though this type of design may not be earth-shattering or culture-shifting, it can be, nonetheless, at the core of a brand's strength. Think BMW. Think Cartier watches. Think Yves St. Laurent. Think Ralph Lauren. The idea here isn't to come up with revolutionary designs or works of art for the sake of coming up with a work of art, but when a brand concerns itself with aesthetics and impeccable style, you can be sure that designers don't mind having to work within the confines of a brand's framework.

The point here is this: There doesn't have to be a division between stale design language, and design for its own sake. Increasingly so, companies are becoming aware that being known for their consistently great designs fare better than those who are known for the consistency of their designs. Remember our last editorial on Kathy Sierra? The lesson there was "Be more provocative and interesting than the other guys." For companies like Apple, originality and boldness of design are the design language.

When it comes to Cartier, BMW and other luxury brands known for great design, what you get is a balanced mix of innovation and familiarity. A Cartier watch always looks like a Cartier watch. You don't really have to see the brand name on its face to know who made it. Same with BMW. Same with Porsche. Same with Ray Ban and Zippo and Harley Davidson. The difference, between the first group and this one, however, is that a revolutionary new Apple computer might not obviously look like an Apple product without the ubiquitous fruit logo glowing blue somewhere on its frame. Hence, when it comes to creating and perpetuating strong brands, going for a completely original design isn't always the smartest strategy in the great Marketing Book of Oz. Sometimes, pacing a brand's growth through sober design evolutions can be a whole lot more effective than re-inventing the wheel every two years. (Very few companies can sustain constant re-invention innovation, which is why Apple is so often used as the poster-boy corporation in these types of discussions.)

In the worst case scenario, a vicious cycle can begin when design and branding get tangled up in a sad little dance of stale and uninspired self-perpetuation. (The same design or look keeps coming back year after year after year, and stops striking anyone's fancy. Brand equity drops. Bad things ensue.)

In the best case scenario, design and branding complement each other. The brand incorporates Design (with a capital "D") in its identity and celebrates both innovation and tradition in a symbiotic package that is both reassuring and cool. This is an enlightened, fresh and energetic approach to branding that has never, ever, ever failed a single A-list brand.

Food for thought.