My relationship with the ocean began before I was born.
My parents rented a small boat the weekend Jaws was released. Ironically, the movie was filmed in Martha’s Vineyard, where my father chose to introduce my mother to the sport of sailing. I have been told it did not go well. Over the years, my parents found common ground on the topic and discovered they were happiest when sailing.
I was born into a family of sailors.
Sailing as a kid can be immeasurably exciting, witnessing massive submarines alongside your modest boat, sharks baring their teeth as they investigate your floating refuge. But sailing can also include dull, languid, and seemingly endless trips through thick fog in rolling seas where the most interesting thing in sight is the bow of your vessel.
The ocean is a deeply contemplative world that requires participation.
Thoughts turn inward and you develop the ability to dream and imagine – just to entertain yourself while the environment demands concentration and awareness.
When I was old enough, my brothers all chipped in and bought me a windsurfer. Just a few days later, I was in the water and beginning a trial-and-error process that continues to this day. I quickly learned that surfing is as much mental as it is physical. It requires thinking about motion, balance, position, and timing. I’ve been frustrated to tears and elated with satisfaction within minutes.
Somewhere during my years of practice and failure on the ocean, I began my career as a designer. I learned how the economic use of materials on hand could solve problems if applied in the right way. I watched my mentors and reflected on how they solved problems and how they thought about their disciplines. I learned that time spent examining the problem was more helpful in the long run than time spent creating the solution. I saw that the best individuals spent the most time preparing, understanding and positioning their abilities so that when the right challenge was presented they were there to solve it. It was the philosophy of surfing made real.
Over the last 15 months, my partners and I have shaped a new kind of design firm focused on solving a new set of design challenges. We use design thinking and technology to reduce the complexity of our technical world to home in on the basics. Our approach is reductive, removing all but the necessary elements; it often reminds me of the lessons I learned while surfing.
Here are the lessons we’ve found most impactful:
The ocean is my place to reflect, and over the years, I’ve become more aware of the behaviors that make surfing so important to my ability to be creative. But inspiration comes from wherever you allow it to. Designers need places to reflect and allow their own thoughts to surface.
No two design challenges are the same.
No two waves are the same. But the approach to both design and the wave — deeply examining the problem and reducing it to its basics —should be the same.