Annie Wu

Though the practice of design encompasses both form and function, conversation about it often circles around aesthetics—the graphics of the next iOS operating system, for instance, or the sleek lines of the newest Tesla model. In these instances, we assume that the objects are going to work; no one doubts whether or not the iPhone can accommodate newer iOS versions or whether the vehicle can actually carry people. When we discuss design in the social sector, however, this premise is problematic since whether or not a design solution meets a user’s needs can’t be taken for granted.

What role, then, do aesthetics play in social impact design?

Let’s first examine context.

When designers create new retail experiences, mobile apps, or consumer products, most of the users we’re designing for are sufficiently well off. Our job is to create things that make them happy; we aim to delight, amuse, and/or inspire. A visually pleasing product or service that doesn’t perfectly perform its function won’t hurt anyone anyway; there are plenty of other options (search ‘weather’ in the app store if you’re dissatisfied with the one that comes on your smartphone).

But when we’re designing for socioeconomically disadvantaged users, a poorly-functioning design could mean the difference between people getting what they need or suffering without it. For instance, tens of millions of people qualify for food stamps but don’t apply, largely because the process of application is so discouraging (1). For these users, being delighted is nowhere near as pressing a concern as simply accessing resources. Poor design only exacerbates the issue.

Just because these users don’t expect good design, however, certainly doesn’t mean that it shouldn’t be what we as designers aspire to create for them. What might the role of aesthetics be in delivering good design in the social sector? Here are just a few examples:

1) Aesthetics can raise awareness. In the project ‘Signs for the Homeless,’ two artists re-painted homeless people’s signs and documented their images and stories on a blog. Though controversial, this project used colorful hand-lettering to grab the attention of viewers who’ve always walked past the signs in brown cardboard form, encouraging them to pause and hopefully see the people holding the signs. Because people are visual consumers, aesthetics have the power to shine a spotlight on an otherwise invisible issue like homelessness.

2) Aesthetics can create legitimacy. Since people can’t evaluate functionality until they’ve used a product or service, aesthetics can build trust until they do. The Clean Team project in Ghana is a fairly straightforward portable toilet rental program, but as a completely novel service in an area without standardized waste management, the team had to introduce themselves thoughtfully via their branding, messaging, and visual presentation. Since aesthetics communicate an investment of time and energy, it can help users feel confident that a solution is going to do what it promises to.

3) Aesthetics can improve function. Consider the Palm Beach ballot of the 2000 election, whose confusing format caused an entire election to go haywire (2). If we were tasked with revising the ballot and our proposed solution were to merely put a pretty skin on it, we wouldn’t be doing anyone any favors. But if we designed a more intuitive layout, created hierarchy through deliberate use of typography, and added other visual indicators (e.g. colors, symbols) to guide users through the ballot, we could have prevented an entire election fiasco. When used appropriately, aesthetics make a solution more intuitive and usable.

If we measure a design solution’s success purely by its aesthetics, we can easily miss the conversation around its efficacy. But aesthetics and functionality don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Actually, the most successful design solutions in the social sector leverage aesthetics thoughtfully to serve an end user.

As a designer who’s transitioned from working for corporate clients to serving those in the social sector, it is an ongoing challenge to determine how to translate the visual language of my previous design practice into the social impact space. What aesthetics might we use to make social services as easy to navigate as some of the most pleasant retail experiences? How might we integrate the best user interface practices in digital tools for children with learning disabilities? Could we borrow the visual language of the most compelling ad campaigns to inspire people to live healthier? I’m still figuring it out, but I don’t believe this is design that’s aspirational. This is the kind of design that everyone deserves.