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Can a competition advance the cause of universal design when entrants and
judges don't grasp the meaning of the term?
By Kristi Cameron
July 2002
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Carol Catalano's Mambo stool is ergonomically designed to tilt in any
direction, with an optional chair back that folds forward. But is it
universal design?
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Photo by Courtesy Carol Catalano
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Since its emergence nearly 20 years ago, the universal design movement has
grown steadily, if incrementally. The 1991 Americans with Disabilities Act
and our rapidly graying population make the issue difficult for designers
to ignore. But perhaps because it forces us to consider our own future physical
limitations--which most people would just as soon delay grappling with--the
concept is not as well understood as we might like to believe. I had the
chance to observe that truth firsthand in Boston this March during
the conclusion to Peabody Office Furniture's "A Place to Sit"
design competition.
Last year Peabody launched a competition intended to strengthen the dealership's
ties to the design community. Cosponsored by Knoll and Boston-based Adaptive
Environments, a nonprofit organization that advocates universal design,
the competition invited designers and students from the region to "create
a concept chair for the workplace of the future." The first-prize
winner was to receive a new VW Beetle (or the cash equivalent) and a chance
to have his or her design prototyped by Knoll. The decision to devote the
competition to universal design was admirable, given that we were coming
off an affluent era that had been dominated by sexier issues like materials
and styling. And judging from the hundreds of people that packed the company's
new showroom for the kickoff, interest seemed substantial.
Almost exactly a year later (the conclusion was delayed several months by
the events of September 11), I gathered with a more modest crowd to see
the 52 finalists' quarter-scale models and to hear the winners announced.
Upon arriving at the event I learned that four of the judges--Roger Coleman,
of London's Royal College of Art; Galen Cranz, author of The Chair;
Elaine Ostroff, cofounder of Adaptive Environments; and Carl Magnusson,
director of design at Knoll--were still struggling to decide between two
chairs. (Universal design activist John Kemp had already voted.) The stalemate
seemed to bode well for the quality of the entries.
As I inspected the model chairs on display, I noticed something remarkable
in the range of responses. Though the competition parameters were left deliberately
broad--entrants were not restricted to the form of a chair per se, they
were simply instructed to come up with "a place to sit"--most
of the entries could be called "chairs" with no real stretch of
the imagination. However, the interpretations of universal ranged
from an architectural grouping that could fit into any space--public
or private, contemporary or traditional--to a simple Scandinavian-inspired
wooden chair by George Brin. Most entries attempted to address the problem
of our bodies not being suited to sitting for long periods of time. One
design (Takabrek, by Jim Lesko and John Kandalaft), made with rubber cushioning
not unlike a yoga mat, featured tension bands for exercising the arms and
legs while seated. Another (Butterfly Chair, by Manuel Saez) was split
in half down the middle, with the stated purpose of improving body-weight
distribution.
The problem here is that finding healthier ways of sitting falls under
the purview of ergonomics but not necessarily universal design. It was a
distinction that even the judges ultimately failed to make. Ergonomics
means "the science of work," and the field aims to improve
human health and productivity by designing the tools we use to reduce injuries
and increase efficiency. Universal design, or "design for
everyone," seeks to accommodate the broadest possible range of users,
including those with physical limitations (such as the elderly) and disabilities.
Although there is some overlap--both fields involve designing for different
body types--it's obvious in retrospect that the organizers' promotion of
universal design needed to include some basic education on the subject.
Two entries stood out for being on the right track. The first was a
monstrously large model called Three Sunny Side Up Chair, designed by Dainsuke
Sawaki and Sang-pyo Kim, with yolklike orange padding and a headrest and
arms for extra support. The ends of the arms were paddles suitable for mouse
use or writing, for users with less arm mobility. The second chair--Concept
Chair, by Richard Cheng and David Brothers--went a step further with a sliding
seat that assisted the user in moving from sitting to standing. But because
it was stationary, it wasn't really appropriate for office work, as
the rules had specified.
An hour into the event the judges emerged from their chambers to announce
that Cheng and Brother's Concept Chair--the only one of the winners I felt
had a clear grasp of universal design--had tied with Carl Sukeforth's Approia
chair for third place. (This was the decision that had held them up for
so long.) The Approia features a back that folds forward into a kind of
ledge for the user to more easily assume the lotus position, hardly suitable
for the disabled or infirm. The second-place winner was Brin's Meeting
Chair, which updated the proportions of the standard straight-backed wooden
chair (mainly providing ample butt room) to make it more comfortable. Although
it recognizes, commendably, that bodies are bigger than they used to be,
the Meeting Chair doesn't do enough to address different physical abilities.
The first-place winner, and by far the most intricately conceived seat,
was the Mambo stool, by Carol Catalano. It too has a back that folds forward
so the user can assume a healthier posture. In addition to height adjustability,
air cushioning, and posture feedback, the seat tilts 20 degrees and the
entire stool tilts 15 degrees in any direction, allowing the user to "perch"
with their legs and abdomen at an angle greater than 90 degrees. As someone
who spends more than 40 hours a week at a desk, I've had my share of lower
back pain and I personally hope Knoll puts the Mambo stool into production.
(Catalano accepted the cash in lieu of the car to work toward that end.)
But I'm not convinced that it meets the criteria for universal design.
The competition guidelines identified the seven principles of universal
design: equitable use, flexibility in use, simple and intuitive use,
effective communication of necessary information, tolerance for accidental
movements, low physical effort, and size and space for different body types
and ranges of mobility. Catalano's design does include components for individuals
who need more stability (such as increasing tension, stopping the tilt,
or lifting the back for additional support), but they don't add up to enough
support for someone with permanent physical limitations. In other words,
Mambo doesn't meet the requirements for equitable use and low physical effort.
Most glaringly, the stool has no arms, so it would be difficult for
people with back injuries, broken legs, or the physical weakness that comes
with age to lift themselves off of it. "We felt that arms would discourage
the movement and diminish the use of the abdominal muscles," Catalano
says. "If we were to design a chair with arms, I think it would make
sense for it to have more limited movement than the Mambo." My point
exactly: it would be a completely different chair with a completely different
purpose.
The results don't mean the competition was a wash. Peabody, Knoll, and Adaptive
Environments have gotten such good response from the New England design
community that they are planning to hold an annual event devoted to universal
design. "Peabody is very philanthropic," executive vice president
Paul Lydon says. "They want to do good things--not just sell furniture."
When I asked Ostroff about the fact that neither the first- or second-place
winner had arms, it was clear she hadn't realized that this broke the low
physical effort principle. Ostroff agrees that not all the entrants understood
the concept of universal design and would like to establish a Web site next
year that further illustrates the principles for entrants. "The field
is very young, and we haven't built up our vocabulary," she says. "There
are really only about ten people around the world who are experts in universal
design." Over time, and with refinement, the Peabody competition
could help to change that.
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