The common thread between Jury Captains for our Core77 Design Awards is they are all experts in their field with fascinating stories as to how they got there. That’s why we love getting to know them better in interviews we share with our audience. In 2022, we’re proud to have a number of judges out there actively changing the industry as we know it. This includes the Jury Captain of our Health & Wellness category, Dr. Christina N. Harrington, who is currently an Assistant Professor in the HCI Institute, School of Computer Science at Carnegie Mellon University.

Dr. Christina N. Harrington believes any truly effective design solution begins with thoughtful research—so much so, she dedicates her life’s work to improving design research methodologies. With a personal focus on health equity and speculative futuring, Harrington’s driving motivation for the work is not only to assure historically excluded populations are accounted for in design research and product development, but also to create opportunities for people in these communities to actively participate in shaping their own worlds. During our chat, Harrington rightfully deems one of the side effects of our traditional design methodologies as a sort of “design narcissism,” and emphasizes it’s causing a significant roadblock when it comes to creating genuinely equitable design solutions.

Dr. Christina N. Harrington, PhD, Assistant Professor, HCI Institute, School of Computer Science at Carnegie Mellon University

We recently had the chance to speak with Dr. Harrington, where she clarified how we tackle this issue of design narcissism through the critical examination of design research, explained how to implement the philosophies of co-design into one’s own design practice, and addressed challenges in the health and wellness space designers need to focus on in this current era.

I’d love to hear a little about what led you to the work that you’re doing now. What got you into design in the first place?

I was an undergrad in electrical engineering and had friends who were in mechanical engineering taking this class with Mitzi Vernon, a [big name] in design and professor of Industrial Design who is well-known for design research methods. One day I was bored, so I went to class with them and fell in love with her class.

I decided to get a minor in Industrial Design at Virginia Tech. I used [ID] to build out my senior thesis, and decided I wanted to go back to grad school because I wanted to do work where I could engage with people and find out how and why people use the product. Also, what were the workarounds of people who buy something out of the store, but have different needs? I only applied to one graduate school, because at that time, I really just wanted to focus on universal design.

“My [past] engagement with design from an educational standpoint, and from a research standpoint, design was kind of considered to be this apolitical thing, where race, class, and gender have nothing to do with design, right? It was always kind of that mentality, when, in fact, it couldn’t be further from the truth.”

At that time, the extent of my knowledge of how to make products more usable was universal design, which speaks to my limited knowledge of the field at the time, but also how much the field has evolved over the years. So I spent three years getting a Master’s at NC State in the Industrial Design program and fell in love with design research.

I was working with Sharon Joines at that time and decided I wanted to do a PhD. I went to Georgia Tech and started to focus more on doing research with older adults, mainly because there are so many people at Georgia Tech who are looking at aging, and design for aging. So I fell into that wave, and it wasn’t until I got to my postdoc that I realized, even when we talk about universal design, or Design for All, or design for disability, what is oftentimes left out is users who are marginalized along race and socioeconomic status. I think in all of those instances, my engagement with design from an educational standpoint, and from a research standpoint, it was considered to be this apolitical thing, where race, class, and gender have nothing to do with design, right? It was always kind of that mentality, when, in fact, it couldn’t be further from the truth.

For my postdoc at Northwestern, the Inclusive Technology Lab was when I really got to focus on the aspects of design I wanted to hone in on, and think about the inclusivity of the methods themselves. Because to me, that’s more of the starting point to say, how inclusive are the products and technology? But also, how inclusive is the methodology? How inclusive are the design research methods, design activities?

I spent two years during my postdoc doing community-based, participatory fieldwork with Black elders on the south side of Chicago, focusing on just that. How can we think about design, the design workshop itself, as a catalyst for equity in design? And then that kind of led me to what I’m focusing on now, as a faculty member, on being able to define my own research.

And what are you focusing on within your research now?

My research now kind of falls into these two lanes. [If we’re looking under] the umbrella of health and racial equity, the first lane is health equity, and thinking about everyday technologies that might support people managing their health and wellness and well-being in the home. Because oftentimes, for people who are marginalized or historically oppressed, based on their race, class, socioeconomic status, living environment, the US healthcare system is a whole other monster, right? There’s racial bias when we talk about in-person healthcare experiences, there’s access for folks in rural areas, there’s the affordability of health insurance, and a lot of folks not even having health insurance. So one of the things we focus on, which started primarily as aging in place, has now just become: how can we all think about our health in the home? And a lot of that is access to health information.

The internet is ubiquitous now. There’s virtually no pocket or sector of the world that is not integrated with the internet, whereas, 20 years ago, the internet was only for the privileged few. Now, for pretty much everything you touch and think about, there’s a website, there’s an app, there’s a social media page. So how can we make these things more accessible and more intuitive in terms of sharing health information?

And then the second arm of my research falls under looking at Afrofuturism and speculative design as a way to, again, think about the inclusivity of design methods, and who gets to think about innovation and futuring. When we’re talking about imagination and creativity and ingenuity, who have we put at the forefront as leaders of that, and who have we always thought of as needing our guidance as designers? A lot of that work is thinking about how design can be its own tool for self-advocacy and ownership of our own futures. So instead of design agencies saying, “Oh, we’re going to go in and create this thing for this community, because they need us as designers,” we now think of these communities being able to do that on their own.

Where do you feel traditional design processes have failed, and how would you like to see them reimagined in order to implement more of what you’re talking about?

I think, first and foremost…it makes it seem as though our jobs as designers is obsolete, but I think traditional design methods and processes have failed, and thinking that we are the experts at all.

“I’ve worked for big tech companies where I’ve heard things like, ‘Well, people don’t know what [they] want until you tell them.’ And that’s that design narcissism that a lot of us have, when in reality, people know what they need, because they live this experience every day. We’re just dropping in that skatepark for a couple of weeks. They’ve been doing this for decades.”

When I was in graduate school, I used to joke that designers, particularly industrial designers, are temporary experts, right? If I’m doing a design project where I’m trying to design this new skateboard, I do a couple interviews, I might go to a skatepark for a couple of weeks. But now, all of a sudden, I am this expert in skating. When in reality there are people [who, for] their whole lives, they’ve been skating, they’ve been perfecting this craft—designers are the experts of the skill of sketching or rendering. I would even push back on the thought that we’re the experts of brainstorming, because people do that every day. But I think traditional design methods and processes have failed us, and because that is how most of us get taught design, we carry that in how we deal with clients and communities– especially for folks who are doing design work that sits more along the margin of design activism or inclusive design. And that kind of positions us to think we’re always helping, as opposed to [thinking that] we always have the opportunity to learn, because people are the experts of their own lived experience. And if you’ve ever noticed, I’ve worked for big tech companies where I’ve heard things like, “Well, people don’t know what [they] want until you tell them.” And that’s that design narcissism that a lot of us have, when in reality, people know what they need, because they live this experience every day. We’re just dropping in that skatepark for a couple of weeks. They’ve been doing this for decades.

So I think there’s something there we have to start to negotiate or reason with. How do we own what we’ve learned as designers without the design narcissism? How do we change the way we think about centering marginalized voices? Because I think, even now, as much progress that has been made in folks wanting design to be more inclusive, we still have folks who think they need to speak for users or groups and communities who are typically neglected in design, instead of making way or providing a platform for them to advocate for themselves, speak for themselves, and design for themselves…it’s almost like a sense of gatekeeping, I think.

I’m curious to hear a little bit more about the speculative projects, and why you were so interested [in them]. I know that you were really cemented in that technology and health equity space, and now you’re exploring this new zone. Why is this so important [to focus on right now]?

All these topics seem like they’re distant, but they’re really one and the same. Because in doing a lot of the health equity work from a community-based, participatory research standpoint, one of the things we realized was, even in doing those workshops, we oftentimes had to be reflexive and check ourselves about the design method we’re using. And to also think about these concepts of research abandonment with design projects.

Oftentimes we pick up these projects like a client; there’s a start and an end with that design scope that we teach students about. Typically, we have this project we’re responsible for and focus on, and then once we’re done, we move on to the next client. From the many years of me doing this community-based work, one of the things I found is that you start to see that when you go into the community to start the next project, people are really apprehensive of engaging with you, because they’re like, “You guys come in and do these projects, and then you leave,” especially when we think about academic research. They’re like, “We never see what happens with our data. We don’t even get offered copies of the research articles that are written. We don’t know the narrative or the interpretation.” And so because of that design narcissism, we come in, and we’re like, “Well, we know exactly what we need to do for these design workshops.” And we call that co-design because, in our minds, people are actively, collaboratively designing with us.

I think there are different degrees to that participation, so one of the things we started examining in some of the projects I was doing is, what happens if you let people lead co-design efforts, and define [for] themselves what it means to start a design project? It’s potentially intimidating. We were getting feedback that blue sky ideation or “how might we” [prompts] don’t fit certain populations, but designers aren’t listening to that. So we set out to do projects with Black youth and Black young adults in the Southside of Chicago, to better understand the ways that we can transcend design methods and processes in co-design in a way that [resonates], is relevant, and [where] folks felt like, “This is something that I can do,” even when the research team is done with the finding or that client-designer relationship.

Dr. Harrington conducts a speculative workshop with community members and organizers

We developed a speculative design toolkit that walks people through the process, and we did this collaboratively with community organizers and folks who are doing design outside of the academic or industry organizations. The toolkit walks people through what it means to “future”. What does it mean to think about how technology might impact our community? What we might want to see in the future of technology? How might we think through some of the challenges that our communities are experiencing, or some of the things that we want to uphold, whether it be preserving culture or heritage or documenting things, creating murals?

So we created this toolkit in hopes for it to be used in the types of community design work that I, and other researchers and students, and even some industry practitioners have been doing, to be a more equitable lens to not just co-design, but speculative design, and we entrenched it in the framework of Afrofuturism. Because one of the things we were hearing from some of the Black communities that we work with doing these different design workshops was, “I don’t see myself reflected in these methods”– these methods where, even though they’re defined by groups like IDEO, if you look at their origin, when they designed a lot of these methods, there were not a lot of Black or Hispanic faces to be seen. So how can I feel like these methods could ever be inclusive if we had no say in how these methods are interpreted?

Well, I love the idea of the design process being viewed as something that’s more fluid than it is now, because I think that’s a really important thing to be evaluating. With the toolkit you’re creating, where do you see this being applicable? What communities can use it?

We’ve done a lot of research on the toolkit in order to make sure it’s sound, that it covers all of the bases that we want it to, and a lot of what we’ve heard is this is something that will be used by design collectives, research, agencies, and smaller design groups. Community organizations that are thinking about how to organize communities, and when I say communities, either geographic communities or people that are defined with a particular identity, that want to think of more creative ways [to live.]

To build this toolkit, we’ve done some interview studies, and we’ve done maybe three different design workshop projects in different cities. And each city has been a different thing. In one city, they were thinking about community safety. How do we think through community safety? And so the toolkit we’ve developed is called “Building Utopia“. We built five card decks within this toolkit—one of them is a liberation deck that helps people to identify the community values they want to uphold when we’re thinking about what the solution will look like.

And so I got to sit in to see how this group in a city in the Midwest will use a toolkit, and in that space there were several people with various roles in the community who organize with various organizations all thinking about community safety. They’re asking, how do we engage with our local police, such that we don’t feel like they come into our neighborhoods without ever engaging with us, but that we also feel safe? And so these organizers got to walk through naming values by, like, “moments when I feel safe,” or “what does my community value,” or “how do we think about the future of our community, and what we might need?” and then walk through the design process in a way that translates to the relevance of how they’re thinking about these things. In a way that’s grounded in these tenets of Afrofuturism. So these are the types of organizations that have used the toolkit, and have already alluded to, “Hey, we’ve had some city agencies that reached out saying, ‘We would love to use this in our processes.'” Because you’re starting to see local governments use design thinking in their own processes, but want to do so in a more equitable manner.

It’s great that you have that background in accessibility, because it’s nice to imagine creating a framework that can be implemented by people with different levels of understanding of design, and it doesn’t feel as intimidating to incorporate it into their practice or process.

[I’m interested in hearing more about your] research within the health and wellness space, especially now, given everything that’s happened since the pandemic. What do you feel are some challenges within that space that need immediate attention?

Information Access is a big one. I think we saw firsthand at the onset of the pandemic that we have a problem with access to information, especially in certain pockets of the US population. When testing started rolling out, when different updates about the virus started coming out, you would see that some places knew about this—for example, I’m able to watch CNN or get these tweets to my phone or whatever. And then with other populations, it’s just so delayed. I think that’s definitely something that we still need to work on– even the language being more inclusive.

“Wearables and these apps that constantly emerge, collecting my personal health data, and showing it back to me to let me know if I’m doing the right things or not— does that chart or that graph really have meaning to this person? Does thinking about health in this way have meaning to this person?”

One of the reasons I still anchor a lot of my projects in the health and wellness space is that the inclusivity of the language still presents this barrier. I don’t just mean the language of the terms or the dialect, but I think the health language in general, of how we use certain metrics, how we display data and information, as-is it doesn’t really have meaning to some people. We talked about these wearables and these apps that constantly emerge, collecting my personal health data, and showing it back to me to let me know if I’m doing the right things or not– does that chart or that graph really have meaning to this person? Does thinking about health in this way have meaning to this person? We had a lot of conversations with Black elders who are like, “A wearable is just off the table for me, because I don’t really care how many steps I take. I want to know: is my blood pressure in an okay zone? I want to know that I walked further today than I did yesterday. So an app that’s just going to tell me ‘Hey, you walked 10,000 steps’ doesn’t mean anything [to me].” And so I think that there’s still that disconnect of how we talk about health, and how health is shared and discussed.

Since you’ll be judging the Health & Wellness category, I’m curious what you’re hoping to see in those entries. What is going to stand out the most to you?

I think one of the things I’m always really interested in, in terms of design projects addressing health and wellness, is how well have we thought outside of the box in terms of what it means to design health tools? There is kind of this age-old [rule for how things in the medical setting are designed, for example] it’s white, it’s pale blue, it looks like something that belongs in the hospital or healthcare settings. But how well can we think about health tools that are not stigmatizing, or are societally accepting? So I think that’s something I’ll definitely be looking for.

Thinking of entering to win one your projects into the 2022 Core77 Design Awards Health & Wellness category? Get your entry in today—Regular Deadline ends March 8th.

This slide-out toaster reinvents the pop-up design we all are so deeply used to. The question to be asked though, would you prefer such an abrupt change in how crisp toasts are prepared for breakfast?

The basic toaster design hasn’t been overhauled much all these years, ever since the world got accustomed to the crunch in their breakfast rituals. Initially invented in the 1890s the toaster evolved into a pop-up version in the late 1920s, and it definitely was a blockbuster appliance back in those days. Even after more than a century, the toaster functionality hasn’t been experimented with much, and for good reason. The appliance does the task without much fuzz. Although there have been modern inclusions like auto shut off, countdown timer, defrost and reheat – along with the subtle design refinements to make it blend seamlessly with modern kitchen design, a radical change was long due.

Designer: Harry Rigler

Harry Rigler wants to reinvent the trusted image of the toaster with a detour to the soft form design of this household kitchen appliance. That too keeping in mind the requirements of modern users, and the present as well as future design progression of kitchen interiors. Rather than being a pop-up toaster like most out there, this is the Slide toaster which rolls the toasting grill to the side like a rollable smartphone. The tray slides out – you put in the bread and slide it back in.

The toasting process begins in the Slide toaster with an LED ring indicating the toasting level and completion. The slide-up tray has a translucent design element to it so that you can keep an eye on the toast turning perfectly brown to your delight Level of the toast crispness can be set with an adjustment dial like all other toasters we’ve seen countless times. This is ably aided by audio indications to keep the user well informed.

According to Harry his motivation to design this toaster evolves from the desire to “change the way people think about appliances.” He wants to make appliances more presentable on the kitchen countertop matching most of the color schemes indoors. The concept toaster deserves to make it to the highly competitive consumer market to refresh how bread is toasted on the countertops each morning!

The post Refreshing slide out toaster your kitchen countertop deserves first appeared on Yanko Design.

It’s interesting how unique concept designs from some years ago inspired a number of products we commonly use these days. That’s how important conceptual products are. You design something and even if it doesn’t become a reality, some group will pick up the idea and bring it into production.

Most conceptual product designs inspire and spark the imagination. The Ehsaas from several years ago gave the world hope for the blind. The watch was meant for the blind as it uses the Braille writing system. As a widely used tactile writing system, Braille can be used on anything or anywhere a blind person can access. It’s used for learning and communication with only the use of raised dots.

Designer: Nikhil Kapoor

Feeling those dots will tell you what is being communicated. Designer Nikhil Kapoor once imagined a watch for the blind. It was called the Ehsaas and was designed with a Braille system. Braille numbers are on the watch face area so the blind can feel the time.

This is no ordinary watch. It uses an Electronic Active Polymer on the watch face. The watch strap is elastic which makes it comfortable and easy to wear. Keeping track of time may be easier now compared to several years ago when the Ehsaas was designed but using Braille is still a significant moment for visually impaired people.

Time can be told but it can’t be touched nor felt. But with a Braille watch, it can be felt. The simple watch makes reading the time easy. A blind person can just slide on and feel the dots and tell time.

The Braille code is fabricated by an Electronic Active Polymers. It tells the time including the hour and minute. The two codes are separated by a line. At the bottom part is a small part that reminds the wearer of the right way of wearing.

The watch is stored in special packaging. Inside the box, you will see the instructions on how to use the concept watch in braille. With this wearable device, the “feel of the time is what matters”. The feel of the watch doesn’t really count now but it still needs to accomplish its purpose.

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Google’s quirky Pixel phone design hasn’t had much time in the public’s eye, so it’s reassuring that it might not be going away just yet.

The Pixel 6 and its bigger sibling was a game-changing phone for Google in more ways than one. It was the first Google phone to use a custom-made processor designed by Google itself, for one, and it’s also the first time that Google truly embraced making experiences more personal. The Pixel 6, however, might be best remembered for introducing a rather unique and perhaps polarizing design, one that might be sticking around for the Pixel 7 later this year. Given the fast turnover when it comes to phone designs, this consistency is actually critical in cementing Google’s Pixel brand.

Designer: Google

The Pixel 6 isn’t the first to bear a “visor” design that has its cameras lined up in a row. That distinction belongs to the Nexus 6P from 2015, made by Huawei and also branded by Google. The Pixel 6, however, pulls it off in a more visually tasteful way that seems to attract attention and its fair share of fans and detractors. You can’t please everyone, of course, but Google dared to do something that few probably would have had the audacity to try.

The design is unique, but not just for uniqueness’ sake. Having the somewhat tall camera bump across the entire width of the phone means that it wouldn’t be wobbling when laid down on a flat surface. It also means that the phone will be lying down at a bit of an incline, making it easier to view the phone’s contents without picking it up and without having to crane down your neck.

The Pixel 6 and Pixel 6 Pro have only been around for four months, and yet we’re already seeing the start of rumors about what will come next. Based on these early leaks, the Pixel 7 could be a dead ringer for the Pixel 6. On the one hand, that’s not exactly unexpected, but it also is surprising given how frequently companies change their designs year after year.

There will be very subtle differences, at least if you’re the type to pay very close attention to things that might not even be noticeable at first glance. Based on the earliest CAD 3D models of the non-Pro Pixel 7, the two cameras on the left side of the phone will be contained in a pill-shaped enclosure. It’s a visual flourish that probably does nothing to improve functionality, but it could also make some things more visually consistent with the Pro model.

Designer: @xleaks7 (via choosebesttech.com)

Actual renders of the Pixel 7 Pro show the same “two cameras in a pill,” but with a third camera that sets this model apart from its sibling. The render also suggests that the camera module will be visually integrated with the rest of the side frame compared to the Pixel 6’s “visor.” It’s a subtle change that few will probably even notice, but it makes the design look more coherent and unified.

The most striking revelation from these early leaks is that the Pixel 7 will look exactly like the Pixel 6 except for those minor details. The punch-hole cutout in the middle of its forehead is still there, for example. And so are all the missing hardware, like a traditional fingerprint scanner and a 3.5mm headphone jack. Given how those have been absent for years, there’s really no surprise there.

Some might consider this lack of major changes as a sign of design stagnation over at Google HQ, but that’s not exactly the case. Google could easily change or even tweak the Pixel 6 design for this year’s model and join its peers in a parade of phones that look so different every year yet also look like each other. Instead, Google may be deciding to focus on something that many people have either forgotten about or taken for granted, brand recognition.

Aside from the small “G” logo that few people will even see, especially while you’re holding your phone, there is little to distinguish a Pixel phone from other phones prior to the Pixel 6. The square camera module has been adopted by many other brands, including Apple, so it is no longer distinctive. Those brands have also started moving away from the design but have ended up resembling one another. In contrast, there is still nothing that looks like the Pixel 6 today.

Google has stumbled upon a distinctive design, and now it’s time to hunker down on that until it becomes the Pixel phone’s identity. Even Apple doesn’t change its designs drastically at a rapid pace. When it switched back to flat, chamfered edges, it still retained that bucket-style notch that almost no one other than Apple uses today.

Design consistency also inspires familiarity and confidence. You know you won’t have to relearn where certain features or, in this case, parts are just because you’re upgrading to a new model. It might even be possible to reuse some accessories like cases if the dimensions are exactly the same as well. This, in turn, could reduce the number of wasted materials in manufacturing and buying new accessories, which eventually end up in landfills.

Of course, we’re still at an early point where everything is still conjecture. Google could very well end up defying rationality and move away from what some already consider a winning design. That, however, could actually hurt the Pixel brand in the long run, especially at a time when there are already doubts whether Google can actually keep up with Samsung and Apple. The company might be famed for its Web services and its Android platform, but its track record when it comes to making and supporting phones has so far been less than stellar.

Designer: Steve Hemmerstoffer (via Smartprix)

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Awash in imagination, the exhibit “See Through” blends eccentric creatures, otherworldly landscapes and unusual font

In Culver City last week, the 2022 edition of LA’s Spring/Break Art Show greeted guests with powerful, often thought-provoking paintings and sculptures. Punctuating this refreshing assemblage of up-and-coming talent, NYC-based fine artist (and filmmaker) Ronan Day-Lewis presented See Through, a solo exhibition curated by the Brooklyn-based artist-run space Tomato Mouse. Day-Lewis’ paintings—which ranged from large-scale scenic imaginings to anxious font-based strips—subverted reality, indulged in soft collisions of color and invited viewers to question the narrative within.

“Spring/Break differs from other art fairs in that it’s artist- and curator-driven, known for innovative projects that don’t happen elsewhere,” Tomato Mouse curator Rebecca Bird says of their participation. This exhibition is the third collaboration between Day-Lewis and Tomato Mouse, which has been headquartered in Brooklyn’s Ocean Hill/Brownsville neighborhood since 2012.

“It fits with the homemade ethos of Tomato Mouse,” Bird continues. “I was attracted by the theme of this year’s iteration, Hearsay/Heresy, as a chance to curate art that relates to Medieval painting traditions. Beyond a personal love of Northern Renaissance paintings, biblical subjects in painting reflect a time when there was a shared set of narratives that artists drew on, in contrast to today, so it speaks to fraught notions of truth and universality.”

Day-Lewis actually proposed the exhibition. “He had completed this beautiful and interconnected body of work that together forms something complete, a set of interlocking premises and questions,” Bird says of the oil pastel on unprimed canvas paintings. “The work is all from the last year; very concise as a moment.”

To walk into Spring/Break was to catch site of Day-Lewis’ largest work, “The Beginning (Listen! Your Brother’s Blood Cries Out To Me From The Soil.),” which stretched across one wall of the Tomato Mouse booth. For it, the artist was inspired by a vision, an accompanying sensation and a desire to solve a mystery, as well as “an instinct that it needed to be big enough to get lost in,” he explains. “With ‘The Beginning,’ I knew what I wanted the painting to feel like way before the narrative aspect took form. My parents live in the Hudson Valley overlooking the river, and that place has such a strange beauty to it—a sense of infinity, like you’re standing at the edge of the world. That became a jumping-off point.”

“It felt like I was living in the painting for five or six months,” he continues. “As I went, ideas would suggest other ideas, and elements would materialize almost of their own accord. There was a lot of frustration that came from the physical limitations of smearing such a big piece of fabric with little sticks of pigment, but at a certain point the painting started telling me what to do, and I was like, ‘Oh, so this is what you are.’” Day-Lewis uncovered the biblical Cain and Abel tale within and worked toward making it his own.

Anachronistic attributes populate the canvas: a ball, a chair and more. They walk viewers down unexpected paths. “Objects and places have always been very charged for me,” Day-Lewis continues. “I’m more nostalgic than I’d like to be, but there’s a way that objects carry the past, like portals. They let us speak to each other through time. The chair and the ball come from impressions of times and places from my childhood.” Erstwhile, he adds, “My creatures are sort of emotional x-rays, so threading these things through them felt right. Like an interpolation of memory, embedding the personal in the mythic. Scattering these little details is also a way of asking the viewer to come closer, to lose themselves in the world of the painting.”

All of the artist’s works are cast in equally curious colors, lending a further sense of removal from reality. “Color has always been essential to how I understand things,” he says. “It’s a feeling, a mystery, a way into a secret world. Certain colors can immediately make me happy or sad. When I was a teenager, Irma Ostroff, my art teacher, always put such an emphasis on it. I remember letting some pink creep into the edge of a self-portrait, and from her reaction, I knew that gesture had completely changed the painting. I started to see color not just as a compositional tool or a means to render real-world objects, but as a vessel for the things you can’t put into words.”

Day-Lewis juxtaposes these mythical works with (often anxiety-inducing) text-based art. “I see the more mythical paintings as embodiments of what’s going on beneath the texts,” he explains. “We’re constantly having these failures of communication which are easy to dismiss as silly or inconsequential, but I think these contemporary attempts and failures to connect with each other are actually just new manifestations of almost primordial archetypes and emotions. We’ve sort of been trying to express the same things to each other for millennia. A big part of my practice as a painter has become an attempt to connect the present moment to something eternal.”

Of note in the text works is Day-Lewis’ eccentric font. During an art class, he started “adding more spokes to my Es, the way I had written them as a young child. It was a way of undoing knowledge and returning to a more instinctive way of making. There’s a clumsiness to the font which I think is important. I like reproducing these sleek, fleeting, very digital ephemera in a laborious, permanent, kind of crude way. I’m a terrible texter, so maybe it’s a kind of exorcism, or at least a way of slowing things down. Everything moves so fast.”

Day-Lewis graduated Yale in 2020 and his trajectory has just begun. It was drawing that brought him to art at a very early age. “My first experience with oils was extremely frustrating—the paint felt so slippery and stubborn—but when I started realizing the possibilities of color, I began to love painting as much as I already loved drawing. I already feel very privileged to have the time and space to make and show my paintings, but ultimately I want to continue growing as an artist and connecting to more people through my work.”

As for their Spring/Break installation, Bird says curation was an organic process, oriented toward arranging the paintings “to both intrigue viewers who are new to the work and give them a way in, visually, to the thought processes behind it.” She adds, “At first glance it seems as if we are looking at two bodies of work—the hallucinatory pastoral scenes of a world populated by mythological beasts counterposed with what appear to be transcribed text messages in pastel letters that glow like low-fi neon. The relationship between the two is key, and they both needed space to breathe on their own and to connect.”

“We assembled 12 text message pieces into a conversation made of compounding miscommunication and constant apology next to the entrance to the booth,” she continues. “While it has a humorous appeal, it speaks to the anxiety many of us have about failure to respond appropriately to others’ needs. The pang of the disconnect is more acute in the flatness of digital communication, the paucity of this language.” Elsewhere, “small pastoral images of banishment” co-exist across from “scenes set in primordial forests.”

“Traveling from Brooklyn to Los Angeles, bringing these enormous paintings with us, planning and preparing the booth and installing in the space of a few days was a bit like a reality game show,” Bird adds. “The whole fair came together quickly in a gutted warehouse building with beautiful enormous skylights. We didn’t know what the space we were given would be like until the day we arrived. It was delivered rough, with variously colored panels for walls, so the challenge and opportunity was to create a finished presentation somewhat from scratch in two days.” Together, curator and artist succeeded in transporting visitors into a universe unto itself.

Images courtesy of Ronan-Day Lewis, Tomato Mouse and SPRING/BREAK Art Show