140: Teaching Zen and Teaching Design part 1

UnMind: Zen Moments With Great Cloud

As I mentioned in one of the prior segments of UnMind: In zazen, as well as in Zen writ large, we embrace a directive from the first great Ch’an poem by Master Kanchi Sosan:

To move in the One Way

Do not reject even the world of senses and ideas

Indeed embracing them fully is identical with true enlightenment

This is the most direct testament I have come across to refute the charge that Zen is somehow anti-intellectual. Those of us who take up the Zen way do, however, recognize the limitations of the discriminating mind in dealing with nonduality, but we do not dismiss intellectualization outright. Our ability to analyze, dissect, and reconstruct information is one of the most powerful tools we have in confronting the various confounding issues we face in life. But it cannot solve the mystery of existence alone. Something else – call it intuition? — has to come into play on a level beyond thought. As Matsuoka Roshi would often say, “Zen goes deeper.”

In this segment, I will attempt to address a subject suggested by one of our members, considering the distinctions I have found in my experience teaching Zen over the years, versus my professional background in design, formally beginning with my BS and MS training at the Institute of Design, Illinois Tech in Chicago — acronym ID+IIT if you want to look it up — followed by my tenure teaching at the U of I, Chicago Circle Campus, and the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

Another complementary influence was my training in end-user research, primarily for new product development, with a Chicago-based firm. It was one of my main sources of income while in university, and the firm with which I moved to Atlanta in 1970. The integration of end-user research with each stage of creative development, from raw concept through refined concept, form, features, and styling, and so on, became the subject of my Master’s thesis, and is now the gold standard in the industry, the most obvious example being the end-user-participation approach to debugging initial releases of software apps.

As a starting point, one notable difference in design and Zen training may be that those who teach design on a professional level, and those who pursue it for advanced degrees, tend to refer to the overall method and approach as “design thinking,” which stresses analytical training to apply design as a generalist endeavor, rather than as a specialty. The premise is that the method employed in defining and solving any given problem of the applied design profession is thought to be basically applicable to any other problem-solving activity, in general terms. In research circles, the term “methodology” is often used to refer to the method followed in conducting the study; it actually means the study of method itself. Which is one area of intense focus in design itself, one of its more well-known proponents being Victor Papanek.

For example, the method employed in designing and building a chair is basically the same as that utilized in writing a book, both of which I have personally done. Of course, since the materials required, and the functions of the end product differ; the details of the process differ accordingly. But the overarching steps in the process are similar in nature, as in all problem-solving initiatives. The steps usually taken are roughly parallel to those for solving quadratic equations, acronym PEMDAS. Indulge my stretching the analogy a bit, but the recommended sequence for doing the mathematical operations is to solve the Parentheses, Exponents, Multiplication, Division, Addition, and finally the Subtraction, and in that order; otherwise the answer is not likely to be correct.

Metaphorically, solving the “parentheses” and “exponents” of the equation first, I take as roughly equivalent to defining the purpose and function of the end product: Who is the audience for this book, again? What is the point in designing yet another chair? What is the implicit thrust, or “root” of the problem, in other words?

Once the project’s underlying charge and challenge is clarified, then the ideation can begin; brainstorming and mind-mapping: consideration of all the possible materials available, such as hardwoods and furniture fasteners, in the case of the chair. Or the arc of the narrative of the book: What is in the first chapter; how do we end the last chapter; how many pages or words? Both of which I think we can regard as a kind of “multiplication” process. It may expand into future phases, with issues around getting the book, or the chair, published or manufactured, respectively.

Once everything that may prove to be pertinent to the design and production of the new thing has been teased out through free association — and documented so as not to be lost — the exercise shifts to dividing the formless mosaic of the mind-map into relatively distinct groupings, much like Buddhism’s five aggregates of sentient awareness. This I take as a form of “division.” Dividing the holistic concept into digestible bites in order to further develop the finer details. What options are there for furniture feet, finishes, and fabrics, if the chair is to be upholstered? What is the most logical sequence of chapters for the table of contents; how detailed do we need to make the footnotes or endnotes?

Prioritizing the categories to take them one at a time, we then examine each set individually as to their completeness, and flesh them out, including elements we may not have thought of in the first go-round. This is the role of “addition,” kicking in once we have neatly divided the whole into discrete parts, each of which benefits from individual embellishment. For the chair, this may include line extensions such as choices in fabric, variable sizes and features such as adjustability of an ergonomic model. For the book, it may include illustrations, graphic inserts and, these days, links to online content.

Finally, we get to the “subtraction,” the last in the sequence. For the book, this would comprise the familiar editing process, in the form of major block edits, detailed line edits, and excising text that may not earn the space it occupies in terms of contribution to the story line. For a chair, as a one-off and especially for mass production, it might entail identifying and eliminating unnecessary secondary operations in manufacturing, which prove unnecessary to the quality of the finished product.

In all creative processes, whether in a group or individual endeavor, these steps flow from first considering, defining, and redefining, the initial problem; then mapping out all the various aspects, dimensions, and components of the problem; sorting elements into relatively discrete groupings; then adding any overlooked components to flesh out the various categories; and, finally, editing: prioritizing, setting aside and/or eliminating any and all areas and items of concern that may be safely postponed for later consideration, focusing on those that are most central to a solution, and demanding immediate attention, before moving on to more peripheral issues. This cycle is not a one-and-done, of course; the evolution of the book or chair often requires recycling through the earlier steps repeatedly, until the final design has moved from concept to execution.

Such methods, like everything else these days, have now become ubiquitous online, where we find such apps as “Google docs” listed in 3,400,000,000 search results for “online group methods.”

To conclude this segment, let me add that I feel that my training in the Bauhaus method of design thinking at ID+IIT combined with training in research methodology uniquely positioned me to take on the propagation of Zen as an identified problem, and to focus on the definition of that problem, as it evolved over nearly 50 years to date. The research model enabled me to apply group process to the administrative side, studying the requirements of establishing a 501c3 not-for-profit corporation in compliance with the rules and regs of the IRS, and to manage the many dysfunctional aspects of board of directors’ governance. That the ASZC has been in virtually continuous operation is, I think, testament to the validity of this approach.

In the next segment, we will segue into consideration of these same approaches to the teaching of the unteachable, Zen. Stay tuned and keep practicing.

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Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”

UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to [e-mail]. Gassho.

Producer: Shinjin Larry Little