The only possible reason for this divergence is that the design process, with it’s characteristic state of flux in relation to human context, has superseded my own preconceptions of what should be done. The logic of human need and the engineering of appropriate response has somehow become a liberating experience, less of a struggle, and more of a journey, with an unknown but fascinating end.

I worked in different roles for each of these projects, but both share a common logic of trying to do what I’m good at in a way that creates value. In the first project, a large joinery contractor who was refurbishing the meeting desks for the Scottish Parliament needed a way of connecting the desks securely, in a way that could be disassembled and reassembled repeatedly. The existing fittings weren’t up the to job, and the last time the desk had been stuck together with NaeNails, the silicone mastic beloved of joiners everywhere. The fittings were never seen, but had to be accurate and strong, and made within a week. These constrictions lead to a 6mm steel plate, CNC punched with holes that used replaceable bolts as location fittings. The finish was oily, the edges rough, the holes accurate in their centres to within 0.1mm, and the client was dead chuffed.

In a sense, it was the constraints of time and cost that helped resolve the design of the fittings, which anecdotally confirms the benefit of constraint. Sometimes, however, these restraints come from other, though equally compelling, directions. Safety was the major factor in the second project, where a jewellery shop sign was initially proposed in water jet cut Travertine, sandwiched between two sheets of toughened glass, and hung on the side of a building.

To have a chunk of stone fall on a client’s head, we all agreed, would be bad for business for everyone, not least the client, so through revision the stone became thinner, changed into stainless steel, became covered in gold leaf, and then finally BECAME gold leaf. The glass became laminated, then acrylic, and finally polycarbonate, bonded together with clear epoxy resin in a sandwich with the gold leaf in between. The project is under construction at the moment, but the sample shows that the concept of holding a precious object captive within a crystalline case has survived this transformation.

Looking at these two images, they are linked more by rigour of approach than by a formal language. I am convinced that the divergent materials are appropriate to their respective contexts, but explaining ‘what I do’ is increasingly difficult, as clients tend to focus on product, rather than process.

Is the blanket application of materials or technique by designers due to a perceived need to present a coherent catalogue of work? And could we address this poverty of ideas by allowing process to take the place of product?

I’m hoping the the way in which the Shadow Screen project is run can throw open the traditionally closed doors of the competition process, and in doing so find new ways of generating value for all who participate. I believe that the best work happens when everyone does what they do best, which is why I concentrate on helping interior designers and architects resolve their product design issues, using my experience of designing and making furniture. For this reason, the Shadow Screen service will never be a vehicle for launching my own designs as such; I am not a graphic, or textile, or typographic artist, but I feel strongly that the best working process should develop and reward input in all these fields.

I’m hoping that over the next two months this process surprises me. If it doesn’t, then there is something wrong. I’m hoping that we get some entries that question some of the contextual issues of the Shadow Screens, and stir up the muddy waters of philosophical, formal and conceptual issues raised by the process of turning shadow into form. I’m also hoping for a certain freedom from an aesthetic that draws from existing ‘patterns’; that suggests how beauty could be formed from the mundane, and reward sustained viewing.

On a practical note, I’ve found that those patterns with a random appearance are more suited to cropping. The Maple Leaf, by Jacueline Poncelet (far left) is by far the most popular, and works well when cropped to any proportion. The current patterns show a strong bias towards natural forms as photograms, but this is not intended as a template for further patterns. If anything, I would like to see greater breadth of subject and form.

I’d love to see inspiration drawn from non-formal sources, too. The idea of negative space being more important than the figure is present in many fields, all the way from anthropology (definition of self through others), through to jazz. When I worked in a hifi shop as a teenager in Preston, resident jazz buff Les imparted pearls of wisdom to make a long days on my feet more bearable. “it’s not the notes your listening to in Jazz, lad, it’s the spaces. When you realize that, the whole thing changes…”

Any comments, either on the process, of the ideas suggested, are very welcome.