I have always been curious about how things work. I like to take things apart when I can. It helps me understand many things about the design decisions that were made to make anything - ranging from the materials used, their placement, how they interact and what they end up doing together.
This drive I learned later in life is common to many artists. It makes me feel connected to them and anyone who enjoys creating and making things.
I have always loved cars and knowing how different parts work together. When I was ten years old, I went on a short day trip with my mom, one of her older sisters (the mathematical one) and her husband. It was a hot summer day. The leather upholstery in the car seemed to squish a bit when I sat down.
The driver pulled us out of the driveway and headed down a country road. After about an hour or two, when we were about half-way to our destination, I heard a faint sound. It almost felt like air coming out of a tire, sort of a soft wheezing and deflation noise. I tapped my uncle on the shoulder. He was sitting in the front seat. I told him, “Something is wrong with the back tire on the right.” He half-turned towards me, holding a newspaper in his hands that he was reading, and said, “No such thing. Don’t worry about it.” Then he went on reading.
Roughly thirty minutes later, the driver abruptly stopped the car and jumped out. He came back a few minutes later and announced that we had a flat tire. I leaned out of the window and asked, “On the right?” He nodded. My uncle peered at me over his reading glasses, and pulled them off, and got out of the car to inspect it. He talked to the driver and helped him get a new spare tire put on. Luckily, my uncle had a spare full-size tire in the trunk and we were on our way in another thirty minutes.
I turned to my aunt who was sitting beside me. She smiled at me and said gently, “Smart girl.”
Many years later long after I graduated college at Emory, I ran into an old acquaintance from college, Marie. The woman had a bright orange car that she was very proud of and showed me. I was happy that she was happy and we went out to lunch. At lunch, we got to talking about things and I told her I loved tinkering with cars and seeing how things work.
She was very disturbed by this and said with a shocked voice in a thick Southern accent, “Why would do that, Jan?” (pause). “Really, that is not necessary. Can’t you just take it to a dealer?”
She frowned at me. It was very un-lady-like.
I nodded my head and explained that I had just bought an old German sports car and liked learning how things work and that many mechanical cars (pre-computerization) were truly beautifully made. She shook her head in disapproval. “But why?” she demanded, “Can’t you have someone do it for you?”
Yes, I can have people do things for me. Most of the time they do. But I also like to know how things work…
It was this same impulse that led me to redesign the car interface for a well known car manufacturer - the same company that had built the great car I previously owned. At the time in 2016, they had a fantastic car with amazing engineering from over fifty years of precision German engineering, but their dashboard left room for improvement. The dashboard was computerized but not user friendly. So I took it apart and redesigned it. They loved my design and I worked with them to create new interfaces for several vehicles.
This drive has helped me create new things for existing products. It is born of an impulse to create and refine, to make something beautiful and functional. I think all artists have this impulse on some level.
My father also loved to design things. He was precise and careful in everything he did and a remarkable mechanical engineer. I also learned that my grandfather, his father, loved to tinker too and would take apart devices all the time in the drawing room of his primary residence. He wanted to know how they worked.
If you know someone who has this impulse, encourage that person. You never know what that person might create. :)