by Enrico Maria Davoli
II.1 Drawing, designating
The similarity between the italian word disegno and the english word design is suggestive but also misleading. Both can be traced back to the latin verb designare. This verb (and its synonym delineare) is attested both in the concrete sense of drawing or tracing and in the abstract sense of planning or imagining. In modern european languages, this range of meanings has expanded further, finding new fields of application, both concrete and metaphorical. Words derived from the common latin root have gradually become specialized to correspond to the specific uses of various languages, and have in turn become related to other words of different origins and etymologies.
When we say disegno in italian, we immediately think of a trace made with a pencil, pen, chalk (or any other tool capable of leaving a mark) on a surface, be it paper, blackboard, wall, canvas, or other. It is still a drawing if, for example, lines are traced with a stick on the ground or with a finger on a touch screen. In both archaic and futuristic modes, the act of drawing and its final result, the drawing itself, are, for those involved in creative processes, a concrete and tangible reality: a system of signs deposited on a surface.
To better specify what drawing aims to achieve, definitions such as freehand drawing, geometric drawing, technical drawing, and scientific drawing can be used. So, although the two words seem almost identical, the correct english translation of the word disegno is not design but drawing. The noun drawing derives from the verb to draw, which, among its meanings, also refers to the action of drawing, tracing, or sketching. Therefore, disegno and drawing primarily refer to the graphic representation of an idea or project, not the idea or project itself.
On the other hand, the word design essentially refers to what precedes, accompanies, and governs graphic execution: the activities of conception, composition, and computation. Almost always, a project (whether architectural, decorative, scenographic, or involving everyday objects) is realized in a drawing. Contour and chiaroscuro drawing, even when updated with the special effects of sophisticated rendering programs, is the form through which design activities are usually visualized and communicated. In western tradition, the idea of drawing is closely linked to the imaginative processes that precede realization. Consider the renaissance conception of drawing, as described in Giorgio Vasari’s Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects. According to Vasari, drawing is a creative activity that oversees painting, sculpture, and architecture.
But ultimately, in the process leading to the drafting of a project, the act of drawing is not an essential condition but a possibility, albeit a highly probable one. Once completed, the project (from the latin verb proicĕre: “to throw forward”, “to stretch out” and therefore, moving from the concrete to the abstract, “to prefigure”) almost always consists of a sequence of drawings enriched with a set of information: dimensions, proposals for materials and colors, scale models, technical reports, etc. In short, between planning and design on the one hand, and drawing on the other, there is no identity but rather logical consequentiality, in that who designs and plans cannot normally avoid relying on some form of drawing.
Thus, throughout the english-speaking world, the noun design (and the corresponding verb to design) is commonly used, even in pre-industrial contexts, to refer to a wide variety of planning activities. For example, pattern design refers to the design of modular and repeatable ornamental motifs, iconic or non-iconic (patterns), to decorate any type of material or object. Within this macro area, we can find – to cite just a few examples – tile design (the design of ornamental motifs for ceramic coverings), wallpaper design (the design of ornamental motifs for wallpaper), textile design (the design of ornamental motifs, both printed and embroidered, for fabrics), and stained glass design (the design of stained glass windows, such as in the grisaille and lead technique used in medieval churches). The same thing happened in the past in other languages. In 16th-18th century treatises, the word disegno (or more often, in ancient Italian, dissegno) was frequently used to refer to a diagram, a graph, or a sheet of graph paper containing the instructions necessary to make one or more examples of the same artifact in a wide variety of artistic, craft, and technical fields: from lace-making to cabinet-making to the construction of machinery and tools.
The renaissance and baroque periods saw the heyday of italian language and civilization, so it is not surprising that the international lingua franca in the arts and music is still rich in Italian expressions today. The cycle of early modern enlightenment and romanticism brought fortune, especially in the fields of historical, literary, philosophical, and scientific studies, to many french and german expressions. The full modernity of the 19th and 20th centuries, driven by the industrial and technological revolution, in turn disseminated english terms throughout all fields of international culture and the arts.
If we consider the word design, it could not be otherwise: the cradle of the industrial revolution, Great Britain, was also the first country to become aware, in terms of cultural debate, of the issues related to modern industry and its relationship with design and artistry. And it gave this debate many of the words – including design – that were already used to talk about other activities, in which manual skills and craftsmanship were the salient features. Ultimately, design proved to be the most plastic and flexible word among its counterparts in various european languages. Its phonetic adaptability and its mimicry did the rest, allowing it to enter the ranks of universal, globalized terms.
Clearly, it is not the word design itself that opens up a new historical perspective, but rather how it is used. As we have seen, design has always existed, both before and after people began discussing industrial design. However, since industrial design began occupying the center of the cultural and economic scene, no design activity could ever be conceived in the same way again. Not even the most sector-specific manufacturers or the associations of artists and artisans who want to reaffirm the primacy of art over industry, following the Arts & Crafts model, will be able to avoid thinking in terms of clear and consistent design choices.
This is why emphasizing the qualitative leap that occurs during this crucial transition is so important. The new regime of the arts is established through the relationship with modern industry. This includes arts that would seem immune to contamination by the industrial economy, such as painting and sculpture.
II.2 Early signs of industrial design
At this point, it is legitimate to ask: who coined the term industrial design? Who used it first? It’s impossible to say for sure. An early reference can be found in a prestigious victorian magazine, “The Art-Union”. More specifically, in an 1840 report dedicated to the journey of an official British delegation to France, Prussia, and Bavaria, tasked with visiting the “schools of design” (in quotation marks, the exact words used by the author) in those countries. Speaking of the École des Beaux-Arts in Lyon, the columnist notes that, although not one of the core courses, “design for silk manufacture” is among the most popular, given Lyon’s long tradition in the sector. He explains that students are not required to choose between a career in “fine arts” and one in “industrial design”, at least until they have completed the common cycle of studies “from the antique and from the living model”. He adds that, once they have completed their studies, many graduates keep both paths open, especially since those who work “for industrial purposes” are “well paid and highly considered”.
Speaking of Louis Philippe’s France, a monarch with liberal sympathies who was well regarded across the Channel, “The Art Journal” had no qualms about calling artistic activities carried out in service to businesses and companies industrial design. By this time, it was evident that industrial design was an all-encompassing term applicable to any form of mass production, including those closely related to traditional craftsmanship. “The Art Journal” also highlights the employment prospects and economic and social recognition that design studies guarantee to those who complete them, albeit less prestigious. The journal notes that in all three countries visited by the british delegation, design education is closely linked to local manufacturing activities. In other words, schooling trains skilled and knowledgeable professionals, fueling a virtuous circle that helps local industry and raises its level.
What changes were taking place in art education in Europe and the United States around the middle of the 19th century? Academic education was beginning to split into two main categories: fine arts and industrial arts. Academies of fine arts maintained a monopoly on teaching, but a split with what would become known as schools for workers and art institutes was imminent. Academic institutions occupied the higher levels of education necessary for access to the most prestigious artistic professions. Meanwhile, basic artistic education began to take shape. Often managed by local administrations or private individuals, this education could be used in the design of objects, decorative apparatuses, and modular patterns or in the execution of works or parts of works signed by higher-ranking authors. Schools for workers and art schools gained popularity throughout the second half of the 19th century with the establishment of modern states and the spread of mass literacy. Furthermore, polytechnic schools began to spring up throughout Europe from the age of the french revolution onwards. These were university faculties for teaching technological, engineering, and architectural disciplines.
There is another aspect that deserves to be emphasized and which, even in these early years, marks a point in favor of the expression industrial design. Industrial design offers a clear and convincing name for phenomena that do not fall within the realm of fine arts. It emphasizes the planning component inherent in these activities rather than their more or less plausible relationship to painting, sculpture, and architecture. If we want to come up with a specific term, kunstindustrie (“art industry”), used by art historian Alois Riegl (1858-1905) in his time, fits much better than definitions such as minor arts, applied arts, or decorative arts. These terms are beloved by scholars, but ultimately ambiguous.
A few years after “The Art Journal”, France introduced the new discipline. In 1848, Jacques-Eugène Armengaud (1810–1891) published his treatise, Nouveau cours raisonné de dessin industriel. Therefore, it is logical to assume that dessin industriel had already been discussed in France for years. The book was reprinted several times, and starting in 1851, it was translated in Great Britain and the United States under the title The Practical Draughtsman’s Book of Industrial Design. By the mid-19th century, the concept of industrial design/dessin industriel had become well-established on both sides of the Atlantic.
Now, let’s focus on Armengaud’s book. As a mechanical engineer, he wrote a manual of mechanical drawing with an accurate codification of the mathematical, geometric, and graphic procedures necessary for calculating and representing parts of machines to scale. This manual provides the partial views necessary for faithful reproduction. These aspects are not negligible, far from it. However, the focus is clearly on structural components, such as gears, pistons, drive shafts, bolts, and brackets, which are mostly hidden inside. Thus, the formal component remains in the background. Rather, it is taken for granted and, so to speak, not a problem, being contemplated in many finishes that continue to echo classical styles.
Impartiality and graphic clarity are undeniable attributes of Armengaud’s book, arising from the need to standardize drawing procedures so that reading a plate is as simple and accessible as possible. The standardization process that Armengaud applies to graphic language is not a random or isolated occurrence. On the contrary, it involves all aspects of visual communication, which were under pressure from the progress of the industrial economy. Codifications similar to Armengaud’s were also carried out in those years, for example, with regard to color, and the manuals written by scientists such as Michel-Eugène Chevreul (1786-1889), Ogden Rood (1831-1902), and Albert Munsell (1858-1918) found avid readers both in the world of industrial design, due to their multiple applications in the physical and chemical fields, and among impressionist and neo-impressionist painters, who were interested in a purer and more intense color-light.
Even today in France, the dessinateur industriel primarily deals with mechanical and electronic design. Therefore, he is a distinct figure from the designer proper, even though his skills are not entirely unrelated to the latter’s activity. For now, we can say that the pure fascination with technology – prefabricated metal and glass constructions, machines emitting lights, sounds, fumes, and unusual smells – is an inseparable element of industrial design’s aesthetic pretense and gives it a formidable boost.
To find an italian expression similar to those already attested in english and french, we must wait until 1877. In an article for “L’Illustrazione Italiana” dedicated to the Art School of Padua, founded in 1867 by his teacher Pietro Selvatico (1803-1880), the architect and restorer Camillo Boito (1836-1914) wrote, among other things: “This school has now become the model for other industrial design [‘disegno industriale’] schools being established in italian cities. It is directed by a man who deserves recognition in the history and criticism of art. He has never been content with his own books, but rather, as both president of the Academy of Venice and director of the Padua school, he has always sought to embody theories and precepts through teaching”.
In praising Selvatico, whose school trains future workers to specialize in mass production that is still conceived as craftsmanship (carving, cabinetmaking, goldsmithing, ornamental plastics, wrought iron, ceramics, etc.), Boito finds it perfectly normal to group the entire range of disciplines offered by the school under the definition of disegno industriale. It is clear that the expression is now commonplace and sounds familiar. Probably, by sifting through the writings of Boito or others, we could find it attested even in years prior to 1877.
It is well known that industrial civilization will have a hard time taking root in Italy, even in the most advanced and open urban areas. The scale and degree of completion experienced in other countries will be difficult to achieve. Indeed, industrial development on the peninsula continues to contend with traditions, provincialism, and resistance. These are certainly historical limitations, but they are also an original prerogative of Italian work culture. Even in late 19th-century Italy, the most attentive observers—Boito among them—began to discuss industrial design. People everywhere realized that design thinking was closely related to a wide range of graphic, technical, and organizational skills that had become commonplace. Manufacturing could no longer escape this perspective, nor could the education system that prepared future workers.
II.3 From trades to profession
To understand the best way to approach the terms industry and industrial, we must also take into account all previous tradition. In western culture, the notion of industry has been present since ancient times, referring to any productive activity that requires hard work, dedication, and technical organization: the industria of the latin lexicon, in fact. This is why historians and archaeologists commonly refer to very distant ages, including prehistory, as the age of stone, textile, ceramic, metallurgical, bone, horn, fur, and other industries. There is obviously no trace of industrial design in such distant times, but what is certain is that when the conditions for mechanization and energy implementation finally matured, the word industry had already been around for a long time, ready for the encounter. That encounter, from the 18th century onwards, would go down in history as the industrial revolution.
At this point, a question arises: Is there a specific time and place when designers began to explicitly identify as such and aspire to be recognized as such? What cultural context allows the new and uncertain professional profile of designers to emerge in public view, beyond the similarities with architects, graphic designers, painters, decorators, and other figures already present in the arts? As always, there is no deus ex machina who alone knows how to bring about the triumph of the new order of things. However, if we had to name a figure whose career was definitively identified with design, we would mention Joseph Claude Sinel (1889-1975), an American originally from New Zealand.
An illustrator and graphic designer working mainly in California, Sinel went down in history as the first professional to specifically qualify as an industrial designer, even declaring himself as such on his letterhead. This happened around 1920. However, Sinel was well aware that the term was already in use before he decided to adopt it, and in an interview given half a century later, he stated: “… that’s the same time [1920] that I was injecting myself into the industrial design field, of which it’s claimed (and I’m in several of the books where they claim) that I was the first one, and they even say that I invented the name. I’m sure I didn’t do that. I don’t know where it originated and I don’t know where I got hold of it”.
Beyond its documentary value, Sinel’s testimony is highly emblematic. While Europe gave birth to the notion of industrial design, it was the New World that propelled it into the professional realm. In Europe, ties to craft traditions were difficult to break. The comparison with past masters was constant and pressing, and social hierarchies and corporate ties were deeply felt. Across the Atlantic, however, the new professional figure blossomed almost spontaneously within the production and industrial system that employed it.
But there’s more. Sinel’s New Zealand origins make him the first figure in the field of visual communication in western civilization to come from the other hemisphere, from a land that europeans only colonized starting in 1769. In short, since its official beginnings, the design profession has had all the credentials to present itself as a planetary, global profession.
BIBLIOGRAPHY • General history of design: R. De Fusco, Storia del design, Laterza, Rome-Bari 1985; G. Chigiotti, Design. Una storia, Franco Angeli, Milan 2010; D. Dardi, V. Pasca, Design History Handbook, Silvana, Milan 2019. • Vasari's definition of drawing: G. Vasari, The Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects, chapter XV (in the Giunti edition, Florence 1568). • The tradition of pattern design: A.H. Christie, Pattern Design. An Introduction to the Study of Formal Ornament, Dover, New York 1969 (original edition 1929). • The 1840 journalistic account: Dyce's Report to the Board of Trade, on Foreign Schools of Design for Manufacture, "The Art-Union. A Monthly Journal of the Fine Arts", London, September 15, 1840, pp. 143-144. • Riegl and the idea of art industry: A. Riegl, Late Roman Art Industry, Giorgio Bretschneider editore, Rome 1984 (original edition 1901). • Armengaud's book: J.-E. Armengaud, The Practical Draughtsman's Book of Industrial Design, Stringer & Townsend, New York 1854. • Boito's article: C. Boito, Una scuola di disegno per gli artigiani, "L'Illustrazione Italiana", no. 4, 1877, pp. 55-58. • Sinel's testimony comes from a conversation recorded in 1969 by R. Harper, Jo Sinel, Father of American Industrial Design, a transcript of which is kept at the Meyer Library, California College of Arts and Crafts, Oakland. The passage quoted here can be found online: see Wikipedia under "Joseph Claude Sinel" (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Claude_Sinel). Homepage: Jean Prouvé, Maison Metropole, 1949, interior view of the prefabricated building temporarily reassembled at the Jardin des Tuileries in 2011, Paris (www.jeanprouve.com). Below: Joseph Claude Sinel, "Step on It" height and weight measuring device, manufactured by International Ticket Scale Company, 1927, 198 x 45 x 64 cm, Milwaukee, Milwaukee Art Museum.
