Participatory design is a very popular, very fuzzy concept. Popular because who doesn’t like the idea of involving the end-user, the community, the customer in the process. Fuzzy because it means so many different things to different people. For clarity, our workshop breaks it down into concepts of participatory research or assessment (having end-users help with idea generation), participatory design (where end-users come on as full co-designers), and participatory evaluation (where end-users are involved in field testing and prototype assessment).

This was probably the trickiest workshop in terms of activities. For the participatory research section, it’s rather straightforward. But when it came to participatory design, the process was somewhat less simple. Should we run a field exercise with our Navajo hosts? But given the complexity of the setup, would we be able to explain what they should do as co-designers in an imaginary design scenario within the limited time frame? Should we use ourselves as the participants and run a mock exercise to gain clarity around the methods? But then can we separate ourselves from our previous knowledge as full-fledged design professionals enough to really grasp the concept?

Tyler taking part in the workshop

In the end, we ran a mock exercise around redesigning our CataCamp experience, as all of us had direct end-user experience in that case. One of us served as moderator, and the others were participant-designers, which was useful for gaining direct experience with the ideas of participatory design, but a bit unclear in terms of roles and outcomes. Had time been more abundant, we would have loved to try out the process with community members around a more immediate need (i.e. water supply or shepherding). In the end, we cut out that activity from the final workshop, as we haven’t yet perfected either version.

So in the spirit of the workshop, we’d love to hear from you what activities you think might fit in the participatory design section. What’s worked before? What ideas can you come up with for rapidly (say in 30 minutes) involving local communities and creating a positive learning experience? What should the goals and outcomes be? What will teach organizational staff what it’s like to be an end-user thrust into the role of a designer? Looking forward to your ideas!

[Download the Participatory Design Workshop]

Recently I’ve started learning to sketch. Like many, I was told at some point in school that art might not be my forte, and from then on semi-consciously dropped any artistic interests I might have otherwise pursued. And while it may be true that I am not on track to paint impressionist watercolors, sketching accurately is more of a skill you develop than something you either have or don’t. As far as I know, the same is true of most of those mysterious “creative” things we’re told we could never be good at – a topic for another time, but if you’re interested, one place to start is with Carol Dweck’s research on mindset.  Anyways, though I come from a social science/philosophy background, I’ve been floating around design for a few years now, and have run out of good excuses for not being able to draw my ideas on the proverbial napkin.

So I tote my little notebook everywhere now, and use my spare time on the train, in between meetings, or while waiting for water to boil to sketch out anything around me. Now, though I’m proud of my tiny improvements, this post isn’t meant to be about how much fun it is to draw.

Rather, the other day I was trying to draw a book I had lying on the table [instead of actually reading it...]. In the beginning, I’d check the book after every line or curve, measuring out angles and proportions with my pencil. After I got the basics down, I started getting a bit sloppy. I’d go two or three steps before glancing back at my subject, and I’d skip the quick measurements in the interest of time. The initial proportions were great. The later ones, not so much.

It’s the exact same in design. Most designers will faithfully go through the initial research process, dutifully collecting insights, making videos, and observing needs in action. But in many projects,  financial and time considerations can force designers to the sticky notes and studio, emerging only many prototypes later to check their ideas with people out-in-the-world. And the same thing can happen – the metaphorical proportions are off, insights have been mistranslated, or ideas have been lost in the process of moving through too many other brains.

In an ideal world, those who would experience the design would be included in nearly every stage of the process – in research for insights, possibly in synthesis to have their perspective included in frameworks, during high-level design to confirm the general outline, and then in various iterations down to the detailed, nearly-final design to check whether that button is in the right place and right color. Given that, I’m also a realist, and I understand the constraints we all operate under – that process is extremely expensive and rarely possible. There’s also a strong argument to be made for keeping the audience from having too much direct influence over a design, given how rare it is for any of us to consciously be able to state our deep needs and desires. That being said, it’s not bad to aspire to an ideal, and keep in mind that the more we return to our subjects in some form, the more accurate our final creations.

Why do people give? Or better yet, why do people choose more often not to give? I’ve been pondering the sad puppy approach (check out animal shelters), the sad child approach, the human rights arguments (population X should have Y), the lure of the exotic other (i.e. the national geographic approach), the appeal to your superego (“giving is good!”), and other assorted tactics. In the past, very few of these pitches have actually convinced me to donate, more often turning me off. I was reticent to invest, even in groups that I liked. Whether it’s a bystander apathy phenomenon (“well I’m sure someone else will donate”), a lack of direct connection to the results (not being in the office and onsite with the projects, it’s hard to understand exactly where the money goes), or a bit of healthy skepticism (“can that team really accomplish what they say they will?”), giving has never been a straightforward or really tangible process for me.

Over the past year or so, as I’ve worked with, met, and gotten to know more about so many amazing organizations, my views have changed. Investing in a nonprofit, through donations or in-kind services or any form of support, is essentially a statement that you believe in the mission of the organization, you believe in the work it’s doing, and you believe that it should continue to exist. Catapult, along with a number of other nonprofits and social ventures, is able to accomplish its goals in large part due to individual donors. I’ve found that if I really believe that this service should be provided and that the existence of this organization in the world is beneficial, then the most direct way to act is to support it. It’s not at all a given that someone else will, because many people believe the way I used to, that support will come from elsewhere and one needn’t worry. And particularly for many innovative early-stage ventures, initial funding can be make-or-break.

So that being said, where exactly do donations to Catapult go? Well, to be able to provide high-quality design and engineering services to our clients, we first have to support Catapulters with livable salaries. When it comes down to it, our employees are the direct agents of our mission. While we do receive fees from our clients to cover costs, the more we receive in donated funds, the more we can pursue project work with clients based not on their ability to pay but their ability to affect the world. Beyond our human power, we also have to keep the lights on – paying rent, buying equipment, procuring prototyping materials, and funding our machine shop costs. And once we can sustainably cover all of those costs, we can afford to look to expanding our team, our project pipeline, and thus our impact.

If you’re thinking about supporting Catapult, but you’re interested in first learning more about any part of our process, feel free to drop us an e-mail. And we’d love to hear what’s on your mind when you choose to give.