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    Everything is Design
    Everything is Design
    Everything is Design
    Ebook85 pages1 hour

    Everything is Design

    By Marianne Vincent

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    About this ebook

    'Everything is Design' illuminates a way forward, a path that can take us to unexpected outcomes for the training and learning happening every day in our organisations. Authored by Marianne Vincent, this e-book brings you into two worlds we don't often see - a concert pianist and an instructional design team and their quest for shape, substance and exceptional results. Discover how skill-building methodologies evolve, tackle the challenges of post-training behaviour change, and witness the rise of Instructional Design as a practice. Packed with insights on Instructional Design's role in achieving organisational goals and solving stubborn problems, this is an essential read for HR practitioners and L&D teams seeking to go beyond crafting training programmes and learning journeys for their people. It is a clarion call for robust Instructional Design that places behaviour change at the workplace front and centre.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMarianne Vincent
    Release dateJun 20, 2023
    ISBN9798223856474
    Everything is Design
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      Book preview

      Everything is Design - Marianne Vincent

      Prologue

      I was initially disappointed with the Van Gogh Alive exhibition in Kuala Lumpur because I was expecting something more (I don’t know what) from the organiser’s tagline: the most-visited multi-sensory exhibition in the world. But disappointment quickly disappeared, making way for something profound.

      What struck me first was how simple it was: two exhibition spaces.

      First, you entered a ‘traditional’ space where miniature reproductions of Van Gogh’s works were mounted. You could pause, look, read, and learn. Every description was clear. It was like learning your ABCs. Off to the side was an interactive area: you could stand in front of an easel, use a pencil, and make a line drawing of one of the paintings.

      In the second space, there was a floor-to-ceiling slide show of Van Gogh’s paintings and quotes. The colours changed so dramatically in the large space. You absorbed animated paintings – trains that circled the room, crows that flew out, short sections of text telling you about the different phases of his life. I found myself whispering to my colleagues who were with me: Oh, that’s Gaugin…That’s when Van Gogh checked himself into the asylum at Saint-Rémy…Ah, this is when he wrote to his brother Theo…This is when baby Vincent was born…Look at the contrast of colour – these dark ones compared to the sunflowers that we know so well…

      I knew none of this before. I realised later how well the first exhibition space had done its job. It was curated for novices like me – so well-thought-out, with an invisible structuring of our experience as we moved through the spaces. Having learned and understood, we could respond to what we were seeing in the second space with names, terms, and concepts that many of us would not have known.

      Reaction to the exhibition had been mixed. I could see why those who know art might hate it. It was not designed for the specialist. I suppose an expert might not marvel at the minds and skills that made the crows fly out towards you at the sound of a gunshot. Perhaps it was only us neophytes who were moved when – at this precise moment – we realised that Van Gogh, who gave us Starry Night, Sunflowers, The Potato Eaters, The Bedroom in Arles, Café Terrace at Night, Almond Blossoms, was close to his death, close to taking his own life, and perhaps knew it as he painted Wheatfield with Crows.

      I had visited the Van Gogh Museum in the Netherlands years ago. I remembered the awe I had for the artist, and the deep sadness when I walked through the final space, reading and looking at his last paintings. Someone, or a team, designed the experience that helped me to learn and to feel deeply in an area about which I had very little knowledge.

      The Kuala Lumpur exhibition will count as a defining moment in my life, because I was encountering Van Gogh again at a time when I had become a writer. I was also working with instructional design teams at People Potential and so creation was a daily affair. Having recently turned 60, I could feel the phases of his life in way I couldn’t when I was younger.

      When one Van Gogh quote flashed before us that evening – In the life of an artist, death is perhaps not the most difficult thing – it was as if the insides of me re-arranged. I turned slowly to my colleagues and said: I think my decades-long fear of death has just dissolved. When something is designed so thoughtfully, your life can change in an instant.

      The Van Gogh Alive exhibition booklet

      Part One: Our Skill-building Methodology is Born, and Grows Up

      A concert pianist tackles skill-building in corporate training

      How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be?

      –Vincent Willem van Gogh

      In late 1986, I performed my final-year examination piano recital at the Conservatorium of the University of Melbourne. Before the official results were out, the Dean called me aside: The examiners are so happy with your playing, they want you to stay on for an honours year. I chose the concerto I would play with the orchestra and spent the summer practising it. However, at the end of summer, the administrator at the Faculty of Music had exhausted all options that would have allowed me to remain. Being an overseas student, it wasn’t straightforward, apparently. My fellow music course-mates suggested marrying one of them. I replied: My father will kill you before you can finish that thought.

      Marianne at her third year recital in Melbourne University

      And so, in early 1987, with an extremely heavy heart, I returned to Malaysia. Our results had been released: I had won ‘Most Outstanding Piano Performance’. I locked myself in the room at my family home where the piano was, and continued practising. I tried to resurrect my long-held dreams of starting a music school, but all I wanted to do was to practise.

      I had to start working and so I started to teach music, but my music career was short: 1987–1991. During these four years, two turning points led me to a fork, and I chose the untravelled path.

      First, I had fallen in love with Terry Netto through a year of writing

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