Some of the more enjoyable surfaces (for example, the grain of a fine mahogany table top or a Japanese sword) have an interplay between pattern and texture which, though two-dimensional, suggests the unseen internal three-dimensional array.
As we draw closer, we see that the three-faceted planes of the museum are fabricated out of rectangular panels made of white bronze that was poured directly into dammed forms on the concrete floor of the foundry, producing a surface texture similar to both metal and stone.
I’m now more inclined to attribute Looseleaf’s power to its visual texture than to some cognitive media-style abstraction. And the visual texture owes more to the beauty (yes, beauty!) of the original pdfs from the Vasulka Archive. Perhaps the demo is best understood not as a prototype generic tool, but as a specific curated experience in its own right, with form and content claiming equal importance in its overall success.
Even so, I think there are some general lessons that can be drawn from this demo:
Content is not inert
Visual texture lets content breathe
Visual texture lets the eye wander without losing itself
When you look at the consumer products generated by many other manufacturers, and even by Braun today, there seem to be an awful lot of camels around. Maybe these companies are too diffuse, have the decision-makers in the wrong places or are continually making the wrong decisions and have no one to stop them. They make products with short-term goals in mind, seducing the eye of the buyer with fashionable colors, sensational curves or exotic surfaces. They may have external designers and, perhaps most significantly, the brand identity is defined by external marketing concerns, rather than design or user-related issues.
The lesson to learn from Braun is that allowing a consistent philanthropic design approach to define a company can be extremely successful if it is executed with discipline, flexibility and good timing combined with hard work and, not least, great talent.