Last October Superstorm Sandy slammed into the Eastern Seaboard of the U.S., leaving a trail of destruction that stretched from Florida to Maine. More than 100 people died and 300,000 homes were destroyed. Total damage reached $75 billion, much of it in the New York-New Jersey area. On the first anniversary of the storm, we look at a collaborative project between frog and FEMA, the Federal Emergency Management Agency, aimed at finding innovative approaches to disaster relief.
Curated by Bay Area designer and educator Jon Sueda, All Possible Futures features 37 projects from renowned designers Ed Fella, Experimental Jetset, Daniel Eatock, Martin Venezky, and many more. The idea for the exhibition originated from Sueda’s interest in showcasing the value of design projects that failed for any number of reasons, including being rejected by clients. The result is an exhibition of speculative design pieces that celebrate the questioning of boundaries regarding concepts, processes, technologies, and form.
As one of the world’s fastest growing economies, Brazil represents a unique opportunity for domestic investment. This rapidly changing economic climate created a unique opportunity to rethink investment services for a new generation of high income individuals who want to trade and invest their money with efficiency, reliability, and transparency. In 2012 frog helped Banco Indusval & Partners, a mid-sized Brazilian bank, better understand these investors and create a comprehensive business model and experience strategy for Guide Investimentos, an investor-centered wealth management service. We spoke with Jean Sigrist, a partner in charge of innovation at Guide, about how frog is helping the firm elevate the culture of investing in Brazil.
If you read the Project Bertumbuh insight about tangible goods, you may be wondering what happened next.
The word “drone” usually conjures up negative images of invisible eyes in the sky and shadowy, unknown forces. As frog designers, we are natural optimists who see these unmanned aerial vehicles as an opportunity to improve people’s lives – and possibly even save them. This is our vision of a future where drones are not spies, weaponry or scary agents of evil; they can be trusted aids that assist humans tasked with doing some of the most dangerous work we know. In this world, these devices -- with their sensors and bleeding edge technology -- become extensions of our society’s infrastructure and essential to our well-being.
The narrow dirt road that leads northwest to Siaya County Hospital gets choppier as we near our destination. The driver slows, changes gears, and charges ahead, completely unfazed by the 12-inch ruts and puddles in the road, or by the workers carrying crops and supplies draped over bicycles along the sides. Roads are more like guidelines in rural East Africa.
In 2014, more San Franciscans will choose to live in apartments than houses and own bikes, not cars. We’ll recycle, compost and seek other ways to reduce landfill waste, including donating to Goodwill – even if that means taking Muni, hailing Uber, or renting a ZipCar to lug our stuff there. Cue Kermit: “It’s not easy being green.”
When people ask the Project Bertumbuh team, “What are the top three things you learned in the field?” it can be tempting to respond with a list of about a hundred observations, insights, and opportunity areas. But part of synthesis is determining which learnings should take the highest priority. That comes in a couple of ways: If an insight has volume - if we saw a behavior again and again across contexts, crossing occupational, gender, income and/or geography lines, we highlight it; if there’s relevance - if it is actionable by our client and last but certainly not least there is the size of potential impact.
The easy part of building the Internet of Things (IoT) is connecting the infrastructure. Sensors and wireless technology expedite the flow of data from “things” to us and become the source of new products, market opportunities and cost savings. Yet as these connections multiply and generate massive amounts of data, the hard part is remaining mindful of the human motivations that are the foundation of the IoT. As designers helping to shape this new world, we should continually raise questions about the impact of our rapidly evolving connectedness on the individual, the community and on how we live.
After two hours on curvy mountain roads, and an hour on a stone-cobbled, one-lane track, our team arrived in the village at the top of the tea plantation. Our plan was to interview the new branchless bank agent for the tiny village of 85 households, meet some of his customers, and learn about the lives of tea laborers. We arrived at the house of Maman, the agent and community leader, at the planned time and sat down on his carpet to begin our chat. A few minutes in, two gruff looking men, wearing leather jackets and smoking cigarettes, invited themselves in and sat down among our circle. The local interview participants looked tense and mumbled some words of greeting. As the interviewer, I asked our translators to ask the newcomers to introduce themselves — initially thinking I could explain to them that we were conducting an interview and that perhaps they could come back later if they had business with the Maman or his family. Our translators relayed that one man was the security guard for the tea company, the other was a local policeman. Their business was to know everything that happens in the town and determine if they approve. They were not just interested in the interview, but in the product we were representing and piloting in their village. They explained there had been scams in the village before: Ponzi schemes, payroll embezzlement and false cooperatives -- to name a few. They wanted to know if this branchless bank thing was legitimate. The interview turned from our team being the leaders, to being interrogated.