Globally, the European Commission reports, a truckload of textiles heads to landfills or is incinerated every single second.

The fashion industry accounts for some 10 percent of greenhouse gas emissions worldwide.

Less than 1 percent of the materials used to make clothing is recycled, according to a report by the Ellen MacArthur Foundation.

The best way to keep clothes out of a landfill? Don’t make them.

Picture this: Not long ago, it wasn’t unusual for a customer to walk into an H&M store and not be able to find a basic white t-shirt in their size. Why? Like most long-established retail operations, H&M was operating with a push model—placing seasonal bets on what the demand for a given item of clothing might be, locking orders far in advance, and hoping that they were able to sell out. Make a mistake in that kind of model, though, and you can end up with customers unable to find the basics they rely on, or excess inventory you can’t sell. That’s a problem for the business, but for the environment as well—and one that doesn’t fit H&M’s aggressive sustainability goals.

Though H&M had tried to tackle the problem before, the launch of the H&M Group Design Studio, co-created with IDEO, gave the retailer the confidence to go after it again. The team started out by mapping out the complex network of people that make up its supply chain across the globe, meeting with everyone from designers to garment suppliers, logistics managers, and even folks selling the final product in H&M stores. 

They then created an algorithm for more precise ordering, as well as a tool that provides a shared view of information. Instead of placing orders, the new automated flow—dubbed “Cruise Control"—allows staff to work with a demand forecast that gives them more time to focus on customer-centric operations, like providing guidance and inspiration. It also makes it easier for H&M to follow the demands of the market, and place much more accurate bets on what consumers will want, when. Already, H&M has significantly increased sales while cutting excess inventory—a result that improves its bottom line, as well as its environmental impact.

Estimates project that by 2030, global apparel consumption will hit 102 million tons.

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22%

reduction in stock during a pilot program

34%

increase in sales during a pilot program

To foster creative projects that spoke to the needs of local communities and environments, the BSA began to engage its members in collaborative, user-led design. The organization launched its first-ever innovation challenge, putting out a call for all members to pitch their ideas for projects in the built environment.

The BSA expected those pitches to have dollar signs attached. To the organizer’s surprise, only one asked for funding. The rest requested less tangible, but equally meaningful support: advice, connections, specific expertise. Those are resources that the BSA has aplenty, but hadn’t learned how to leverage well.

From that first go at an innovation challenge, the BSA learned how to better support its members. It also learned that to lead with purpose and make strategic choices, one must develop the confidence to say no. Instead of spreading itself thin across many projects, the organization decided to take small steps, focusing on one initiative at a time, so that it can deliver focused impact and stay true to its evolving mission.

With 36% of global energy going to buildings and 8% of global emissions caused by cement alone, the architectural community is inextricably intertwined with both the causes and solutions related to climate change.

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According to a survey conducted by the AIA, the architecture profession in the US is less diverse than the population as a whole. This lack of diversity can contribute to a disconnect between architects and the communities they serve.

31

submissions received from innovators in the Boston region working on equity and sustainability challenges

5

innovation teams invited to pitch ideas

The resources that NYU students needed were organized by administrative department, and buried on disparate websites and calendars. But students don’t think in terms of departments—they just need to know where their classes are.

All of this became patently clear as IDEO shadowed students. Team members visited classrooms, walked with them through their days, and hosted pop-ups in highly trafficked areas to get ideas from passersby. That helped the team develop a common understanding of the overall student journey and grounded employees in the key moments that can either make or break a student’s experience. Visualizing their journey helped departments gain a shared understanding of the fractured communications challenge and develop possible solutions.

To synthesize those insights, we formed cross-functional action learning groups, challenging existing practices at the university and coming up with new ways of working. Participants came from a diverse set of departments, including enrollment management, student affairs, marketing and communications, IT, global inclusion, student services, the provost’s office, digital communications, and more. The cohorts sketched early hypotheses and got feedback from faculty, administrators, and students from all of NYU's undergraduate schools to refine initial concepts.

Collaborating with students gave staff a first-hand look at what students were struggling with and a way to engage students directly in addressing those challenges. Just as importantly, there was an overall culture shift at NYU: Administrators started with questions instead of agendas, came together around a table, and reached beyond their job descriptions to meet the needs of students.

First-year students reported receiving hundreds of paper forms, and email from more than 70 unique senders.

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NYU needed to offer students the right resources at the right time—and collaborate to serve them as a unified administration.

New services

in-production include centralized calendars, dynamic campus mapping, and customized notifications

Design-thinking cohorts

now support the student experience

Diversity alone isn’t enough—in marketing or any other facet of business. Today’s brands must authentically engage with and create the conditions for co-design with existing communities.

That sort of deep, meaningful engagement with customers doesn’t happen over Instagram. It requires a playbook, a prototype, and a healthy amount of trust. So, IDEO worked with Athleta and Gap to tap into the wisdom of a council of women who represent intersectional identities and lived experiences. The council surfaced powerful insights for the brand, like the fact that active women don’t need a brand to empower them—they already feel powerful.

After only a few weeks, Athleta experienced the difference between research and a truly reciprocal relationship. The way their brand engages with communities is adding depth, understanding, and authenticity to Athleta’s content, products, and experiences. And women can feel the difference.

76% of US adults say that the media promotes an unattainable body image for women.

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Fewer than 1 in 10 businesses review for inclusion as part of product design and marketing campaigns.

>2X

user growth in 2022

13,000+

Athleta WellPro well-being providers active on the platform

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1. HIT UP YOUR LOCAL FLOWER MART

Go to where your neighborhood florists get their flowers. Arrive early and look for things which will give you bang for your buck such as large bundles of greens which can be trimmed and pulled apart, put into vases, laid on tables as runners or even piled around candles. Buy a smaller quantity of more expensive branches which have colored buds or leaves and use them as accents. Stay away from live flowers which need water and you can set up your table and other decor starting on Wednesday.

2. STRING LIGHTS AREN'T JUST FOR WINTER HOLIDAYS

Place small fairy lights in mason jars, string them around your mantel flanked with pumpkins and bay leaves, and even add to the walls of your bathrooms. Warm glowing lights go a long way to make your space feel celebratory.

3. USE INEXPENSIVE BUTCHER PAPER AS A TABLE RUNNER

For fun, you can stamp the paper with festive images or sayings. Leave a glass jar of colored pencils or crayons on the table and watch your guests color, draw and let their creative confidence shine. Butcher paper over a white table cloth looks more refined, or you can use just the paper as your entire table covering for a more rustic look.

4. HOLD A PIE CONTEST

Everyone loves a little friendly competition. And pie. They love pie! Why not combine both and off load some of the baking? Invite a few outside friends to act as “judges” and whip up some awards like these cute Le Creuset pie birds to up the ante.

5. SET UP A BAR OUTSIDE THE KITCHEN

Setting up a designated spot for the bar is a big plus to keep people out of the kitchen while you are cooking or serving, but don't forget to have wine and water on the table where people are seated for dinner. This allows your guests to have that toasty communal feel even if you aren't serving family style.

6. DESIGN SOMETHING THAT ALL YOUR GUESTS CONTRIBUTE TO

Have everyone write an "I am thankful for ____" card and hang them from a clothespin on twine (shown above), or put a Polaroid camera and a bowl of thumbtacks on a stool let people create a photo wall. A communal craft or experience brings people together (even when their politics don't).

7. SET UP A PHOTO BOOTH

Our resident photographer, Nico, invited us all to pay a visit to his "fish locker" on the way out to get our portraits taken. But you don't need a professional setup to create great snapshots. Simply mount an iPhone on a tripod, reserve a wall, and fill a box with a stash of fall props like turkey hats, a cornucopia, giant utensils, a plastic drumstick, and maybe a bonnet (yes, there's a pilgrim costume category on Amazon).

8. INVITE A T.REX TO DINNER

Our Chicago Managing Directors gave the studio’s traditional Thanksgiving toast wearing an inflatable dinosaur costume. You don’t have to go to such Mesozoic extremes, but it never hurts to throw some random, unexpected sumpin’ sumpin’ in the mix to make an event extra memorable—and Instagrammable.

How do we throw a Thanksgiving dinner for 400 employees and their families? Very carefully. My team, who focus on our collective experience in the IDEO San Francisco office, plans all of the logistics and details for the night and then execute fast and furiously. As with most event production, it’s part creative exercise, part leap of faith. Hosting your own feast of gratitude this year? Go ahead, steal these ideas.

As it happened, our trip coincided with Simca’s annual cocktail party, a magnificent affair. Surrounded by strange people speaking a strange language, I focused on eating. I had my hands and my mouth full, which is why I didn’t notice when an unspeakably tall older woman joined me at the sprawling buffet. Reaching across the table to pluck a wrinkly black olive from a dish, she looked down at me kindly and said, Bon soir. It was Julia Child.

It wasn’t until after college that Julia and Simca came back into my life. My mom gave me their cookbooks as a graduation present. Living on my own for the first time, I was starting to learn how to cook—mostly to impress girls. I would peruse their books for recipe ideas and would make regular calls to my mom to explain the “why” behind a recipe. We’d talk endlessly about converting from fresh to dry herbs, how to beat egg whites into stiff white peaks, and how to make pie dough, especially for apple pie.

Growing up, my mom’s apple pies were identical year to year. They were massive, doubled-crusted affairs stuffed with at least four pounds of Granny Smith apples. And that’s exactly how I made my apple pies, too—at first.

Fast forward a decade. I was living in Bucktown, a neighborhood on Chicago’s Northwest Side, with my now wife and our two young daughters. (The “cooking to impress girls” thing worked.) We were hosting our first Thanksgiving. I had discovered a new way of forming an apple pie by folding over the edges of the pastry to keep the apples in. When I presented it to our guests I said, “Now I can make an apple pie even if I don’t have a pie plate!” After recovering from laughter, they insisted I enter the Bucktown Apple Pie Contest. I thought it was the wine talking. But in 2011, and dozens of family-pleasing pies later, I thought, “Why not?”

The Bucktown Apple Pie Contest is the largest apple pie contest in the country. It’s held at the Holstein Park Field House and features local pastry celebrities like the owners of Hoosier Mama Pie Company and Tipsy Cakes who judge over 150 eager entries.

The two Field House gyms were filled with tables loaded down with pies. In the auditorium, a honky tonk band belted out tunes. I fought my way through the crowd and quickly scanned the list on the door with the semi-finalists. Not me. Oh! But, there's a list of finalists! Also, not me. Merde.

I felt like a loser. (Technically, I was a loser.) "Those were great pies," I thought. "My best possible pies..." Or were they?

When the 2012 contest rolled around, I was determined to make the Best. Goddamn. Pie. Period. It was time to break my recipe down.

I dug deep into my primary sources. Simca was an intuitive cook, confident in her methods. She was always trying new things, whereas Julia was more concerned about perfecting. She tested and re-tested her recipes, trying and tracking different techniques. I needed both Simca’s confidence to change my recipe and Julia’s discipline to learn. And I needed a hotline to my mom who has cooked everything under the sun.

After consulting with my mom, I said, “Screw the vegetarians!” and went back to lard. The crust got richer and flakier. I suspected my mom’s Granny Smith’s, while tried and true, weren’t artisanal enough, so I tried Northern Spy and Cox’s Red Pippin, which has a great name but dissolves in cooking. A pastry-chef friend recommended combining Fuji and Granny Smith apples, a thrill because it combined my favorite eating and cooking apples.

I went “off-recipe” and doubled the sugar in the pastry. Too sweet on its own perhaps, but not when paired with the tart apples and lemon of the pie. The contest demanded a double-crust, but I thought lattice tops were mundane, so my wife researched alternatives, which led to me devising a method of cutting apple-leaf shapes with a mezzaluna and trying three different knives before hitting on the perfect leaf-veining technique. When the dough leaves browned unevenly, a friend suggested glazing them individually before assembling. I taught my daughters how to peel apples in one strip and even experimented with prettier ways to core the apples

My wife described my obsession as the pursuit of the Platonic Ideal of Apple Pie.

I made pies every week for the month before the contest. While I was crazily dissecting the look, taste, and mouth feel of my pies, my family was blissfully happy. After all, every Sunday, they got pie.

The day of the contest came. It was a Sunday in October, threatening rain. I put two pies in a basket and headed to the Holstein Park Fieldhouse. The place was a madhouse. The two gyms were filled with tables loaded down with pies. In the auditorium, a honky tonk band belted out tunes.

After the judging, I fought my way through the crowd and quickly scanned the list on the door with the semi-finalists. My name was nowhere in sight. “Really?!? After all that?!?” I thought. But wait! My pies were on the Finalists’ table, and while there were some delicious looking entries, my breath caught when I noticed more of MY pie had been eaten by the judges than any of the others.

Suddenly, the honky tonk band stopped playing and they began the announcements. My eyes scanned the big board with gloriously gaudy ribbons. The judges started to announce the winners. I stood still, unable to speak or move. They announced third place… Then second place… And then… Time stopped and I heard my name coming over the loud speakers. I stumbled up on stage and a judge pinned a blue ribbon with a little silver pie on it on my shirt.

There was noise and camera flashes and my girls were jumping up and down. There was even a TV crew with giant cameras and flood lights. Still shaking with excitement, I stumbled into the thick crowd. A young woman came up to me and asked: “Butter or lard?!” “Both,” I whispered, and she gasped with delight.

My family and I floated downstairs and across the park to our car giggling and hugging and talking about pie. The first person I called on our way home was my mom. She was so happy and proud. “Which recipe did you use?” she asked.

And I thought back to that warm August night in France, when I first met Simca and Julia, and all the subsequent hours pouring over their recipes. My pursuit of the Platonic Ideal of Apple Pie felt serious, but somehow new, which Simca would approve of. While my relentless testing of techniques was something Julia would have liked.

And then I remembered all the beautiful food my mom made for our family and her patient instructions over the phone as I slowly learned how to cook for myself.

And in that moment I felt like I had arrived. “Which recipe did you use?” my mother asked again.

“My own,” I said, smiling.

Murphy MacDonald’s Award-Winning Rustic Apple Pie Recipe

Crust

1½ c unbleached all-purpose flour
½ c unbleached cake flour
¼ t salt
4T sugar
6 oz butter (lightly salted), chilled, and diced
2 oz lard, chilled
½ c ice water

1. Place dry ingredients and diced butter in a food processor bowl fitted with the steel knife. Pulse 5-6 times to break up the butter.
2. Add the lard, turn on the machine, immediately and steadily pour in the ice water, and turn off the machine. Pulse 2-3 times. The dough should look like small lumps. Do not run the machine so long that the dough masses on the blade.
3. Turn the mostly crumb dough onto a lightly floured surface and press it into a single mass. For the final blending, use the heel of your hand to smear egg-sized clumps of the dough crumbs together. Work through the dough until all crumbs are combined.
4. Divide the dough into two unequal portions, approximately 3:2. Form the dough into discs, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate up to 3 hours or overnight.

Filling

2 lb apples, mix of Fuji and Granny Smith
1T lemon juice
¼ c sugar
2 oz butter
1/8 t cinnamon
pinch nutmeg

1. Peel, core, and slice the apples ~¼”+ thick.
2. Toss apples, lemon, and sugar together.
3. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat, add the apples, and cook for 10 minutes, stirring frequently. After 5 minutes, add the cinnamon and nutmeg and stir to combine.
4. After 10 minutes, remove from heat and let rest.

Assembly

Glaze made by beating droplets of water into 1 egg white

1. Preheat the oven to 375˚ F.
2. Remove the smaller of the two pastry discs and roll out to 1/8” thickness.
3. Using a mezzaluna or other round-blade knife, cut the dough into 16-24 apple leaves (elongated football shapes) and set them on a wax-paper lined baking sheet.
4. Use the back of a paring knife blade to score veins into the leaves. Refrigerate the leaves while you prepare the glaze and roll out the bottom crust.
5. Roll out the larger of the two pastry discs to 1/8” thickness, about 12” diameter or more. Use a pizza cutter to trim and clean up the edge of the rolled-out pastry. Transfer the round to a parchment-paper-lined baking sheet.
6. Remove the leaves from the fridge and brush them with the egg white glaze.
7. Spoon the apples (and caramel-y sauce) onto the pastry round, heaping them up to leave a 2” border all around the edge of the pastry.
8. Turn up the edge of the pastry all around, lightly pinching folds together to enclose the apples.
9. Beginning in the center, arrange leaves radiating out to cover the top surface of the apples.
10. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar and bake for 35 minutes.

Serve warm if possible, with vanilla ice cream.

Recipe copyright 2013 Murphy MacDonald.

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I distinctly remember when my obsession with food began. It was August 1984 and I was 14. My family and I were traveling across Europe. In France, we stopped in Provence to visit my mom’s friend, Simone Beck, also known as Simca. Simca had written Mastering the Art of French Cooking with Julia Child.

I took this picture in Lima, Perú. A delivery guy used the cardboard to protect his motorcycle from the rain while picking up orders in the store.

Lima is often gray and cloudy: the locals refer to this weather as “panza de burro" — the "underbelly of the donkey.” However it doesn’t actually rain much. The lack of rain is something of a joke (for example, there’s a theatre play called "Nunca llueve en Lima” — “It never rains in Lima"). So the need to cover your possessions from rain is one that only comes up infrequently.

The owner of this motorcycle was able to improvize, in part because the attitude towards trash is somewhat different. In the West, discarded objects tend to be hidden away and inaccessible. Here, there are more shades of gray: trash is more available and may find more utility before it's discarded for the last time.

Human-centered design requires us to observe human behavior with beginner's eyes, so that we can spot the innate ways people interact with the world around them. We call these intuitive and unconscious reactions thoughtless acts, and IDEO designers collect photos of them to inspire the invention of new products, services, and experiences.

Here’s how we went from a hacked-together prototype to a popular game.

Idea Seed

Our initial inspiration for the game came from “The Matrix.” There’s a scene in the beginning of the movie where the hero, Neo, gets a call from a mysterious stranger. “They're coming for you, Neo, and I don't know what they're going to do.” It’s Morpheus, who warns Neo that there are dangerous agents who are hunting him down. He then gives Neo directions to help him escape.

Our game works the same way. Player one runs around in a 3D VR maze, and player two sees a map and types out instructions for player one to follow. By making the communication of asymmetric experiences our key game mechanic, people can enjoy the experience together. This is important because VR is an immersive medium, but it can be socially isolating.

Refining the Game

Since each of the players sees a different screen (one in 3D and one in 2D), we tried my best to play to the strengths of each medium. VR is great at immersive and suspenseful experiences, so the VR player is the player of action, sneaking around to get treasure and running like hell to escape from enemy agents. A screen is great at showing flat data, and the player who sees it has access to a keyboard. So the hacker player sees a very detailed map and types to control everything.

Cooperation is critical to this game. We designed it be impossible to win by yourself—unless you cheat by looking at both screens. The VR player determines where the game goes, but there are agents around the corner that only the hacker can see, as well as hidden trap doors and lasers. On the screen below, the VR player is blocked by a door. But there’s a password that they can give the hacker player to unlock it.

There’s also a mechanic for the VR player to scan enemies and gather “bits,” the diamond-looking things, which are used to purchase bonus abilities like freezing or blinding enemies. This spices things up, so they have more agency in the game.

Design Tools

Part of designing something well is also designing how you work. With a team of four, we didn’t have the time to carefully craft every aspect of the game. So Mark, the developer, and I made a modular level building kit in Unity that allows people to build a level in just a few minutes. Everyone on the team could pitch in to create VR content. We’re in the process of preparing these tools for Steam Workshop, a website that allows developers to release game creation tools to the greater gaming community.

Our art pipeline got pretty crazy. I made the 2D assets in Illustrator so that I could avoid fussing with the resolution. For 3D assets, I made pixel sketches in Photoshop, turned them into 3D voxel art using Qubicle, played with the textures in Maya, and transferred models to Unity using Picavoxel. Finally, I set up prefabs in Unity so that I could easily swap the art in and out. The process allowed me to quickly pump out consistent and professional art, and instantly test it out in VR—a huge help for a solo artist.

Key Tips for Would-Be VR Designers
This process wasn’t always easy. Here are some important things to keep in mind as you work on your own games.

1. VR is not 2D. Or even 3D. I’ve done a ton of 2D and 3D design before, but VR is nothing like it. I had to develop entirely new design processes, and it was critical to test the game over and over again inside VR to get things just right.
2. Details matter, even for a baseline experience. If 2D UI just a little bit off, it looks funny. Misplace VR UI and people throw up. Getting everything right—from careful sizing of the environment to UI placement to 3D audio cues—is critical.
3. Offer alternative control schemes. This was a tough lesson. When we initially launched, we had a firestorm of complaints because we only had the default control scheme. We had to scramble to create a snap turn comfort mode and a teleportation mode.
4. Test in VR. Some of our biggest missteps happened because we had ideas that we didn’t test quickly enough.I foolishly made the controls more complicated than they needed to be. Since players have VR headsets covering their eyes, we had to constantly remind them about controller locations because they couldn’t see them.
5. Allow the audience to engage. VR can become an amazing social experience when you let your players share the game.

Launching the Game
We’re pretty thrilled with we managed to put together. Here’s a quick video to show what it feels like in action.

In June, we finally launched the game on the Oculus Store and Steam. Over the past 5 months, we’ve sold more than 2300 units. We’re the fourth highest ranked game on the Oculus store. Give it a try—I’d love to hear what you think.

Try it on Steam / Try it on Oculus

Around the time Oculus Rift completed its Kickstarter, I brought my virtual reality headset to a weekend hackathon called the Global Game Jam. Over 48 hours, my team and I built a game prototype where one player navigates his way through a maze, while a second player types instructions to him. The prototype was pretty simple—thrown together in 48 hours, after all—but people had a blast playing it. So a few friends and I decided to build it into something bigger. Over the past three years, we’ve worked nights and weekends to create Black Hat Cooperative, a multiplayer stealth game. We just launched this June on Oculus and Steam, and today our game is one of the highest rated experiences on the Oculus Store.

I help organizations cut through complexity by shaping how they show up, through brand strategy, identity, and storytelling.

Working at the intersection of brand and business, I bring an editorial eye and a bias toward making—turning ideas into tangible experiences that people can understand, trust, and believe in.

My work spans government, healthcare, financial services, media, and consumer goods, from launching Gen Z-focused ventures to building innovation labs and reimagining legacy brands. I relish moments of ambiguity and enjoy translating across teams, perspectives, and priorities to move ideas forward.

I started my career in editorial and digital design, shaping cross-platform experiences and identity systems in publishing and agency environments. That foundation still shapes how I work today: I’m detail-oriented, collaborative, and overreliant on the Oxford comma. I hold a BFA in Visual Communication from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

For 25 years, I've asked the same question: Who does this design exclude—and what are we going to do about it?

My work spans human-centered strategy, inclusive design, and qualitative research, with clients ranging from Microsoft, Google, and Verizon to the National Science Foundation, and San Francisco Unified School District.

Before IDEO, I taught elementary school in East Palo Alto and spent a decade doing design work with social service organizations—where I learned firsthand what it costs people when systems are built without them in mind.

I am currently writing User Error, a nonfiction book about digital access and the design decisions behind it. I live in Oakland, California.

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My expertise spans brand, communication, and product design across tech, education, the arts, and social impact.

I believe great work demands both high-level vision and obsessive attention to detail, and only happens through collaboration.

I bring an inclusive, hands-on approach and a deep understanding of business, which enables me to consistently deliver excellence while always asking why.

Before joining IDEO, I worked at the brand firms Pentagram and VSA Partners. I began my career as a designer, leading teams at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and the Milwaukee Art Museum. I hold an MFA in graphic design from Maryland Institute College of Art and a BFA in communication design from the Milwaukee Institute of Art & Design, and have taught at some of the best design schools in the US.

I am responsible for IDEO’s long-term success in China and working with clients to use design as a tool to enable growth. Specifically, I have helped Chinese companies design holistic brand solutions through the development of their products, communication, services, and innovation teams, and I have helped multinationals expand their presence and influence in China.

I advise global leaders on developing China-led innovation and capabilities.

In over 15 years in IDEO Shanghai, I have worked on projects that use design to elevate the quality of the experience of healthcare products and services, streamline processes that increase productivity, create spaces and programs that promote and enable inclusive communities, and build next generation mobility solutions that are planet-positive.

Before joining IDEO, I worked at Philips Electronics and the Electrolux Group in Italy, the Netherlands, and Singapore on a number of breakthrough commercial products. I am a member of the Young President Organization in Shanghai.

Most AI products today are built for work—a space with clear problems and established systems. One founder noticed a gap: personal life is messier, harder to systematize, and mostly left behind by the AI boom. So she built Cue, a personal AI that lives inside iMessage and group chats, to go where the other tools haven't.

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In this episode, Becca Carroll, IDEO's Chief Strategy Officer, talks with Sida Li, co-founder and CEO of Shared Context Lab, about staying anchored to a human need while the technology around her keeps changing shape, why she treats her business model with the same rigor she'd bring to a product, and what it feels like to build a company at this particular, disorienting moment in AI.

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The conversation also gets into how Sida makes design decisions: the language Cue uses to describe itself, the tradeoffs behind building inside iMessage instead of a new app, and a real story about a business idea that didn’t pan out.

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This is the second in a two-part series profiling founders from IDEO's Startups-in-Residence program. The first conversation is with Johannes Seemann, founder of Sooner, on designing GenAI for the emotional side of money.

Most personal financial tools are built to run the numbers and optimize towards a budget. While that works for some, most people experience money as a lived relationship that does not neatly fit into a spreadsheet. Johannes Seemann and Becca Carroll discuss why money is emotional before it is mathematical, and what a human-centered approach to building a generative AI financial product looks like in practice.

Mina Seetharaman talks with Scott Shigeoka, author of Seek and Head of Curiosity Cultivation at the Eames Institute, about what distinguishes genuinely curious leadership from performative curiosity, how power dynamics shape curiosity, and why practicing curiosity can restore energy rather than drain it.

Mina Seetharaman talks with David Epstein, author of Inside the Box and Range, about why total freedom often produces average work, how leaders can design useful limits on purpose, and what organizations such as General Magic and Pixar reveal about the relationship between boundaries and creativity.