When you’re under 40, buying a life insurance policy may seem about as practical as buying a Humvee. That makes insurance a tough sell for a 165-year-old company like MassMutual. To find a way to become relevant to this generation, MassMutual partnered with IDEO with a mission to get young people interested in their own spending habits.

Over the course of two years, the teams set out to learn about how people across the US spend and save their money, and they uncovered a simple theory: you either have a smart money mindset or you don’t. When it comes to being mature about financial issues—chipping away debt, saving to buy a car—it doesn’t always come naturally. If anything, many feel disconnected from money-related matters, even if it’s in their best interest to know more.

"I hate going to a bank and not really knowing what I am doing when it comes to money," said Simon Bowers, a 31-year-old who works in public relations, featured in an article in Fast Company about the MassMutual-IDEO collaboration. "They don’t seem to take into account that this might be scary for us."

So how to invite this wary demographic to the table? Design an accessible way to meet them wherever they are: online and on their phones. IDEO helped build the new venture from the ground up—designing a brand identity and experience focused on transparency, meeting users where they are, and helping people navigate complicated financial situations so they can live life on their own terms. It’s called Society of Grownups, and you can think of it as a sort of master’s program for adulthood. Each piece of the program builds on a common vision that continues to iterate every day.

After building and testing full-scale, live prototypes, the brick-and-mortar Boston location opened in 2014 and operated much like a supper club—a warm, inviting space where young people could hang out, feast on delicious meals, attend talks, and learn about things like 401Ks, living on a budget, and how to pick good, cheap wine. After two years of continued prototyping, MassMutual recognized that the digital channel has the most potential to grow and closed the brick-and-mortar location to focus their investment in building out the bespoke online financial tools to reach more people across the nation.

From leeches to gene therapy, how we treat sickness has changed beyond recognition over the centuries. But one question asked by ancient healers and modern doctors alike remains the same: “How are you feeling?”

“We’ve had the ‘quantified self’ for a number of years—sensors that measure steps, weight, blood pressure,” said Bruce Hellman, cofounder of UK-based digital health startup uMotif. “But by only focusing on the quantitative, we miss the whole picture of a person.”

Hellman cofounded uMotif in 2012, inspired by the self-awareness he gained when tracking his sleep after his baby was born. uMotif gives people the tools to record and track their mood, sleep, and clinically relevant symptoms like dizziness or breathlessness on their mobile phone app, and share the resulting data with their doctor and care team to better inform appointments, and treatment plans.

Named as one of 50 UK "scale-ups" that could grow to over £100m in revenue by not-for-profit organization Silicon Valley Comes to the UK, uMotif’s software and apps have been deployed in dozens of hospitals, and profiled in The Guardian, The Daily Telegraph, and The London Times. With a view to scaling strategically, Hellman applied to IDEO Europe’s first Startup in Residence, a three-month-long program to accelerate companies through design thinking. “We brought the whole of uMotif to IDEO: product, organization, branding, approach, and business model,” said Hellman. “We were keen to re-consider just about everything.”

During the residency, the uMotif team embedded with IDEO’s London studio to work closely with an eclectic team of interaction, business, and communication designers, and design researchers, to explore every aspect of the business.

The team found that although uMotif’s organic growth had reflected the rapidly expanding digital health market, the offer was somewhat fragmented as a result. In response, uMotif decided to tighten its sales focus from 14 branches of medicine to just two: oncology and cardiology (with mental health as an R&D area).

In-depth interviews with patients, nurses, doctors, and executives revealed a clear opportunity: “simple symptom tracking for people going through an acute or serious period in their health, to activate and extend the patient-care team relationship,” Hellman says. The focus switched from the Quantified Self to the Qualified Self, coined by the team to reference uMotif’s unique approach to measuring how people feel.

Designers set about reconfiguring and prototyping aspects of the brand, product, business, and organizational model for delivery. Whereas the original uMotif product had been designed with a single clinician in mind, the team designed a new dashboard catering for the reality of modern healthcare—multiple caregivers.

Ultimately, uMotif’s offer is not just about helping patients understand their own health; it’s about providing meaningful insights that enable them to have richer conversations with their care teams—allowing them to work together to improve care plans and outcomes.

“We are a much more focused, confident, and clear organization, truly prepared to scale sales, delivery and clinical impact,” says Hellman, referring to the impact of their participation in the Startup in Residence program. Now back in its own headquarters, the team takes with it a toolkit of IDEO systems and processes with which to run their business and to apply to new projects, products, and services.

“Health systems around the world are quickly adopting digital channels,” he said. “We aim to be at the forefront of this inevitable shift, using design thinking to put people at the centre of their care, improving quality of life, treatment outcomes, and healthcare experience.”

WATCH: uMotif: Sam's Story.

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IDEO designers wanted to take on a challenge: How might we help kids make better decisions around food and being active?

Designers moved forward with three concepts that addressed this challenge from three completely different directions:

• Top Chops, a hands-on cooking adventure that builds kids’ confidence in the kitchen by working toward becoming a Top Chop “master chef.”
• Daredevils, a wearable device that measures the intensity of energy exerted, but doesn’t prescribe the activity, which kids can use to dare each other to reach activity goals.
• Presso, a set of child-size kitchen tools that slice and dice fresh food in imaginative ways, making cooking fun and helping kids feel they have a role in making their own healthy food.

The design team behind this work was featured on 60 Minutes, and some of the resulting concepts were featured on CBS This Morning.

In updating the popular and industry-defining PalmPilot, Palm Computing wanted to reposition the next-generation Palm V as a high-design accessory to set it apart from its many imitators.

Together with IDEO, it crafted a sleek, elegant device, half the thickness of the original in an anodized aluminum housing. Incorporating an internal lithium-ion battery that recharges in the dock, the side rails act as an open architecture to provide attachment for a variety of styluses, cases, and other add-ons.

In exploring the topic, I soon realized the issue was not the lack of stuff he would leave behind when he passed away, but rather quite the opposite. Today, a digital information overload is present for almost all of us.

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As the techie of the family, I’ve taken on the role of digital archivist for two close loved ones we’ve lost over the years. My brother died in 2003, and 15 years is a very long time ago in technological terms. Nonetheless, I was able to build an archive of his photos, MP3s, school papers, personal documents, and other digital fragments. I felt closer to him because of this.

Today of course, we have social media, and it’s a cultural trope to say that we live out our lives publicly on it. But social data only represents a limited and curated self that we share with the world. Our digital footprint is vast. Beyond our social data, we have our emails and chat histories, the photos and videos we take, the photos and videos others take of us, and our web searches—all of which are rich with metadata, including time, date, and location.

IBM estimates that humanity is generating 250 billion gigabytes of data every single day, and that 90 percent of all the data ever created by mankind has been generated in the past two years alone. In just two years, we’ve surpassed the volume of the entire record of human knowledge from cave paintings up until the end of 2015.

Consider that we’ve only had photographs for a few generations. I can look back at this photo of my young grandfather and his rugby team in County Sligo, Ireland, but we have no photos of his grandfather. Until quite recently, most of humanity never had any record of how their ancestors looked—something we take for granted today. Even the written word was not always ubiquitous; just 200 years ago it’s estimated that only 12 percent of the world’s population was literate.

The digital records for people over a certain age are inherently incomplete, but the younger you are, the more complete your picture is, whether you created it yourself or it was captured by your parents as they documented your childhood to share with Grandma. In the historical blink of an eye, our digital footprints have gone from spotty to distinct—a complete picture of our online lives.

This begs the questions: What if we left our digital footprints behind intentionally? How might we curate, filter, or amend our digital records as we plan for our own end of life?

There are a number of emerging technologies and techniques that can help us design our digital afterlives. If you’re interested in training a chatbot to mimic you, you can begin today with Replika.ai, a bot that learns to be more like you the more you use it. The team behind it has even open-sourced their underlying chat tech on GitHub.

VocalID is a company that allows people to preserve their vocal legacy by recording a set of voice samples. Its primary customers are people who lose their voices—for example those with ALS or Parkinson’s. Could people give these voice samples to family members after their deaths, or request that their voices die with them?

Beyond text, researchers at the University of Washington have shown that with a broad enough set of video samples, we can train an AI to create entirely new video clips of the same subjects. And emerging technology called “deep fakes” can use machine learning to swap faces in online videos.

Synthesizing Obama: Learning Lip Syncing from Audio. University of Washington.

The collision of our immense datasets with rapidly advancing abilities in machine learning is not only inevitable, it’s happening now. Roman Mazurenko is a digital avatar of the real Roman built by one of his grieving friends after his death. Anyone can download it/him from the app store.

This is not about the singularity or transhumanism; I’m not talking about uploading my consciousness to the cloud to create Virtual Sean. But rather, how might our loved ones experience us differently after we pass?

In the future, we’ll have new ways to preserve more bits and pieces of ourselves— our voices, photos, texts, etc.—and new ways for our loved ones to experience this ephemera. There will be new challenges as well. Much of the data we create is invisible to us and is not under our direct control or ownership. When we pass, this data will live on, whether we like it or not.

I expect that you might be simultaneously intrigued and concerned by this topic; that’s to be expected. But just as we must one day face the end of our lives, we must also grapple with our digital identities and digital legacies.

Let’s get the dialogue started.

A few months ago, my cousin asked me about his digital legacy. He asked how his kids could explore his personal artifacts—his ephemera—in the digital age, when there are no vinyl records, physical photographs, or even MP3s to hand down.

In the design world, the practice of critique relies on a universal language learned in art school. Students routinely pin their work up on a wall, and offer feedback in the same way that was modeled for them. From industrial to graphic design, students learn a shared form of expression that allows them to engage with each others’ work and make suggestions for how it could be better.

Perhaps leaning back, stroking one’s chin, and groupthinking creative work is like dancing about architecture, but at least in art school, everyone knows the steps to the dance.

In the modern world of design work, that’s no longer the case. I joined IDEO more than 10 years ago. Since then, the number of disciplines we practice have mushroomed from around 10 to 33. Our backgrounds vary wildly, as do our outputs—from artifacts to interventions, micro to macro, processes to systems. And we’re not the only ones working this way. Multidisciplinary teams are more and more common across industries, and each discipline or practice brings its own jargon—and methods of critique.

In other words, the language barriers teams have to deal with are increasing.

So, how does a data designer critique a teammate’s copywriting? How does a graphic designer articulate her intuition about business design? How does a multidisciplinary team find a universal language to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of a proposed solution?

These questions sent me and a few coworkers off on a assignment. We set out to create a shared vocabulary for critique that would be broad enough to serve the challenges of today. We started by asking: What qualities do we most associate with creative excellence in our work? And, how might critique help ensure our solutions have the desired impact? We came up with an initial prototype, and tested it with teams in the wild.

That experiment illuminated a few things:

• Different disciplines do use different language for talking about their work
• What good looks like is about both process and outcome
• Designers are hungry for this conversation

So, we continued to test the vocabulary. The list diverged and converged until we landed on a set of seven key words, knowing that each is but a doorway into a world of meaning with many interpretations.

1. Beauty
2. Brains
3. Bravery
4. Destiny
5. Heart
6. Magic
7. Mastery

(You can download the cards here.)

The qualities are intentionally open-ended so that all designers (err, all humans) can relate, and so that they can be interpreted in ways that are appropriate in a given context.

The vocabulary was immediately valuable, helping designers move beyond binary sentiments of what is “working” and “not working,” to a more honest and nuanced discussion about the strengths and weaknesses of the work.

Imagine a critique that goes something like this:

Lauren (Software designer): How are you feeling about the content?

Jason (Writer): A little bored.

Lauren: Well, it’s a dry subject.

Jason: But people are people. If I’m bored writing it, they’ll be bored reading it.

Lauren: True. But if you’ve nailed the technical aspects maybe we can play a little...what do you think it needs?

Jason: Heart...maybe some Bravery...

Feels a little like dancing, right?

And that is just a snippet. The vocabulary provides an entry point into deep craft critiques that go well beyond aesthetics, or anything we can pin on a wall. As one coworker remarked to me, “We started thinking about beauty in relationship to an org chart—how it could be graceful and smart.”

The shared language is also useful outside of a design team.

Team member: We use this vocabulary to make sure our work is as bold, innovative, and effective as possible. How do you think your organization might respond to these prompts?

CMO: We are all about data...so that sounds like rigor. Teams are paralyzed until they have all the data. I don’t expect that will change over the course of this project, but I would love for you to help us see the value of beauty and bravery.

With a shared language, we are able to not only name our tendencies (as this CMO did), but identify strengths and weaknesses across the seven qualities, both specific to each discipline’s contribution, and as a whole. This builds empathy and understanding for individual efforts on a team, and creates agreements for how to further develop the work.

In our New York studio, we have been using the vocabulary as a way to reflect on our entire portfolio. As a community of intense New Yorkers, we had assumed that rigor and brains would surface. But as we critiqued our work from 2017, we realized that the work that embodied magic and heart in equal parts was what catalyzed clients and made us most proud.

Realizations like this brought up some compelling questions:

How do we embrace magic and heart in our business development process?

What does the resonance of magic and heart say about New York (and the world) today?

How do we want to stretch and grow in 2018?

In just over a year, the critique vocabulary has helped us reach a new level of discourse and awareness. It has pushed us in new ways, as individuals, teams, and a community. It has opened up new conversations with our clients, and given them language to more deeply engage in our work together.

And this is just the beginning.

Vocabulary is never fixed. It is a living organism that will evolve with time. We hope you will take this critique vocabulary and make it your own.

As we face increasingly complex design challenges, and creative, multidisciplinary teams are called upon to solve them, rigorous critique will be essential.

We can only hope it feels like dancing.

Shout out to IDEO Cambridge, Chicago, and New York for collaboration on these cards. Download the cards here.

Writing about music is like dancing about architecture. The adage has been used in countless ways since the early 1900s, and it’s still the best way I know to describe the challenge of critiquing creative work. What it means to me is, we’re using the wrong language, but it’s all we have.

For Rina, these tiny pointillist masterpieces are about more than just a side project. “Because I have a fast-paced, collaborative job, I love having an environment that allows me to slow down and reflect,” she says.

Years after she and I worked together—back when she was an associate art director at Wired—a friend took me to see her show in a Brooklyn coffee shop. Though the concept was simple, the work was incredibly engaging. I caught up with Rina to learn more about her art, her process, and how “_leafiness_” (her handle on Instagram) helps her meditate and stay creative.

In one sentence, who are you?

An art director, artist, and nature lover.

What do you do? How did you learn it?

I was lucky to study at the School of Visual Arts in New York with amazing mentors and teachers.

In my free time, I paint leaves, though that happened by accident. I live in Park Slope, where the leaves are really beautiful in the fall. I started picking them up on walks, and I happened to have some oil-based pens from a glass project I had done. I got inspired by the shapes of the leaves, and started using the pens—it just happened without me even thinking that much about it. I find it extremely soothing. Many people work together to figure out what goes on a magazine page. It requires a lot of communication, understanding, and clarity. But with this, there’s no one else to weigh in. It’s my yoga.

3 favorite possessions?

1. Black and white photographs of my family in Russia, where I was born. I moved here with them from Moscow when I was 18.
2. Jewelry from my grandma that I never wear but always keep.
3. A collection of handmade paper that I haven’t found a project for yet.

What does a typical work session look like?

I usually get the idea for what I want to do with a leaf in the morning, then do the repetitive work in the evening. Most of the time, I don’t listen to music, but if I do, I listen to meditation music. Otherwise, I end up analyzing the music instead of focusing on what I’m doing. It’s important to be fully in control of your process. It really teaches me to make decisions and be confident in them.

How do you get over creative block?

Fortunately with leaves, I haven't encountered creative blocks yet. It really puts me in a different state, and helps quiet my mind when I make decisions.

What was the last item on your to do list?

Go to the New York Botanical Garden Herbarium. I want to learn different techniques for collection and preservation.

How do you see the world in 2078?

I hope that technology will get better at allowing us to manage and do things faster and easier, but I also hope that in the process of getting there, we can maintain the environment that we need to live.

What’s your number one bucket list item?

I want to live in Italy and speak Italian. The language is so beautiful.

Who are you creative crushin’ on lately?

My crush right now is the artist Sheila Hicks. The thing I absolutely love about her is that she’s still inspired and creating art at the age of 83. No matter how small or large her work—big, sculptural balls of wool fiber, or something tiny—it has this amazing impact. She’s so fluid in expressing any possible emotion. It’s so important to have that in your life, especially over such a long period. To me, she is the luckiest person on earth.

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By day, Rina Kushnir works with illustrators and designs layouts for the New Yorker. But on her own time, she paints leaves she collects in her Brooklyn neighborhood, meticulously studying their patterns and adding dots of oil paint, punched holes, and patterns.

I had some time to kill so I asked a few questions. He neatly tied his theory to aliens, a league of physicists, and a deal with China. Crazy, you might say, but research suggests that the majority of us believe in at least one conspiracy theory.

We’re living in a tornado of misinformation, conspiracies, and fake news. But instead of simply lamenting that fact as you continue scrolling through your feed, let’s learn from it.

As a designer who works to help school systems become more innovative, it’s my job to help spread good ideas. Why not borrow from the sticky, sharable methods behind conspiracy theories to get some good ideas out into the world?

After chatting with my friend at the auto shop, I took a long look at what makes conspiracy theories so compelling and came up with a list of five practices we can nab to spread good. (Know Rogers’ Attributes of Innovations that spread? Conspiracies fit right in!)

1. Start with something recognizable

Memorable conspiracies begin with something familiar—an entrenched belief or a curious phenomena.

The “chemtrails” conspiracy, for example, says that planes leave behind biological agents with lasting effects on the population. People saw white lines in the wake of airplanes in the sky and wondered about it. From this, a new belief was formed.

There’s a lesson here for getting new ideas to take off! Try introducing new concepts through existing beliefs, habits or built-in systems. When we talk about design thinking with educators, for example, we often note that prototyping is just like doing a lesson twice in the same day, but differently. This helps educators reconcile a new practice with an old one.

2. Address a common pain point

Most conspiracies offer up a scapegoat.

It’s common to blame Big Pharma, for example, for withholding cures to diseases for profit.

Blaming large groups of people for complex problems isn’t a good habit. But, when sharing good ideas, we can change the script on scapegoats by proposing a partner to help solve a problem. Leaders in the civil rights movement, for example, helped to spur a broader conversation about women’s liberation—both movements were helped by the other.

3. Let people dream

Some of my favorite conspiracies allow farfetched wishes to come true. Tupac and Elvis, they’re still alive! These conspiracies are rooted in desire. To help new ideas take off, connect them with people’s wildest dreams.

4. Create iconography to build identity

When we see alien iconography out in the world, it gives us a sense—true or not—of how widespread belief in alien life may be. In Roswell, New Mexico, you can pick up all kinds of little green man kitsch—T-shirts with slogans like ALIENS ARE ALIVE and bug-eyed masks at the International UFO Museum. We’re much more likely to believe something when we think lots of other people do, too.

5. Keep it simple

Lasting conspiracies are easily explained in a sentence or less.

The Moon landing hoax, for example, makes a clear and simple argument: Americans wanted to outpace the Russians in space exploration, so they faked the landing on the Moon. The details of how and why may be a wormhole, but the thesis is simple.

Likewise, when you want to share a new idea, make sure that its value is explained simply and unambiguously. The #neveragain movement managed to powerfully convey its message with a simple hashtag.

Conspiracy theories and fake news teach us a lot about how information spreads—and that can be useful as we try to spread good in the world. Here’s one last lesson: All of us believe in something that’s not entirely true. Our shared habit of believing things we want to be true—regardless of what they are—unites us.

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On a road trip up the coast of California, I ended up stuck at an auto repair shop with a man who had some interesting ideas. “The government has a zero-point energy machine that could end our reliance on fossil fuels,” he told me.

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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.