Life Technologies, a global biotech company that supplies scientists with products and services, needed to grow big, from a $4 billion to a $10 billion enterprise. So it hired IDEO to help seed innovation across the company.

"When we started out, it was an R&D thing for driving innovation in new products. Now it’s not just R&D; user-centered innovation is a central part of our culture. It’s what we do throughout the organization," said Amy Cuneo, Associate Director, Customer Insights.

Over a three-year engagement, IDEO helped transform Life Technologies’ corporate culture through the introduction of User-Centered Innovation (UCI), an optimistic, experiential approach to problem-solving. Far outperforming its ambitious goal, Life Technologies is now a $13.6 billion company and uses UCI to inspire innovation throughout the 10,000-person organization.

After working with Life Technologies, IDEO designers came up with three products that have gone to market, including, a new bottle that showcases superior handling and storage, easier identification, and additional room for supplements. And Life Technologies has transformed from a company that aspires to focus on customers to one that truly does.

Unplanned pregnancies are a big problem in the US, especially among unmarried 18- to 29-year-olds. Seven in 10 pregnancies in this demographic are unplanned, a statistic that applies to women of all ethnicities and socioeconomic levels. Complicating matters are the social tension between abstinence-only and contraception-inclusive education, and the difficulty and expense associated with obtaining prescription birth control.

Since 2009, IDEO has worked closely with the National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy, a nonprofit NGO, to address this pressing social challenge. One of the first insights on the project was identifying the need for comprehensive birth control support. Designers looked at ways to transform birth control from a prescription (a piece of paper that is handed to you by a doctor) into a subscription (a program that ensures you start using birth control, use it correctly, and migrate to more effective methods).

Given the complex and potentially overwhelming subject matter, the IDEO team interviewed women in the target demographic; talked with doctors, counselors, and other experts with varying opinions about birth control; and hosted roundtable discussions. They developed several concepts and scenarios that allowed members of the National Campaign to see sex and pregnancy through the eyes of the young women they’re working to reach.

Research and prototyping efforts led to the design of Bedsider, a multi-touchpoint birth control support system with a carefully crafted sex-positive brand, which is uncommon for the healthcare industry. Bedsider focuses on five key areas (awareness, motivational drivers, digital offerings, services, and loyalty) and acts as a vehicle for behavioral change that’s flexible, with room to grow into a much larger movement.

The Ad Council and the National Campaign debuted a multiyear, multimedia public service campaign in November 2011. The Bedsider website offers comprehensive education about existing birth control methods. This includes opt-in reminder services, personal stories from women across the country on why they chose a particular method, a phone service that provides information in both English and Spanish, features such as “Fact or Fiction” (hilarious animated clips debunking popular myths), a “Frisky Friday” newsletter, and more.

Bedsider has launched nationally with the help of an Ad Council campaign that drives sexually active women ages 18–24 to Bedsider.org. The multimedia Public Service Announcement effort includes television, radio, print, web, and nontraditional advertising, as well as an integrated social media program.

“We hope that Bedsider will be a useful tool for women to learn about their birth control options, better manage their birth control, and in the process avoid getting pregnant until they’re ready,” said Planned Parenthood of South Florida and the Treasure Coast in its monthly newsletter. Planned Parenthood and Philliber Research Associates joined forces with the National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy to help test and evaluate Bedsider.

Through a social media campaign called #ThxBirthControl, people are voicing their thoughts about what birth control has made possible for women, men, families, and society. It’s all part of Thanks, Birth Control Day, launched in November 2013 as part of a continuing initiative to encourage positive conversations and more consistent use of birth control by the National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy. To celebrate the movement, IDEO wrote, scored, and performed an animated musical featuring condoms and pill packs dancing the cancan.

According to an independent evaluation of the program, Bedsider is the first digital intervention in reproductive health in the U.S.—with adults as an audience—that has shown to prevent unplanned pregnancy. Turns out that when women and men have the ability to plan, prevent, or space pregnancies, they’re more likely to finish school, achieve their goals, and ultimately have healthier families, according to the nonprofit organization.

Chicago’s federally funded, citywide bike-sharing service, called Divvy, makes a fleet of bicycles available to commuters and tourists 24 hours a day. Alta Bicycle Share (which runs bike-sharing systems in Boston, the Bay Area, DC, and New York City) collaborated with IDEO to spread Divvy’s message, “Divide and Share!” to the cyclists and would-be cyclists of Chicago through the brand.

The new brand would appear on its bikes, stations, company vans, member fobs, and website—and it needed to be ready to hit the streets in just six months. IDEO partnered with local brand strategy studio Firebelly Design to collaborate on a solution. IDEO led the early research, conceptual brand development, and naming phase of the project; the Firebelly team led the visual design and developed the brand guidelines.

The brand has become a functional and fun part of Chicago’s transportation landscape and has been embraced by Chicago commuters. Just three weeks after it launched, the City of Chicago called the Divvy Bikes program the busiest bike-sharing system in the world. Six months into the service, enthusiastic cyclists have racked up over 780,000 trips and 1.7 million-plus miles, and over 12,000 Chicagoans have become members.

‍

After watching her husband suffer from cancer, Tomoko Namba, founder of Japan’s leading mobile internet company, DeNA, wanted to empower people with better health information to aid them in making medical decisions. DeNA partnered with IDEO to help with the design of a genetic test that had mass-market appeal.

Together, IDEO and DeNA designed all the consumer touchpoints from the ground up for the expanding new business, called MYCODE. The aim was not only to create a functioning, usable product, but also to introduce the notion of genetic testing in a privacy-sensitive country that for the most part, hadn’t yet considered it an option. What would make MYCODE resonate with mass-market Japan? How could genetic testing results be shared in a way that was accurate but also actionable and motivating?

The team worked with doctors, nutritionists, medical governing bodies, and more, setting up fast, iterative cycles, and conceptualizing and prototyping almost every aspect of MYCODE in just 16 weeks. Data design, home testing experience, purchase flow, and how the service would be used over the long-term were all considered, along with traditional branding elements, like name, logo, and visual identity.

The result is a product that puts reliable genetic information into the hands of Japanese consumers, helping them to make more informed healthcare decisions. MYCODE went to market in August 2014, just nine months after the engagement with IDEO began. Not only did MYCODE fulfill Namba’s mission, it helped the company find new ways to grow: Upon announcement of the new service, DeNA’s share price jumped 6.7 percent.

As a result, I spent most of my time finding problems, real or imagined, and adding them to a growing list of things I would solve to make my mark. My notebooks from those days suggest that I believed I would be a hero one day, but for now, was resigned to suffer through unrewarding and lonely work. I was an asshole. And you get what you give.

I had started a project with Quiksilver, and with that came a new relationship with a very successful creative director, Erik (now a good friend). Erik invested in inspiration for himself and everyone on his team. He made sure he was creatively nourished—maybe even selfishly so, if that can be said in a positive way—and emulating the kind of creative culture he wanted to instill. It was mutual and reciprocal among his team.

He inspired me, too. I wrote a simple note on a Post-It and stuck it to my computer:

“Be the leader you wish you had.”

I know. It’s all Gandhi and shit (apologies, Gandhi, for any disservice in my comparison). But it shifted my thinking radically. I made a commitment to own my happiness and creative experience.

That week, over regular tears-and-beers drinks with a colleague, we were laughing over an article in Vice called “Wear Dare” in which a couple of friends dressed one another for a day and described their embarrassing moments. We wondered what that would be like at work…

“Let’s do it,” I said. Following my new directive.

We goaded each other through nervous fear, laughter, and finally action… what if this goes wrong? Or worse, what if it goes right?

We invited everyone to put his or her name in a hat and drew at random…

Here’s what happened:

It was the
best
day
ever.

It was joyous and unserious. It wasn’t about fixing; it was about sparking something and letting go.

Only four people didn’t participate out of a studio of nearly 60. I am sure they regretted it! And looking back, I believe that day was a key moment in a process of transformation for myself, using my position for fun instead of misery. It was that raw creative act that broke the dam for me.

Around that time, the project leader for the Quiksilver work came to me with the idea of traveling the California coast in an RV—you know, “as research.” I knew he expected me to say no. And it would certainly lose us a bit of money, but I suppressed the leaderly should and followed my new directive and said yes.

My landlubber colleagues got to be surfers for a few weeks. I joined the team on the road and reconnected with my surf-teen years in San Diego. More importantly, surfing every day, sketching in the sunset over beer and pizza in roadside campgrounds with a bunch of other (mostly) dudes, trading ideas until we fell asleep in the RV, and fomenting the growing optimism and joy of building play into our workday led to the design of great concepts for the client—some of which went to market.

Other changes followed.

We hired some amazing people, who we never would have hired prior, as interviews shifted from picking people apart to finding and supporting possibility.

For a colleague’s wedding we dressed up in Tyvek suits and marched, single file, to the courthouse through Cambridge, MA. (That's what you see in the image up top).

We did design fiction exercises over lunch. The culture began to be one that craved creative pokes to encourage the flow of great ideas.

The studio evolved from being a quiet participant in the business to a creatively rowdy collection of designers from Boston producing content that the rest of IDEO references.

How we were began to shape what we did.

So much had changed with that simple note to myself.

I’m not suggesting that dressing your colleagues in thrift store pantsuits will fix everything. Nor that you need to hit your nadir and be ready to quit before you can find the inspiration to lead from your creative self.

In fact, this is not really about you or me at all.

This is about what I learned the hard way: That great creative leadership is about letting go of that nagging mental image you have of what you are supposed to do. It’s about believing in others, and focusing on fanning the flames of creative, weird, exothermic people, rather than on fixing problems.

How you approach your day is how you will live your life.

If you see your role as a list of broken things that need to be fixed, life will deliver you nothing but. But if you actively seek creativity and fun, and enjoy a little embarrassing dress up now and again, you might just find yourself successfully in the middle of the vibrant culture you’d once wished for.

‍

When I was a fresh, newly appointed lead in our Boston studio, I struggled to have much fun. I believed I was a fixer of broken things, thinking, and people. The story I told myself was that I was a martyr for the fun others were having while I dealt with the important leaderly stuff.

Designers often have the biggest impact when they reimagine the relationship we have with everyday utilities, like those in the kitchen. Decisions as straightforward as the height of a stool can change the fabric of everyday life.

One great example is Austrian designer Margarete Schütte-Lihotzky, the woman who arguably had more impact on modern kitchen design than anyone in history. In celebration of International Women's Day and as an homage to my own grandmother, I wanted to tell her story.

The “fitted” kitchen

I discovered Schütte-Lihotzky on a recent visit to The Design Museum London, when I went to see the “Designer Maker User” exhibit. I'd never heard of her before, but she is credited with creating the first modern, efficient, "fitted" kitchen in 1926. A "fitted" space means that units are attached to a wall rather than free-floating. It was the first time someone thought to design for cooks instead of home builders.

Schütte-Lihotzky worked in the Municipal Building Department in Vienna, which controlled all aspects of housing, but as a newly-graduated architect, she had little experience with cooking. Instead of letting that naiveté hold her back, she embraced her beginner’s mindset and embarked on an early form of design research, interviewing and observing women in their homes and using film to conduct time-motion studies.

She found that women were spending their entire day preparing, cooking, and cleaning. This endurance activity started with trips to the local store, as fridges and storage units were not the norm and food would spoil within a day or so.

To add to the challenge, the stove, sink, and pantry were installed without any consideration for food prep workflow or the relationship between tasks, and work surfaces were installed at varying heights, putting strain on women’s bodies.

From her interactions with everyday cooks and the application of factory-line principles popularized by Henry Ford, Schütte-Lihotzky introduced her replicable, affordable, space-saving, and egalitarian “Frankfurt Kitchen,” named after the New Frankfurt initiative to address the city's shortage of public housing in the 1920s.

Each kitchen came with a swivel stool, a gas stove, built-in storage, a garbage drawer, and an ironing board. Schütte-Lihotzky used resilient materials like oak to repel critters from getting into perishables and installed aluminum storage bins for staples like sugar and flour. The main objective was to free up hours each day for women to devote to other pursuits.

Within a few years, 10,000 of Schütte-Lihotzky’s units were installed in apartment buildings across Frankfurt, and her design became the model for all subsequent Western kitchens. Her work reframed women’s relationship with cooking and set in motion a radical wave of change.

My grandmother, Ruth Kandel, who was born in Frankfurt just as Schütte-Lihotzky's work started getting acclaim, would often tell me about her upbringing—that her purpose in life was defined by “Kirche, Küche, Kinder” (church, kitchen, children.)

While she loved her husband and children dearly, she also dreamed of becoming a lawyer or a social worker and contributing to the world beyond her kitchen. I feel extremely blessed to have had women like Schütte-Lihotzky blaze the trail through design, freeing up my time so that I’m able to embody my grandmother’s desire to go forth and create.

Can the design of today’s food liberate us further?

Now that I’m at IDEO, I have the opportunity to carry Schütte-Lihotzky’s work forward. We partnered with IKEA to think about the future kitchen—how we might design it to be more efficient and use less energy while making it easier for home cooks to feel confident about preparing healthy food.

We also worked with a startup called INFARM to design modular, stackable units that use far less soil, water, and space to grow food at an optimal light and temperature. Because of the compact size of the units, you could install one in your own home kitchen, or stack them up to feed thousands of employees a day during winter months when produce typically has to be shipped in from far away. Good for cooks and good for the planet.

People used to say that a woman’s place was in the kitchen. Today, thanks to pioneers like Schütte-Lihotzky, a woman’s place is anywhere she wants to work.

As a designer who loves to cook, I’m intrigued by the way kitchen design has enabled me—and generations of women who came before me—to spend less time preparing and more time enjoying the food we make, so we can move on to other things.

Small cities provide the character that comes from not having the world’s largest corporations on their hips. Communities are close-knit and form at a slower, more intimate pace. And cultural spaces in those locales are stronger for being able to bring people from diverse backgrounds together to have a dialogue that goes beyond a town hall meeting.

Designing a design community

After graduating from Florida State University and working professionally in Tallahassee, I started to realize that there were a lot of talented folks who were brought up in the community only to eventually light out for a larger zip code—taking their skills and passion with them. At the same time, I saw the community starting to rally around Domi Station, its growing co-working space and tech incubator,.

Wanting to pull those threads together, I quit my job at the large ad agency where I worked to form a creative collective called Foremost, which does international design work and supports local startups and events to help grow Tallahassee’s design community.

Today, when I’m not busy with my day job designing emerging technology at IDEO’s CoLab, I volunteer with Foremost. Our latest project, led locally by my business partners Jake Kiker, Lucas Lindsey, and Micah Widen, is a physical space created for the local community. We call it Happy Motoring.

Finding our station

It all started with an abandoned Esso gas station on the Southside of Tallahassee. I was ecstatic when Foremost bought it in 2015 to create a community space. The mid-century design of the building was (and is) beautiful, something to be preserved, and we knew that creating something locals would get excited about meant bringing them in as co-creators.

So we organized an event where Southside inhabitants could tell us what they wanted, inviting our friends at Street Art Tallahassee to put together a pop-up gallery and Juniors Roasted Coffee to host a campfire that would bring people together.

A shared vision

Part of what I wanted to do in creating Foremost was to show the city how many talented creatives live here. So, for the community event, I rallied five of the best young artists I knew in the illustration scene to battle it out in a Battle of the Boards (based on Ink Wars, an awesome event series put on every year in Georgia at Creative South.) The illustrators were each given an inspirational word and an hour and a half to fill an eight-foot board. The theme was "knockout."

We reserved two of the boards for the Southside community to write down their ideas—big, small, impossible, and plausible—about what the space might become.

Video by Conner Hill.

Building community comes from listening to diverse voices. Too often, we divide ourselves into bite-size neighborhoods or groups that lack a space for hearing each other out. We hope Happy Motoring will become that space—by giving everyone a chance to contribute, we’ll have all of the pieces we need to start building something local and real.

Want to do the same in your hood? It might be easier than you think. Organizations like the Knight Foundation fund grassroots urban innovation in cities. You can start small—create a meetup group, find someone with an empty lot and start a weekend market, or invite some food trucks and organize pop up events. Plant a community garden. Hold group bike rides. Whatever feels right to gain trust and start a dialogue in your hometown.

And if you’re interested in joining the next event in Tallahassee, be sure to follow our updates and join us for Happy Motoring Station’s official launch on March 8, 2018!

‍

When you hear about “design hubs,” your mind may not instantly jump to Tallahassee. But small communities have just as much passion for design as larger metropolises—they just lack the resources to attract the same attention. Though I live in a big city now (Boston), I learned a lot about the importance of community from working and growing up in small towns in Florida.

Sure the game is fun (although neither of us is very good), but what interested us more were the distributed locations of the courts around the city. Spread out across the city like sprinkles on a hipster cupcake, these tennis courts would be a great new way to explore San Francisco. And it would keep us busy for at least the next couple of years of Saturdays.

There was only one problem. I couldn’t find a decent tennis map of San Francisco. I wanted a map that was useful, of course, but also one that was well designed. So I decided to make one myself and give it to my wife as a birthday gift, with the goal of making it attractive enough that she would agree to hang it on our wall, but also useful enough that we would actually make it a centerpiece of our new Saturday hobby. And lastly, I wanted to visualize the MUNI bus routes to each court (since—oddly—riding the bus is another avocation that my wife enjoys).

My starting point was the only map I could find—a fantastically unattractive google map that shows the tennis courts of San Francisco in 2003 graphic design glory.

A tennis map of San Francisco in all its 2003 graphic design glory.

But this was a start! I downloaded it as a KML file. What’s a KML file? It stands for “Keyhole Markup Language” (I have no idea what this means), but what it does is important. With a KML file of the tennis courts, I could manipulate the data file in ArcGIS or QGIS, two enormously powerful pieces of cartography software. For anyone looking to get into amateur cartography, I strongly recommend GQIS. It works on a Mac (which ArcGIS doesn’t) and its cost (zero dollars!) outweighs its bugginess.

My next stop was DataSF.org, which has lots of great open source data, including maps of the city. What I was looking for here was something called a Shapefile, a geospatial data format that nerdy geographers use. I found one corresponding to San Francisco neighborhoods and another for San Francisco parks. Lastly, I found one for the MUNI bus routes of San Francisco.

Next it was off to QGIS to combine my various datasets into a single map.

First there were neighborhoods, then tennis courts, then parks, then bus lines.

With a couple of tweaks, I was able to label the tennis courts and isolate the MUNI bus lines according to route number, so that it looked less like a giant red spider web.

There are many a professional cartographer out there who would have kept playing in QGIS to make their map a bit prettier. But I’m a designer, and the sooner I’m able to get out out of QGIS and into the Adobe Creative Suite, the happier I feel (and the higher likelihood that the final design of the map will be something that someone is willing to hang on a wall). Luckily, QGIS has an option to export a file as an SVG file (a vector format that can be opened by Illustrator).

Post-export, the file looked like this.

You wouldn't hang this baby on the wall?

Wait, what? Why does it look worse? Totally natural and easily fixable. I isolated each layer (parks, tennis courts, MUNI Lines, neighborhoods) and then got to work playing around with colors and stroke weight and other good stuff, all of it so much easier because I was working with a piece of software most designers are familiar with.

At some point during this process, my day job at IDEO led me to Amsterdam. While there, I was inspired by the fantastically-designed Dutch train maps and a pro tip from my graphic designer colleague (Anthony Stimola) that the Dutch font of choice is DIN. Back in front of my computer, I created a look and feel for the map inspired by my travels.

A trip to Amsterdam inspired the look and feel for the finished map.

Next up was the laborious process of determining which bus lines one could actually take to each tennis court. My approach was 100% analog, starting from the top of the alphabetical list of tennis courts (Alamo Square) and marching straight through to the end (Youngblood Coleman), noting all of the bus lines that had a stop within reasonable walking distance to a court. I discovered that Helen Wills court in North Beach takes the prize as most MUNI-accessible tennis court (it's served by nine bus lines!), while five tennis courts around the city are served only by a single bus line.

The painstaking work of manually matching tennis courts to nearby bus lines.

Lastly, I considered how this map would be used. Of course I was hoping that my wife (and others) would find it attractive enough to hang on a wall in full analog glory. But this is 2018, and in order to be useful, the map also needed some connection back to the digital world. I added GPS coordinates and a clickable URL link to a Google Maps location for each tennis court.

A detailed view of the court's location and the corresponding bus routes

That’s it! My wife was happy with her birthday gift, and agreed to hang it on our wall. This past weekend, we used our new map to find the McCoppin Square court in the Sunset neighborhood. A few minutes after we started playing, two women arrived. Unfortunately, they would need to wait until our 30 minute time limit had elapsed. Eager to play, they asked us if we knew of any other tennis courts in the area. In fact, we did. I texted her a PDF of my new map and off they went to a nearby court. Hooray for the power of a good map!

My wife and I are city people, and our only family car is a Vespa that is much too slow to cross any bridges. So most weekends, if it’s nice out, we’ll chart an urban hike through San Francisco, targeting a different neighborhood and a different park. This has kept us occupied for the last few years. But they don’t call it the 7x7 for nothing—San Francisco is actually a small city. So my wife and I have started to play tennis.

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.

‍

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.