This chapter was really interesting to read because it's a combination of new design principles, case studies, and familiar elements related to life.

First I would like to reflect on what I thought about in the beginning of the chapter. The idea that everything in the history of design began with a void was a whole new way for me to think about design. I'm familiar with some modern design principles like "less is more" and minimalism, but I never made the connection that we as a creature and as individuals began with nothing and that we now favor simple design possibly because it really just makes sense. Minimalism has been around for quite a while and is probably the most popular design style on the market now, but we as humans didn't use to favor minimalism. In the classic era, pillars of large buildings made of rock often had decorative carvings on them; when older-style churches were built, they were built with extreme levels of details including stained glass windows and carvings on the ceiling. Back in those periods of time, excessive (by modern standards) decorations were a marker of wealth, success, and craft. We are now living in a different age where most people have an abundance of food and resources, and we start to favor things that are kept minimalist in style with maximized function. There isn't a style that's inherently better than the other. All good designs have one thing in common, which is a lot of thought and iteration. When the spectacular old churches were built, their architects must have put a lot of thought in the design of the building, and they spent great amounts of time on realizing their designs. Before they reached the level of sophistication they were at, they must have practiced numerous numbers of times and iterated on many projects before they turned out great. Modern design, similarly, still requires a high level of thought, and arguably a higher extent of iteration.

The sophisticated interior of an old church could put us in awe, and so can thoughtfully designed yet simple interactive experiences like the Ocarina on the iPhone and the "Converge" software. Ge's question posed in the book, "Why doesn't software make us feel more often?" particularly intrigued me. I have to admit that, most of the time, I use software to achieve a goal motivated by external expectations and therefore I simply view the software as a tool. But why do I tend to view tools as simply something I have to use in order to get something done, not something that I might also find to be inherently interesting or playful? It could be me, and it could also be the norm of software usage. Either way, I think that the design process framework described in the book seems like a really good set of principles (especially the strange loop) that can help bring the joy and fun back into both the process of designing and the end product itself.