The iMac is a holistic product. The price is right, the performance is right, and the combination of those two attributes, along with the design, has made it a well-balanced, relevant product.
But design alone would not have been sufficient to make it successful. It's important to understand the contribution that design can make. It's significant. But if factors like performance and price are not right, then design would be fairly irrelevant.
One thing that is in the genes of Apple Computer, the company, is connecting people with technology in a friendly and accessible way. If you've got technology on the one hand and you've got people on the other, then an object's design -- no matter what that object is -- defines the nature of that connection.
That's particularly true of high-technology products, because the internal workings of the machine are enigmatic. The majority of people simply do not understand how those things work. And there is no physical expression of the object's function. Unlike, for example, a teacup or a comb, which are what they do.
A washbasin is a good example; that's something I've actually designed in the past. A washbasin's form and function are exactly the same. The object's appearance and meaning are completely accessible: It looks like a washbasin, because that's what it is. You look at it, and you think, "Okay, I understand that." People make an immediate connection with it.
With technology, the function is much more abstract to users, and so the product's meaning is almost entirely defined by the designer. I think that's an incredible opportunity, but with that opportunity comes an enormous responsibility. If you are designing an object, you are defining what it means to people: You are conveying what the object is, what it does, how it does it, where it does it, and how much it's going to cost. So especially if you're dealing with incredibly compelling technology like computers, the responsibility is to make the relationship between people and the technology as effective, as natural, as accessible, and as enjoyable as possible.
When we started designing the iMac, we were wrestling with the question, What is the function of a computer? One thing that really struck us was that a computer's function can change radically: It can be a digital video-editing station, a content browser, or a typewriter. That's a unique ability -- for something to change its function so dramatically. So we were wrestling with the fluid nature of the object. At the same time, we were trying to make the technology as accessible, as friendly, and as nonthreatening as possible. That involves focusing on a couple of levels.
The first level we focused on was the overall form of the product. It absolutely needed to be about tomorrow, and we really wanted to define something new. But something dramatically new can actually alienate people. That design challenge represented an interesting paradox for us: how to create something for tomorrow that people are comfortable with today.
A lot of energy went into defining an overall form that was in some senses "strangely familiar" but that was also about tomorrow.
We didn't come up with an architectural solution. That's one of the things that struck us about how a computer's function changes. The design should be something that feels fluid and dynamic. I think the iMac looks like it's just arrived or is just about to leave. It's not something that's grounded permanently to the surface that you put it on.
A number of details reflect that sense as well. The handle, for instance, clearly makes the iMac something that's not permanent. It makes it approachable, accessible. Obviously, the primary function of a handle is to be able to carry a product around. Another thing about the handle is that when people see it, they immediately understand its purpose. It unambiguously references your hand. So when you first meet the product, you understand something about it, and it understands something about you.
People don't necessarily understand the internal components and the essential function of the machine. But they can look at its exterior and actually understand elements of it immediately.
Beyond understanding the iMac, people want to touch it. When you see a handle, you want to use it: That reaction is instinctive, immediate, and universal. When you look at an object like a handle, you instantly form subconscious opinions about it.
Another attractor is the nature of the surfaces. The surfaces look like they'd be good to touch. There's a real unity to the iMac. There's no traditional front, top, back, and sides. I think that makes it inviting. Most design tends to focus on an object's front -- as the one surface that people will address themselves to. But inherently, when you present the front, people assume that the front is better than the back. The back is merely a consequence; it's just hanging on for the ride. One of the things that we've accomplished with the iMac is to create a design that gives integrity to the shape of the whole: The computer's back and sides are as interesting, arresting, and important as its front.
Also, there's the nature of the translucent material. Most computers are made of materials that keep everything on the surface. But with the iMac, you get this fluid effect, the way the light transforms the material and the color. It's not just about surface, it's about depth.
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