Narrator: Imagine a roll of toilet paper. Now, imagine its cardboard core is square instead of round. When you pull on it, you feel a slight resistance, a subtle friction that makes you pause. This small, almost imperceptible change makes you conscious of the act of using it, perhaps even encouraging you to use a little less. This isn't just a quirky idea; it's a profound question about the very nature of design. What if design isn't about making things prettier or adding more features, but about awakening our senses and making us see the world anew? In his seminal work, Designing Design, Kenya Hara argues that the most powerful design doesn't shout for attention; it whispers, inviting us to rediscover the unknown that lives within the familiar.

Narrator: At the heart of Hara's philosophy is the concept of "RE-DESIGN," which he defines as the act of "making the ordinary unknown." He posits that true creativity isn't just about inventing something new from scratch, but about taking commonplace objects and re-examining them with fresh eyes to uncover their hidden potential. Design, in this view, is not self-expression like art; it originates in society and seeks to solve shared problems by questioning our ingrained assumptions.

A powerful illustration of this is architect Shigeru Ban’s contribution to Hara's RE-DESIGN exhibition. Tasked with reimagining toilet paper, Ban didn't change the paper itself but redesigned the core to be square. This simple alteration introduces a slight resistance when the paper is pulled, making the user more conscious of their consumption and subtly encouraging conservation. The design doesn't force a behavior; it provokes awareness. By transforming a mundane, unconscious action into a moment of slight friction, the design makes the familiar act of using toilet paper feel new and thought-provoking. It’s a perfect example of how a minor change can pass a critical comment on our habits and our relationship with resources, revealing that the future of design may lie not in grand inventions, but in the intelligent rediscovery of the ordinary.

Narrator: Hara argues that modern life, with its focus on digital convenience, has dulled our senses. Design, he believes, has a responsibility to reawaken them. This led to his "HAPTIC" exhibition, a project dedicated to design that engages our full sensory spectrum, especially touch. Hara reframes human senses not as passive receptors but as active, exploratory "tentacles" that the brain uses to understand the world. Haptic design, therefore, is not just about how an object looks, but how it feels, sounds, and even smells, creating a richer "architecture of information" in our minds by connecting with our stored memories.

The most iconic example from this project is Naoto Fukasawa's "Juice Skin" packaging. Instead of a generic carton, Fukasawa designed juice containers with textures and shapes that mimic the skin of the fruit inside. A kiwi juice box is covered in a fuzzy, brown flocking; a banana juice box has the familiar faceted feel and even a small stem. When a person picks up the package, their sense of touch is immediately engaged, awakening a memory of the actual fruit before they even taste the juice. This multi-sensory experience creates a deeper, more intuitive connection to the product. It’s a masterful demonstration of how design can move beyond visual information to create a profound, memorable, and almost poetic interaction.

Narrator: For Hara, one of the most powerful design principles is "emptiness," a concept deeply rooted in Japanese aesthetics. He explores this most famously through his work as the art director for MUJI. The brand's philosophy is encapsulated in the paradoxical phrase, "Nothing, Yet Everything." White, in this context, is not just a color but a concept—an empty vessel capable of infinite contents. MUJI products are intentionally designed to be simple, universal, and free from overt branding or ornamentation.

This "emptiness" is a deliberate strategy. By not imposing a specific style or a loud brand personality, MUJI allows the user to project their own meaning and lifestyle onto the products. A simple storage box doesn't dictate a certain home aesthetic; it adapts to any environment. This approach fosters a quiet satisfaction, an feeling of "this is fine" or "this will do," which Hara elevates as a rational and deeply satisfying alternative to the frantic consumerist desire of "I must have this." The global success of MUJI is a testament to this philosophy, proving that design can be universally appealing by being non-prescriptive, and that true value can be found in simplicity and restraint.

Narrator: Hara expands the role of design far beyond aesthetics, positioning it as a crucial tool for communication that shapes experiences and fosters understanding. He believes design doesn't just convey information; it moves people. The way an object or environment is conceived directly influences how we perceive and interact with the world. Design clarifies, invites, and subtly guides our behavior and emotions.

A compelling case study is the signage system Hara designed for Umeda Hospital, a maternity and pediatrics clinic. Instead of using typical plastic or metal signs, he chose to make all the signage from white cotton cloth, designed to be easily removed and laundered like socks. This choice seems impractical at first, as white cloth soils easily. However, that is precisely the point. For a hospital specializing in childbirth and childcare, cleanliness is the highest priority. By using a material that requires constant, visible maintenance, the hospital communicates its unwavering commitment to hygiene in a way no slogan ever could. The soft, clean cloth provides a tangible sense of care and peace of mind to anxious parents. The design doesn't just state a fact; it embodies a core value.

Narrator: Perhaps Hara's most radical idea is "exformation," a concept he presents as the inverse of information. While information aims to make things known, exformation aims to "make the world unknown" again. In an age of information overload, where we are quick to say "I know, I know" and shut down our curiosity, exformation seeks to re-ignite it. It’s about understanding how little we truly know, thereby making an entrance for genuine wonder and deeper thought.

To explore this, Hara and his students undertook a project on the Shimanto River, a place famous for its pristine beauty. Instead of creating a typical documentary, one team created a simulation titled "If the River Were a Road." They superimposed images of asphalt roads onto the river's surface, showing how its width changes from the size of a single white line at its source to a massive 120-lane highway at its mouth. The jarring, incompatible image of a road on water created a fresh, vivid reality. Viewers realized they had never truly perceived the river's scale and form in this way. The project didn't provide facts about the river; it provided a new lens that made a familiar landmark feel utterly unknown, sparking a profound and lasting curiosity about its true nature.

Narrator: Ultimately, Designing Design is a profound meditation on seeing. Kenya Hara teaches that design is not about the act of making, but the act of "rendering visible" the hidden potential and quiet beauty in our world. Its true purpose is to awaken our senses from the slumber of familiarity and to cultivate a deeper, more conscious relationship with the objects, spaces, and information that shape our lives.

The book challenges us to move beyond a world driven by excessive consumption and technological novelty, and instead to find affluence in understatement and wisdom in simplicity. It asks a powerful question: What if the most important role of a designer today is not to create the next new thing, but to help us appreciate what is already here?