Return of Curiosity
Curiosity as a concept has a long history. In 17th-18th century, the Kunstkammer (the Cabinets of Wonders) proliferated
in Europe. One of the categories of artifacts on display was called curiosa:
objects, materials, and natural specimens from faraway lands. Those exotic items were kept to arouse
curiosity – a notion that since the age of geographic discoveries was
synonymous with quest for knowledge.
In the orthodox Modernist thinking curiosity was not a key
concept, and it fell out of fashion. Gradually, it got relegated into the realm
of low-brow idle preoccupations, akin to gawking and rubbernecking. By the 1990s, designers were more concerned
with questions of style and taste.
When our book Curuous Boym was published in 2002, in a short
introduction, I wrote about the monkey Curious George as a role model for our profession:
He is driven by curiosity to play and experiment with elements of his daily environment. He finds new uses for familiar objects, invents different ways of doing things, tests the limits of materials and objects. Many of his experiments don’t work, and he routinely gets in trouble, but occasionally he reaps praise or a medal. This sounds a lot like designer’s life.
In the second decade of the new century, this is no longer a
revelation. “There are myriad forms of design, many of which don’t
require movement of materials and artifacts; only curiosity, an internet
connection, and the ability to seek, learn, and synthesize from other fields
and cultures. These mutants are the future of design,” writes Paola Antonelli. The notion
of curiosity has made a spectacular comeback. I do not know who named the NASA Rover on Mars, yet it is
very fitting that this incredible machine carries the name of one of the most
endearing human characteristics.
In the last week of August 2012, “curiosity” had a
distinction of being the most searched word on Google. Curious George would
have been proud.