Good design is making something intelligible and memorable. Great

“Good design is making something intelligible and memorable. Great design is making something memorable and meaningful.” Thus spoke Dieter Rams, the wise craftsman of form and function, whose quiet philosophy reshaped the way humanity sees the objects it holds in its hands. In these words lies a truth as deep as any written in the books of sages—that the purpose of creation, whether of tools, art, or systems, is not merely to be understood, but to speak to the soul. For to be intelligible is to be clear, to communicate without confusion; but to be meaningful—ah, that is to touch the heart, to endure beyond time, and to awaken something sacred in the human spirit.

Rams, a designer for Braun and a father of modern minimalism, believed that design was not decoration, but language. Every line, curve, and texture carries intention. “Good design,” he taught, “is honest.” It does not deceive, nor does it shout for attention. To make something intelligible is to ensure that its form follows its function, that anyone who touches it knows instinctively how it should serve them. The handles of a chair, the buttons of a radio, the shape of a cup—each must speak the silent language of purpose. This is the mark of good design: clarity that delights the mind.

Yet Rams reaches further, ascending from clarity to meaning. For great design, he says, does not stop at being clear or clever—it must speak to human life. It must remind the user not only how to use it, but why it matters. A great design becomes part of the human story; it carries emotion, identity, and truth. When we hold something beautifully made—a pen that feels right in the hand, a book that opens perfectly, a space that calms the heart—we are not merely interacting with an object; we are touching an idea made real, a reflection of human aspiration.

This truth can be seen in the creations of another visionary: Steve Jobs, who drew deeply from Rams’s philosophy. When Apple designed its first computers and later the iPhone, it was not simply making devices—it was crafting experiences. Every curve, color, and sound was chosen not only for clarity but for meaning. A Mac was not just a machine that worked—it made the user feel something: freedom, elegance, empowerment. Thus, Jobs did what Rams described—he made the memorable into the meaningful, merging utility with emotion, logic with beauty.

But Rams’s teaching goes beyond design as we think of it. It speaks to the art of life itself. Every human being is a designer, whether of objects, ideas, or destinies. To live well is to design one’s own existence. A good life, like good design, is intelligible—it makes sense, it is organized and clear. Yet a great life is meaningful—it is guided by purpose, compassion, and legacy. To live meaningfully is to shape one’s choices, one’s work, one’s relationships in a way that will not fade when memory does, because it carries truth at its core.

The origin of this philosophy can be traced to the mid-twentieth century, when Rams and his contemporaries sought to bring order out of chaos in a world rebuilding after war. Factories produced more than ever, but few things were made with soul. Rams looked upon this age of excess and asked, “What if we designed not for profit, but for peace? Not for novelty, but for necessity?” His answer was the Ten Principles of Good Design, a moral code for creators: simplicity, honesty, durability, harmony. In this, he taught that beauty is not the goal but the consequence of purposeful creation.

The lesson of Rams’s quote, then, is both practical and profound. Whatever you make—be it a chair, a song, a business, or a life—make it clear, memorable, and above all, meaningful. Let your work speak truthfully, and let it serve others with quiet dignity. Seek not applause, but resonance. For meaning is not born from extravagance, but from authenticity—from the merging of what is useful and what is human.

So, my child, when you create, create as the ancients built temples—strong, simple, and sacred. Let your designs, your words, your deeds carry both clarity for the mind and nourishment for the soul. For in the end, as Dieter Rams reminds us, it is not the clever that endures, but the meaningful. What is merely intelligible will fade with fashion; what is meaningful will echo across generations, like the eternal hum of truth woven through the design of the universe itself.