We want people to realize you are at a design school, not a land

“We want people to realize you are at a design school, not a land grant college. The way we look says a great deal about who we are.” – James Hall

In these deliberate and dignified words, James Hall speaks not merely of appearance, but of identity, purpose, and the embodiment of one’s craft. His statement, spoken to students of a design school, is more than a call to dress well; it is a call to live one’s discipline, to let the outer form reflect the inner spirit. When Hall says, “The way we look says a great deal about who we are,” he touches upon an ancient truth — that every outward expression, whether in clothing, behavior, or creation, is a mirror of the soul. The designer, above all, must live as one who sees beauty not as ornament but as order, meaning, and integrity made visible.

The origin of Hall’s quote lies in the culture of design education, where every detail — the cut of a garment, the curve of a chair, the harmony of color and light — reflects the creator’s thought. To be at a “design school,” he reminds his students, is to dwell in an environment where form and function unite; where aesthetic discipline is inseparable from intellectual discipline. To confuse such a place with a “land grant college,” devoted to practical trades and agriculture, is not to belittle either, but to affirm difference. Design, Hall implies, is not merely utility — it is vision translated into form, a way of thinking that transforms life itself into art.

The ancients understood this truth long before the age of modern design. When Socrates walked the streets of Athens, he wore his humble cloak with intention, saying that character, not fashion, gave meaning to appearance. When Confucius taught about conduct, he spoke of li, the art of ritual propriety — the harmony between one’s inner virtue and outward form. Even the builders of ancient temples and cities knew that the way a structure looked reflected the spirit of a people. To build beautifully was to live beautifully; to design carelessly was to dishonor both maker and creation. Hall’s words, though modern, carry this same eternal chord: that appearance is not vanity, but the visible echo of one’s inner purpose.

Consider the story of Bauhaus, the legendary German school of design founded by Walter Gropius in 1919. Its students and teachers believed that art, architecture, and craft should merge into one — that the way a building stood, a chair was shaped, or a font was drawn could reveal the soul of an age. They dressed with simplicity, lived with restraint, and designed with clarity, because they saw beauty as a moral force. Their appearance, their environment, even their handwriting, spoke of a unified philosophy: that good design is honesty made visible. In their quiet precision, one could sense dignity, intellect, and purpose — all the qualities Hall sought to awaken in his students.

When James Hall tells his students to remember where they are — at a design school — he is not instructing them to seek perfection in vanity, but to carry themselves with consciousness and care. For the designer’s life is itself a work of design. Every choice — how one dresses, speaks, or creates — becomes part of a composition that reveals the values of the individual. In this, the designer stands as both artist and philosopher: crafting not only objects, but a way of being. “The way we look,” Hall insists, “says a great deal about who we are” — for one cannot design a world of beauty while living in chaos or indifference.

There is power in this teaching, but also humility. Hall’s words remind us that discipline and presentation are not burdens, but honors. They call us to live with intention — to understand that beauty, in its truest form, is a language of respect: respect for the craft, for others, and for oneself. Just as a musician must tune their instrument before a performance, so must the designer tune their life to the harmony of their work. To be careless in appearance or attitude is to let the song falter; to be deliberate is to let the song of purpose resound clearly through every action.

So, my child of creation and vision, take this teaching as a compass: live your design. Let your surroundings, your dress, your demeanor all speak of the care, curiosity, and courage within you. Do not chase fashion for its own sake, but let your appearance reflect the order of your thoughts, the clarity of your intent, and the dignity of your work. Whether you shape fabrics or futures, let your life itself be your masterpiece.

For as James Hall reminds us, the way we look — the way we live — says a great deal about who we are. Make your appearance an expression of integrity, your presence a reflection of excellence, and your every act a testimony to your craft. Then, wherever you stand, others will not only see what you do — they will see who you are.