When Good Design Breaks the Rules

Have you heard of these design ideas? Form follows function. Less is more. Good design is universal. Ornament is unnecessary. Good design should stand the test of time. These ideas helped shape modern design, from architecture and furniture to the objects we use every day. But sometimes, the most interesting developments in design happen when someone decides to question what everyone else thinks is best.

It's the week of Halloween so we're taking a look at a few influential design principles and the designers who weren't too scared to break some design rules and traditions.

Form Follows Function

The phrase form follows function comes from American architect Louis Sullivan, who wrote "form ever follows function" in 1896. It became one of the defining ideas of modern design: the shape of an object should be guided by its purpose. For example, a chair should be comfortable and a lamp should give useful light. 

Danish designer Verner Panton believed an object could do more than meet a practical need, and he pushed that idea in extraordinary directions. Panton began developing the idea in the late 1950s, and Vitra brought the chair into production in 1967. It became the first cantilever chair manufactured from a single piece of plastic, with sweeping curves unlike the traditional four-legged chairs that came before it.

Panton's interiors were even more radical. Visiona II, his 1970 installation for Bayer at the Cologne Furniture Fair, merged furniture, lighting, textiles, and walls into a colorful, immersive environment on a ship on the Rhine. It worked as a living space and as a work of art at once. His designs still served a purpose, and they also created excitement and an entirely different experience of space.

A chair could be playful, theatrical, or even a small piece of architecture. Function doesn't have to be purely practical. Making us feel something is a function, too.

Less Is More

Few phrases are more closely associated with modernism than less is more, famously embraced by architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. The idea helped define an aesthetic of clean lines, open spaces, and carefully considered materials. Removing unnecessary details allowed the essential qualities of a design to take center stage. But not every modernist believed that restraint required an absence of color, pattern, or decoration.

Alexander Girard, one of the most influential textile and interior designers of the 20th century, took a decidedly different approach. Working alongside Charles and Ray Eames and George Nelson in the American modern design movement, Girard directed the textile division at Herman Miller from 1952 to 1973 and brought an extraordinary enthusiasm for color and folk art to his work. He collected handmade objects from around the world and incorporated their patterns, symbols, and craftsmanship into his designs. His interiors could be exuberant and full of personality, yet they remained unmistakably modern. Girard showed that modernism had room for warmth, humor, and the pleasure of beautiful things.

In Sweden, Josef Frank was developing his own expressive approach to modern interiors. Working with Svenskt Tenn, Frank combined furniture with richly patterned textiles, plants, antiques, and objects from different cultures. His rooms were layered and personal, a departure from the strict simplicity associated with some branches of functionalism. Frank believed that a home should accommodate the complexity of everyday life rather than conform to a rigid aesthetic.

Together, these designers demonstrated that modernism didn't have to mean minimalism. There was room for warmth, humor, cultural traditions, and the simple pleasure of beautiful things.

Good Design Is Universal

One of modernism's great ambitions was to create a universal design language. Simple forms, functional objects, and industrial production offered the possibility of design that could transcend national borders and cultural traditions. But does good design have to leave its cultural identity behind?

Finnish designer Tapio Wirkkala offers a compelling alternative. His work was celebrated internationally, yet much of it was deeply connected to the Finnish landscape. His Ultima Thule glassware, designed for Iittala in 1968, was inspired by melting ice in Lapland. Its textured surface captures the appearance of ice and flowing water, transforming a familiar drinking glass into something distinctly evocative of the Nordic landscape.

Danish designer Finn Juhl drew inspiration from a very different place. His Egyptian Chair, introduced in 1949, was inspired by ancient Egyptian furniture he had seen at the Louvre in Paris. Juhl borrowed elements of its construction and distinctive curved back, reinterpreting them through the craftsmanship and sculptural forms of Danish modern furniture. Rather than limiting himself to an established Scandinavian aesthetic, Juhl found inspiration in a design tradition thousands of years old.

Together, these designers demonstrate that modern design doesn't have to follow a single international aesthetic. It can draw from local landscapes, traditional crafts, and influences from around the world.

Maybe good design doesn't need to look the same everywhere to be appreciated everywhere.

Good Design Should Be Timeless

We often describe great design as timeless. It's a particularly familiar idea in Scandinavian design, where furniture created decades ago remains in production and continues to feel relevant.

German industrial designer Dieter Rams included longevity among his ten principles of good design. He argued that good design avoids being fashionable. It's an appealing philosophy, especially in a world where so many products are made to be replaced. But a design can be good without looking timeless.

Finnish designer Eero Aarnio offers an interesting example. His Ball Chair, designed in 1963, embraced the futuristic forms, synthetic materials, and bold colors of the Space Age. It was unmistakably a product of its time, reflecting the optimism and experimentation of the 1960s.

Swedish designer Jonas Bohlin challenged expectations in a different way with his Concrete Chair, created in 1981 as his graduation project. Made from steel and concrete, the chair rejected many of the conventions of traditional Swedish furniture design. It was provocative, sculptural, and closely associated with the experimental design culture of the early 1980s.

They raise an interesting question: Is timelessness about avoiding the visual language of a particular period, or about creating something distinctive enough to remain relevant long after that period has passed?

Ornament Is Unnecessary

In 1910, Austrian architect Adolf Loos delivered his influential lecture Ornament and Crime, criticizing the use of ornament in modern architecture and manufactured objects. His ideas helped shape a movement toward simplicity, functionalism, and the removal of unnecessary decoration.

But Scandinavian designers have a long history of embracing ornament as an important part of modern design. At Swedish porcelain manufacturer Gustavsberg, designer Krister Karlmark created the now-iconic Berså pattern on behalf of Stig Lindberg. First produced in 1961, its simple green leaves, arranged across white porcelain, transformed everyday tableware into something immediately recognizable.

Danish designer Nanna Ditzel brought a playful approach to furniture with her Bench for Two, designed in 1989. The sculptural bench positions two people at right angles to one another, while its curved backrests feature a bold, graphic pattern. The decoration isn't necessary for the bench to function, but it's an essential part of its personality. Rather than treating pattern as something separate from the furniture, Ditzel made it part of the overall composition. 

In Finland, Maija Isola challenged expectations about pattern and decoration in an even more direct way. Marimekko founder Armi Ratia had discouraged floral prints, believing that the beauty of real flowers couldn't be adequately captured on fabric. In 1964, Isola responded with a collection of bold floral designs, including the now-famous Unikko poppy pattern. Rather than reproducing flowers realistically, Isola transformed them into oversized, graphic shapes that felt entirely modern. The pattern became one of Marimekko's most enduring and recognizable designs.

These examples demonstrate that ornament didn't have to be historical, fussy, or disconnected from modern life. Pattern could be expressive, experimental, and an important part of a design's identity. Decoration wasn't necessarily something to eliminate. It could be the very thing that made a design memorable.

Knowing When to Break the Rules

Design principles exist for good reasons. Function, proportion, material integrity, and simplicity have helped designers create objects that are useful and enduring. But they aren't laws, and some of the most interesting designs came from people willing to question them.

The same thinking applies to our homes. Understanding the principles of good design is useful, but there's room for experimentation, personal taste, and the occasional unexpected choice. So go ahead and break a few rules. After all, some of the best ideas started that way.

If you need a little nudge to break the rules in your own space, come in a visit with us here at Ökenhem. We'd be happy to share ideas.