MODUCOOL: Modular Vaccine Rucksack

Top: Rackstraw Downes, “Under the Westside Highway at 145th Street: The North River Water Pollution Control Plant”, 2008 © Rackstraw Downes; From the exhibition, “Rackstraw Downes: Under the Westside Highway”, at The Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum from June 27, 2010, to January 2, 2011. Courtesy of Betty Cuningham Gallery, New York.

Bottom: Moducool: Modular Vaccine Rucksack. Designed by Ian Friday (2010). Courtesy of Open Architecture Network.

Art and Design as a Return on Investment (ROI)

If the art market were a sport, then the painter Rackstraw Downes (b. 1939) should be credited with scoring a hat trick for appearing in no fewer than three different regional exhibitions at the same time: a small, focused show of his work at the Aldrich Contemporary Museum in Ridgefield, Connecticut; a broader retrospective at the Parrish Museum in Southampton, New York; and an exhibit of his drawings at the Betty Cuningham Gallery in New York’s Chelsea art ghetto. Most  artists would be thrilled to have any one of these events on his or her résumé; in fact, the only person who appears to be a more popular subject in these parts than Mr. Downes at the moment is Andy Warhol and, sadly, he’s not around to enjoy it.

Mr. Downes’ work is notable, among other things, for synthesizing two seemingly opposing impulses: on the one hand, to lovingly render the material world by means of a luminous and sensuous application of paint, and on the other hand, to choose as his subject matter some of the least visually appealing snapshots of the urban streetscape. But we’re not going to dwell here on Mr. Downes artistic accomplishments. Rather, what caught our eye in the review of his works that appeared in the Times was the reference to his painting of the underbelly of the Westside Highway pictured above having taken him fifteen months to complete.

Now, it’s not clear whether Mr. Downes spent these months working exclusively on this particular painting, or whether he is the sort to have several projects underway at the same time, but in either case we are reminded of the labor intensity of good old-fashioned plein-air easel painting. The hugeness of the time invested is only further amplified in our minds when we realize that the object which is born out of this endeavor is singular in nature – that is, there is and always will be only one painting to show for the effort (along with some notebooks compiled by Mr. Downes and, of course, a potentially infinite number of inferior mechanical reproductions). Only one person or institution will be able to own it, and a limited number of people able to view it.

By the laws of supply (necessarily low, given Mr. Downes’ working method) and demand (high, given the artist’s reputation and quality of work), the cost to acquire one of Mr. Downes’ works is no doubt very substantial. Which further means that only a limited number of people or institutions will be able to purchase it. Let’s not bemoan the fact or question the value of Mr. Downes’ work or the work of other artists who create by means of manual craft; this is how capitalism is played, and apparently nobody’s thought of a better way to do it.

Speaking of capitalism, these circumstances raise a question in our minds about value, or more particularly, about a return on investment (ROI) when it comes to objects of art and design: how do we measure the value of the work product relative to the amount of creative energy invested in producing it? In the case of “West Side Highway”, it’s fair to say that the high quality of the piece is offset by the large amount of time and effort needed to produce it and by the comparatively small size of the audience which will enjoy it, and therefore its relative valuation is at best, in strictly capitalistic terms, flat. Take a painting similarly composed by another artist who is lesser known or, um, emerging, and the valuation of the return on effort goes into negative territory since the sales price for such work is likely to be considerably less than Mr. Downes commands, and far fewer will clamor to see it.

Now let’s apply the same approach to assessing ROI for a work of modular art or design. In its most elemental form a single module deployed in multiples is sufficient to generate a piece that has the aesthetic integrity and critical mass to stand on its own, as in the illustrated example from the textile designer Mia Cullin (left). The greatest investment of creative energy required to realize Cullin’s concept no doubt went into the design of the individual module, which we can reasonably presume did not remotely approach the fifteen months needed to create the Downes canvas. Even adding in the time needed to evolve from individual module to concepts for assembled pieces, or the hours spent developing prototypes, or the interaction of the designer with the parties responsible for the physical production of the modules, would not greatly alter the disparity between the (hu)man-hours required for the two works. And if one objects to comparing a fine art painting with a textile design as a case of apples and oranges, we can reply that the very same point could have been made by referencing works by recognized modular artists like Sol Lewitt, Tony Smith, Norman Carlberg and others.

Having spent far fewer waking hours devising her module, Cullin was ostensibly free to design other modules and other pieces in the same amount of time it took Downes to make just one. But here is where the ROI of the modular approach really pays off: unlike the singular work of art, which is both the beginning and the end of itself, the design of the individual module spawns an infinite number of subsequent iterations, since it can be reproduced in unlimited quantities with no loss of artistic quality. When we figure in the limitless permutations that can be generated from the design of a single module, then the potential ROI of modular art and design balloons to an astronomically high figure.

Using slightly different terminology and a metric based purely in terms of energy versus output, we can say that modular art and design is by its nature a highly efficient system of both design and production, whereas the arduous practice of crafting fine art by hand is a largely inefficient means of value creation. Efficiency benefits the greatest number of people by producing the greatest amount of goods or services at the lowest cost; inefficiency yields a lower supply, an inflated price point and a necessarily restricted audience.

Which takes us, finally, the question of socially responsible design. If the modular method is in fact highly efficient and provides a high rate of return on the investment of creative energy, then it stands to bear that it is equally advantageous as a means of addressing the problems that afflict humankind, or at least those which can be ameliorated with the help of design. A recent project by Ian Friday for a modular vaccine rucksack, affectionately labeled Moducool (ah, a wordsmith after our own heart), reminds us that design can indeed solve problems beyond those of a purely aesthetic nature. And in a world of limited resources and a seemingly unlimited number of humanitarian ills, we need to “capitalize” on any expedient we can find.

Project Description of Moducool, via Open Architecture Network:

Function
Moducool is a modular vaccine rucksack designed to aid in the transportation and distribution of vital vaccine vials in rural areas of developing countries. Vaccine vials must be kept between 2 and 8 degrees Celsius, anything above or below and they start to lose potency. Millions of pounds worth of vaccines are wasted every year because of heat damage. Moducool features removable insulated modules that house custom-made icepacks allowing each module to be dedicated to particular communities, thus, ensuring that only the vaccines needed at any one point are exposed to heat. In the existing product, there is no other storage for syringes or anyway to dispose of medical waste. Moducool, however, features a removable sharps box and extra storage to ensure that the user takes away all the medical waste and can carry the vaccines with both hands free, making climbing mountains to reach remote communities much safer.

Inspiration
Inspiration came from a documentary on the immunization process within developing countries and witnessing aid workers struggling to carry the cumbersome existing product, a traditional cool box. The major flaw in the existing product is the fact that it only has a single chamber that the vials are stored in. As the aid workers tend to visit multiple communities within a day, with a single chamber, it results in all the vaccines being exposed to heat every time the lid is opened. The cold air is released and hot air enters, therefore, risking heat exposure to ALL the vials. The advantage of Moducool’s modular design is that only the vaccine vials required at certain locations are exposed to heat, thus, keeping more vials colder for longer which could potentially saves millions of dollars and lives.

Development
Development involved initial user, task and environment research to develop the idea in to a potential product. Many cardboard prototypes were made of various insulated rucksack forms and tested with potential users. A PDS was developed which adhered to World Health Organization criteria regarding vaccine transportation. A full working prototype was made by hand and was fully evaluated with potential users. Feedback was highly positive and users felt there was a real need for the product.

References:
Moducool via the Open Architecture Network
Moducool Information Package (pdf download)
Ian Friday website
Review of Rackstraw Downes Gallery and Museum Exhibitions, July 2010