As WIRED has grown, the needs of our company have evolved. WIRED.com actually used to be a separate organization. The site had an independent staff, separate happy hours, even different key cards. In fact, this very space used to be two separate buildings that were at some point conjoined. Conde Nast bought WIRED.com back in 2007 and joined it with the magazine, but the physical architecture was still preventing an easy flow of ideas and work between the print and digital groups. So the actual process of reimagining the space literally started on my first day as Editor in Chief. I wanted to improve the layout, consider it as one space and eliminate the physical barriers that had existed between teams (we used to call the dividing hallway the "Berlin Hall"). Now, you can look across the entire floor, see everyone working together, and that feels great. We're doing better work because we're able to collaborate more freely.
The group of us who worked with our architects (Lisa Bottom and Karyn Gabriel at Gensler) have a preference for clean lines. We also decided to localize color to a couple of key moments. The main volume is predominantly blacks, whites, and grays alongside textures like concrete, glass, and steel, peppered with surprise moments of color. For example, if you walk down this white hallway and turn the corner, you'll encounter this floor-to-ceiling chartreuse workroom, or in the cool grays of the cafeteria, a tiny red sitting nook. We powered these decisions with the “wrong theory” - a design practice of mine that centers on getting all of the details just so, and then making one little counterintuitive move for contrast.
Design has always played a fundamental role in the identity of WIRED - almost like the cartoons in The New Yorker - you can't have WIRED without strong design. It is also the glue that holds together the different elements of WIRED stories: prose, photography, ideas. WIRED editors are visual storytellers as much as the creatives. We've had a history of achievement in the craft, so telling stories beautifully is a real source of pride for our organization.
I would say our readers, and really, the tech community as a whole, has a better understanding of the power of design - of the need for treating the practice as a fundamental component of business success. WIRED covers the various fields of design, but we are also really interested in how design principles help us understand and power technology. Design is what allows us to make sense of our own human progress, to add form to pure function.
My personal want for order is certainly my own brand of sickness. My friends and family are sick of it, I'm sure. My design books at home are color-segmented and so are the apps on my phone. But I feel a sense of ease from this system, of quick accessibility when my surroundings are clean and organized. I know the priority of the tasks in front of me - what I actually have to accomplish (now!) - based on what's physically on my desk. I keep the immediate “to do's” front and center - story proofs, manuscripts, budgets, designs. I've tried a less organized approach and I just didn't do so well with it. Work fell through the cracks, and I felt more overwhelmed. Minimalism isn't just an aesthetic function, it helps me get through the day and to be a better editor.
This is actually a topic we tackle head on in our new issue: how to find happiness at work. I'm happiest - and probably most productive - when I'm doing work that is challenging, when I get to team up with colleagues to solve tough problems. We like doing things that people say are impossible, and we like being first. But we also mix work and play throughout the work week, and we balance the late nights with little moments of nonsense throughout the day: dogs roaming about, loud music playing, spirited debates about Game of Thrones, a lunchtime run down to the Giants ballpark for a few innings, or a bunch of us winding down our Friday with a few drinks around someone's desk.
