ELSEVIER Automation in Construction 7 (1998) lOl- 110

Ethnographic description of design networks

Peter Lloyd * , Peter Deasley The CIM Institute, Cranfkld UnioersiQ. Cranfield, Bedford MK43 OAL, UK

Abstract

One of the central themes of a commercial design process is communication. Complex design artefacts, rather than being rationally thought out by individuals, evolve through designers negotiating and bargaining with clients and peers alike. Problems are resolved through discussion and explanation. The ‘design process,’ as a reified entity, cannot be apprehended by any individual. Understanding of the process is spread over a social network, and through the narratives and discourses that are forged from day to day. This is design as a social process. The focus of the present paper is twofold. First, we wish to establish the field of ethnography as a particularly useful method of describing design in its social form. Secondly, we describe the results of a design case study we have carried out, using ethnographic methods, in an aerospace manufacturing company. We observe informal structures determining work activity, and the use of subtle ‘role’ playing in problem-solving. 0 1998 Published by Elsevier Science B.V.

Kewords: Ethnography; Design networks; Communication; Commercial design process

1. Introduction

“If you look at the whole process of design, and how designers think, think of it [. . ] as if you’ve seen an explosion on film run backwards very slowly. What you see is a whole load of dust and rubbish and bits and pieces all floating about in the air, and as you wind the film back it goes uuuu- uwwwwwvvvvvvvvump! very quickly, and the de- sign is finished. [I]”

The quote comes from Dick Powell, one of the UK’s top product designers, and sets an unintention- ally intriguing challenge for design research. In one metaphor the whole process of design, both the individual ‘cognitive’ process and the organisational ‘social’ process, has been described wonderfully well.

The challenge for academic research is to be able to do the same, although without the use of metaphor.

The investigation of design behaviour takes place in many different ways: “interviews, retrospective

reports, concurrent reports, teaching, and introspec- tion all have something to contribute to an empirical understanding of the design process.” [2] This list concentrates on the designer as a ‘cognitive, rational individual’ [3], but among the most important ele- ments of a commercial design process, concerns the social situation of the designer [2]. More recently, research on the nature of design activity, and in particular, the work of Coyne [4] Coyne and Snod- grass [5,6], has refocused on ‘post-modern’ ’ ways

* Corresponding author.

’ “A post-modern perspective suggests that human behaviours

reflect a broad, rich, changing, and open-ended context, much as the plot of a novel reflects the whole of what has gone on earlier

in the novel” [7].

0926.5805/98/$19.00 0 1998 Published by Elsevier Science B.V. All rights reserved.

PII SO926-5805(97)0005 I-4

102 P. Llryl, P. nenslr~/Automation in Corzstructiort 7 (IYYRI 101-I 10

of analysis. The resultant focus is on the notion of design activity, in whatever form, as a ‘text’ to be ‘read,’ and interpreted within a broader context.

This post-modern way of studying design activity works well when we wish to consider a commercial design process. That is a process, as it happens,

within a business, and hence a social, context. In situations such as this it is often noted is that the design process “exists only in a collective sense. Its state is not in the possession of any one individual to describe or completely define.. ” [8]. Coyne and Snodgrass [5] make similar comments: “professional expertise, technical competence, and skills are seen not only as a commodity for individuals, but as residing in a community. The role of the architect or engineer only makes sense in relation to the role of the builder, manufacturer, [. .], users, and clients.” Lawson [9], in a series of interviews with architects, illustrates this point continually. The design process is a constant negotiation of meaning between indi- viduals (and often ‘within’ individuals; sketching, for example, could be viewed as ‘internal conversa- tion’).

By describing the design process in the terms of negotiating and understanding meaning suggests that the process can be broken down into many different acts; the ‘dust and rubbish and bits and pieces’ of the opening quote. In deconstructing and contextualising these acts, one can slowly build up a representation of any design process. A representation that takes the design environment into account.

1. I. Subprocesses of design

The idea that the design process breaks down into a number of subprocesses (or as we have termed them ‘acts’) is a familiar one to designers. One of the most distinctive characteristics of design is ‘the bal- ancing act,’ making sure everything proceeds at the same rate: “now this process of keeping things going is a bit like spinning plates in a circus” is how Dick Powell refers to it. Other research identifies the metaphor of juggling as a powerful way to describe designing:

“Several of the Architects in my study have quite independently described this aspect of the design

process using the analogy of the juggler. For exam- ple, Michael Wilford talks of a ‘juggler who’s got six balls in the air . and an architect is operating on at least six fronts simultaneously, and if you take your eye off one of them and drop it, you’re in trouble.’ Richard Burton also describes how the de- sign process must work very quickly so that you cycle round so quickly that no one thing is allowed to dominate. [ . . ] Richard MacCormac confirms this by saying ‘you know one couldn’t juggle very slowly over a long period.“’ [IO]

The problem is that we again slip very easily into metaphor, a hazard of the retrospective interview. The aim of the present paper is to describe directly some examples of ‘acts,’ or negotiation of meaning, that we have observed in a recent three-month study in the manufacturing industry. Before we do this, we describe the methodology we have used to access such concepts as ‘context,’ ‘acts,’ ‘meaning,’ ‘inter- pretation,’ and other subprocesses of design. This methodology is called ‘Ethnography’ and, in true post-modern fashion, looks at cultures, organisations, groups of people, etc., as ‘texts’ to be ‘read.’

2. Ethnography

The field of ethnography developed under the subject of social anthropology, where it was used to look at radically different cultures, as varied as American Indians and Eskimos, but has now been appropriated under the aegis of ‘ethnomethodology’ to the subject of sociology. Not surprisingly there are almost as many definitions of ethnography as there are ethnographers, but many focus on the under- standing of individual experience within a cultural system:

“The central problem directing the work of the ethnomethodologists is to provide a more grounded and rigorous understanding of the shared schemes of reference and accounting practices through which organisational members construct and comprehend the social orders of which they are a part. This demands a very strict focus on the everyday ‘practi- cal reasoning’ in which members are routinely en-

P. Lloyd, P. Deasley / Automation in Construction 7 (1998) 101-I 10 103

gaged and its role in sustaining shared definitions of organisational reality.” [ 1 l]

Ethnography is a way of collecting ‘rich and complex’ [3] social data that is not theory-driven, i.e., the data is allowed to ‘speak for itself.’ In essence, the methodology recognises that a neutral observer investigating a particular cultural system can (a) observe things that others in the cultural system cannot, and (b) by becoming a part of a cultural system the observer is the best person to report on the experience of being in that ‘system.’ In this sense many ethnographic descriptions of cultural mechanisms take the form of a series of narratives. 2

In practice, ethnography means that, although a researcher might not be looking to prove or disprove a particular hypothesis, much of what is reported during ethnographic study relies on the researchers skill in taking systematic and exhaustive notes of the social system they are involved with. The method is subjective in that it is dependent on the researcher’s ability to record, report, organise, analyse, and ex- plain the mechanisms and ‘codes’ of a particular culture. The test is, perhaps, the insight that any particular account of a cultural system brings to the reader. For the researcher the main investment of an ethnographic study is that of time. Researchers must spend lengthy periods observing and recording infor- mation, periods of years are not unheard of. More recently, studies of organisations have been of the ‘quick and dirty’ type (quick being a number of months) sufficing to induce an approximate feeling for organisational mechanisms [I 31.

Perhaps the best understanding of ethnography can be gained by looking at specific examples of studies. We focus on three such studies: the arrange- ment of marriages in an urban Punjabi community

131, collaborative activity in London Underground control rooms [14], and engineering design [g]. The aim here is to show the type of observations that are typically obtained in ethnographic study, and the large variety of cultural systems that ethnographic study takes place in.

* The recent novel ‘Microserfs’ [12], describing the culture of

West Coast America’s software developers, is arguably an ethno-

graphic study.

2.1. Ethnographic practice

2.1.1. The arrangement of marriages in an urban Punjabi community

Previous work on the arrangement of marriages in the same Punjabi community had suggested that “the transactional structure and values underlying arranging marriage are replicated throughout the eco- nomic and political structure of Greentown.” Fischer

and Finkelstein [3] were thus attempting to provide a consistent account of the mechanism by which young men and women within Punjabi communities are matched before subsequent marriage. A computer- based tool was used ‘in the field’ to capture knowl-

edge: “a formal system within which both declara-

tive description and procedural description [could] be represented.” The research was carried out in Green- town, a community of Lahore, Pakistan for three months, consisting of alternate interviewing and modelling phases.

With some basic ‘givens’ in mind, a Greentown ‘male (and his parents) starts to think about marrying after completing his education and after getting a steady job’ around the ages of 27-32. A female should be married between the ages of 18-23 and should have ‘a good education, beauty, and health.’ Once a possible wife is identified, informal visits are

followed by formal visits that identify, typically, ‘the housemaking skills of the girl,’ and ‘the kinds of marriages already contracted by the other family.’ Other information is gleaned from the friends of the family. If all is satisfactory then the marriage goes ahead.

What the authors observed was that in the process of arranging marriages: “a great deal of the activity

that people engaged in was the use of other people’s knowledge (or their assumed knowledge) in meeting their goals, and correspondingly providing the use of their own knowledge to others. In other words, a lot of the knowledge that people appeared to mobilise was knowledge about mobilising other people’s knowledge, the use of knowledge that they did not know, but knew about.” The authors summarise by saying that: “Based on this analysis, it would appear that social groups are more than a cooperative con- venience, but that many of the reasons for success depend on the distribution of knowledge as well as the distribution of effort.”

2.1.2. Cdlahoratice actil:ily in London underground

control rooms

In preparation for the replacement of old technol- ogy in London Underground Control Rooms, Heath and Luff [ 141 looked at the way that this old technol- ogy was used, and also “the informal work practices and procedures whereby personnel systematically communicate information and coordinate a disparate collection of tasks and activities.” A further motiva-

tion for the study was: “whether one subscribes to a theory of distributed cognition or a more sociological conception of cooperative work, it is clear that we need to move away from laboratory studies of cogni- tion.” The research was carried out in the Bakerloo line control room, using ‘audio and video recordings. augmented by field observation,’ for an unspecified period.

The analysis concerns the interactions of two people: “the Controller and the Divisional Informa- tion Assistant (DIA) sit together at a semicircular console which faces a tiled, real-time, hardline dis- play which runs nearly the entire length of the room and shows traffic movement along the Bakerloo line (from the Elephant and Castle to Queens Park).” The task of the two people is to coordinate ‘traffic flow and passenger movement’ with reference to a paper-based timetable. Problems of train breakdown. passenger delays from other lines, and electricity supply are a familiar daily occurrence and require instant remedial action. “The various tasks [the two people] undertake rely on extremely close collabora- tion.”

There is little overt interaction between the Con- troller and DIA, the primary channel of communica- tion being overheard telephone calls and conversa- tions, although each maybe engaged in simultane- ously different tasks. In one example of ‘rendering tasks visible’ the authors note that “on occasions, it is necessary for the Controller to draw the DIA’s attention to particular events or activities [. .I. For example, as he is speaking to an operator or signal- man, the Controller may laugh or produce an excla- mation and thereby encourage the DIA to monitor the call more carefully. Or, as he turns to his timetable or glances at the hardline display, the Controller will swear, feign momentary illness or even sing a couple of bars to a song to draw the DIA’s attention to an emergent problem. ”

Other ‘acts’ that are analysed include ‘surrepti-

tious monitoring and interrelating tasks,’ ‘coordinat- ing passenger movement.’ and ‘overseeing the local environment.’ The authors conclude that “the con- tinual flow of information between the Controller and DIA. and their ability to monitor, and if neces- sary correct, each other’s actions, are essential fea- tures of work in the Control Room.” Any new technology should thus seek to preserve this ‘contin- ual flow of information.’

2. I .3. Engineering design Bucciarelli [8] starts with a clear assumption: “I

see designing as all that goes on within the subcul- ture of the firm. My frame is that of the ethnogra- pher; my first premise. based upon what I have observed, is that designing is a social process. [. .] My aim is to show how this perspective can serve as a basis for a better, more useful understanding of the engineering design process.” Research takes place within two high-technology engineering companies: “one firm makes photovoltaic modules for the direct conversion of solar radiation into electricity; the other makes X-ray equipment for medical diagnos- tics...” Data collection was by means of field notes; the length of the study is not given.

The study describes three aspects of the design process: ‘object worlds’ meditates on the relationship between the design object. the breakdown into sub- systems, the design process, and the relationship between the individual subject and design object. ‘Specifications and constraints’ discusses the types

of ‘facts, ’ ‘laws,’ and ‘human constructs’ that limit the designer. And ‘design discourse’ identifies three types of conversation in which designers typically partake: ‘constraining’ discourse, ‘naming’ dis- course, and ‘decision’ discourse.

As an example of ‘decision’ discourse, the author

focuses on a meeting held in a CEO’s office. The question on the agenda was: “Should the design be amended to include another collimator?” The first part of the conversation went as follows.

CEO: “Will it help?” [meaning will it improve the image?]

Financial Officer: “Do we really need it‘?” The first question led to a discussion of physics,

[. .] the second question stimulated a dialogue

P. Lloyd, P. Deaslq / Automation in Construction 7 (19981 lOI- 110 105

[where] the concern was cost. There then follows a detailed analysis of the conversation focusing on the different viewpoints of all participants. The author draws our attention to the way that the different participants think about the same ‘object’ in different ways. In numerous examples culled from ‘the hard data,’ we put together a complicated, and surpris- ingly philosophical, picture of the commercial design process.

2.2. Interim summary

The studies that we have detailed have two things in common, they are convincing descriptions of the process or ‘thing’ that they are describing. They also share a particular reflexivity in approach although, even in just these three studies, the operational as- pects of the ethnographic methodology varied con- siderably. We hope to have provided a feeling for the types and style of observation that is typically ob- tained in ethnographic study, and also given an indication of the huge variety of cultural systems that ethnographic study takes place in. We now go on to present our own ethnographic study of the electronic design process within a large aerospace company.

3. British Aerospace: a design case study

3.1. Outline qf emironment, design task, and

methodology

The British Aerospace study is the first of a number of studies with collaborating organisations, and focused on a particular design team playing a major part in the design of a missile. The participat- ing design team was well established, having been together for approximately 5 yrs, they had also re- ceived training on effective teamworking. The design team formed what is known at British Aerospace as ‘the boards process.’ This is the organisational pro- cess that has, as its input, a specification for a particular subsystem from an overall system design, and produces as its output the design and layout of

the printed circuit boards for that subsystem. The electronic subsystem assembly is made up of

five circuit boards, and, together with the mechanical subsystem constructed around the boards ‘is about the size of a baked-bean can.’ Strictly speaking the electronic designers and the mechanical designers

were part of the same multi-disciplinary design team, sharing the same weekly design review meeting. For the purposes of the present study, real time observa- tion was limited to the electronic design engineers. The mechanical designers were not physically lo- cated with the electronic designers and so could not be observed in quite the same way.

The study lasted for approximately three months, and involved two researchers. The first two months were spent interviewing designers and managers, and analysing forma1 documentation of British Aerospace design process methodologies. The final three weeks of the study were spent directly observing the activ- ity of the electronic design engineers; Fig. 1 shows the layout of the workplace and position of the researchers. In addition to this ‘real-time’ behaviour, one researcher attended the weekly design review meeting to gain a fuller understanding of the current issues involved with the project. Audio recording

Fig I. Figure shows where each of the 9 team members were

/ Project Display Space ‘b

Public Display

El E2 !I I I I

Key

Partition m Filing

I Window

positioned. Actors 7 and 8 were the team leaders, while E I and E2

indicate where the two experimenters were seated. Each desk had one personal computer on it. The desks with no number associated

with them had people from other teams sitting at them. These people did not figure in our observations. The area to the immedi-

ate right of the figure continues as an open plan office environ- ment.

was not possible due to Ministry of Defence regula- tions. After our full analysis of the data was com- plete, the design team were presented with, and asked to comment on, our findings. This meeting provided useful feedback.

In practice, our field notes contained, for exam- ple: the layout of the workplace and the designer’s dynamic position within it, who was present in the workplace at any particular time (both the designers themselves and ‘outsiders’), snippets of conversa- tion, notes about the information on the walls and on desks, clarifications of technical points, etc. For the analysis, the field notes were first divided into one of three genera1 categories-organisation, culture, and decision-making. Representative episodes were then further analysed and described coherently using an ethnographic narrative style. Sections 3.2, 3.3 and 3.4 describe what we feel to be representative as- pects of the commercial design process.

3.2. Design network structure

The forma1 structure of the electronic and me- chanical design team consists of fifteen designers supervised by two managers. The two managers reside in the area of the electronic designers (Fig. 1). Officially the roles of the managers are split accord- ing to which half of the subsystem they oversee. In practice, the managers cover one another, both look- ing after the whole assembly when the other is absent.

The formal structure is most evident in the weekly design meetings, chaired by one of the managers, where designers discuss not only ongoing problems to do with the project, but also wider organisational issues (‘rumours’). In the workplace, the manager exerts no obvious authority, designers being left largely to their own devices. The manager’s physical position, slightly removed from the rest of the team (Fig. I), means that his role was largely advisory on a day-to-day basis. The division of work here is clear. The manager is concerned with deadlines; with making sure that all circuit boards are proceeding to the overarching project plan. The individual design- ers are concerned with the design of their own particular boards, and the issues arising directly from this design activity; such as clarifying their specifica- tion or monitoring other subsystem interfaces.

(a)

s’ Fig. 2. (a) Work-related discourse (b) Non-work related discourx.

Actors are represented spatially (according to Fig. I ). The record-

ing of interactions takes place over half an hour. A dotted line

indicates a one-way relationship, a bold line indicates a two-way

relationship. For example, in Fig. 2a, actor 9 instigated a work

related conversation with actor 4; in Fig. 2b, actor I inatigated a

conversation with actor 5, and also in the same half-hour period,

actor 5 instigated a conversation with actor I.

Interesting patterns emerge when we consider the informal structures operating in the team. These structures originate in the types of interaction that takes place between individuals, and are more closely related to the work as it actually occurs. Two exam- ples are shown in Fig. 2. First, a work-oriented informal network, constructed by noting who spoke to whom about work-related issues. Secondly, a social-oriented informal network, constructed by not- ing who spoke to whom about non-work-related issues. The networks were constructed over one half-hour period, and are merely intended to illus- trate the dynamic organisation of work and conversa- tion.

Fig. 2a shows that conversation, and information we may assume, flow relatively easily around the structure. If any one substructure dominates, it is the triangular relationship between actor 5 and the two managers, actors 7 and 8. Here, we might imagine actor 5 to play a ‘delegation’ role in terms of the work structure; communicating information to other designers. If we then consider Fig. 2b, looking at non-work-related conversation, actor 5’s role be- comes more obvious. It is clear from this figure that actor 5 is the ‘social glue’ of the team. “This diagram means that I’m a good listener,” he men- tioned in the feedback session. A better explanation comes when we consider actor 5’s ‘official’ role which was, as well as being a designer, something of a ‘troubleshooting’ role, phoning suppliers and mak-

P. Lloyd, P. Deasley / Automation in Construction 7 (I 998) 101- 110 107

ing sure parts were where they should have been for the initial stages of manufacture to take place. Fig. 2b thus illustrates a congruence in actor 5’s ‘official’ role-the troubleshooter involving much communi- cation, with his ‘unofficial’ role-the social glue. This consistency in roles seemed to result in actor 5 being well respected and trusted by the other team members.

3.3. Decision-making

The most remarkable observation about ‘decision making’ is that, on an hour-by-hour basis, there is very little decision-making. Individual designers make decisions all the time: they decide to pick up a pencil, they decide to use a CAD station, they decide to go and talk to a colleague about some- thing, they decide to get up and have a cup of coffee. This is not what we mean when we ask “what decisions were made?” The above examples are data-driven, opportunistic decisions; triggered by the environmental context. What we actually mean when we ask “what decisions were made?” is what decisions were made (and perhaps recorded) about the design itself, or the process of producing that design. The answer is: very few decisions were

made. The paucity of decision-making was acknowl-

edged to be due to the advanced stage of the project -7 yrs into a IO-yr development programme. At earlier stages of development, more planning-type decisions were made about the direction of individ- ual designs, and designers had more latitude to de- cide what they wanted to do. The stage we observed was a microproblem-solving stage. Designers were obviously working out very specific problems, and there were many phone calls and consultations to do with the design itself. The whole process, in essence, was opportunistic. Individual designers had little planned control. The fact that, in the three weeks of our observation, there was no time where a decision was made that seemed absolutelyfixed illustrates the fluidity of design work, and brings to mind the

quote:

“The design engineer’s work is based on the pur- poseful progression towards project goals, rather than on clearly defined routine duties.” [ 151

This concept of ‘purposeful progression’ is a valuable one in understanding the daily work of a design engineer. It implies that, during the intermedi- ate stages of a project, the designer need only see progress, however small, rather than see how each individual decision affects the final design as a whole. An illustration of this, from our observations, comes when actor 5, having trouble with organising the PCB artwork from a company called ‘Carlton,’ talks to the team manager (actor 8). During this discus- sion, actor 5 makes a procedural decision:

Actor 5: “The stencils are at Carlton, they’ll be at Lostock [the manufacturing site] on Monday. [. . . ] All we do is go straight to TKan in future.”

Actor 8: “If you’re going [to] one contractor through another, you can’t really expect. . . ” [Phone rings, and actor 5 answers].

In this example, a decision is clearly made, i.e., rather than try and get to one contractor through another, in the future, the second contractor should be contacted directly. The phone rings and termi- nates the conversation, actor 5 answers, and it is a social call for him. Actor 8 returns to his desk. Nothing is recorded. The decision may, or may not, have been remembered, although in the feedback session actor 5 stated that was now the procedure that was followed.

This example was characteristic of the exter- nalised decision-making (as compared with the inter- nalised, cognitive processes of the individual) that we observed. The problem situation had occurred opportunistically; it had not been planned for. By making a clear decision, a positive reinforcement occurred. Not, as one might think, to change any- thing in particular about the design, but to provide a sense of progress; a sense of change. Decisions, at this advanced stage of the project, thus seem to provide a mechanism for progress in design. Once a decision is made, implications can be assessed; then, even if the decision is ignored, at least it has pro- vided that all important sense of ‘purposeful progres- sion;’ of doing something in the general direction of the final goal.

3.4. R@ection in action

At British Aerospace there is an official ‘mentor- ing’ structure, a structure whereby a designer, inex- perienced in a certain area or maybe just needing an external view on a problem, can talk with a more senior designer. The problem is that mentors are often physically located some way from the design- ers they mentor, and that often, being senior design- ers themselves, they are busy. This potentially useful scheme that provides a period of reflection for de- signers is thus hampered by the fact that designers often want a discussion ‘right now while it’s in my head.’ To wait even a quarter of an hour is some- times to ‘lose the problem.’

Fortunately, informal mechanisms within the de- sign team serve to provide this reflective problem- solving (and compares very favourably with Schiin’s description [16] of ‘reflection in action’). Each de- signer takes care of their own circuit board so each has specific knowledge of their product as well as specific knowledge of solving the problems associ- ated with that circuit board. Expertise can thus be transferred between designers through problem-solv- ing discourse. A typical example is contained in the conversation between actors 9 and 1 (below). Actor 9, needing help on a software problem that actor I was familiar with, asked for help. Actor 1 responded by providing a reflective role:

Actor I: “Is it going to be a sine wave, or is it. . ?”

Actor 9: “Frequency.. ” Actor 1: “So you’re going to use the C program-

mer in the background to try and speed everything up. [. . .] A look-up table’s a good idea.. ”

Actor 9: [describes other aspects of the system]. Actor I: “Excuse me if I sound a bit daft, but this

RAM is on the PC...”

Actor 9: [inaudible]. Actor 1: “But what you’ve got to bear in mind

is. . This is what I’m getting to, because when you get to board test, I think the problem is this bit where we’ve got to tie up with Fred.. ”

The structure of this discourse goes from specific to general. Initially, actor 1 asks about the nature of the electronic signal that actor 9 is processing; a very

specific entry point to the problem, he then famil- iarises himself with actor 9’s current solution and suggests a further enhancement: “a look-up table’s a good idea.” After then realising that he doesn’t understand the electronic system that actor 9 is work- ing with he asks a more general question: “but this RAM is on the PC?” The episode finishes with Actor 1 pointing out the wider issues involved with the problem, the issues that involve other people within the design process: “we’ve got to tie up with Fred...”

Actor 1 has effectively played the role of mentor to actor 9. This is clearly desirable in a design team and. although the official mentor may still be a valuable aid, proves an effective means of ‘short circuiting’ the official mentoring process and also fulfilling the ‘now’ aspect of designing. In three weeks of observation, much of this informal mentor- ing was observed, but it is not clear whether other design teams were as effective (the team we ob- served were generally acknowledged by the man- agers we interviewed to be one of the top performing teams).

4. Discussion

In Section 3, we have tried to sketch out some of the ‘acts’ and mechanisms that we have observed taking place in the electronic design process of a large manufacturing company. This has been a nec- essarily representative process, with our involvement in observing the design process only three months of a IO-yr project, but, we feel provides firstly some idea of the informality of the commercial design process, and secondly, some idea of the type of observation that an ethnographic methodology pro- duces and the reflexivity it allows.

The idea that, within organisations, work is usu-

ally organised informally is not a new one, and much current research focuses on contrasting the differ- ences between prescribed methodologies (in the case of British Aerospace a ‘product introduction method- ology’) and the rather messier actuality of work. The ‘graphs’ of Fig. 2 tried to model, albeit rather crudely, the actual information flows around a design team and showed the effectiveness of ‘unofficial’ organi- sation in ‘getting the work done.’ Such results are

P. Lloyd. P. Deasley/Auiomation in Construction 7 (19981 101-110 109

echoed in the work of Krackhardt [ 17,181 and Krack- hardt and Hanson [19], showing the importance of ‘trust’ in relation to productivity. We implied that ‘official’ and ‘unofficial’ role congruence provided the basis for trust relationships that allowed the design process to progress steadily. This is an ele- ment of design that we intend to focus on in future studies.

Moving on from networks and structural relation- ships we illustrated, by quoting direct conversation, the nature of ‘role’ playing within the design process in decision making and ‘reflection in action.’ 3 A better explanation seems to be that, in gaining design experience, the designer learns how to approach different situations in terms of a ‘role,’ rather than a set of discrete problems. The mentor role, then, is something that an experienced designer will perform for an inexperienced one because it is their belief that that is the best way to progress the design. In rather clinical terms the daily work of the designer becomes a series of ‘acts’ in which they have to fulfil certain roles. The ‘design act’-the focused concentration of the individual on a particular prob- lem-was observed to take up less that 30% of the time at work.

Eliciting the nature of ‘roles’ and ‘acts’ is primar- ily a subjective process and to counter this, we have endeavoured to include actual conversation as a semiobjective element to our analysis. The most powerful indication of a role being played, or an act being performed, comes in the types of discourse that occur in the design environment. This is a finding very much in line with the research of Buc- ciarelli [20,8] that we described in detail in Section 2.1.3. Indeed, discourse is the primary entry point into the social (commercial) design process, reveal- ing attitudes, perceptions, and adding to organisa- tional narratives and ongoing debates. 4

’ ‘Role’ here is put in inverted commas because it is clear that

the designers do not believe themselves to be artificially playing

roles.

’ In a very recent study at a small manufacturing company, we observed a narrative slowly being formed after the theft of CAD

equipment from a mechanical design team. In the days following

the theft, all sorts of attitudes and perceptions were revealed, from

the mechanical designers’ inability to adapt to new technology, to the company’s policy on procuring new computing equipment.

There are two final observations that we would like to make about the commercial design process. The first is that there is a sense in which the design process could be described as a ‘chronic’-i.e., a long-term problem, beset by ‘contingent,’ i.e., short- term planned and opportunistic-problems. What is interesting is that, apparently, there is little relation between the two types of problems, indeed the ‘chronic’ design problem sometimes seems like a Platonic ideal, being discussed in the terms of ‘it never turns out like that,’ or ‘the design is never finished, there’s always some change that needs doing.’ Our second observation concerns the roles and discourses that we have already noted. Although a commercial work environment is a complicated social structure, we have noticed a certain repetition in behaviours. This might suggest that a typology of roles and discourse is possible, a direction which our research is very much attending to.

5. Summary and conclusion

In the present paper, we have attempted to de- scribe some of the ‘dust and rubbish and bits and pieces’ that play such a large part in the metaphor of the opening quote. We first noted a change of em- phasis in design research, from the individual to the social-hence, commercial-design process. We went on to look at how methods of ethnography can be used to elicit the social mechanisms of the design process. We briefly presented an ethnographic study of a team of electronic designers at British Aerospace, observing informal structures, and subtle shifts in designer’s roles. We noted that the best illustration of role play, or ‘acts,’ was to be found in the discourse of the design team. There are several

further commercial design studies to be undertaken in the present project. In these we begin to focus on issues of ‘trust, ’ ‘roles’ and ‘discourses’ in describ- ing the nature of the commercial design process.

Acknowledgements

Funding for the study reported here comes from an EPSRC grant (references GR/K39417 and GR/K36348), together with contributions from

II0 P. Lloyd, P. Deasley/Automation in Construction 7 (1998) 101-110

British Aerospace, and Lucas Industries. I would like to thank Tim Ellis for both his part in the fieldwork stages of this project and his helpful suggestions for this paper. Thanks are also due to Ken Swift and Mike Dooner, managers of the project.

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