A major furniture manufacturer once invited me to preview a new office system it claimed would "revolutionize" the workplace. This sneak peek entailed taking a two-leg flight to the corporate headquarters, being assigned two escorts once I arrived, and signing a stack of non-disclosure agreements. With all the Is dotted and Ts crossed, I was led into a secured room where the revolution was to be unveiled. It was ... a cubicle. It was a very nice cubicle, constructed of elegant yet durable materials, and designed to improve its user's privacy and organizational skills. But I was struck by how little it rethought, let alone revolutionized, the office paradigm.
A few years later, I found myself in another office that proclaimed to be the workplace of the future. This time, there were no cubicles or even permanent desks. Spaces and resources were assigned on an as-needed basis. I had a file cabinet in which to store my belongings overnight, and each day I had to log in at home in order to "check-in" to a desk space at the office. Here, so-called "hoteling" had become the new cubicle.
Both office solutions were functional but far from revolutionary. The basic needs of employees were considered, but only in a lowest-common-denominator sort of way. This made me wonder: What might be the truly revolutionary result of a more open-ended exploration of workspaces? I knew the perfect person to enlighten me--inventor and artist Steven M. Johnson.