Born in Miyazaki, 1932, Yasuo Kuroki joined Sony in 1960, managing domestic and then international advertising. His design efforts with two others at the time led to the familiar Sony logo. The Ginza Sony Building and other showrooms around the world also bear his creative signature. After heading advertising, product planning, and the Creative Center, he was appointed director in 1988. Planning and development projects to his credit include Profeel and Walkman, as well as Jumbotron at the Tsukuba Expo. He was director of the Kuroki Office and the Design Center of Toyama, until his death on July 12, 2007, but his contributions to Sony design will always be remembered.
Here is an exclusive interview with Yasuo Kuroki via Sony Design, only a few months before his death:
Looking for the essence of Sony, “like no other”
I was watching TV the other day, and when they switched to footage from overseas, I caught a glimpse of a Sony product in a corner of the scene. It was the BRAVIA “X Series” / “XBR Series”. Even if we can’t see the manufacturer or brand logo, it’s easy to know something is a Sony product. In a flash, it conveys something distinctively “Sony.” There’s a definite product identity, and that’s what I would call Sony design.
But we couldn’t break this essence down to a set of rules. It’s truly hard to create, maintain, and nurture a sense of style that can’t be spelled out. And I think this highlights the importance of design management, which is exactly what I focused on at Sony. It seemed as if we were always saying at design meetings, “Hey, doesn’t this look like that other company’s?” or “I think I’ve seen this somewhere.” Those designs were obviously scrapped. Even if we were on the verge of production when a competitor beat us to market with a similar product, we accepted the circumstances and stopped. This kind of dedication, over and over, gradually created something uniquely “Sony,” an identity.
Top Sony executives, eagerly visiting the design department
I’ve contributed to many products, including Walkman, Profeel and Jumbotron, but others were actually involved in the design. It would be more accurate to say I set the scene for their work and supported them. As I recall, the environment for design at Sony was fundamentally different, starting with how our office was organized. Masaru Ibuka (then honorary chairman of Sony) and Akio Morita (then chairman) worked on the seventh floor, and I joined Norio Ohga (then president) on the sixth. Directly below us was design. Not finance. Not engineering. Designers were the group closest to the top. It was enough to prompt some journalist to say that what inspired one interesting Sony product after another was the fact that it wasn’t engineers or planners who were at the heart of the company, it was designers.
Even then, Sony was introducing about 600 new products a year, including components. It would have been unreasonable to expect the top management to have a firm grasp of everything, to know how each product reflected Sony design. Instead, we selected strategic products and offered opportunities for the developers to give presentations to top management. But even then, the executives found themselves on the design floor. Ordinarily, they would have been approached in the boardroom, but I was always inviting the executives down. Products can’t move by themselves, but Ibuka and Morita had serviceable legs, I said. And I got a thorough scolding from the old guard, but these two gladly came down for a look. After all, it must be much more enjoyable to see things in person than to endure a board meeting. What Ibuka and Morita were shown were design mock-ups. But these were not rough models; they were quite attractive. They served as our ultimate goal, and we combined the talents of designers and engineers to make it happen. In this approach to product development, I think Sony was unique among Japanese manufacturers at the time.
Management that makes a difference in design
Our forum for executive approval of design mock-ups was the presentation of what we called “creative reports,” on at least one product a month—as many as 15 during peak periods. I think these “creative reports” worked very well in promoting Sony’s basic product development system, and they are still held to this day. These mock-ups enable frequent discussions between designers and engineers to work out the design details, as they consider what devices can be incorporated for a particular shape or what materials can be used for a desired finish. As for the engineers, they’re probably more inspired with ideas and can imagine possibilities better by looking at an attractive mock-up than a flat sketch. Through this process, we overcame conflicting factors in design, engineering, and production and achieved consistent product development. This is one way to set the scene and manage product development. To put it differently, even if excellent designers make great strides working on their own, it may not ensure good design or foster a definite product identity.
Setting design free from the boundaries of particular fields or career specializations
What was Sony like in my day? Well, we innovated and improvised here and there to create an open forum for communication. One thing I tried was a “trio system.” We formed development teams of three designers without regard for job title, experience, or other factors for bias. One individual designed, and the other two observed objectively and offered their opinions. The design that was refined through their effort was then further studied by a product group. And who would check the final proposal they came up with? Ordinarily, that would have been my role, but I told them to show it to the senior general manager first, who would have ultimate responsibility over it, and see about the potential of turning it into a product. If we didn’t, the designers might try to run with their idea without considering it carefully enough.
These approaches to development—creative reports and the trio system—strengthened our ability to consider design from many angles, beyond the boundaries of particular technical fields or career specializations. They also helped create a corporate culture where people felt free to share opinions. Morita always liked to say that silence meant cowardice. The more we talk about things, the more likely we will expose any shortcomings. But it’s cowardly not to speak out. He used to say that people surely have an opinion, so they should speak their mind without hiding anything. He even went as far as to say that a unanimous decision without comment is hardly unanimous. Free and lively discussion was one thing that distinguished Sony, and I simply took advantage of it to do what I felt we should do.
Looking at Sony’s uniqueness
Looking back, I myself also enjoyed freedom in managing designers, thanks to the truly impressive directors at the time. Free and open-minded people led the way, as we saw in Akio Morita, the founder of Sony. It’s amazing to realize how one’s academic background meant little to him and how he established in-house recruitment systems. That was more than 40 years ago. It was Sony that took the initiative in introducing dedicated merchandisers to manage goods from production to sale. Back then, Japanese manufacturers held meetings between production and sales as a matter of course,
but these departments inevitably want different things. One side says, “Look at the great products we’ve created—get to work and sell them.” The other replies “Make them more cheaply, and faster.” That kind of interchange.
Instead, I proposed to Morita that if we left sales and production in the hands of capable people, our discussions could be more positive. That’s when we recruited merchandisers in-house. We sought 10 people at the time and got 150 applicants. Morita praised this merchandiser system. He was so excited about it that he ended up spending an hour talking to just these 10 people. I knew no other manufacturer as motivated as Sony to make the most of their people.
Raising or razing the walls of tradition: people have the power to do both
Sony introduced the merchandiser system early on, and it yielded surprisingly good results. Not only did it ease conflicts between production and sales, it was also effective in leveling disparities among business departments in charge of different products. It helped that merchandisers in various departments gathered where I worked to share information. They were eager to share news about the latest devices or products. So instead of having to visit each business department, I could make announcements or provide guidance whenever the merchandisers were all together. Very convenient.
If I noticed that some designer was using a mechanical switch in a camcorder mock-up, I could mention that another department had expertise in electronic switches, for example. Some people say that as companies grow, everyone becomes more isolated and we don’t know what’s on each other’s minds. Personally, I disagree. We had the means to prevent this in place during my time at Sony, and in general, it’s just an issue for management to address.
When I was managing merchandisers at Sony, everyone was willing to hear other opinions. Even if we were from a different business department, we were never treated like laymen. I mean, I once asked if we could create a matchbox-sized videotape, and people responded by actually making the tape and a compatible camcorder, although it was never commercialized. It was exactly because this was our corporate culture that Sony could introduce the Walkman. Initially, some people opposed turning it into a product, which was perfectly understandable; there wasn’t even a word to describe these players yet. But I think it’s critical to have the kind of corporate culture that values divergent thinking—even crazy or apparently irrational thinking, sometimes.
The mission of Sony design: translating product identity directly into corporate identity
When I was at Sony, there were already design samples for almost all products imaginable. For fans, refrigerators, cars, and most other commodities, a design prototype had already been developed by some manufacturer overseas. The sole exception was consumer electronics. Sony pioneered transistor radios, CD players, and other products in this category. We therefore had nowhere to look for design clues. So, trying to find our way with no clear answers in sight, we concentrated as products gradually took shape and we created design prototypes. In this respect, Sony remains an innovative company, proud of this heritage and wiser for the experience. Although it’s hard to express, I think that’s linked to what makes Sony unique, to me.
I’d like to see Sony continue pursuing what makes Sony “like no other” through products that symbolize the Sony philosophy and approach to product development. The product identity that this fosters will surely translate directly into Sony’s corporate identity.
Sony in the future
Looking ahead, I think Sony will need to take a more ecological approach to product development, unlike the 20th-century mass production, mass consumption model of my day. And don’t misunderstand me, but I think consumers should be a little less foolish, too. Maybe it’s human nature to want products that are more affordable, even if they’re worse for the environment. That’s why self-respecting manufacturers must not give them the chance. As Ibuka said, we must educate the market consumer. I know how difficult this is. But ultimately, taking the initiative will increase Sony corporate brand value, I’m sure. Sony excels at creating superb products that are compact, and this is essentially an eco-friendly practice because fewer resources are used. Although this may violate some goals of universal design, it seems acceptable as long as consumers are informed in promotional material. I also think this kind of honesty will be increasingly important.
