David Muller

A great display is not only a work of art, but also an exhibit that tells a story and attracts a crowd.

A great display is also an example of coordination and translation, where a professional can actualize an artist's vision into a three-dimensional model of perfection. And yet, too often what we see on paper—what I see on paper—bears little resemblance to the nuances and flourishes, and the angular shapes and sharp lines, that represent an artist's vision.

Whether a result of poor communication, or a product of too many chefs in the proverbial kitchen (in this case, too many artists in the studio), there is an increasing disconnect between designs for various displays and the construction of those respective plans.

Stated from Experience

I write these words from my own experience, where, as the founder and president of DCM Fabrication, I work with many companies from a variety of industries across a variety of venues.

From the majestic window displays of Manhattan's fashion emporiums, in which the facade of a French Renaissance revival mansion looks like the reels in a movie that includes tuxedo-clad aristocrats and stylish flappers, and Colorado cowboys and Grand Prix drivers, to huge conventional halls where vendors use displays as conversation pieces and an informal means of business development, one thing is certain:

• If the construction of these displays falters—if a designer outsources too much of this work to too many firms (of differing skill and accountability)—then that business will suffer.

Again, I issue this statement from experience because, where there is more one-on-one collaboration between a designer and the person responsible for bringing a blueprint to life, the chances for success improve markedly.

This point may seem obvious—indeed, it is obvious—but, in the face of deadlines, tightened budgets, searching for the right materials, and the back-and-forth of messages and in-person meetings, collaboration can soon descend into chaos.

The logistics become even more complicated, when trying to corral representatives from different firms to convene in a physical location.

Don’t Play Telephone

What soon happens is an unintentional, and far from comical, version of the child’s game "Telephone," where a designer and one of several builders enter a conference room and talk to a squawk box that connects to other vendors working on the same project.

Between the overlapping voices and poor sound quality, along with the difficulty of knowing who is on the line, the effect is like one very bad auditory hallucination: All noise, and no signal.

Therein lies the difference between a display that resonates with viewers, inducing suspension of disbelief before this cinematic depiction of the good life, and some cardboard cutout that is as unremarkable as it is forgettable.

It Takes Discipline

The fact is that converting an idea into a tangible object is a discipline unto itself. It involves so many moving parts, literally, that have gears built and assembled by artisans, on the one hand, and drones, on the other. To extol craftsmanship as you simultaneously invite the poverty of mediocre thinking into the workplace is to have a display that will intellectually collapse because of its contradictions and physically crumble because of its shoddy construction.

Clarity demands the end of this conflict of visions. Design mandates the erasure of confusion.

A great display requires great professionals, period.