A Little on Less, Empty Space and What’s Not There

One of New York’s handful of Apple Stores is right across the street from my apartment. Given its location, I happen to walk by it every day during my city meanderings. The store design, like most of Apple’s offspring, is beautiful. Large, shimmering glass windows surround the edge of the building. An abrupt, spiral staircase snakes around the corner of the inside, where bright lit computer screens seem to be floating on each floor.

The most captivating aspect of the store is none of the above; it’s the little black sign hanging, flapping with the breeze, outside the front of the store. And, it’s barely a sign. It’s a metal cutout of the Apple logo. But, what makes it so appealing is what’s not there–the empty space. There is nothing appealing about it the sign, except the empty space. I can see through it. I find myself thinking about the sign more than anything else in the store, like right now.

Empty space is emotionally questionable.

Music, for me, works in a similar fashion. The songs I find most appealing, addictive and re-listenable have what’s called a “one drop,” a term coined originally for reggae music. In the one drop, the emphasis is entirely on the third beat of the bar while the first beat of the bar is completely empty. It’s the space between the notes that makes the rest of the song enjoyable.¹

Empty space forces anticipation.

There is a stigma that doing less of anything feels ineffective. In fact, I think less, even if it takes more time to design, leverages emotional effectiveness.

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For other design anecdotes, I highly recommend seeing Objectified.

1. This was popularized by Bob Marley’s drummer, while probably not invented by him. [↩]

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