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Jobs felt that a core component of design simplicity was making products intuitively easy to use. Those do not always go hand in hand. Sometimes a design can be so sleek and simple that a user finds it intimidating or unfriendly to navigate. “The main thing in our design is that we have to make things intuitively obvious,” Jobs told the crowd of design mavens. For example, he extolled the desktop metaphor he was creating for the graphical screen of his new computer, the Macintosh. “People know how to deal with a desktop intuitively. If you walk into an office, there are papers on the desk. The one on the top is the most important. People know how to switch priority. Part of the reason we model our computers on metaphors like the desktop is that we can leverage this experience people already have.” At that time, there was not much exciting happening in the realm of industrial design, Jobs felt. He had a Richard Sapper lamp, which he admired, and he also liked the furniture of Charles and Ray Eames and the Braun products of Dieter Rams. But there were no towering figures energizing the world of industrial design the way that Raymond Loewy and Herbert Bayer had done. “There really wasn’t much going on in industrial design, particularly in Silicon Valley, and Steve was very eager to change that,” says Maya Lin, the designer of Washington’s Vietnam Veterans Memorial, who met Jobs at the Aspen conferences. “His design sensibility was sleek but not slick, and it was playful. He embraced minimalism, which came from his Zen devotion to simplicity, but he avoided allowing that to make his products cold. They stayed fun. He was passionate and super serious about design, but at the same time there was a sense of play.” In creating the case for the original Macintosh, which came out in 1984, Jobs worked with two young designers at Apple, Jerry Manock and Terry Oyama, who drafted a preliminary design and had a plaster model made. The Mac team gathered around for the unveiling and expressed their thoughts. Andy Hertzfeld, one of the software engineers, called it “cute.” Others also seemed satisfied. Then Jobs let loose a blistering burst of criticism. “It’s way too boxy, it’s got to be more curvaceous. The radius of the first chamfer needs to be bigger, and I don’t like the size of the bevel.” With his new fluency in industrial design lingo, Jobs was referring to the angular or curved edge connecting the sides of the computer. But then Jobs gave a resounding compliment. “It’s a start,” he said. Every month or so, Manock and Oyama would come back to present a new iteration, based on Jobs’ previous criticisms. The latest plaster model would be dramatically unveiled, and all the previous attempts would be lined up next to it. That not only helped them gauge the evolution, but it prevented Jobs from insisting that one of his suggestions or criticisms had been ignored. “By the fourth model, I could barely distinguish it from the third one,” said Hertzfeld, “but Steve was always critical and decisive, saying he loved or hated a detail that I could barely perceive.” One weekend, Jobs went to the Macy’s in Palo Alto and again spent time studying appliances, especially the Cuisinart. He came bounding into the Mac office that Monday, asked the design team to go buy one and made a raft of new suggestions based on its lines, curves and bevels.