As a design student, I have always been fascinated by the process of asking questions, thinking things through, and coming up with answers to the what whys and hows. 

As I worked on a design project last semester about “Archiving the work done in NID print labs throughout the years”, I was sifting through dusty shelves at the lab, trying to understand the concept of time. While this archive is not just about what has been done, but also about what is needed now and in the future, the question of relevance in time persisted throughout development of an archival platform.

Do I archive things from the past or create a system for the future? What kind of system could support both an archive of conventional printing techniques and the uncertain future of design in this digital age where design interacts with ever evolving technology?

While contemplating on this, my faculty casually mentioned, “Designers are time travelers”.

I scribbled it at the back of my notebook and have not stopped thinking about it ever since, and trust me this concept is way more interesting than as bizarre as it sounds.

Stay with me. Time—often referred to as the fourth dimension in space—is an entity as

mysterious as it can be and shapes all our realities. While scientists have been grappling with its complexities, designers, whether they realize it or not, are masters of navigating it. We're not just creating objects, experiences or spaces. We’re working with time itself. Our inspiration usually comes from the past-what already exists, caters to the needs of the present, and forms our visions for the future- the uncertain. Design itself is a balancing act that stretches across timelines.

The Past:

Let’s break it down. We all are aware by now, and have heard it a zillion times that design isn’t just about making things look pretty. For creations where form and function follows the concept of time and become what we call “timeless”, we have to understand what came before us. We have to be archaeologists, digging up and analyzing the buried treasures of forgotten aesthetics, old-school design techniques- we might hate going through the books, but what needs to be understood is that we need to know the rules first to break them, and we need to note the lessons learned from the triumphs and epic failures of bygone eras.

As we might find ourselves combing through ancient artifacts, vintage posters, or mid-century furniture catalogs. You're not just appreciating them for their retro looks; you have to know how to reverse-engineer their success. There’s a reason why certain styles have endured through time—think of the Bauhaus or Art Deco, how have they survived the technological and generational advancements of design. These just don’t reflect trends; they also embody a human connection of desires, needs, and thought processes that transcend time. The historical perspective is, in my opinion, the bedrock of modern design. It gives us the wisdom to avoid past mistakes, to avoid the cliches, to avoid what has already been done and thought through while also allowing us to revive timeless design principles. It’s like we’ve a secret weapon—a time-tested formula that lets us bring the best of the past into the present. Sure, some trends as we know should remain buried (referring to neon green and brown color palettes of the 70s or the corporate illustrations of today, haha), but many others deserves to be dusted off from between the pages of the books and shelves of the history and reimagined in today’s context.

The Present:

While we can go knee-deep in history, our designs must be equally rooted in the now. Today’s fast pace of the world demands that we understand current needs, wants, and behaviours. We are constantly trying to decipher how people interact with their environments, their products, and even intrapersonal relationships. It must be this keen sense of awareness that makes design so relevant. Without it our designs wouldn’t do justice to the purpose.

A design should evolve from a detailed study of anthropology, sociology, and keen observations towards the habits and lifestyles of the people we’re designing for. Research isn’t just a checkbox we must tick off, it’s the backbone of thoughtful design that provides insights which ultimately shape every choice we make—from the color palette to the ergonomics of a chair. Design without research is like cooking without tasting your food. Sure, you might make something edible, but you’re missing the nuances that turn a meal into a symphony—where every flavor and texture plays its part in perfect harmony.

The present is about problem-solving in real-time. We’re asked to create solutions for issues

that already exist. Whether it’s designing an intuitive app interface or crafting an awareness

campaign, we have to stay grounded in reality. But here's the trick: we can’t just solve for today. We have to anticipate how our designs will evolve. What’s cutting-edge now might be outdated in five years. Our creations need to be flexible enough to grow with the world around them. It’s like designing for the present, with one eye always glancing into the future.

The Future: Where We Daydream Big

This brings us to the most exciting part: the future. If the past is our blueprint and the present is our canvas, then the future must be considered our playground. Designers are certified future-gazers—professional daydreamers with an eye for what’s to come. Sure, we don’t have crystal balls or flux capacitors, but we spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about how the world will look, feel, and function decades from now. We’re the ones imagining flying cars, sustainable cities, and clothes that clean themselves. It’s not enough to look at what’s possible today; we have to think bigger. What’s impossible now might be the norm in 50 years. The trick is to design for a future that hasn’t yet materialised. Of course, this requires a certain amount of humility. We don’t always get it right. The world’s too unpredictable for that. But that’s the magic of it—being willing to take risks and make bold

predictions, knowing fully well that they might not pan out. But when they do? That’s when design truly transforms the world.

It all comes down to research—real, honest-to-goodness research. Often, designers or clients brush past it, undervaluing its relevance. But without understanding where we’ve been, how we behave now, or where we might be going, we’re just shooting in the dark. Research is our time machine. It allows us to design for the past, present, and future simultaneously. It connects the dots between historical insight, contemporary needs, and future possibilities. By studying the past, we figure out what was missing or what could have been done differently. By understanding the present, we identify the current needs and problems to be solved. And by dreaming about the future, we imagine how long our creations will sustain—and how they might evolve in ways we can’t even predict yet.

Design isn’t static. It’s a living, breathing entity that shapes and is shaped by the passage of

time. As designers, we’re constantly straddling the line between the past and the future,

knowing full well that what we create today will one day be considered “historical” itself. It’s a humbling realization. The chair you design, the website you build, the branding you

craft—they’re all part of a larger timeline. Your work will be studied, dissected, admired and critiqued by future generations.

This is what makes design so thrilling and daunting at the same time. We’re tasked with making things that don’t just work today, but that will hold up tomorrow—and maybe even in a hundred years.

So, whether it’s just archiving or designing the next big thing in wearable tech, one must

Remember this: as designers, we’re time travelers. We dig into the past to shape the present and dream about the future. We’re not just solving today’s problems; we’re also trying to predict tomorrow. And while we may not always get it right, the beauty of design lies in the journey through time, and the endless possibilities that come with it.