Vanity Fair
February 2014
 
 
Surfing the Next Wave

 
 
 
 
Until very recently, and not including Apple’s cool minimalism, the  tech 
industry gave a backseat to design. But Yves Béhar has made his reputation  
with iconic devices—the One Laptop per Child computer, the Jawbone headset, 
the  Up fitness band—that are sexier, curvier, and more human. Visiting Béhar’
s San  Francisco office, Kara Swisher explores his increasing influence and 
checks out  his latest creation.




 
By:  Kara  Swisher
 
 
Although Yves Béhar is a creator of meticulously crafted objects, his hair  
is pure chaos. In a way, this tonsorial disaster is an apt metaphor for the 
 tangled web of ideas that have exploded from the head of the lanky 
Swiss-born  designer—resulting in some of technology’s most striking and 
memorable 
designs  over the last two decades, including the One Laptop per Child 
computer, the  Jawbone wireless headset, the Up fitness band, and the Ouya game 
player. It’s  all the more impressive when one considers that, until very 
recently, design has  taken a backseat in Silicon Valley, where the result has 
been either not much to  speak of or products that mimic (usually badly) 
Apple’s signature absolutist  ethos of stark simplicity.  
Béhar has gone in a decidedly different direction from that, making sexier, 
 curvier, more luscious and tactile objects. In doing so, he has defined a 
design  style that subliminally suggests the natural landscape of his 
adoptive  California—both its gently rolling hills and its dangerously sharp  
coastlines.
 
 
 
Béhar’s new headquarters, in San Francisco’s Potrero Hill area, a sweeping 
 and airy conversion of a giant warehouse whose lobby also serves as an art 
 gallery, undoubtedly have more in common with the offices of his neighbors 
 Airbnb and Zynga than with traditional design companies. The place is 
buzzing  with designers, and various projects are arrayed in cubes on the walls 
at the  outer edges, complete with shops to fabricate those ideas. “
Technology is  essentially hard to understand, unattractive, insensitive to 
human 
needs in its  raw state—right?” Béhar says. “And it’s all about how you take 
technology and  turn it into something magical, attractive, with a sense of 
humanity attached to  it.”


 
 
 
Béhar’s worldview is in line with a concept that Silicon Valley has 
modishly  dubbed the Internet of Things. His latest effort, called August, is a 
perfect  example: a next-generation home-entry system in the form of a 
perfectly round  device that replaces the dead-bolt part of a lock. With no 
special 
installation  required, it opens on command from a cell-phone app and 
arguably has the  potential to change the way people have treated home security 
since the  invention of the lock and key in ancient Mesopotamia. 
This is precisely what Béhar prioritizes above all else in his work. “Good  
design accelerates the adoption of new ideas,” he says. Nicholas 
Negroponte, the  founder of M.I.T.’s Media Lab and Béhar’s partner in One 
Laptop per 
Child, puts  it another way: “Great ideas lurk in our peripheral vision, not 
reached through  incremental thinking, but audacious jumps. Yves takes  
those.”


 
 
 
Béhar, who grew up in Switzerland, has always had an impulse to tinker and  
challenge the status quo. “I’m a bit of a contrarian,” he says. “And it’s 
hard  to be a contrarian in a country that doesn’t change.” After first 
moving to  California to attend art school in Los Angeles, he moved to San 
Francisco in  1993. He found work with several design firms in the Bay Area, 
which were  attracting an increasing portion of their clientele from the many 
tech companies  headquartered there. The only problem was, although they 
were seeking design  help, few of them were interested in what Béhar had to 
offer. 
“You were forcing design down people’s throats,” he remembers. “The first 
 thing people would do is look at you straight in the eye and say, ‘What’s 
the  [return on investment] on design?’ And, you know, there was no R.O.I. 
on  design. It made me realize in some ways that we were just being asked to 
do the  outsides,” he says. “We were just essentially decorators of 
products at that  point.” 
Rather than try to work within a system he considered  wrongheaded, Béhar 
sought to re-invent it. In 1999 he struck out on his own,  founding 
Fuseproject, a design-and-branding firm in the hip South Park section  of San 
Francisco. He wanted to position himself more as a co-founder, involved  in 
funding 
and coming up with ideas, not just acting as a hired gun for design.  It 
was simply a matter of finding the right project to justify making that next  
leap. 
In 2002 he met Hosain Rahman, the hyperkinetic co-founder of Jawbone, who 
was  seeking to upend the mobile-headset market and needed a creative 
partner. Until  then, most cell-phone earpieces were clunky attachments that 
made 
the wearer  look like a badly outfitted cyborg. 
Béhar was drawn to the challenge of designing something that was both  
technically complex and sensually beautiful. “This is where this design is so  
hard, because you have rigid electronic components that need to stay 
connected  together and function together,” he says. 
Béhar became chief creative officer at the start-up. He envisioned the  
Jawbone device as a “facial accessory,” effectively turning an appliance into 
a  luxury good (and its cost from impediment to asset). And, just like that, 
design  morphed into ideology. 
Rahman and Béhar employed a slick and sexy branding campaign and  
you-may-possibly-not-be-worthy packaging that portrayed the mobile  headset as 
an 
item of chic jewelry, to be worn only by those with a sense of  style. 
The Jawbone earpiece—which managed to combine comfort, state-of-the-art  
technology, and sexiness—was a runaway success and definitively put Béhar on 
the  map of tech design. In the years since, he has continued to push 
boundaries and  defy predictability in any number of ways—with everything from 
a 
sleek and  ubiquitous office chair for Herman Miller to a bullet-shaped 
Sodastream  carbonator. 
Throughout, his principal goal has remained the same. He still thinks much 
of  what is designed in the tech world, including Google Glass, is simply 
too  inhuman: “They’re not thought from that human-centered standpoint, which 
is: How  do I want this to fit in my life? And is it obtrusive to me, or is 
it obtrusive  to other people that are across from me? Is it the right 
fashion statement for  me? Does it create the right conversation between me and 
my environment or the  people around me?” The questions Béhar asks himself 
go on and on, and he never  stops asking  them.

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