The Nature of Steve Jobs Through a Letter from Stanley Kubrick
It is curious how some words have no proper translation in other languages. Taste is not translated into Spanish with all its richness: beyond one of the senses, taste refers to something more abstract, something like what in Spanish we call “buen gusto,” or “good taste,” except that in Spanish we have corrupted the expression by adding the adjective “good,” which implies that there is also “bad taste.” Beyond good or bad, let us agree that taste exists. It is also what expressions such as “it bears his stamp,” “it bears his signature,” or “it has his imprint” refer to when speaking of things in relation to a person. Some of us have taste; it is neither bad nor good, it is our taste, and it is what distinguishes us from others. For many people, taste does not exist: they do not care what they use or what they do as long as a function is fulfilled. For those of us who have taste, life is very different: every detail of the things we interact with and create must bear our taste. The clothes we wear, the car we drive, the place where we live, the colours of our office walls, the plants, our devices, the typeface in our documents, the products and services we consume, the small details that surround us—we try to adapt everything to our taste. We have taste.
Steve Jobs had taste; every product and service created by his companies bore a special mark, his signature. Those of us who admired him knew how to recognize his taste; we knew how to say, “This is Steve’s work.” We also knew how to recognize things that did not seem to come from him, things that seemed to come from Apple as a company but not from Steve—there were few, but there have been some. I am sure of it; I would stake my life on the fact that Steve Jobs did not want wallpapers on the iPhone: he wanted the original black background. When iOS 4 was introduced and it finally became possible to set wallpapers on the iPhone, I knew that did not come from Steve. Apple’s marketing department surely had to argue tirelessly to obtain it: “Steve, people want it; give them that.” Steve did not agree, but that time he gave in.
Steve Jobs was not the only person with taste; in fact, there have been many, and they are easy to recognize by the degree of commitment they have to their creations. One example is one of the film directors I admire most, Stanley Kubrick: he had taste. You can watch different Kubrick films and recognize his stamp in them. You can watch A Clockwork Orange and Barry Lyndon, films with different stories and characters, set in different eras, and recognize Kubrick’s taste. In both films, despite their differences, the photographic composition, the shots, and the rhythm reveal that the same creator is behind them. Kubrick was a perfectionist, as people with taste often are, and he took great care over every aspect of his films. He wanted to go further and control not only the film, but the experience. A letter written in 1975, in Futura—Kubrick’s favourite typeface—proves the point. In it, Kubrick wrote to cinema projectionists, giving them specific instructions on how to screen the film; the letter can be seen here.
An infinite amount of care has been put into the look of “Barry Lyndon”: the photography, the sets, the costumes, and the careful colour grading, the quality of the laboratory prints, and the soundtrack. All this work is now in your hands, and your attention to good focus, good sound, and the careful handling of this film will make the effort worthwhile.
Kubrick wanted the experience of watching his film to be as good as he had imagined it. He wanted it to have his taste, and with this letter he tried to make the projectionists part of that effort. Have you ever heard stories about Steve Jobs personally reviewing the gradient of an icon, the typeface of a piece of text, the cardboard of a package, or the arrangement of tables in Apple stores? There are countless stories of this kind. Steve Jobs had taste, and he wanted that taste to be expressed in every detail, down to the smallest one, of the experience of using Apple products.
Throughout history there have been many people with taste: filmmakers, musicians, photographers, writers, creative people. This is nothing new. What made Steve Jobs so special was that he did not create works; he created tools to make works. He created tools for people with taste, for modern-day Kubricks, Lennons, and Einsteins. Apple products have a “je ne sais quoi” that makes them different. Those of us who use them do not know how to describe it, but we want to tell everyone that they are better products. I have heard people refer to Steve Jobs as “the inventor of the iPhone,” “the inventor of the personal computer,” “the inventor of the iPod,” and so on. Those who say this have no idea what they are talking about. Steve Jobs did not invent those products; a group of engineers, developers, and designers did—but under Steve Jobs’s direction. He was the one who imprinted his taste on those products. Steve Jobs’s work was not to sit down and think of what new thing to invent; those who think so have no idea who Steve Jobs was. His work was to take existing products and imprint his taste, his style, upon them: to transform existing products into things he would like to use.
The true legacy of Steve Jobs was teaching us that consumer products can be made with the same passion, care, and taste as great films, great songs, and the most elegant mathematical equations. The true legacy of Steve Jobs was showing us the intersection of science and art.