Bill always was so generous with his time, his thoughts, and his home.

I was still a student in Palo Alto, and Bill had just met me that day. But when he heard that I would be in London for a week, he immediately offered that I stay at his place on Parliament Hill — “we are not using it much anyway.” 20 years later, he moved to New York and asked me whether I would like to take his place on Skyline — “we won’t be needing it for a while.” And the last time I saw him was earlier this year when he invited Yvonne and me to tour us around the Cooper-Hewitt. “This is such a nice place. I want to have a lot more guests here.”

Bill once sat just a few feet away from me, when I was working freelance at IDEO, London on an ID project. It was a strange situation for me, because I was also working on some interaction ideas for their client and I knew he had deep expertise in this way of thinking.

I really wanted to ask him for his feedback on my ideas, but instead I just said “hello Bill, I went to your birthday party a few years ago, and… you were my favourite designer, when I was studying industrial design at Central School of Art.” Not exactly a conversation starter, but he smiled generously and we perhaps exchanged a few more words about Central and Hedda Beese (whom I also admired), before I felt I may be interrupting his flow of thinking, so went back to my sketch pad…

What I remember most about the times I saw him in the studio, was his casual confidence, and how he put people around him at ease with his relaxed manner and body language. I wish I’d had an opportunity to work with him, he seemed like a true gentleman and I was sad to hear of his untimely death.

Although I was lucky enough to have some great interactions with Bill over the years. My greatest respect for him was his ability to bring together incredible talent. I remember the first time I walked into the IDEO San Francisco studio in 1995 – the one above Cafe Roma. I was speechless and star-struck with the talent Bill had brought to the studio. Those designers [Hecht, Fukasawa, Moll-Carrillo, Spreenberg, Salomon, Joe, etc.] were designing products and interactions none of us could imagine at the time. These designers are also the ones I still continue to respect for their thinking and humbleness. Thank you Bill.

I didn’t know Bill Moggridge personally.

Working at IDEO, I can sense him in the very brick and mortar. I once proctored a class of his on a free evening, assisting (very frustrated) design and engineering students on how to use Flash for prototyping and storytelling purposes. Bill was a graceful and enigmatic speaker and could imbue the very products and processes in discussion with a magic that wasn’t (couldn’t have been) there before.

Fascination and curiosity reveal truths often lost in the drone of bizDev and strategy that my discipline requires to survive. Though important these things lack an essential characteristic: one might call it a soul; never are they ends to themselves but means with few–if any–intrinsic qualities.

With Bill’s passing I can’t help but wonder when design becomes and/or departs from art. Perspective is one possible differentiator: the Artists tells his own stories while the Designer articulates the stories of others, distilling them, making them tangible and universal. But there must be more differences–many more!

Or not.

Perhaps the most enduring design forever shifts perspectives, never quite resolving or committing to either?

I remember Bill’s fascination with (and incredible wisdom about) Japan. He knew so much about Asian culture in general and its influence on design. I was very fortunate to work with him on a project for a Korean furniture manufacturer just after I had started in the IDEO SF office, and learned a lot from him. The client was extremely demanding, and probably a bit misguided in their expectations, but Bill’s ability to navigate and interpret what was “right” to do for the client, for IDEO, and for the end-user at the same time was a real learning experience for me.

But the thing I’ll really remember and cherish about Bill was that you always felt he cared. After I left IDEO in late 2008 I received a very sweet, personal note from Bill thanking me and letting me know he was happy to help me with a reference or anything else I could think of. That meant a lot to me and still does. He will be greatly missed by many.

On my first day, I sent an email to the all-IDEO list explaining who I was and about my job at IDEO. I included some personal information about myself and what interested me outside of work. I remember it vividly: writing that I enjoyed gothic art and architecture, racquetball, and fine cigars.

The following sunny afternoon, Bill approached my desk where I sat nervously as the new person in Marcom. He smiled, we chatted, then he walked me over to Mac’s smoke shop on High Street where we bought a few cigars, got to know each other, all the while Bill teaching me about the fine nuance of the properly patina-ed cigar.

I smoked the cigars, but I kept the tubes they came in. They’ve always been a reminder of the generosity and welcoming spirit that Bill embodied.

Bill was a good man, and a great addition to the world.

Bill and Karin’s beautiful house perches on the skyline above Palo Alto and the Bay. As night falls we troop outside to lie on the terrace, looking up to catch shooting stars. Does Bill discourse about the universe and the future of design? No. After a little more Scotch, still staring heavenwards, he recalls instead, with voice impressions, episodes from the Goon Show. How appropriate! For that 1950s British radio comedy exuded some of Bill’s most endearing and creative traits: hilarious energy, surreal inventiveness, and warm good humour.

Bill transformed the spirit of design by infusing it with this generous, amused, humane and sympathetic character. His insistence that designs should be enjoyable, exhilarating, not just instrumental, has dominated our interaction design teaching. Since Bill’s death we have been moved by how many of our students and alumni here in Venice, most of whom never knew him personally, have told us that his example and spirit enthused, inspired and informed their design careers. Let’s keep catching his shooting stars.

I remember being suprised at how fast a driver Bill was. I was following him from Palo Alto up to the empty plot of land that was to be Bill and Karin’s house, he in his Audi, me in my ageing Saab. I struggled to keep up, especially with the winding, narrow roads towards the end of a journey. I suspected that he was being kind to me in not letting me slip out of sight in his rear view mirror…

About 7 years ago, we shared a wonderful day with Bill and Karin at their beautiful home. After moving from England, we were still adjusting to living in the U.S. We had just had our first baby and had no family out here but Bill and Karin made us feel so welcome and taken care of. This is a photo of Bill taken that day with our oldest boy, Connor. Bill, you will be missed.

I realise how lucky I was to experience Bill’s warmth, kindness and generosity of spirit during my years of knowing him – a truly inspirational influence on my life which I will always appreciate.
Thank you Bill.