Dale Hardiman on The Value of Design
10.06.25

Essays is a compilation of musings that examine the broad yet impactful role design plays in contemporary life. Leading design writers, commentators and thinkers are invited to contribute an individual perspective – accepting or challenging the notion that design does or should embody greater “value” by drawing on personal experience, expertise and knowledge. Contributors are encouraged to explore design’s influence and application in domestic and commercial settings, across history, culture, politics, and its power to impact all aspects of life from small gestures of the everyday, to the future and sustainability of our planet.⁠

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We’re excited to share the reflections of Dale Hardiman, as he considers his ongoing passion for cultivating community in design. Dale is a Melbourne based designer—co-founder of furniture and object brand, Dowel Jones, and collaborative project, Friends & Associates. Dale’s work explores the social, ecological and political life of materials and the systems through which they are made and supplied. His projects often interrogate the notion of place and how designed goods and systems are ultimately informed by people and communities exercising values, behaviours and attitudes towards resources and supply chains. Dale works across various fields, including furniture, lighting and accessory design, event and exhibition design, facilitation, art direction and branding, and is regularly invited to speak on industry panels.

Portrait by Kristoffer Paulsen.

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The Value of Design by Dale Hardiman.

Although I spent 4 years studying design at university, I wouldn’t call myself particularly well-versed in design history. I never spent much time exploring the mid-century period, and I’ve never been interested in visiting the Milan Furniture Fair. Truthfully, I could tell you more about a spoon maker in Coburg than I could about the legacy of Charles and Ray Eames. Design, for me, has always been about those in my immediate vicinity.

Peers often speak about their impressive design collections—owning a Pesce vase or a Castiglioni light—truly beautiful objects. But if you visited my home, you’d find works by Liam Fleming, Andrew Carvolth, Claudia Lau, and Alterfact Studio – all local creatives practicing today.

Sixteen years ago, I moved from Bendigo to Melbourne with my now-wife. None of our friends had relocated yet, so we arrived in a city where we knew no one. I’d only just taken an interest in furniture design and was still unaware of the designers already practicing in Australia. In my first year of university, I decided to take a gamble and email some established creatives—one of them was Ross Gardam, who agreed to meet me for a coffee.

We continued to catch up every so often, with Ross sharing thoughts on my university projects and the work he was developing. Little did I know I was speaking with one of the country’s most respected designers—someone who spent hours discussing my (frankly terrible) student work with no clear benefit to himself. On reflection, those early conversations shaped my career trajectory. They sparked my belief in collaborative practice and the value of generosity in design.

Between 2013 and 2016, I organised five group exhibitions, then began working with Tom Skeehan on a new project: Friends & Associates. The name was crucial to the way we worked. ‘Friends’ reflected the values we sought in creative relationships—honesty, integrity, supportiveness, humility—while ‘Associates’ acknowledged the business and economic realities of design.

Through the project, we’ve collaborated with over 300 creatives across Australia, helping to support the creation of an enormous body of work, some of which now sits in permanent institutional collections, all without us ever taking a commission on sales. This year, we presented our 13th exhibition, 100 LIGHTS, showcasing lighting by 100 Australian creatives, including works by Elliat Rich, Thomas Maxam Studio, Marlo Lyda, Another Bureau of Design, and Foolscap Studio.

Design has the power to create movements, cultivate communities, and build lasting friendships. If we’re not personally invested in initiating these forms of collaboration and support, how can we expect others to be? As I’ve grown older and gained experience through these collaborative endeavours, my understanding of ‘good design’ has shifted. Originally it was shaped by aesthetics and innovation, now—in my mid-thirties—I’m far more interested in personal storytelling. I think about how narratives can be imbued in objects, which influences my personal affection towards them, even if the object is ‘ugly.’

We now live in a time that encourages highly individual personal style, yet we can be influenced by arbitrary metrics invented by corporations to gauge whether our work is good, based on the level of engagement it receives on social media platforms. Globalisation has made it easy to ship goods from anywhere in the world, often with little concern for environmental impact. Many companies continue to manufacture offshore under the guise of ‘making design accessible’ – but is this just a cover to maximise profit in an age where anything can be shipped anywhere?

If I’ve learnt anything over the past ten years in design, it’s that creatives are inherently social. Even the shortest conversation with someone still studying or just starting out can bolster their confidence to continue producing work for years into the future. It’s heartening to see more Australian designers interested in presenting their work locally—a shift from my early years, when showing in Milan was seen as the only path to gain recognition back home.

Design is inherently political. Good design is also moral and ethical. I’m not a writer, nor a public commentator, but what I do know is that we can all support others without needing anything in return. That, to me, is the foundation of a design culture that feels like a community.