Kieran and Sean spent a couple of hours at Priest Point Park yesterday. They shot some preliminary time-lapse video of the new Bilderhoos play set design. Here's a preview ...

David and I were considering how to make the roof lighter. I'd rather draw the idea than write it:

A bunch of folks and their kids came by yesterday and played with Bilderhoos.  All this kid- and parent-testing was amazing and resulted in some subtle design tweaks in the next iteration.

The next several months were spent playing with ideas and building prototypes on the back porch.  The neighbors in our six-flat were so kind about David's loud power tools and the inordinate amounts of sawdust we created.  And that's where the cool stuff happened.

A major design revision came about because of a persistent irk: The original 'popsicle' set was was limited to structures of about three feet wide, or six feet if we used long (and very heavy) pieces David nicknamed the "Three-zee". So-called because it had three notches: 

There is plenty of charm in that original set (it's on display in our shop) but one cannot ignore a persistent irk. 

So, David (now officially titled Product Designer) dreamed up with a way to build the Two-zee pieces so that the ends overlap with the ends of other Two-zees. Each Two-zee has two parts, held together by magnets.  This opened up untold dimensions of possibility and the number of potential Bilderhoos configurations went sky high. 

Then we added a notch in the middle of every Two-zee and had to start calling them Three-zees, and at the same time we created a shorter piece which took on the name Two-zee. 

If that isn't confusing enough, there are 'floor notches' in the some of the pieces that we mus tremember to refer to as 'floor cutouts' because the word notches is already taken by the One-zees, Two-zees and Three-zees.  Help me, Mr Wizard!

It's so simple: rounded boards with notches, and they connect together without any tools or nails or anything. They look a lot like huge notched popsicle sticks, painted in primary colors, now faded and chipped from fifteen years of use.  When you connect them (just slide the boards together at the notches) they start to resemble things, cool things like a fortress or a playhouse, a lemonade stand or a tower.  The same boards, put together, taken apart, put together again into something completely different. 

Our product designer, David Archer, and his two young sons first saw the set that inspired his in Copenhagen when he spent a sabbatical there fifteen years ago. It was in a public park where it was kept in a shed and hauled out every morning by the park attendant. While his boys played with it, David studied it, and built his own in his basement when he returned to Chicago.  His sons continued to enjoy it -- especially when they had friends over for sleepovers -- until they left for college. 

In April 2014 Jill is introduced to David's Copenhagen-inspired 'popsicle sticks'. That same day she spends a few hours in the back yard building some things herself, with the help of David and his son Max.  At some point that afternoon she is struck by an idea that she can't shake off: lots of kids might have fun with this. They should at least have the opportunity.  She posted some pictures on Facebook and the response was overwhelmingly excited. Unsolicited offers to buy it came in, but instead of selling that first set, Jill and David spent the summer and fall of 2014 improving on the design of that original design.  

That first set was solid as a rock, made with 1" marine-grade plywood and about 6 coats of house paint. In other words: heavy.  The boards had to be lighter to be a viable kids' playhouse.  They were also limited in width, so you couldn't build something wider than four feet in any direction.  Unless you used the extra long boards (nick-named "threezees" because they had three notches), which were beyond heavy for kids to play with. 

You find yourself visualizing potential outcomes, and making use of muscle-power to build it. The pieces connect by sliding into the slots of other pieces -- no hardware or tools whatsoever.   It was fun, the kind of fun where you feel smarter, stronger, and a wee bit exhausted after.