The room is about three thousand square feet, though its outsized reputation has led it to be described as “cavernous.” It ends in a glass wall, behind which stand three eight-foot-high computer-numerical-control (C.N.C.) milling machines that shape plastic and metal to produce models and prototype parts. When Ive designed the space, at the turn of the century, he wanted these machines to be as integrated into the studio as noise and dust pollution allowed. “They make physical objects, and that is what we’re doing,” he told me. Milling machines help turn a studio into a workshop; they reinforce Ive’s view that bad industrial design often starts in ignorance of what a material can and cannot do. “Excuse me—those performance reviews were supposed to be anonymous.” Share Tweet Buy a cartoon The worktables are higher than a desk but a little lower than the Apple Store tables they inspired. This height—arrived at after much reflection—accommodates seated study and standing visits. (Risking self-parody, Ive later referred to the “simplicity and modesty” of the arrangement.) Samsung Electronics sells vacuum cleaners as well as phones, and employs a thousand designers. Apple’s intentions can be revealed in one room. Each table serves a single product, or product part, or product concept; some of these objects are scheduled for manufacture; others might come to market in three or five years, or never. “A table can get crowded with a lot of different ideas, maybe problem-solving for one particular feature,” Hönig, the former Lamborghini designer, later told me. Then, one day, all the clutter is gone. He laughed: “It’s just the winner, basically. What we collectively decided is the best.” The designers spend much of their time handling models and materials, sometimes alongside visiting Apple engineers. Jobs used to come by almost every day. - www.newyorker.com