Sir Jony Ive, designer
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BBC Sounds. Music, radio, podcasts. Hello, I'm Lauren Laverne and this is the Desert Island Discs podcast. Every week I ask my guests to choose the eight tracks, book and luxury they'd want to take with them if they were cast away to a desert island. And for rights reasons, the music is shorter than the original broadcast. I hope you enjoy listening. MUSIC PLAYS

My castaway this week is the designer Sir Johnny Ive. He is by any measure one of the most, if not the most, celebrated and influential designers today. The products he created at Apple, alongside his best friend and colleague the late Steve Jobs, have changed our lives and our world in ways we're still only just beginning to understand.

His designs for phones, music players and watches shifted our ideas about what a computer could be and do, taking what was once a workplace tool and making it personal, something we carry with us or even wear. In the process, they helped to make Apple the world's first trillion-dollar company.

His father was a silversmith and influential educator who spent his working life making sure design was taken seriously as part of the British school curriculum and by his son, though the projects they worked on together, including a go-kart, a treehouse and a toboggan, were often devised for fun.

His name is on over 14,000 patents worldwide and alongside technological icons, his creations include a comb, a desk and a foldable comic relief red nose. In 2019, he set up his own design firm, Lovefrom, named in honour of his late best friend who believed creating designs was an act of generosity to humankind.

He says,

So, Johnny Ive, welcome to Desert Island Discs. It's lovely to be here, Lauren. Thank you. Thrilled to have you. You describe yourself, Johnny, as very present in the world. The artist Grayson Perry talks sometimes about his job as being to notice things. And I wonder if you can relate to that, that idea of being alive to the world and noticing it. Innately, I'm hugely sensitive. So I was a painfully shy child.

that would spend a lot of time, I think, in my own head. But that's not because I was doing nothing. I was in my own head observing and, I guess, reacting to what I saw. Yeah, I think it's both a blessing and a curse. In what way? Tell me more about that. Well, I think we can all see the same thing, and it's what you take away, how you interpret, whether it's an interaction, whether it's an object.

But it is that acute sensitivity to the way people relate to each other, the way they relate to their built environment, even the natural environment. I think that one of the struggles I have, though, is in some ways, I think ironically, I struggle with being present in the now because I spend so much of my life in my head in the future.

The way I try to understand the future is I'm obsessed with the past. And so the bit that often gets missed out is right now. Do you think that's part of your makeup and who you are and why you became a designer? Or is it part of having spent so much time in your life just thinking about who made that? Why does it work that way? Could it be better?

I think spending too much time in my head, really not feeling I had a choice. What I did have a choice about was that this started off as just innately who I was, was I'm so curious.

Not in a gentle or passive way, but furiously curious. It drives me crazy if we just accept someone's dogma, whether it's a theory, an idea, or whether it's a way that we're supposed to behave, or whether it's a building, an object. I just want to understand why. Why? Why is it like that? I mean, this is an example of how noisy my head will get. I mean, every single made object,

To me, I see is in a way an ambassador or certainly a representative of the people that made it. I mean, it gives you such a clear idea about what motivated them, what their values were. And so I think it's quite easy to be completely lost in in the wonder of just questioning why things are the way they are.

Many of the products that you work on, Johnny, have been technologically advanced. Now, would you describe yourself as a techie person? No, I'm not interested in technology for technology's sake. I'm interested in people. And I actually think that not rolling around in the joys and gorgeousness of technology for technology's sake is a good qualification to try and figure out how can people connect

in an intuitive and natural way, to extraordinary capability. It's time for your first disc, Johnny. What have you got for us and why? This is really saying something by Bananarama...

and Fun Boy 3. To me, when I listen to this, I can smell morning toast. So I would listen to this a lot at college, and I was a real night owl. I've always done my best. I think the best work has been at night, and I would work through the night. And if it had been a productive and creative night...

As the sun would come up, I can see and smell the toast and listening to Bananarama. Bananarama and Funboy 3 really saying something.

Sir Johnny Ive, you were born in Chingford in East London in 1967 and your parents, Mike and Pam, were both teachers. Now, I know your dad was a huge influence on your choice of career. Tell me, how did he inspire you? He was a maker and there's something about watching him work. I mean, it started by watching him take a piece of silver and...

Workshops are quite scary. I mean, as a small boy, you had these furnaces and there were the oxyacetylene torches that would breathe and spit fire. And then there's the bashing, the relentless bashing and bashing. But somehow from something that may appear dirty, something beautiful emerges and somehow

Ultimately, what I think, I don't know, struck me was that process was him that took a sheet of metal and it became a beautiful bowl with utility, purpose and value. And the two of you made together, what kind of things did you work on? What sort of projects? We didn't have much money as I was growing up and the most remarkable and precious gift

was his time. And at Christmas, he would promise me a day that we would go into the workshop having designed, and I didn't really know what that word was and really what it meant, but that we would decide we were going to make a toboggan or we were going to make a treehouse or

and that I would have to describe what I wanted. And that was with drawings and with some words and some hand-waving. That's a bit of a tricky ask. I mean, at what age would you have been doing that? I was probably seven or eight, and he was always so busy and always doing other stuff. So I think it was probably this perfect storm of having his attention...

and being able to participate in something that I'd only been a spectator in before. Your dad went on to become an educator who was hugely influential. He advocated to get DT, design technology, onto the school curriculum. I think it would have been CDT initially. He helped write the curriculum too. When did you start to understand his legacy and how much he had changed things?

Well, I think when I started to confront some of the prejudice that I think was at the heart of his conviction and work in education, this sense that if you make something that's of lesser value than if you write it, this idea that it's dangerously close just to being a hobby. And every bone in his body and his gift and, you know, he wanted to study silversmithing and cabinetmaking.

And the academic pressure to do something other than that, I think, had a huge impact on him. And as we've heard, your mother, Pam, was also a teacher. What was her influence on you when you were growing up? Later in life, you know, she trained as a therapist and she was, I mean, very thoughtful, constantly reading. You know, like me, I think she spent a lot of time thinking, but she was very clear in her sense of herself about

and was never bullied into or did not easily accept, received wisdom, the dogma of others. Sometimes that would make her appear contrarian, but she was very clear and very boundaried. And I think her influence would have been learning to become comfortable with having a different opinion.

and you were very close to your dad's parents. You spent a lot of time with them. What do you remember about those years? They grew all of their own food, you know, up in North London in this, you know, greenhouse in the garden. But they had the Tom and Barbara Goode lifestyle. I mean, some of my early memories were going up to Neil's Yard in my father's old Volvo Amazon. And it was the one place in Neil's Yard where you could bulk buy lentils, lentils.

And I hate lentils. I hated them then and even more now. They're very good for you, John. It's a shame. Well, do you know what I associate them with was apart from them always being available in enormous volume, which was ominous.

was what they tasted like, but mainly I remember using, do you remember those using PVA glue, like these little green spreaders, and sticking them onto paper as a collage? You couldn't relate to it as a food. I just thought this is the place for these lentils stuck to this paper and not in my tummy. I think it's time for some more music. Disc number two, if you wouldn't mind, Charlie. What are we going to hear next?

The police. This is me, I think I was 12, 13 in London. What really struck me was how powerfully simple it was when it drops back to Andy Summers' riff in the verse and Copland's rim shots. How simple that was.

And in all of that space and the discipline of the framework, how powerful. When their eloquence escapes me Their logic ties me up and wrecks me No self I want to set

Johnny, you've described being very shy when you were a little boy, but you have said that that quality was useful to you in some ways. Tell me a little bit more about that. Why exactly? That drove me into my head. Or perhaps it wasn't that, it's that I daren't venture out. I...

Struggled to speak to, you know, in front of more than just half a dozen people really into my early 20s. But I think being in my head, I learned to be comfortable, I suppose, with myself not needing the affirmation of other people.

And so in that space that was private and somehow inviolate, I could ask a lot of questions and not feel embarrassed about their apparent naivety. And while the loneliness wasn't particularly easy and feeling odd wasn't particularly joyful, you know, way to spend a lot of my adolescence and childhood,

I really found it was a fabulous foundation for being able to, I mean, you can cover a lot of ground in your head that you can't if you really are in the world.

But you were also engaging with things. I mean, as you say, this incredibly curious, interested kid, presumably the kind of kid who liked to take things apart, I'm guessing. Where I would then, I think, dare venture out was with things, not people. And so there was this one alarm clock. It felt you could, there were little windows in the back where you could see all the gears and the springs and the movement of

It was like there was this little city inside this white casing. And that one I just had to start to take to pieces. And they're really complicated. And the springs, the way the springs are wound, when they go, you've not got a hope.

And what I'm thinking about too is watching you tell that story is that you talk with your hands. You still, that's such an important part of how you express yourself, obviously. Yeah, I can't imagine not...

Talking about taking a spring to pieces without moving my head. And you were saying when you were going through the education system yourself, you came up against the prejudices. And that was when you started to understand where your dad was coming from. So what did you experience? You know, was it in school? Someone saying, oh, well, you're not very good at this. You better go and do some woodwork or something like that. I mean, I love reading and I love writing.

Well, I do now. But when I was younger, I struggled terribly with both reading and writing. And lots of assumptions were made about my intelligence. Perhaps then my interpretation was those assumptions inferred or influenced people's perceptions of my value.

And in turn, that made me not feel great about myself. I think that really informs why, well, you go and make something in the workshop was because you were unsuccessful in these other academic subjects. And rather than being celebrated, it was a way to amuse yourself and, you know, keep you occupied. Things have changed so much. And, you know, we thank your dad for that. I mean, you must be very proud of his achievements.

I am so, so proud of him. I mean, he's, despite not being in the best of health, he still spends days making things. He still spends days in the workshop. But I am very conscious of just the, I don't even know where to begin in terms of how I can be here now is largely because of him.

And what about your early designs? I think your pet hamster was a beneficiary of one of your earliest ideas.

Yeah, I remember making this ridiculous hamster cage. Why was the hamster cage ridiculous? Well, it featured a lot of toilet rolls. I mean, it was just, it was a vast network of tubes. Oh, from a hamster's point of view, that sounds absolutely brilliant. Well, maybe it was presumptuous on my part. I made a lot of assumptions about what my hamster was interested in. And...

Wouldn't it be awful if I'd completely got it wrong? Just because he ran fast through those tubes doesn't mean he was necessarily happy. Oh, it's so difficult to understand. The mind of a hamster. That's a whole other show. It's time for some more music, I think, Sir Johnny Ive. Disc number three. What are we going to hear next and why are you taking it to the island? This is the theme song from Get Carter by Roy Bard.

This has a profound effect on me. The theme tune is when Michael Caine, as Carter, is travelling on the train from London to Newcastle, I'd bought a Walkman at the beginning of my time at college. It was a sportsman, so it was this bright yellow personal music player. And so this was sat on the train, listening to Roy Budd, imagining I was Michael Caine, going up to Newcastle.

Carter Takes a Train, composed by Roy Budd, from the soundtrack to the film Get Carter.

Johnny Ive, as we've heard, in the 80s you studied for an industrial design degree at what was then Newcastle Polytechnic. You spent a lot of time with plaster back then. What do you recall about the work that you were doing? It was a way where you, with your hands, could start to create form. The tutor was somebody called Roy Morris. I remember two things about him. One, his...

utterly consumed that we would learn. It was clearly the most important thing in his life. I mean, drove and drove him. And the other thing was he had a terrible allergy to plaster dust. Oh,

And this was before really we would, you know, our understanding of masks really related to sort of hospitals. But Roy would be in the plaster room, which was carnage. There's plaster all over the benches, but the air is thick with plaster dust. I mean, I know this sounds slightly corny, but I remember very clearly one being aware of the enormous cost

being in that room was to him and what practice, what habit was necessary to remind you that it was important that you take the work seriously and that you value the work. Because if you don't, you know the work's not going to be of value. And did he get to see your success? Did he get to see what you went on to do? For a few years. Yeah, the plaster, I think, took a toll.

So I think, Johnny, it would have been around this time when you were at the Poly that you came across your first Apple Mac computer. And I know that was a big moment for you. What do you remember about it? So the first time was in a bureau in Jesmond where you could go and rent time. You know, you could buy an hour. And I was just typing my thesis on this thing. I wasn't doing any CAD really.

But just the joy of being able to type on that and to see a page on the screen and then use a laser printer and also choose the sounds. This was the first computer that let you actually change the alert chimes. And I was shocked that I had a sense of the people that made it. They could have been in the room.

And I really had a sense of what was on their mind and their values and their sort of joy and exuberance in making something that they knew was helpful and reminded me of how important design was.

You're obviously a standout student, Johnny, because you won the Royal Society of Arts Student Design Award two years running. And your prize was a travel bursary that you used to travel to the States. So you went to San Francisco for the first time. You got to visit Silicon Valley. What were your impressions of the place when you saw it for the first time?

There was, I mean, this was the first time I'd been on an aeroplane. I was 21. My wife and I, Heather and I met in high school and we were married at college and we flew to San Francisco. And this has been very much our joint adventure. I can't even think of doing anything that I've been up to if she wasn't with me. And there was something so special

beautiful about the quality of light but it was the optimism this sense of anything was possible the view of the future being one that wasn't understood by constraint let's have some more music johnny i've your fourth choice today what's it going to be

This is a song that I recorded. It's of my son. He was five and he'd watched the movie Singing in the Rain. I wasn't with him when he had watched it, so I didn't know. And he was dancing around the room singing. And I actually suddenly remembered and was so pleased with myself that I had an iPhone with me that I could record him with no planning, with no... And that's so not me.

This is unrehearsed, off the cuff, and it's just, it's Harry when he's five, singing and dancing. I'm singing in the way. Just singing in the way. Waterglow, happy again. Singing in the way. La la la la la la. La la la la la la.

Well, I don't even need to ask why you want to take that to the island with you. It's obvious. Absolutely magical. Singing in the Rain, composed by Arthur Freed and Nacio Herb Brown and performed by Harry Ive. You've two sons.

I do. He has a twin brother who's Charlie. Charlie and Harry. Wonderful. OK, Johnny. So in the early 90s, Apple invited you to go and work for them in San Francisco, which, as you've described, you'd already fallen in love with. It wasn't a great time for the business back then, though. Co-founder Steve Jobs had been ousted and you said the company was dying. What was happening? Well, when I arrived, I moved over in 92 and

And I was very aware of the shadow of Steve, his beliefs, his values, his vision. But I guess it was just this equation of the pursuit of other priorities was becoming louder and clearly becoming more important. Commercial priorities? Yeah, essentially it was. I think when you struggle, then a goal can become bigger.

Mm-hmm.

One that I am so grateful for, but I still get the shivers sometimes. You know, I would start the day by reading the paper and the headline would always be in the copy at the top, the Belegard Company Apple. I thought that's our name. You know, we changed it and included the Belegard. And what kept you going through that? There were some great, compelling offers there.

Every sensible option was that I should probably come back to London and make a decision, make a change like that. But I just felt that Apple and the founding principles, I believe that people are important. And I have an old school view of design that we're trying to be useful. If we're not, we shouldn't be doing it.

My intuition is an incredibly dominant part of how I look at the world and how I think. Even when I think rationally, I pay attention to how I feel.

One of your first jobs was redesigning the Newton message pad. So that was a small portable device with it had a notepad and a calendar and a clock, among other things. But it must have been frustrating at the time because, you know, you create this this thing and it didn't catch on. It was discontinued. There was just a big gap between the promise of the idea and the reality, the pragmatic reality of what it could do. And he just didn't do it.

And it's funny, I don't remember being frustrated. I think being so consumed by wanting to learn, I mean, I was fine because I'd learned, which is, I guess, in retrospect, rather selfish. But I think it's also the context is that there's so much bubbling away. It was an atmosphere, not a product. And so one product not working out, that didn't seem the end of the world.

So, Johnny, you hung in there and then in 1997, everything changed. Steve Jobs returned as CEO. We'll talk about his impact on the company later. But first of all, I want to hear about his impact on you. What did you think of him the first time you met? I was, I mean, having, you know, with intention, wanted to learn about him. Initially was enormously intimidated. And he came to the design studio first.

And immediately there was a connection that was so powerful and so strong. I mean, I'd got into this terrible cycle of having to try and spend a lot of my energy on convincing people about what we should be designing and making. And I'm not very good at that. It was remarkable that despite the limitations of my ability to communicate...

Steve understood what I thought and how I felt. And I think probably the overwhelming feeling I had was one of extraordinary gratitude. The heady sense of being understood and feeling relevant.

And I was feeling increasingly irrelevant and increasingly useless up until that point. We'll find out what happened next in a moment. But first, I'd love to hear your next track. What have you got for us, Johnny? This is by Simple Minds, Don't You Forget About Me. And I remember listening to this in a slightly...

self-centred and overindulgent way when I was leaving England and it was terribly emotional. I was immigrating, I was leaving this country I loved and defined so much of me and it was so absurdly pompous to play something that's begging people to not forget about me. But it must mean a lot to you, you know, to come back and work with the Design Museum, to be part of the fabric of British culture.

You know, I'm deeply involved with the Royal College of Art. I mean, I have so, so many reasons to be coming back as often as I am. It means more than I can possibly say. So we'll think of the tender slow change Don't you worry about me

Simple minds, don't you forget about me. So Johnny Ive, Steve Jobs came back to the business and he was very aware that you needed a hit product to get things back on track. So he asked you to create a network computer that could connect to the internet. So over to you, how did you set about the task?

What I remember so clearly was it wasn't four months after we met. It was the very first day. So you're processing all of that. The intimidation is waning, but then... Well, one great way of... I mean, there's nothing like an impossible task to take your mind off of your anxiety. Of course, it was current and urgent. We were within days of becoming bankrupt, literally days.

And so we started work from the first day that we met on what became the iMac. How long did you have to develop it? In terms of the first establishing a direction, from a design point of view, we did that in the first probably two or three weeks. And what was the aim? What was the ambition? It's hard to believe, but in 97, people were still...

struggling to understand the role of the PC, that they were still intimidated. They neither understood its function, certainly what its relevance necessarily was, other than a sophisticated typewriter. And so I think it was because we weren't preoccupied with the technology and we were really driven by trying to make something for people, it was a fabulous project.

So tell me about some of your creative decisions then. The translucent blue casing, the colour white, the handle, these were all very different from anything we'd seen before. The purpose, the goal of having a handle was you may understand nothing about the nature of this object, not understand its capability whatsoever.

But when you see a handle, it references immediately and unambiguously your hand. And you understand, therefore, something about this object. And you make a connection to it.

And so I think that the way the form was developed and the way that we developed the nature of the polymer, that it was slightly translucent and that it was colourful. You could talk about a colour, not gigahertz or hard drive capacity. You know, suddenly the language...

was way more accessible and egalitarian. But the product looked like it had just arrived or it was going to go somewhere. It felt alive. It didn't feel static. It didn't feel stuck. So it was a huge hit, became the fastest selling computer at the time and put Apple back in profit. But obviously it also deepened your friendship with Steve. The two of you became very close. How much time did you spend together on an average day?

We would typically have lunch together pretty much every day of the week. We became very close. Our families became close. We would go on holiday together. But it was... What I cherished was that it became a time of creating...

And nothing else really mattered. It was not characterised by meetings and presentations because that was something that I was hopeless at. This was being able to spend all my time just designing. And it became like a continuous conversation. Steve died in 2011 of cancer. He was just 56. When did you find out that he was ill? Um...

I was in Berkeley and my parents were visiting and I looked down at my phone and had 17, 18 missed calls. And so I found out when I got...

back home then. Yeah. Yeah, really difficult. I can see talking about it is tough and you were with him when he died. It must have been an incredibly difficult time for you and I know that you still miss those conversations that you had. I remember, I mean, he used to say, I really don't want you to, when I'm not here, I really don't want you to be thinking, well, what would Steve do?

And every time I think, I wonder what Steve would do. I think, ha, I'm doing exactly what you didn't want. And actually, though, I know that you probably did. Yeah.

It's really interesting to hear about your relationship and that sense of kind of understanding and freedom, because often the way Steve Jobs is portrayed or perhaps talked about, you know, he had this reputation for being difficult, you know, for being demanding and patient, ruthless. Did you experience those aspects of his personality?

This is something I actually feel very strongly about, which is just these absurd anecdotes and stories. I mean, I just deliberately, I mean, almost for 10 years after his death, just couldn't read stuff. And if you have such a pure, clear view of creating something new...

If you don't want to just draw a line underneath the sketch and a model, if you are serious about actually wanting to develop and make it, you can't behave in a, well, here's an idea, because if that's how you're going to behave, it will remain an idea. And so it takes an extraordinary resolve and focus and energy to

And if you have no understanding of the context and you report on one sentence of that and you try and understand somebody through that lens, you have misunderstood them completely. Johnny, I think it's time for some more music. Your sixth track today. What are we going to hear? It's a soundtrack again, but this is Thomas Newman. This is from WALL-E and it's a track called Define Dancing.

When I listen to this, you almost don't feel that you're obligated or you're constrained by even like the laws of physics. It's so floaty. And so almost, I mean, I wish I understood the structure more, but it seems to enjoy the liberty of no structure.

I was lucky enough to be able to make some small contributions to the movie. And it's a time I remember of being, you know, I think prolifically creative and productive as a team. This one goes quite deep. Defined Dancing, composed by Thomas Newman from the soundtrack to the film WALL-E. Johnny, in 2019, you left Apple to set up your own company, Love From, with Mark Newsom, an industrial designer. Why was it time to go?

If there's one thing that's inevitable is that we do go. I guess the question is just when. It was just the right time. I think as a team, I think we'd finished a lot of the things that we'd been working on for a long time. I mean, it was not a difficult decision. It was a difficult transition. I mean, having been at Apple for nearly 30 years and I feel so much of me was there and so much of there was me.

And so it was a difficult transition, but felt like the right decision. Do you think if Steve had still been there, you would have taken that decision? You would have left? I think I can't imagine not working. I can't imagine being somewhere else and him being somewhere else. To me, it's that I would be working with him now if he was alive here.

Johnny, you've designed many products that have changed our lives and changed culture more widely, but probably the most ubiquitous and impactful has been the iPhone. Is it true that you slept on the factory floor during the early days of manufacture? The truth is we probably didn't sleep, but we were there. I mean, I've lived in the dormitories before.

at the factory for months at a time. I just have never worked in this way where you say here is a design and you sort of throw it over the wall and say just make it and you stamp your foot hoping it's going to work out well. I mean it's never been the way that I work and the team works. And during those months as you were coming up to releasing it did you have any idea of the transformative nature of what you'd created?

I mean, I'd love to say no, but honestly, yes. I mean, it's the nature of innovation is there will be unpredicted consequences. And I celebrate and am encouraged by the very positive contribution, the empowerment, the liberty that is provided to so many people in so many ways.

just because the not-so-positive consequences, I mean, they weren't intended, but that doesn't matter relative to how I feel responsible. And that weighs and is a contributor to decisions that I've made since and decisions that I'm making in the future.

And so in your own life, is that something that you were conscious of to not be online too much to kind of restrict access to the kids or take some time out yourself? Yeah, personally, I mean, it's something that is both important and difficult. When you can connect to people, but it can be anywhere in your house or while you're traveling, that alone is extremely powerful.

And it's very, you need a very particular resolve and discipline not to be drawn in and seduced, to be constantly exercising that capability. But we've worked very hard sort of recognizing just the power of these tools to use them, I think, responsibly and carefully. And like everybody, I find that difficult.

It's time for some more music, Johnny. Your seventh track today, what are we going to hear and why are you taking this to your island? So I was a very early U2 fan. This is a song called 40. I don't think it's particularly well known. I love this song. It's based on Psalm 40. I definitely associate it with beginnings and endings. I mean, this is, they used to close, I remember seeing them play live on the war tour.

and they would close the set with this track, and Bono would leave, and then Edge, and one by one, they would leave until Larry is left by himself on the stage playing, and dropping a beat, and dropping a beat, and then stopping, and the lights went off. And to me, it's a remarkable end, but the lyrics, I think, speak to, I guess, speak to beginnings.

You two and 40. So, Johnny, you went on to become good friends with you two, having gone to see them live and been a fan in the early days. Is it true that they played one of your birthday parties?

Do you know, I'd never, it's complicated, but I'd never had a party before. Not really. And I was persuaded to have a 50th birthday party. And the whole band came and they played and just 120 people. And the thoughtfulness and kindness was nearly as significant as the music.

Why didn't you like parties? And did that experience change that for you? Have you had a few since? Oh, no, I'm never going to have another one. No, it was the terror that nobody would come. I don't know. It's just maybe there was some childhood party that was horrendous. A terrible birthday party buried deep in your subconscious. Oh, well, I mean, how could you top it? It's the other good reason not to repeat it.

Johnny, we've talked a lot about your past today, but let's look to the future. AI is the next technological frontier. What projects are you developing in this area? Oh, I would love to tell you I can't. Damn it, I thought I was going to persuade you. It's an area, I mean, if we look back at the work that I've been involved with,

it wasn't afforded by or driven by technology. There was this capability, but that wasn't the sort of the primary drive. And now it's probably the first time in my career that I am inspired by capability in a way that I've never been before. I'm also inspired that there are these very healthy discussions of concern

But I'm unusually optimistic. I'm unusually excited about the contribution that we'd be able to make with that technology. And when it comes to concerns, what would you say your biggest one is? I think almost certainly the rates of change.

It's what's talked about least, I think, is just as a function of how fast things are moving. That alone is what concerns me the most. You know, we need time. We need time to understand and react. I've got another adventure for you before you think about any of that again. I'm about to cast you away to the island. You're a very curious person, as we've heard. What will trigger curiosity when you're on your desert island, do you think?

Solitude, I think the fact that I don't have to talk to anyone and that I will be talking to myself and in my head and looking at the ocean and I won't be constrained by what I can see because I've got my thinking and my imagination. You're a maker, so does that mean you've got top-notch practical skills to look after yourself and set yourself up for life on the desert island? I think I have a suspicion I do. LAUGHTER

Well, you'll be knocking up another treehouse before you know it. It'll be going back to your dad's workshop. One more disc before we cast you away then, Johnny Ive. Your final choice today. What have you gone for? This is Debussy's Claire de Lune, played by Claudio Arau. This is a piece that I think somehow unites people. I wouldn't trust anybody that isn't moved by its...

serenity and it's calm and this piece has has turned has turned countless late nights into late nights not early mornings you know it's it's brought to a really beautiful unified ending to so many evenings that I have so many wonderful associations with

I would love P.G. Woodhouse, the complete works of Jeeves and Worcester. Are you a long-time fan?

I am. I've returned and read and reread for 30 years. I am absolutely besotted with, still shocked by the fact that I laugh. There's just such a, I don't know, a generosity. And I can't think of a lovelier book to have with me. Oh, it's yours. You can also have a luxury item, of course. What would you like? So it depends how strict you're going to be. OK. But...

So I started off wanting a pillow because I'm a good sleeper. And then I thought I could ask for a bed. So a bed and a pillow would be, I would really like that. Oh, yeah, I can get out a full bed for you. Fine, you can have a quilt, you can have whatever, comforter of your choice, whatever you like. I think it's more the mattress and then the pillow, a nice down pillow. And it would be lovely to have a cold pillowcase. Marvellous, done.

And finally, which one track of the eight that you've shared with us today would you save from the waves first, if you needed to? I think because of where it takes me and the connections, it would be 40, and you too. Sir Johnny Ive, thank you very much for letting us hear your Desert Island Discs. Thank you ever so much, Lauren. MUSIC PLAYS

Hello. I hope you enjoyed my conversation with Johnny. Pretty sure sleep won't be a problem for him in that lovely new bed. We've cast away lots of designers, including the industrial designer, Sir Kenneth Grange, and Sir Terence Conran. Johnny's friend Bono is in our archive too. The studio manager for today's programme was Tim Heffer. The assistant producer was Christine Pawlowski. The production coordinator was Susie Roilands. And the producer was Paula McGinley. Next time, my guest will be the writer, William Boyd. I do hope you'll join us.

From BBC Radio 4, Exemplar, Series 2.

The return of the award-winning thriller set in the world of audio forensics. It's consistent, not detectable. A phone has been hacked. I got your message. A successful television actor hires Jess and Maya, forensic scientists, to investigate. This doesn't feel right. You think it's hacked? How else do you get a message from a dead woman's phone? The suspicion is that the recording has been doctored. I'm telling you, I did not say those words.

He's not denying it's him, but he's clearly convinced it's been edited. And he's not saying anything about what he thinks is missing from it. Do you think they'll ask for the exemplar? Absolutely. Exemplar Series 2. Listen on BBC Sounds.