The discussion about whether design is art has long been overtaken by developments in the art world. Chairs, tables, lamps, couches, are no longer fremdkörper in museums of modern art. More and more artists refer to themselves as designers, and vice versa. They cooperate with companies, making their ‘products’ available for larger audiences of costumers. A few years ago, Damien Hirst opened his own store in London, selling both his art and all kinds of merchandise (mugs, T-shirts, etc.). And, as is the case with this merchandise, Hirst's most famous artworks – the dotted paintings, the animals in formaldehyde, the diamond skull – may have been ‘designed’ by the artist himself – but he did not manufacture them.

Even if the question of whether design is indeed art has become moot, we might still ask the reverse question – as Benjamin did in the case of photography: How has design altered our understanding of art? The answer to this question should be: drastically. Design has turned the art world on its head, or rather, to paraphrase Friedrich Engels, it has put an art world that was standing on its head back on its feet. For, although we often tend to take the autonomy of art for granted, it has been rather an historical anomaly. The period during which the useful was considered ugly, as Théophile Gautier put it in the prologue of Mademoiselle de Maupin, has turned out to be merely a short interval in an overall situation, that obtained before him and that has persisted since, in which art is conceived of as thoroughly embedded in a practice, whether this is ritual, religion, politics, economics, or everyday life.

If we consider our contemporary preoccupation with design, the dream nurtured by the historical avant-gardes of reconciling art and life appears to have been realized. Today we surround ourselves with objects whose use value is overshadowed by their symbolic value.