Archives for January 2008
12 January 2008
At last year's CHI, there were many questions raised in the alt.chi sessions about the proper method of evaluation for interactive technologies. The answer, it seemed to me, was obvious: criticism, of the sort applied to art, architecture, literature and other creative endeavors. "Interface Culture" attempts exactly that, covering topics like links or the desktop with the same mix of history, judgement, and speculation that one might find in a book review or a column on an art exhibition. If none of his conclusions seem particularly profound today, Johnson should be commended for the fact that few of them seem dated either - an impressive feat for a book on digital culture written over ten years ago. His examples (Engelbart's famous demo, Vannevar Bush's "As We May Think", Myst, Suck, the Mac GUI, and even HTML frames) feel like the beginnings of a tradition in interface design rather than the passing fads of a previous generation. His comparison of the interface with the novels of Dickens is particularly suggestive: both, Johnson argues, are a way of coming to terms with a massive reordering of society and an attempt to make sense of its new structure. Probably the most interesting and relevant section of the book, however, is the last chapter, a series of opposing imperatives whose conflict and resolution will determine the future character of our interface culture: fragmentation vs. synthesis, mainstream vs. avant-garde, the individual vs. society. These forces continue to contend today, and their struggles we should continue to investigate and comprehend through the medium of criticism. It is for the provocation to do so that I am most glad to have read this book and I trust it will provide a useful touchstone as I attempt the task.
12 January 2008
Who in their right mind would want an enchanted object? Think of the havoc they cause in stories and films. The ring Bilbo finds in the Hobbit contains so much evil that it takes three books, hundreds of pages, and an epic battle involving multiple races to dispose of it. The classic genie in a bottle grants three wishes, but does everything in its power to twist the to the detriment of their recipient. The enchanted broomstick in Fantasia threatens to drown its creator. Countless examples hint at the danger of such objects.
Magic is the name we give to things we don't understand, things we can't control. It is a mysterious power beyond the capacity of most, mastered only with difficulty and scholarship. Harry Potter had seven years (and seven books) worth of study in it. Why should we need such an education to operate the things around us? They are complex enough without the addition of a shroud of obscurity and unpredictability. The goal of interaction design and the interaction designer is to reveal and explain the functioning of the objects in our world, not commingle them with the primal and eternal forces of the universe.
It is a failure, not a goal, for our products to seem magical. It means that we don't understand them, that we are afraid to manipulate them for fear of what might happen. It means that we sense strange things beneath the surface whose purpose and ways we cannot fathom. Think of the person who dares not click an unknown button because they don't know what might happen. They are constrained by the precise limits of their past experience. Is this so different from the aura of fear and respect afforded to mystic runes or an enchanted potion? Magic means meddling with forces you do not understand and cannot control.
When we design, we should think of the human, the familiar, the natural. We should strive to create products which match our expectations and experiences with the world and its contents. We should be able to comprehend the connections between action and reaction, between one system and other. Otherwise, we will dwell in a world of mysteries - mysteries that go by the name of magic.
12 January 2008
In a recent blog post, Michael Arrington claims that the lack of a marginal cost for a digital copy of a song implies that the cost of music will inevitably fall to nothing. (He has a longer discussion here.) This flies in the face of our years of experience with software, which can also be copied without marginal cost but has not become free. Not only has software produced one of the world's largest companies, but there are countless people who pay the $25 or so for the programs that keep many independent software companies in business. Apple has sold over 3 billion songs on iTunes - and these are mostly DRM'ed copies of tracks that their purchasers were presumably capable of finding free and unrestricted on peer-to-peer networks. We don't just value things because they are expensive to reproduce, and we won't stop buying them just because the medium of the distribution has changed. Besides, when you can pay $4 for a coffee, $1 / song can feel like almost nothing.