(Source: scannedpages)
My latest Print blog post is up…
Do you like working with data?
I’m guessing your answer was a quick yes. So I’ll ask again: Do you really like working with data?
Before you answer, let me clarify something. What I don’t have in mind is the kind of data visualization work that we all probably dream about, the kind that indulges our fantasies of Tufte-esque glory. I mean the boring stuff: gathering and analyzing data for the purpose of evaluating the performance of what we’ve designed—in particular, our websites. Much less flashy work, for sure, but certainly more useful. The good news is that anyone can do this kind of data work. The bad news is that few do.
Those who are realizing that maybe they don’t like working with data after all are encountering a critical barrier that prevents the long term success of just about anything we create: the accountability of reality. The truth is that very few things are perfect on first launch; most require some evaluation and refinement before they can attain their original goals, as well as ongoing guidance to keep from falling below expectations as the conditions around them change. For websites—remember, permanent works in progress—the reality of their performance can be almost impossible to discern without access to real user data. Without the data and a commitment to measurement as a discipline, your work will likely be in vain.
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(Source: scannedpages)
My latest post for Print’s imprint blog is up:
You know that old gag where the husband gives his wife a bowling ball for her birthday? Or the much-reviled (but sadly true) stereotype of the overzealous soccer parents who are one outburst away from joining the game themselves? Each of these are classic examples of what happens when you make the mistake of thinking that something meant for someone else is all about you.
You’ve probably seen this happen plenty at work, too. I call it “client narcissism.” It manifests itself in many ways, but here’s an easy one: your client, a retailer, is spending weeks working out the details of the “About Us” section of their website, which they insist should be the second option in the main navigation. Instinctively, you sense that prioritizing that kind of inside information is off-point, but you don’t exactly know how to clue your client in. You could be blunt: “Sorry, but tell Chairman So-and-So that the customer probably cares just as little about who he is as he does about the sneakers his company sells.” Right, try that one out if you’re comfortable with shedding a client or two. Or, you could be strategic: If you want to keep your client—or better yet, continue to develop your consultative position with them—you’re going to need to try something a bit more subtle…
I went to school with a lot of furniture designers. They made beautiful things. But they’d get pretty caught up in techniques—dovetail joints, lamination, etc.—and end up making pieces that simply afforded them the opportunity to use those techniques. You’d sometimes look at the results and wonder who would actually use them now that they were built. Furniture is meant to support and hold things; bookshelves for books, desks for paperwork and tools, tables for meals, beds, chairs and couches for people. A good piece of furniture is designed for its function, and as such may use some of those fancy techniques designers crave to try. Web design has the same relationship between technique and purpose, and like furniture, websites have one basic function: to support and hold content. But content is still a pretty mysterious thing to many people. Everyone gets that it’s important; talking about content in terms of how important it is tends to elicit all kinds of specific questions, like, “What kinds of content?” “How much content?” “Can I use content from other websites?” and many more. And frankly, we have tons of content about content on our website that, in the aggregate, will answer all these questions. But in this article, I want to go back to the basics and look at the various kinds of content you might create for your website and examine best practices for each…
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I have brooded about the rise of the Internet and the waning of the print culture for decades. I think it through this way and that—analytically, nostalgically, apocalyptically and defensively—and the question I always return to is simple as can be: What is the import of our collective love affair with keypads and screens? How is it affecting the great intangibles—our thinking, our sense of initiative, our subjective self-grounding, our formulations of private and social meaning? I don’t think the Internet (never mind the myriad other technologies of linkage) would distress me if I had faith that it could deliver, as its loudest boosters say it does, the values and virtues encoded in the system of print. If I thought that the digital realm could foster and sustain the kind of calm, linear, reflective thinking [Nicholas] Carr describes, I would quiet my inner Cassandra. But it is undoubtedly, as Carr suggests, a system with enormous shaping power. And if he is right about the plasticity and wiring-and-firing of our neurophysical human endowments, then we must seriously consider the possibility that we are, as users, taking on with eyes wide shut the attributes of the medium. If this is so, then it must raise questions not unlike those Paul Gauguin used as the title for his monumental triptych: “Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?
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(Source: scannedpages)
Steven Johnson
(Source: Wired)
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If you knew nothing about the Internet and were trying to figure it out from the data, you would reasonably conclude that it was designed for the transmission of spam and porn. And yet at the same time, there’s more amazing stuff available to us than ever before, thanks to the Internet.
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Why Are You Building this Website?
The picture you’re looking at is a broken promise. I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you; on the contrary, you’ve probably come to expect disappointment from products like these. You’re not alone. Our low-level, day-to-day state of marketing-induced jadedness—the kind that deflates even the laughter (and then, outrage) that should erupt over the reality depicted above—makes experiencing surprise and delight that much more rare.
Cynicism is the gravity that you are working against in every project you undertake. The antidote is sincerity and authenticity—the kind that is proven when a product or service actually delivers on its promises. Think about that: It’s extraordinary that some brands are able to profit by cooperating with our cynicism, isn’t it? And I do mean cooperate. Each time we ingest one of those tired-looking burgers, we enable the spread of disappointment.
With that bitter taste and empty feeling still fresh in your mind, I want you to now consider your web project—the one you’re anticipating or have already started. What promises are you (or your client) making that you know you’ll probably break? The best way to figure that out is to get to the heart of why, exactly, you’re even building this website in the first place…
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(Source: scannedpages)
Our Web Development Book Series
I’m excited to announce the first installments of our series, A Newfangled Approach to Your Website. You may have already seen the banners for volumes 1 and 2 on our homepage, but I thought a blog post was in order to tell the story of how it came about…
Have you ever noticed how there’s always a new thing being sold that seems to promise that life will be much better once you own it? When we’re being rational we know that’s a lie. But all it takes is one stroll through the mall to erode your grip on reality and begin the process of coveting all kinds of worthless junk. The question is whether or not you can get out of there before succumbing to temptation and emptying your wallet…something you’ll likely regret by the time you make it home.
Anyhow, with that thought in mind, here are a few things (in no particular order) I just thought of that are much more delightful than that new Apple product, come much cheaper (as do most things), and make much nicer memories:
- putting your face close to a dog’s
- the smell of the first cold evening in fall, when someone nearby is having their first fire
- your bare feet in sand
- exploring a silent library
- the sound of an antique ticking clock
- an unexpected package in the mail - which, by the way, brings me to the title of this post
What’s on your list?
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