I know I’ve been going on and on about the importance of the handmade in design, but I realized today that I haven’t articulated when and where handmade is appropriate. I believe I have implied that it is always appropriate, but is it? I believe that it is always important. To answer this question, however, I need to digress just a little bit. Before I went back to school, I was a user experience designer at Microsoft working on Visual Studio, a suite of programming tools for software developers. It’s an incredibly complex piece of software, with interesting interaction design problems but little visual design. I think I designed one poster while I was there to promote a scenario I had worked on in the planning phase, and that was about it. Oh, and the logo for IronPython, but even that was mostly my coworker Moneta. My team and I worked on some of the most complicated interactions I’ve every seen, and when we did do new user interface work, it was within the system that we had already designed to keep the software consistent.
Where would handmade elements fit into this project? Should they fit into this project? I’m pretty sure the answer is yes, even though I didn’t think about it at the time. There is a tendency at Microsoft to be feature-centric in design, rather than think about the user’s goals and how they are going to be accomplished. What my team did was amass huge amounts of user research and us designers would create scenarios that would be used to deliver a coherent set of features that actually worked together (I know, novel!). What I liked to do even when we weren’t in the planning phase and I was designing interactions, was to sketch out how the entire experience would look, coming at the functionality from different goals and different spaces in the software. I know, you’re probably thinking, “you told me this long, boring story just to bring up the importance of sketching?” And I proudly say yes. Before I started sketching those experiences out, I would create beautiful, pixel perfect walk-throughs of how the experience would look. The problem was, I was doing it backwards. Instead of sketching first and then creating the correct user flow, I was creating high-fidelity walk-throughs for research. I didn’t realize it at the time, because I thought I had already done my research, but there is something that happens when you are doing visual research by sketching or prototyping, rather than purely informational research, if that makes sense. Long story short, I gave myself tendonitis creating these walk-throughs and was forced, physically to go back to sketching. I found, as any designer does when they start sketching, that I would discover things in the act of sketching. To folks that do sketch, this is the most obvious thing in the world. But I’ve got to tell you, most people in the “real world”—and obviously this is based on the experiences I have had—only sketch when they need to get a visual idea across and not for research purposes.
There are two morals to this story. First, the handmade can be part of the process and still show through in the final product even when it’s a piece of software or a service. Second, it brings to mind one of the most important things I learned last quarter from August de los Reyes, that the fidelity of the prototype should match the fidelity of your thinking.
As I posted earlier, in our design studies capstone class we’ve been thinking about analogies to our chosen topics to gain insight into areas of our topic that maybe wouldn’t occur otherwise. I was having a hard time this past week thinking of an analogy that truly got at how I feel about handmade design, but was also immediately understandable to others. Yesterday, I had a breakthrough. I thought about it from the user’s point of view, instead of just what handmade design is “like”. What I came up with is that, for the user, handmade design is like receiving a love letter instead of an email. Good, right?
The valuable thing about this analogy is that it can be plumbed for concrete details on why the evidence of the hand in graphic design is so good, which I hadn’t articulated before. Firstly, the medium alters the content of the message. In hindsight it’s completely obvious, but just went from fuzzy thought to tangible words on paper yesterday. Several elements of the medium, the letter, alter or add additional content to the message. The paper or card is chosen specifically for the recipient, communicating that he is valued in a personal way by the author. The handwriting shows the humanity of the author. Some words could be scratched out; perhaps she struggled to find the right words to say? Is the envelope scented? Are there rose petals inside? The time spent to write out a letter and put it in the mail box, not to mention the 42 cent stamp, also communicates the worth of the recipient to the author. She could have bought four packs of Top Ramen instead of that stamp, but she didn’t. These details wouldn’t be communicated in an email.
An email is almost an afterthought, a quick message dashed off before leaving for the day. A letter, especially a love letter, is a joy to see in the mailbox. An email in the inbox is just another task to deal with. Of course I’m speaking in generalities and not every email is drudgery and not every love letter is joyful, but you get my point.
You also may be wondering why I’m saying love letters, rather than all letters, are analogous to handmade design. I thought about this for a bit and I came to the conclusion that when a designer loves her work, it shows through to the audience. Perhaps it’s not noticed on a conscious level, but the extra attention to detail, the loving way that the content is treated all converge in the same feelings as a love letter.
I’m still working on other analogies to the experiences of handmade design from different viewpoints. I will report back when they make sense.
We’ve been talking a lot about analogies in class lately, and how it can be helpful to think of analogies to a new problem space you are exploring in design studies. I’m really excited about how it’s already started broadening my thinking. Almost without consciously thinking about it, I’ve been coming up with them… Mostly stupid ones to amuse myself, I’ll admit, but some are worth filing away. One that I thought of is that is amusing, but not that helpful: design that is handmade is like a history painting, whereas design done start to finish on the computer is like paint-by-numbers. Some analogies are good for plumbing for insights into the original problem space. Other analogies can be valuable just for illuminating a topic or one specific facet of a topic. That first one I think comes off as a little anti-computer, which is not what I want to communicate.
We’ve also been talking about diagramming as a way to explore a problem space. This is something I’ve been having a bit more trouble with, and it was especially hard for Hebrew typography. Instead of finding new connections, I was regurgitating facts. I felt like there was so much that I needed to know to actually create something new and useful in that area, just by virtue of not speaking Hebrew as my first language and still being a pretty wide-eyed student of roman typography. I’m super excited to use it to explore my new topic!
I’m contemplating a change to my capstone subject—or maybe an entirely new direction. I had been having doubts for about the past week and ended up coming to the conclusion that if I continued on with Hebrew typography, that perhaps the only project I would come up with would be to design a new Hebrew typeface. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to do that on my own time, on my own timeline. I think the capstone might be a better opportunity to go in a direction that a) could inform future work and b) that I can actually accomplish within the next ~5 months. I definitely don’t want to design another typeface within the space of a quarter. Been there, and it wasn’t nearly enough time.
I’m still lingering on some of the stuff we were studying last quarter in my design research class. I’m really interested in how play, humor, narrative, and the handmade come together in design. I think the question I may be asking is what is my theory of design? The elements I’ve mentioned have really been on my mind for all of my design education. All the work that has really spoken to me (saying, “wow, that’s what I want to do!”) has had most, if not all of these elements. My desire to create with my hands goes back to the point where I was physically able. Don’t get me wrong, I drew and painted too, but mostly what I was into was creating something, not a picture of something. In fact, I wore out the family sewing machine. Luckily my parents were very obliging and turned a downstairs workspace where my dad’s pottery wheel was into an “art room” for me and my sister. God, I wish I had an art room now. I’m digressing again, what I’m trying to say is that creating with my hands is important to me. I think the work people create when you can see the influence of the hand speaks more than sterile design created start to finish on the computer. And I’m not anti-computer, I love my computer, but it’s extremely limiting when it comes to design. Before I started my design education, I always started on the computer, because that’s how I thought graphic design was done. Now I know how the technology limited my thinking because I was doing what technology could do, instead of what my brain could do. I would also start bothering myself with technical limitations before I was even done brainstorming.
So, I’ve established that I believe that design work where you can see the hand is more expressive and soulful. I also think it lends itself to playfulness and wit, which are so much more important than most people give credit for. How often do you see serious issues tackled with humor way more effectively than, well, whatever else you might tackle it with? Way more. Plus, it keeps everyone sane. Last, but definitely not least, the handmade has a natural narrative. There is always a story behind something that is physically made. What I like is how you can alter the process of the making and the materials to fit the message you’re trying to communicate. This narrative, however subtle it may seem, shows through in the final product.
This is where I’m at right now. I may be further back (although I like to think I’m just in a different place than I was) but I think it will work out better this way. Another plus is that I don’t have to explain where I’m going to everyone, they just get it.
I’m sure you already have heard that Apple’s long awaited tablet is here, except it’s not a tablet, it’s an oversized iPod Touch. But really, that’s not what I’m here to write about, I’m more surprised that Apple has exactly ZERO women working on this project. How do I know this, you wonder? I will tell you right now that no woman would ever let a product out the door with a name like iPad. I’ll also let Apple in on a little secret while I’m at it: Women don’t want to carry a product called iPad. Good move on that one.
(Update 1/28/2010)
On my way home today I was listening to NPR’s All Tech Considered and was pleasantly surprised to hear Shereen Meraji make the same joke I made when I first wrote this yesterday. Granted it is so obvious that I can’t really lay any claim to it, but it still made me feel good. The best part of the show, however, was who she was interviewing: Mad TV writers, Bruce McCoy and Tami Sagher, who spoofed an Apple ad with a product called iPad in 2005. So awesome.
Even though the point of this blog, for the most part, is for me to reflect on my design studies capstone project, I thought it might be nice to institute some sort of weekly summary of what has been going on in the process. Maybe I’ll even start doing fireside webcasts, you never know!
This week has been difficult for me despite many good things happening like getting the books I ordered last week and having a person I really respect agree to mentor me through the capstone process. I think I’m struggling with the feeling of realizing exactly how much I don’t know and not being sure of how much detail I need to know to identify salient topics within the larger scope of Hebrew typography. I don’t want to get lost in the details or become emotionally attached to the topic too early in the process. To be honest, I’m still not sure Hebrew typography is my final topic. I’m wondering if perhaps I should widen the topic to how cultural myths about letters manifest in both modern and ancient typography. Then the narrower Hebrew typography can be a case study, rather than the whole shebang.
I’m also having a tough time relating my topic to other areas, which we talked about in class last week. We are supposed to compare our topics to other, possibly similar topics through diagramming to see if we can eke out any insights or identify any problem areas. I’m not sure if I don’t understand the exercise fully, but I’m having a really hard time figuring out how to begin. I guess I’ll just have to reread my notes (again), make up some charts, and see where that takes me. I’ll also apply some of the d.school bootcamp exercises and see what comes out the other end, even though I’m having a hard time forgiving them for using bucket as a verb.
Hopefully next week I will be feeling more at ease with the direction my research is going and more concrete about my topic. Heck, maybe I’ll even have some swell charts to show off!
Earlier in the quarter, my capstone class looked at some of the exercises in an ostensibly bootlegged copy of Stanford’s d.school bootcamp document—I’m linking you to the search results on Scribd because they keep removing links that aren’t directly from the d.school. If this strikes you as funny, you’re not alone. There is also a message from the d.school faculty introducing the “bootleg”. I finally got around to reading the whole thing over the weekend, which is one of the reasons my posts are coming in a burst this week. I’ve been reading more than I’ve been writing, which is something I need to balance out. I want to be reflecting on what I’m learning from my research each week, mainly so I don’t forget everything when my brain gets full.
Sorry for the digression and back to the d.school’s document. It’s basically a compilation of what students in the program learn in their introductory course, Design Thinking Bootcamp. The document is made of modes, stages you are in during the design process, and methods, exercises you can do to structure your process. The information is really quite good and I would recommend anyone interested in human-centered design read it, but as a design thinking manual, I think it fell short of its goal. Most of the exercises that aren’t explaining how to do fieldwork assume you have already done user research and fieldwork. While I’m glad that they are focusing on ethnographic research, the document puts the cart before the horse, to use one of my grandfather’s favorite clichés. Maybe it’s covered in the class, but in the document, there is very little to do with where to start if you don’t have a design problem handed to you by a professor, client, or boss—problem-finding in other words.
My other issue with the document is that the writing is full of vague, jargon-y buzz-words. Maybe it’s just because I’m taking a design writing class this quarter, or because I’m also reading William Zinsser’s On Writing Well, but I was really struck by how bad the writing got at times. I don’t care who you are, “bucket” can never be used as a verb.
I find mentoring to be extremely valuable when I am working on large projects (a capstone perhaps?), so I was completely on board earlier this quarter when Dominic—our fearless Design Studies professor—encouraged us to seek out various mentors to work with over the next two quarters. These mentors could be experts in a field related to our capstones, design professors/practitioners, etc. I am very excited to report that as of this week, I have been fortunate enough to land a mentor to play the role of overseer, similar to Dominic. One nice thing is that the mentor I chose is close to the UW design program without being completely inside of it, but also in the “real world.” It’s a nice balancing act. The qualities most important to me in choosing this specific mentor were:
Honesty. I know I can trust the feedback I get is not edited to save my feelings or overly harsh, just helpful.
A deep understanding of what Design Studies actually is.
I’ve been thinking a lot this past week about how I went about thinking of what I want to do for my design studies capstone. Basically, my process was to think about stuff that I’m interested in, write it down, and get feedback. I’ve been really inspired by my fellow classmates’ pecha kucha presentations this past Wednesday in class. A lot of people were really adept at showing their thought process and the reasoning (be it deductive or abductive) they took to get there. It made me feel like I was on less stable ground, because I felt like perhaps I hadn’t reflected properly on why I’m interested in my potential topics. Or because I didn’t take a more free form approach, and simply chose subjects that interest me on a gut level, perhaps I missed an opportunity to discover an area I hadn’t previously thought about.
So with this in mind, I’m going to reflect on why I’m passionate about a couple key things. I have to start with typography, because it’s basically the reason I got into design. I never really gave a second thought to why I like it; I just do, right? Stepping back to take a look at it, I think the reason it appeals to me is that I’ve always been amazed that we—as humans, not designers—even have language, not to mention written language. I love to read, and I have always been impressed at how typography can give extra context and/or meaning to the written word. I’ve also been obsessed with the shape of letters since I was a little girl. I learned to read when I was 4 and after that I really wanted to know what the letters looked like before I learned to read. I would try my darndest to look at words without reading them, so I could only see the letters separate from their meaning. I found it impossible to do this and my little sister was not much help either, seeing she was only 2. I’m not sure if this actually means something, or just proves that I was a weird little girl. If I had to pull something from this experience, I would guess that I was trying to tell the difference between the meaning we imbue writing with culturally and the meaning inherent in the letterforms themselves. Or why the shift from preliterate to literate was so absolute that I couldn’t remember ever not knowing how to read.
Now onto Hebrew. The simple answer is that I’m drawn to Hebrew because it’s a beautiful language, typographically and semantically. I was incredibly lucky and got to learn Hebrew as a child in school, and I was always fascinated with the Jewish myths I would hear regarding the letters of the Hebrew alphabet (alef-bet). I hinted at this in an earlier post, but Jewish mysticism is incredibly rich with myth centered around the letters. Kabbalah holds that the letters were the material with which the universe was created. There is also a rabbinic teaching that the knowledge of what came before the universe was created (which is where the torah starts, at “in the beginning…”) is inaccessible to us. How was this teaching learned? It was deduced from the shape of the bet (the first letter of the torah in Hebrew, which begins with “b’reshit”—”in the beginning…”) which is closed on the right, but open on the left—and remember here that Hebrew reads from right to left—meaning that we can only know what flows from the open side of the bet, and what comes before is closed to us. Stories like these abound in Jewish tradition.
So perhaps what is interesting me here is how a society can attach so much cultural meaning to its alphabet, what function it serves if any, and why it is this way. I know Hebrew is not the only language with mythology like this around it, it’s just the one I’m most familiar with.
