jamin.org

Each year the School of Design gives us some money to attend a conference of our choice. Unless I missed something, we were never provided with a list of conferences thought to be worthwhile, which I believe would be helpful since many of us come from different fields and are not familiar with design conferences.

Last year I went to SXSW, which was a lot of fun and good for networking. That was mostly geared toward web, so I’m wondering if I should find something more universal.

What do you think? Where should I go? And why?

Before the Thanksgiving break, Kristin Hughes, who is currently teaching my graduate typography class, asked me to help her put up a placeholder website for Fitwits.

I don’t really know what it is: I didn’t have time to ask. But I built it, and thought it was cool she asked me.

We’re reading Plato to explore the fourth mode of interaction: person and cosmos. I’m sure most people would not understand why we’re reading Plato to learn about design. It’s possible there are those in my class that feel the same way.

I find it extremely interesting to approach Plato and Aristotle—his Poetics was the previous reading—with the intent of learning about design. It’s truly amazing that Dick Buchanan has pulled together all the texts that we have read as a study of interaction design. It’s amazing because there are actually lessons to be learned by reading the texts.

Right now we’re reading Phaedrus, which is a dialogue between Socrates and Phaedrus. Part of the reason I like reading some of the assigned texts is that there are some good ideas in there, design-related or otherwise.

For instance, I found this particularly interesting:

But whoever has no touch of the Muses’ madness in his soul approaches the gates of poetry and thinks that he will get into the temple by the help of art—he, I say, is not admitted, and the poetry of the sane man is utterly eclipsed by that of the inspired madman.

At times I have felt like an inspired madman, though I’m not sure my poetry reflects that. So perhaps I like Plato because he reminds me of poetry, which I do not have much time for these days. I believe my muse is tucked away in the closet like a forlorn toy, waiting in the dark while I play with my newest infatuation, grad school.

But I digress…

Unlike previous texts, we’re spending two classes on Phaedrus. So I am not yet privy to the full enlightenment of how Plato fits into interaction. But even if I did, I’m not sure I could explain the connection. For I still cannot adequately explain to people what I’m studying.

Just tonight someone asked me, and I said “interaction design,” and I could immediately see the information was not being processed. So in acknowledgment of Warren Weaver, I repeated myself in a slightly different way. Still I could see a lack of understanding. Out of politeness or perhaps to maintain the conversation for a bit longer, I tried to explain, but to no avail. So I found an excuse to exit the conversation and took my leave.

If you understand what I just explained, then you must also be reading Plato right now. Though, of course, I was not speaking of Plato’s mode of interaction.

At any rate, Plato knows interaction. Who knew?

I read the following quote in the appendix of House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski, which a friend laid in my lap while I was drinking beer and searching for new clothes online at 1 a.m.

I wished to show that space-time is not necessarily something to which one can ascribe a separate existence, independently of the actual objects of physical reality. Physical objects are not in space, but these objects are spacially extended. In this way the concept of “empty space” loses its meaning.
–Albert Einstein

It reminded me of the talk Stefan Holmlid gave at the Emergence conference, titled “Introducing White Space in Service Design: This Space Intentionally Left Blank.”

Here’s an excerpt of my notes from the talk:

White space in service design modeling: the space in time between two actions; instead of focusing on what happens between, we look at the actions. We look at this as something the service doesn’t depend on, but it does, in order for other things to take place.

I wonder what kind of conversation Stefan and Einstein might have.

Stephan concluded his talk with ee cummings, who is one of the first poets that I took an interest in. It made me feel nostalgic.

“nothing” the unjust man complained
“is just” (”or un-” the just rejoined
34 in 73 poems by from ee cummings

Why I write poetry is a question I’ve been asking myself since I started writing during senior year of high school. Recently I’ve been reconsidering the question.

What compels me fill a blank sheet of paper with ragged lines of rhyme, alliteration, assonance, and meter? Of all writing, why did I choose poetry?

This post is an attempt to answer these questions.

Compulsion

“Compulsion” is a word that I keep coming back to as I consider my answer. In a sense, I don’t feel like I made a choice to write poetry. It happened. And then it kept happening. And I felt compelled to keep writing. There was a bunch of stuff fluttering against the windows of my mind like trapped birds trying to get out. One day I opened a window.

It was this compulsion that resulted in me writing poems during my calculus lectures when I was supposed to be learning to be an engineer. And the same compulsion led to me switching to English Writing as a major, not because it made sense, but because it seemed that’s what I was inclined to do.

My Past Self Weighs In

This weekend, I stumbled upon an old journal. A few entries in, my past self offered this explanation as to why I write poetry:

I write poems cos¹ they’re quick
You can tell a little story
And then bang!
Like an orgasm
It’s over.

—June 22, 1999

1 “cos” instead of “because” was a phase I went through.

Here’s another bit I found:

What inspires me to write poetry?
The answer’s unknown—a curiosity.
Maybe it’s a love of words
Or the cleverness of a phrase.
Maybe I have nothing better to do
When I wish to fill my days.

—September 30, 1999

I included these because they show a history of me trying to answer the same question that I am trying to answer now, and for the uncanniness of their surfacing during the very weekend I planned to tackle the question.

In a Nutshell (why not eggshell?)

I can only speculate why the compulsion exists. But I believe it’s the coming together of my interests and tendencies, that when considered in whole, make poetry a likely vehicle.

First, I have a natural interest in words, both how they are used to express ideas and their etymology. I am also intrigued by ideas, and have a passion for exploring ideas to whatever end, no matter how ridiculous, and a proclivity for turning words, phrases, and ideas upside down.

I enjoy sharing my ideas, knowledge, and experience. And while I struggle with the inherent egotism of writing with the idea that my words have the merit to affect others, that is in fact one of the reasons I write. It’s one of my ways of trying to make meaningful connections with the rest of the humans.

Writing poetry is also a way for me to explore myself. There’s an inexplicable mysticism to writing and making permanent passing thoughts that amazes me (actually, stringing together words in any form of communication is an amazing feat if you think about it, especially when you consider how often you don’t think about it). Countless times I have read my poems and wondered where they came from. So it’s a way for me to tap into parts of myself that I don’t know exist, and perhaps help me to better understand the complexity of my humanity.

Finally, when it comes to writing, I am lazy. Novels seem daunting. Even the short stories I have written were a chore. Blog posts can be a bitch. So poetry has the appeal of brevity.

It may not be all encompassing, but that’s pretty much why I write poetry. And as long as I feel I have something to share, and something within myself to explore, I hope to keep writing.