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In relation to understanding the connection in my life between writing and design, I was inspired to read a comparison of the craft of writing to the craft of design in David Wroblewski’s “The Construction of Human-Computer Interfaces Considered as a Craft” from Taking Software Design Seriously. This was required reading for our seminar 2 class.

There seems to be a connection between the writing process and design process (Wroblewski’s references John Gardner’s The Art of Fiction and Bill Strickland’s On Being a Writer). This connection has surfaced in other readings as well, especially those we read last semester for Richard Buchanan.

Creating a piece of good writing is a wicked problem: an ambiguous problem with a solution that cannot practically be found or measured. A good idea and some words thrown on paper will not necessarily generate a strong piece of writing, just like a good idea or some applied technology will not necessarily result in a product that connects with users.

Both are iterative processes. Almost always, a strong piece of writing is not the first thing written. Similarly, even if you frame the problem well and have solid research, the first idea for a solution will likely not be the final design.

In On Being a Writer, John Steinbeck says (Wroblewski uses this quote):

Although it must be a thousand years ago that I sat in a class on story-writing at Stanford. I remember the experience very clearly. I was bright-eyed and bushy-brained and prepared to absorb the secret formula for writing good short stories, even great short stories. This illusion was canceled very quickly. The only way to write a good short story, we were told, is to write a good short story. Only after it is written can it be taken apart to see how it was done.

This fits nicely with our graduate study program in design, whereby we are really only given guidance and tools to create a good design and an environment to evaluate the designs we have created. Though we are not, and cannot be, given the secret formula for creating good design.

However, maybe that’s how it works for a lot of things. There is no formula for success. No secret to happiness. Life, it may be argued, is like the process of design or the process of writing. The end is ambiguous, and there are multiple solutions for the same problem. The only way to live life is to live life. Only after can we see how it was done.

I’m talking about the verbiage.

Bruce Hanington, who teaches my Research Methods for Human Centered Design course, tried to correct himself after saying “user testing.” He proffered that “product testing” is better because it alleviates the concern people have that they’re being tested.

He’s not to first to make such an argument or to object to the term user itself. I’ve seen the language talked about in articles and blogs, and heard it addressed by other professors and students.

But today, as I listened to the argument against user testing, I thought about what it actually means: testing by a user. That doesn’t seem bad to me, or to not make sense. In fact, it does make sense, and it’s likely why the term is so prevalent. Product testing, for example, could mean the designer is testing the product, or the engineer is testing the product, and not the user.

Then my mind jumped to “user.” Well, that’s someone that uses a product. Again, it makes sense. And again, it’s probably why we use the term.

It’s interesting that I hear so many people trying to correct themselves to not say something that the majority has agreed upon as understandable. I wonder if by making an effort to eliminate the “user” we’re trying to solve an actual problem or working against common sense due to over-stimulated design thinking.

If we’re worried about users feeling like they’re being tested during user testing instead of feeling like they’re the ones testing the product, then perhaps rather than try to re-design the language, we should design the experience so that the user understands and is comfortable with her role.

My graduate seminar class with Dick Buchanan ended yesterday. For this last class, we discussed pluralism and objectivity, which Buchanan states as the fundamental problem of design.

Why is it a problem? There is no subject matter in design. Designers make their subject matter. “This is a very peculiar thing,” Buchanan says.

I agree. And while it makes sense, it’s not always obvious. For instance, I’m at a school studying design, which inclines one to think there is subject matter to study.

However, Buchanan warns of this temptation to believe design has subject matter. What one may think of as the subject matter of design is really either history of design, or comments on existing designs.

A Cup Is a Cup Is a Cup

Buchanan defines objectivity in design as the object we create. What makes design interesting is that we don’t all agree that a cup is a cup is a cup, and there are different ways of practicing design. Is this something in the nature of design? Or something in the nature of the world? These are questions he asked.

The frustrating aspect of design is that you can’t practice it without some idea of what you’re doing. Though the more you find your own way, you find that other people do things differently. This difference, or pluralism, is what needs to be reconciled.

So how does one deal with pluralism and objectivity? Well, designers need to understand that we don’t have to agree on the values of on how we see the world; we only have to agree on what we’re going to make. Buchanan says designers must help people find their own view, and understand how other people do things.

All Done, But Only the Beginning

I thought that was a nice way to round up the class: stating a fundamental problem, but providing hope that it can be overcome.

Overall, I thought the course was valuable, even though no absolute answers were offered. It makes sense now given the ambiguity of design problems, lack of subject matter, and different ways of practicing design.

While the class is over, it is only the beginning in a likely endless contemplation of design thinking in relation to design practice and it’s impact on the world, and, of course, my place in it all.

I received a report from the field about Dick Buchanan’s speech at the design conference in Lisbon last week. While subjective, I found it interesting and got permission to share it with you.

Buchanan tells us that the design methods movement of the 1940s was largely concerned with design potentialities, productive science (the act of design) and design, i.e., the conception and creation of design products.

In the 1960s he refers to Alexander, Archer, and Chris Jones as three theorists that dealt with classic dialect (the use of patterns to resolve conflict), productive science and rhetoric (in regards to chance and possibility as opposed to the process of logical analysis), respectively.

Today, Buchanan says, the result of the separation of the design methods movement can be recognized as a group of different arts that deal with the practice of poetic, dialectic, and rhetoric (he refers to Horst Rittle and the art of argumentation that deal with issues and problems as rhetoric. In fact he gave quite a few personal examples about the nature and practice of rhetoric in design institutions). Furthermore the focus on design as a science contributed to the collapse of the design methods movement. (Throughout the conference there were quite a few objections and warnings against the introduction of cognitive science into design theory and practice.)

In conclusion, Buchanan says the theorists of the design methods movement did not account for the contextualization of design in intellectual culture (or cultural settings). He finished his speech by telling us that this was now our role in developing design methods.

This may be Dick’s main argument in all of his work that draws on a liberal arts perspective. This approach may be why the arts can be used as a foundation for design theory and practice.

How did I spend my Saturday night? Why designing calendars, of course!

Yeah, my previous calendar was a bit safe (and grad is not the place for safe). So I experimented some more. I think I could spend the next 30 years working on this, which makes Thursday’s deadline seem all too soon.

?��Ǩ?�We are the stuff makers. That is our role as designers,?��Ǩ�� says John Zimmerman.

Today we began our next interaction and visual interface design assignment: digital music player. My new group, consisting of fellow graduate student Sook and an industrial design undergraduate, will be creating a new player for commuters.

We read Don Norman?��Ǩ�Ѣs Emotion and Design: Attractive Things Work Better, because for this project we are going to attempt to design a product not just that people need, but that people want.

A main point in today?��Ǩ�Ѣs discussion was that people define themselves through the products they choose. Thus people are attached to the products they use because the products give them a sense of being. The relationship with a product is a relationship with the self.

For this project, our goal is to answer the following question: how can what I am making become a part of someone?��Ǩ�Ѣs life? We will aim to create a product that allows users to become the person they want to be.

For tomorrow’s class, which begins in six hours, my mobile project team will be presenting our paper prototypes.

Again, if you haven’t been paying attention, we’re creating a mobile application to help people find a coffee shop. Our persona travels often and really likes coffee, but not just any coffee or coffee shop. Our man is concerned with quality.

Based on the feedback we got from the wire frames and flow diagram, we revised our persona and scenario a bit, and made some modification to the wire frames. And then we just let the wire frames inform our prototypes. It actually seemed rather simple.

One of my team members was charged with mocking up the prototypes, and he did a fine job.

When it comes time to turn these guys into Flash that we’ll load onto a mobile phone for the some testing, that’s where I come in.

In the meantime, we’ll probably find out we’re not framing the problem incorrectly. But at least our prototypes look pretty, and that’s what design is all about.

After depriving myself of sleep and taking a chance that my poster would work it?��Ǩ�Ѣs way through the print queue in time for class (we were told to allow 48 hours and I submitted my job at 2 a.m.), I gladly hung my poster on the wall with everyone else during grad studio this afternoon.

As this was our first big endeavor for grad studio, Dan Boyarski invited guests to check out the work and also provide an objective opinion on the results. Ben Fry, the 2006-2007 Nierenberg Chair of Design, was in attendance.

Part of my research into data visualization included many visits to visualcomplexity.com, which includes a handful of data visualization projects by none other than Ben during his time at the MIT Media Lab.

The way Dan conducts critiques with outside guests is he asks them what they?��Ǩ�Ѣre drawn to and to sort of think aloud what they?��Ǩ�Ѣre seeing. Ben was asked to go first, and he didn?��Ǩ�Ѣt choose my poster.

Instead, he focused on a much smaller, hand-drawn sketch of the measurement of coffee versus sleep represented on continuous sine wave that corresponded to the days of the week.

The next guest chose my poster. After a few comments, Dan asked Ben if he had comments. Naturally, he did.

Having looked at his stuff for inspiration, it was really cool to have him point to the flaws in my visualization: the meaning of using spheres or circles; the length of the lines; the trouble with three-dimensional space. All good stuff.

During a break, I talked with him a bit and told him about seeing some of his previous work. He said he doesn?��Ǩ�Ѣt really want to be grouped with the lot on visualcomplexity.com, because one, those projects are old, and two, he feels that complexity is exactly not the point. The point is simplicity.

In fact, his other comments during the critique reflected this mindset. He seems to want to simply rather than make something look complex?��Ǩ���possibly for the sake of making it look complex or for aesthetic reasons.

Some more of his criticism of my piece was that it was difficult to determine what the main connection was (my piece was titled ?��Ǩ?�Making Connections?��Ǩ��), and that the meaning of the objects and placement of the lines was perhaps arbitrary (In fact, they were, somewhat, but not completely).

We talked a little bit about how he uses processing for his data visualization. He said that creating my lines would have required four lines of code. I downloaded processing last week, looked at some of the example code, but didn?��Ǩ�Ѣt have time to dig in. But his comment gives me compelling reason.

He concluded our conversation by saying it would allow me to ?��Ǩ?�make mistakes faster,?��Ǩ�� which isn?��Ǩ�Ѣt a Ben Fry original, but it’s still a worthy comment. Because making mistakes slow sucks.

Overall, however, I was happy with my progress. My initial idea was a bar graph (I told this to Ben incidentally, and he seemed to support the bar graph if it made it simpler). So I came a long way, and I feel I learned a lot along the way, even if my visualization wasn’t perfect.

For this project, unlike some of my summer projects, I think I stepped out of the comfort zone, and I feel good about that.

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

Today my group met to discuss our findings from independent interviews regarding our mobile project to help find a coffee shop.

We have the beginnings of a persona. His name is Johannes Zummerman. He is 38 and married, and is a military software consultant. He loves good coffee. He needs it. It?��Ǩ�Ѣs part of his morning ritual, no matter where he is; and he travels often, across the world, to cities and rural environments. Burnt coffee pisses him off. Messing up his order is intolerable. He doesn?��Ǩ�Ѣt ask for directions. He will wander around a city where he thinks he?��Ǩ�Ѣll find a coffee shop. Or he will drive for miles out of his way seeking a coffee shop. It disrupts his whole day when he can?��Ǩ�Ѣt find coffee in the morning. His wife hates that they have to get up early when on vacation so he can find good coffee. He won?��Ǩ�Ѣt drink the coffee at the hotel. He doesn?��Ǩ�Ѣt drink coffee at home, even though he owns an expensive coffee maker. He makes mental notes when he sees a coffee shop he thinks he might like, or when he goes to one he likes. However, his memory is imperfect, and sometimes he forgets exactly where the coffee shops he likes are. He wishes he had access to recommendations from other people as to which are the best places to get coffee.

I hope we?��Ǩ�Ѣre on the right track. We?��Ǩ�Ѣll find out on Thursday.