The next time you are having a big argument about design with fellow team members, and decide to […]
At conferences and meet-ups, I spend a lot of time with young practitioners. And every time I chat […]
One of the most flumoxing issues I encounter when reviewing design work is misplaced interface objects.
When you craft a sentence, you’d never think to write something like “Fluorescent, she picked a red.” Somewhere or another you learned that — unless the lady in question was glowing faintly — “fluorescent” should be placed next to “red” to modify it.
Yet over and over I’ll see a design where a filter or an undo button is off in a corner, far from the thing it is supposed to filtering or undoing. I’ll hear a designer say, “well users can be trained.”
But think about that sentence again… you were able to guess the red was fluorescent, but it stopped you in your tracks, didn’t it? Design’s job is to disappear into the pleasure of use.
Next time you review a design, consider treating interface objects as if they were verbs (or adverbs) and figure out what word they affect. Then read your sentence out loud and see if it makes sense!
I signed up for the 30 day RWE writing challenge, but have been remiss on acting on the […]
I just read a lovely article on how to critique design, and it was insightful and all that, […]
When we think of robots, we usually envisionÂ somethingÂ with wheels for feet, and arms spinning likeÂ theÂ Lost and Space guy […]
“Up in the Air” came out at a funny time for me. I had just taken a job with Myspace that required me to fly to LA every week. This didn’t really bother me at the time. I have always had a bizarre affection for hotel rooms, and an easy relationship with flying. It seemed to fit my new lifestyle (or at least, was no more weird.) I already had to drop my daughter off at school everyÂ Wednesday knowing I wouldn’t see her again until Sunday morning. Why mope aroundÂ my Palo Alto house, sleeping with Felina and Little Fifi when I could be living the highlife on a travel stipend in Los Angeles?
So every Wednesday I wake up amidst love and squalor, enjoy a long snuggle onÂ theÂ couch, pack a lunchbox and suitcase, and drive to the school and the airport, in that order. Â And somehow, as I take off my shoes and coat and remove my laptop, I also shed myself.
They say travel is dehumanizing. We are nesting creatures. Walk aroundÂ theÂ office. Do you see a cube that hasn’t been marked in some way? A few books, a diet coke can pyramid, a picture in crayon pinned toÂ theÂ low wall: all markingÂ territory and making home. Â But travel refuses you the ability to make home happen. Sure you can pack candles or a photo to put by the bedstead, butÂ knowingÂ a few days later you’ll have to put them back in the suitcase makes it almost worse. Â Gestures of home are futile and uncomforting inÂ theÂ face ofÂ theÂ housekeeper’s ability to wipe away every trace of you. I find human connections a better comfort. Â I’ve squandered a lot ofÂ opportunityÂ to explore in exchange for the pleasure of a waiter who knows I like myÂ steakÂ rare, or the chance to teachÂ theÂ parakeet in the lobby to whistle a sequence of notes. The desk clerk worries over my cough, the night watchman offers me tea.
After an extensive search, I find I have not written this down (at least in a blog– I have referenced it in talks.) Now, most of these points can be/have been addressed in one way or another. But one might ask yourself, what other deliverable is as criticized as wireframes, and could there be something better?
Firstly, wireframes emasculate the designer. Wireframes have often had a place in multi-disciplinary teams where the graphic designer had come from print, and didn’t really understand interface design. The interaction designer came from software and was making ugly terminal-esque interfaces. So in order to make sure the end result was palatable, the interaction designer (or information architect; I’ll use this term interchangeably in this post) would make a pig, and then the graphic designer would put lipstick on it. This was 1998.
But as designers got savvy to interface, they started resenting the restrictions on their ability to creating compelling and useful designs. After all, a designers toolkit is essentially font, color and layout. The web browser stole the first, if the IxD steals the third they are relegated to the sorry position of kid with crayons handed a coloring book. Think hard of the last wireframe you saw. Didn’t it look a lot like a paint-by-number, with only the numbers missing?
A few days ago, I read an article with the same title as this post. Oh, maybe it was How to Hire a User Experience Professional, or Interaction Designer or Information Architect, or whatever. I don’t recall. There isn’t so much difference anyhow. I do remember it said things like “look at their presentation skills”, “see if their personas are based on research” and something about their wireframes. I tweeted that’s why I wouldn’t hire a designer, which caused some kerfuffle with my followers. And it’s hard to clarify in 140 characters what teed me off about the original article.
Here’s why I wouldn’t hire someone based on wireframes, Powerpoint and persons: it’s not because these are necessarily bad (well, except the wireframes, which are so 2001 that they are the mullet of deliverables, and like the mullet I cannot wait until they are finally gone and I’m not asked to stare at them any longer.) I was bummed because these are merely artifacts and not necessarily the vital critical thinking skills you need to find in a decent designer.
I really don’t care if you never do personas, or if you make them up from a guy you talked to in the grocery story. I don’t care if you use keynote, Powerpoint or Illustrator. And honestly, I would hire someone if they did wireframes even though I hate the darn things.
So how do I vet designers, if not by their paperwork?
In 1923, Frank Lloyd Wright completed the Imperial Hotel, a building commissioned in Japan. In 1923, there was a 8.3 magnitude earthquake. The hotel survived.
Wright was a midwesterner like myself, and had no experience with Earthquakes. When he arrived in Japan, that lack of familiarity was his strength; he passionately researched earthquake damage, and designed his hotel with multiple safeguards.