Solita

I’ve lost count how many times I’ve referenced these words from Colly. 

…find problems and design responses. Not answers, not solutions, just responses. There’s rarely a single right way, so just explore problems and see what happens.

Design is not a zero sum game.

This won’t fit into a tweet. And sorry, it’s about job titles so feel free to scoot off. 

A client recently asked me why I winced when describing myself as a ‘User Experience Designer’. Well, apart from the obvious embarrassment of it being a ridiculously pompous title, it has deeper ramifications when working with teams (almost always). It suggests user experience is the domain of an individual. It excludes – or worse still excuses – others from adopting this approach. But that doesn’t make sense. UX is a flavour not an ingredient. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a designer, developer or writer, we are all fundamentally invested in the user’s experience. 

I enjoyed episode 69 of 99% Invisible: The Brief and Tumultuous Life of the New UC Logo. It was fascinating for all the usual reasons that designers find  the religious debates around logo-reboots interesting. We sympathise with the poor misunderstood designer. We chuckle at the well meaning but ignorant opinion of the layman. Before finally returning – with a collective sigh – to where we were started. And with a shrug we accept this as the Designer’s Lot. In 25 minutes I think I passed through all five phases of the Kübler-Ross model. Sounds horrific but actually this was a great story, expertly told as always by Roman Mars and colleagues. 

For those that haven’t had the pleasure, the show recounts the story of the ‘failed’ redesign of the University of California identity. Or more specifically the logo. In fact, it was even more specific than that – it was the monogram itself that seemed to get peoples’ goat.

And therein lies the problem. As the Creative Director points out, a monogram in isolation means very little. The goal is symbolism but it has to earn its meaning – firstly as part of the visual system – and eventually as a totem, emblematic of the collective experience of that brand. 

Problem is, this one never had a chance. It was pushed out in the world, isolated from its system and – like a pack of wolves – the Status-Quo bias took hold. The monogram had earned its narrative, it was just the wrong one.

A bunch of us – mainly Clearleft, but also co-conspirators Jessica, Mike, Brian and Andy – recently went on a thing called Hack Farm. We even made a site about it. And just-enough of a product. It was fun and I feel very honoured to be part of a team of enormously talented people.

I have to admit my interest in Hack Farm was weighted towards the process rather than the output itself. Part of my ever-growing interest in the conditions and environment around innovation.

Anyway I made a bunch of notes about this side of things.

Innovation (as opposed to plain old ‘good design’) can feel uncomfortable. Finding a balance between excitement/momentum/making and ambiguity/uncertainty/creativity is a challenge that someone needs to take the lead on.

Stewardship is so important here. The groups needs enough structure to avoid disorder/chaos but not so much that this it inhibits bold/exuberant thinking (often the source of the most exciting ideas). IMO, we underestimated how much stewardship was required. With hindsight, an (independent) facilitator and A LOT more preparation would have been a smart move. Think of each day as a collaborative design workshop and you’ll be getting closer to what’s required.

Design Games are, as always, your friends. We adapted versions of exercises we use with clients (especially Design Studio). But they come with a few words of warning. A lot of these games are focused on reaching consensus. However, this often comes at the expense of some of the sharper edges. At times it felt like regression toward the mean. In some ways this is desirable during client workshops but at Hack Farm we were a little too hasty to smooth those edges. Again, structure/planning/facilitation would have helped here.

People will approach the problem from different places. I tend to work outside-in, looking at big picture stuff like strategy/vision before moving on to details. Others prefer material exploration. On Hack Farm a lot of material exploration meant playing with the various APIs and data-sources already working in the UK political space. This blend of conceptual/abstract thinking with exploratory/investigative hacking was one of my personal highlights from Hack Farm. Definitely something I’d like to see more of on live projects.

Some people will struggle with this way of working. This is inevitable. After all, it’s hard to stay engaged for an entire week, especially when everything (environment/process) is unfamiliar. But it can be a little toxic for the rest of the group if there are stragglers, especially if it happens too often. Again, a good moderator will stay on top of this and adjust if needed.

I went into Hack Farm wondering whether the model could be applied to client work. The answer for me is yes, but with a lot more work. The logistics, not to mention the cost, would make this a significant investment for anyone. But the potential is clear for me. Let’s see where that goes.

This is rude:

This is not:

Let’s be polite. Especially when starting relationships.

I stumbled on this earlier.

It is, of course, a faux-leather-bound, vintage TV with a side-protruding, retro camera lens. 

I was reminded of Russell’s Wired piece about the absence of futureness.

Everywhere the current look is classic, vintage and plain. We’re dressing like artisanal leather workers with sidelines in egg collecting and a thing for moustache wax. Where are the futuristic fabrics, the exoskeletal tabards? 

This is for an app – seems to be Instagram but for video – which may not be earth shatteringly innovative, but it’s still compositing video and music with a handheld telephone. On the fly.

I think we’re ready for better metaphors.

Her: Tell me when you’ve worked out what it is.

Me: No, that’s kinda the point. I want to tell you so I can work out what it is.

James Burke says we ‘abhor complexity, and seek to simplify things whenever we can by whatever means we have at hand.’ I agree. 

He also says ‘through fear of chaos we impose system on it’. I agree, again.

And we talk about the these kind of systems a lot. We heroicise them. Because the output – the system, the solution, the boxed product – is mainly what we set our sights on. And get paid for (as designers). And cry wank over with our peers.

I have no problem with this. It’s good, and worthwhile and it gets us somewhere comfortable and often meaningful.

But the last few days, to me, seem to have been less about the end and more about the getting there. Tom’s celebration of toying epitomised this for me. So did the glorious working parts of Maker Faire. And the various provocations of SF.

The divergent bit of design – where everything is half-formed, and possibly wrong, and likely to embarrass – is often forgotten. Mainly because it’s not at the end. But also because it doesn’t make for a shiny press release. Or a cohesive presentation. Or a 10 tips on how to do this better blog post.

I want to find a way of making these things more evident and more discursive. Exposing ideas at their most fertile moment, when they’re ripe for change and would benefit from nurture.

James’ Happenstance work does some of this. I love the idea of people being able to walk through the problem and see the debris of design (before it gets swept away). And eventually start to play with it themselves or just talk about it.