Humans are immensely complex machines. It’s insane that we don’t come with an actual user manual. Then again with all of the education, so called self help gurus, and psychologist there’s an abundant support staff on hand to mend the injuries caused by trial and error. We stumble through life interpreting. We interpret the glances, the backhanded comments, the embraces that go on for a moment too long. It’s not surprising that we quite often misinterpret and expound on the decrepit foundation that is created.

There is hope. Design* has acknowledged the thing that psychology has been so breathlessly touting for ages - emotions. When I have discussions with my father about what it takes to be a parent he expresses that it’s a matter of simply being there. Being a good dad is about taking care of your children. His elegant philosophy lacks granularity and marked consistency. Though I must testify that I did come out alright, following his doctrine of presence is a matter of placing stock in serendipity. He won the lottery.

If time has exclaimed one great truism it is that with advancement comes higher levels of resolution. For example at first we observed that things fall from trees. Then we realized that the falling was due to an invisible force, we called it gravity. Finally we learned to control that force in a civil manner with careful calculation. If all goes well skyscrapers won’t topple and planes don’t plummet from the sky. With regards to the internal processes of human beings we are rapidly approaching this apex of understanding.

Today, school programs are being created that smash the tired paradigm of rote learning. By these carefully planned strategies our children are failing less, succeeding more, and in time will achieve immeasurable ambitions. All of this empowered by the simple fact that we are finally understanding that there is an invisible force called emotional development and it isn’t just a sweetener for life but a critical part of being human.

What must be divined from this lesson is that it’s not enough to just stumble through life. It’s not enough to artlessly be mindful. It takes real work to become balanced. It takes copious amounts of dedication to sort through the natural and unnatural emotions that are experienced day in and day out. Perhaps it’s more than we were ever meant to handle. As with many theories only time will tell and when we are seeing our lives last for hundreds and thousands of years perhaps the prodigious pattern will emerge.

*design as opposed to things that are not designed which emerge from chaos.

This is one “big” reply to all of the feedback that I received from my article, Everybody is Faking It. First I wanted to thank all of you who took the time to read my post as well as those who made the extra effort to leave a comment. Thank you. Your words are valuable to me and more importantly an indicator that I’m not producing absolute rubbish, but instead thought provoking rubbish.

So the comments were on both ends of the spectrum. There was wonderful praise and staunch criticism. We all love when a firm clap on the back is received for a job well done. On the other hand I for one equally adore formal critique. After all, how is one supposed to better their craft if it isn’t scrutinized by peers?

I found that while some digested the ideas that I presented, others concentrated on my form. Form can be critical but isn’t it more important to investigate the content? This is the separation between arguing semantics and discussing meaning. It is my hope that the material that I cast out into the void, that is the collective conscience of the internet, will spark constructive candor. Surprisingly the referenced article struck a cord and did just that.

Thank you all for joining me in this fleeting fancy that is my blog.

This is a declaration. I want to declare that from this point on I will no longer look back. There’s been something that I’ve let keep me from enjoying life to its fullest and I need to let it go. In the spirit of the holidays I’m officially casting my past to the wind. I’ve been blessed to have had such great times and so much love in the past. I have to grow up and realize that there’s so much more to look forward to in the future.

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night

If you read this article you’ll be a better designer/developer/producer because it’s going to be a swift kick to your groin. There’s a reason why 99% of all of the shit out there fails. It’s because somewhere in the design process common sense gets thrown out the window. I know you’re really good at engineering but that alone can’t be your product’s agenda. Look at the Segway, elegant engineering but completely missed the point. You can’t give those things away because no one wants to look like an idiot crawling down the street on their Dr. Evil Mobile. Ask yourself, what’s the first thing that anyone says when they see someone on a Segway? Invariably, while pointing it’s always, “check out that idiot!”. Want a tip? If you’re going to design a vehicle make sure people look cool riding in/on it. And for good measure when they are standing around it make sure that looks cool too.

Stop making Segways. I don’t mean that in the literal sense. I mean that in the general sense. Reconnect with your user base and get to know them. Most importantly remember that you’re designing for human beings and they don’t just have needs or wants they have desires too.

Don’t underestimate the power of EGO. Why else would people put cancer sticks in their mouths and light up? They want to feel like they look cool. That whole getting addicted to it thing comes much later down the line. Dying? It only makes you seem cooler. Everyone wants to be a harbinger of Cool.

If in real life Ego were the law then it’s doubly so on the internet. Give your users a way to show off. Whether it’s having the most epic loot in World of Warcraft, the most friends in Facebook, the best picture in Hot or Not, or the most thought provoking things to say in Twitter. The perception of “coolness” is a pot of gold. It doesn’t matter if anyone actually reads your tweets (trust me they don’t) but if you think that they do then you’ll tweet more often.

Describe your concept in a single sentence. Gaining traction in this ever expanding market is about turf wars. Things spread virally one person at a time. The more people you get spreading your gospel the further it goes. Each person who breaks the chain and doesn’t pass you along is a defeat. That is why it is critical to be as fluid and lubricated as possible. What is that one liner that each user is going to mention when their friend asks them, “why should I use this?”

You are designing for humans. I can’t emphasize this enough. The only reason interaction designers exist is because designers often forget to ask, What does the user want? Users are not dazzled by technology alone. That cool way that your widget gyro balances itself automatically - no one cares. It’s all about Me. How does it make my life easier? How does it make people like me more? Me me me me me…

The big question on every user’s mind is, How can your thing make me seem cooler?

A few months back my company Pattern Making Co. decided to enact an indefinite boycott on the iPhone SDK, because our application the Cool O’Meter 3000 was denied live status on the App Store. You can read up on our rationale at the following blog post. When we heard that another App that had also previously been denied had recently received the green light we decided to retry our luck.

Today, I’m thrilled to announce that Apple has decided to allow our humble app through the pipe and we are now live on the store.

Extra Credit: Cool O’Meter on the App Store

When it comes to designing products a modicum of restraint should be employed to ensure a successful result. Sure there are many features that could be added just because they are possible but I ask you to live strictly by the following cliche - keep it simple stupid. The notion of “just because” has been a thorn in my side in nearly every process I’ve participated in. Think of the following story the next time you find yourself mid feature-creep.

Jeff Hawkins is perhaps best known for being at the helm of Palm Computing Inc, the makers of the groundbreaking Palm Pilot. In the early 90s a number of companies attempted to move into the portable computing space and unfortunately crashed and burned. Apple for instance spent five-hundred million dollars to develop the Newton. As history would show Newton was a flop. It was a masterful attempt to cover far too much ground without being excellent at any one thing in particular.

As if a miracle, the first Palm Pilot prototype was developed for a paltry three million dollars. This begs to ask what was different about their process and final creation? The answer you’ll see was both intriguing and head slappingly obvious.

The first product that Palm Computing released would be the little known Zoomer PDA in 1993. It was a seven-hundred dollar portable handheld intended to be sold at Radio Shack. Price aside, though it were high in technology it was mired by a design by committee process. Like the Newton, Zoomer didn’t hit the mark either. Luckily however through means of a savvy business strategy Palm had enough funds to make another go at it. The second time around they conducted research using early Zoomer adopters as their focus. What they found was that surprisingly the vast majority (90%) wanted to marry their handheld to their personal computer. Who knew that being able to sync data seamlessly would be such a huge breakthrough (see ipod+itunes).

In 1994 work began on the second Palm device which would be released as the Pilot but ultimately known as the Palm Pilot. With the learnings from the research in hand and a distinct distaste for design by committee Jeff established a few stipulations.

1. It would fit in a shirt pocket
2. It would run on AAA batteries
3. It would sell for less than three hundred dollars

This is where the story takes a turn towards the quirky. Jeff went into the machine shop and cut a block of wood out to roughly the size and shape that he had in mind. The block fit well in shirt pocket and felt comfortable in his hand. He carried it everywhere he went. He’d take fake phone calls on the block of wood just to see how it felt. If he had to write down an appointment he would jot it on the block. If stopped by someone, in the hallways, whom had an idea for a feature he would take out the block and after hearing their pitch find a place for it. As the block filled up with features it was obvious that cuts had to be made. If a designer was adamant about an addition they’d have to convince Jeff to erase another. Often was the case that the designer/engineer would argue that it was an easy thing to add. Unfortunately, there just wasn’t infinite real-estate on the block. After a week the Palm Pilot was born. The rest, as they say, is history.

What can be divined from this anecdote is that just because something can be implemented easily doesn’t mean that it is in the best interest of the user. I’ve probably pointed to “Clippy” a million times but I’ll once again point to our ironic anti-hero. I’m not advocating the complete abolishment of automation. Though please consider that if the ultimate goal of design is to fade into the background then any frustration caused by assumptions should be avoided.

It’s important to establish what your product does. Don’t fear making a statement that your device is strictly an MP3 player and nothing else. Though if you make this proclamation take all actions necessary to avert a feature creep. The Palm Pilot managed to crack the handheld code, because unlike it’s predecessors it was specific about its intent at the cost of discarding unnecessary features.

Extra Credit: Wired Magazine Article on the Block of Wood - Circa 1999

I was driving expediently from Boulder to Denver yesterday with my friend the barista. We were discussing what she wanted to do with her future and a masters degree came up. I asked her why she wanted to study Art History and she said to get the proper credentials for the job that she wanted. What came to mind was that she really didn’t need to go to school.

Perhaps I’m just cynical, because grad school often times sounds like a hardy excuse to me. It’s like a chain smoker saying that they’ll quit tomorrow. A halfhearted promise that is only meant to sooth the bearers mind. What I told her instead was that there are few domains out there that require actual credentials and even those can be faked (Frank Abagnale).

In fact, if you were to ask a handful of the most successful people in this world what their secret was they would unanimously say, in one form or another, that they learned to play the system (read: fake it). Allow me to get down to the bottom of what I mean by this.

What if I were to tell you that everything that is order in our daily lives was fabricated unconsciously by humans. There would be no open market or dollar value if we did not exist on this planet. After all, if a tree fell in the woods, and no one was there to witness, would it make a sound? So following this train of logic it’s reasonable to assume that we make the rules for this system. It’s not by magic that celebrities rise to fame. We the population create the conditions that establish the opportunities by which the right people are successful. Now, there is something to be said about the collective social organization that is culture and society but that’s an entirely different discussion.

The point that I’m assembling is that since this is all made up anyway then every participant in turn is also making it up as they go along. For a breath of reality take a look at other cultures and what they consider socially acceptable. In some societies writing on a piece of paper that you won’t recommit a crime is enough because honor is everything. That is their norm/reality.

If you’re still following along then you’ve probably come to the next question. If all things are faked then what can one do to learn to fake it better? I believe that it’s really simple. Learn to say things with a straight face i.e. bluff. Bill Gates managed to walk into IBM, tell them that Microsoft had an operating system to sell, retained ownership and received royalties on said software, yet didn’t once give away that he had nothing. That’s right, he didn’t have a single line of code to offer up on the chopping block. This feat lead to one of the greatest wealths in history.

So back to my friend whom wants to be a curator in a gallery. I recommended that she pick a few that she wanted to work at, walk into each dressed professionally and say, “I love the work here, I love the art world, and I want to work for you.” To that she’ll probably hear, “What are your credentials?” Her reply should be, “Honestly I don’t have a formal degree, though I am an artist and more importantly I have the desire and passion to learn everything there is to learn about this industry.” At this point one of three things will probably occur.

1. The owner says, “Sorry but you need the appropriate credentials and I can’t hire you.”
2. The owner says, “I love your fire. When can you start?”
3. The owner says, “I love your drive but right now we’re not hiring. Let’s see if we can work something out.”

If you get response 1 then you really didn’t want to work there anyway. The owner lacks the vision to hire someone so forward thinking. In a perfect world we’d always get response 2. The most likely retort would probably be 3. In this scenario you need to then ask yourself how badly do you really want the job? If you take a play from P Diddy’s biography then you’ll find yourself saying, “Let me prove myself. I’ll work for free for now. If you like what I do then hire me. If you don’t then tell me to go away.” True story.

I’ve probably mentioned this a million times, rules are only meant to teach you general lessons until you learn that rules do not exist. Remember back in high school when you looked up to the popular kids? As you grew up you realized that there wasn’t anything overbearingly special about them. What about the new kid in school? Did you know that she was a complete dork in the last one? We’ve been faking it since day one and it would be naive to think that anything has change. Maybe the game has been scaled up a bit but the players are still the same.

One of my favorite professors in college once said, “Computer experts were those who had put up with windows long enough to get used to it.” He couldn’t have been more right. Recently, Microsoft has done a great job of pantomiming the Apple operating system but in understanding the rationale behind the design decisions is where they lack.

I’ve had to put up with Vista because some of the applications that I use require it. If I could extricate myself from the hell that is the latest Windows iteration I would. The root of my frustration is in the lack of common sense. Seriously, I know this sounds blunt but please hire a god damn interaction designer.

If I had to point out the biggest flaw it would be that while copying OSX, Microsoft has forgotten that it is designing software for human beings. The looming ghost of “Clippy” lives on. For example while being logged in as the admin if I open an app the screen grays out and I’m asked to confirm that I want to proceed. Seriously. So nice of you to notice… I clicked on it didn’t I? Sometimes I have to go through two, even three, confirmations before something that I requested loads.

Confirmations aside, not one thing about Vista makes any sense. I find myself telling prospective Apple converts that the hardest part about the conversion is retraining yourself to trust your instincts. Imagine what would make sense and that’s how it works in OSX. In Vista it’s the complete opposite. Imagine the most illogical execution and you’re probably right.

I don’t want to come off sounding like just another Apple fanboy. Believe you me, I started my digital life on a PC and I’ve given it try after try. Microsoft hasn’t just failed me it’s failed its loyal user base. The reason that so many people are reinstalling Windows XP is because Vista is a pretty step backwards.

In the film, A Beautiful Mind, the brilliant yet flawed professor John Nash has an epiphany that he publishes as “Governing Dynamics.” This theory alone has been my obsession for the past few years. Governing dynamics, in it’s blithe simplicity, stipulates that if all participants of a system are interested only in serving their own benefit then no one “wins”.

The movie has a great way of visualizing this idea. It’s with friends at a bar that John Nash’s character eyes a pack of lovely ladies. One in particular stands out amongst the rest. As they strategize their approach Nash realizes that if he and his two colleagues all go for the lady in red then no one will get the prize. However if they each agree to ignore the crown jewel and instead hit on one of her three friends they in turn get to meet a beautiful baby (looking to party).

This idea translates into lucidly practical life. When you’re in a traffic jam if you happen to be that one person weaving between lanes trying to beat the crowd you just make things worse for everyone else. Sometimes, you’ll see truck drivers pairing up and building a buffer between them and the cars in front. This actually alleviates the jam.

Let’s take this metaphor into business building. You may feel inclined to blindly consume everything that is available to you. After all, Darwin says that the most selfish creature tops the food chain. Considering that Darwin was talking about survival and not socialization take his notion with a spoonful of salt. You can’t build a great business by being purely self-serving. With consultancy this is doubly true.

There are firms that exist wholly to make money. Contrastingly, there are firms that just want to do great work. You may be surprised to find that the ones in it for their passions are making more money than their counterparts (i.e. Tiger Woods, Michael Phelps, Michael Jordan). The pot of gold will be a byproduct of doing what you love. Here’s to not doing crappy work.

Extra Credit: Japanese Study Showing How Traffic Jams Form
Shamless Plug: A Client I Loved Working With

There was an inside joke in college that if you wanted to occupy a class with nonsense for a good hour all you had to do was raise the following question; What is the difference between art and design? Someone would pose a statement and then another would refute it. If you hit a lull simply come out playing the devil’s advocate and you were back on track and discussing nothing. Well I think I’ve finally discovered the difference. This post is going to seem obvious but bear with me.

The simplest explanation is that design is pragmatic and has a focused goal while art does not. This is how the discussion invariably begins then rapidly descends into chaos when someone says indignantly, “What, you’re saying that art can’t have a goal?” or “What if art’s goal is to have no goal at all?”. The key difference is that in design that goal is established and does not shift very easily. Nor is the goal ever as nebulous as having no goal at all.

The confusion really stems from inadequately defining things as design or art. You may be a designer and lose track of your goal and end up with art and vice-versa. Graphic design for example is design when it is focused on meeting the goal of communicating. When it shifts too far towards being only aesthetically pleasing, losing sight of the original goal, it is not design but then art. It’s this phase shift that causes the blur in the line. Artists can make design and designers can make art - what a concept.

Philippe Starck is one of my favorite designers though he doesn’t produce just design. In many ways he is better labeled as an artist. His furniture isn’t that comfortable and tends to be for the sake of aesthetics. This isn’t to say that art is just to be pretty. There’s a lot of art that isn’t pretty. Nor does it mean that designing a table requires that it have four legs.

I suppose a better way to describe it is in a scenario. My realization came about when I was being praised by one of my students (trust me it doesn’t happen often). So he was saying that he liked my style of thinking because what usually happens is that they will come up with a good idea but it won’t fit with their assigned client. At this point any other professor will say to just change the client to one that fits. My philosophy is to instead axe the idea and find another that fits with the client. That was the shiny bright bulb for me.

Design has set criteria that must be satisfied, art does not. With art you can be nebulous with your intent. Always shaping your message to fit your belief. In design it’s about finding the right idea to fit your goal. Be gentle, I know I’m going to get a downpour of hate from artists and designers alike. Go ahead, I can take it.

One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo’s fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.

Tell you the truth, she’s not that good-looking. She doesn’t stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn’t young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a “girl,” properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She’s the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there’s a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you’re drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I’ll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.

But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can’t recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It’s weird.

“Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl,” I tell someone.

“Yeah?” he says. “Good-looking?”

“Not really.”

“Your favorite type, then?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts.”

“Strange.”

“Yeah. Strange.”

“So anyhow,” he says, already bored, “what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?”

“Nah. Just passed her on the street.”

She’s walking east to west, and I west to east. It’s a really nice April morning.

Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I’d really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.

After talking, we’d have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.

How can I approach her? What should I say?

“Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?”

Ridiculous. I’d sound like an insurance salesman.

“Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?”

No, this is just as ridiculous. I’m not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who’s going to buy a line like that?

Maybe the simple truth would do. “Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me.”

No, she wouldn’t believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you’re not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I’d probably go to pieces. I’d never recover from the shock. I’m thirty-two, and that’s what growing older is all about.

We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can’t bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She’s written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she’s ever had.

I take a few more strides and turn: She’s lost in the crowd.

Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.

Oh, well. It would have started “Once upon a time” and ended “A sad story, don’t you think?”

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.

One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.

“This is amazing,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you’re the 100% perfect girl for me.”

“And you,” she said to him, “are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I’d pictured you in every detail. It’s like a dream.”

They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It’s a miracle, a cosmic miracle.

As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one’s dreams to come true so easily?

And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, “Let’s test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other’s 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we’ll marry then and there. What do you think?”

“Yes,” she said, “that is exactly what we should do.”

And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.

The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other’s 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.

One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season’s terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence’s piggy bank.

They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.

Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.

One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:

She is the 100% perfect girl for me.

He is the 100% perfect boy for me.

But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.

A sad story, don’t you think?

Yes, that’s it, that is what I should have said to her.