Storytelling

Two days ago, I had the honor of speaking at SXSW 2015 with my good friend Elysse Zarek. It was my second time presenting there, and there really is no other conference like it.

After being intrigued with attending sessions from other tracks (Film or Music) last year, I had the opportunity to do so this year. I attended two from Film: one about telling great true stories, and only the 2nd screening ever (!) of the Mavis Staples documentary, Mavis!

The two sessions really played together well. I heard from journalists, writers, and filmmakers about their approach and craft. It was surprising to me to hear that they often will start their interviews and their work before finding the emotional core of the story. I would not have thought of that. I heard how different it is to take a story for radio (This American Life, specifically) and adapt it to film. Both of these things really got me thinking about design work.

In UX, we start with our structure. We talk with people, sketch things out, define an IA, maybe wireframe things up, and iterate, iterate, iterate. We listen, we record, we comb through transcripts. We start looking for the emerging patterns and... yes, the story. We then articulate that story by addressing it in design: interactions, flows, screens, products, what-have-you. It runs very parallel.

Similarly, there was discussion of the narrative. Subjects of interviews come in with their own narratives, often casting themselves as the hero or the villain. That gets shifted a bit, perhaps, because the filmmaker also has a narrative. She may find it aligns with the subject's narrative, or not. Finally, once something is out in the world, the audience has a narrative. Of course once it's out there, the subject may then directly engage with the audience!

It's a process that can be cyclical and messy but, again, it sounded like design to me. Users come in with their life story, their experiences, and their problems. We bring in our experience in this realm, and try to shape those things into... something. But once the product is out there, it's no longer ours, and we may try to improve it or change it, but it's up to others to use it as they see fit.

Fascinating stuff. It made me appreciate film for many reasons and also got me totally intrigued on how many other parallels there are between the mediums. I opined at the end of the evening that I wanted to make films. You never know.

May Contain Editorial Content

Oh, hello everyone from the internet! This post has been updated as of October 21, 2014; see the epilogue section below for a follow-up and an important correction.

I love podcasts so much that I started one. And I'm also terribly picky about UX and UI, as you can imagine, so I was excited to give Marco Arment's Overcast a whirl. Downcast was my mainstay: its feature set was fine but it was just... kinda... ugly.

Overcast offers a free version, and one can pay $5 to unlock a number of features. The features include things like a smart equalizer and downloads over cellular. And like most podcast players, if you're new to the genre (or just looking for something new), it offers a directory. Overcast offers both a straight A-Z searchable directory as well as a curated selection of programs, called a “Starter Kit”. The curated selection is what I want to talk about.

The Starter Kit is broken up into categories. As I was scrolling through these lists, I noticed something: there was a severe lack of gender diversity in almost every category.

I was curious if it was just me or not. So I went into each section and identified any hosts or co-hosts whose names are traditionally female, and verified those that were socially associated with either gender. If a description did not include any names, I chose to count it as not having female hosts or co-hosts. Here's where things netted out as of August 27, 2014.

  • In the comedy section, there are 9 podcasts, and 1 with a female co-host (Helen Zaltzman).
  • In the tech section, there are 10 podcasts, and 1 with a female cohost (Gina Trapani).
  • In the stories & variety section, there are 7 podcasts, and 1 with a female host (Ophira Eisenberg).
  • In the public radio section, there are 8 podcasts, and 1 with a regular female host (Terry Gross). Notably, some shows such as BBC Newshour have rotating hosts of all genders, and some shows in this section routinely feature contributions from women.
  • In the pop culture section, there are 7 podcasts, and 1 with female co-hosts (Claudia Dolph and Audrey Kearns).
  • In the philosophy section, there are 8 podcasts, and 1 with a female host (Krista Tippett).
  • In movies & TV section, there are 9 podcasts, and 2 with female hosts (the Verity! podcast with Deborah Stanish, Erika Ensign, Katrina Griffiths, L.M. Myles, Lynne M. Thomas, and Tansy Rayner Roberts; Erika Ensign once again, on the Babylon 5 podcast).
  • In the games section, there are 8 podcasts, and 2 with female cohosts (The Indoor Kids with Emily V. Gordon, and Isometric with Brianna Wu, Maddy Myers, and Georgia Dow). (Please see note in Epilogue below.)
  • In the business section, there are 8 podcasts, and none with female hosts.
  • In the turns out section, there are 8 podcasts, and none with female hosts.
  • In the politics section, there are 6 podcasts, and 3 with female cohosts (Emily Bazelon, Brooke Gladstone, and Arianna Huffington).
  • In the health section, there are 9 podcasts, and 2 with female hosts (Jillian Michaels and Monica Reinagel).
  • In the Apple development section, there are 8 podcasts, and none with female hosts.
  • In the Relay.fm section, which is a podcast network, there are 5 podcasts, and none with female hosts.

Note: after I initially wrote this in early August, the “retired greats” section (with 6 podcasts and no female hosts) was removed and replaced by Relay.fm. 

So, out of 108 distinct podcasts (2 Relay.fm shows are listed in two places), only 15 feature women in a regular host or co-host capacity. The Verity! podcast has the largest roster, with 6 female co-hosts (and all talking about Doctor Who? I subscribed.) This is a disappointing number.

The Obligation

Overcast written by a prominent person in the Apple dev community - Marco Arment, in this case. I also couldn't help but think about Vesper, the note-taking app headed up by John Gruber, also prominent in the Apple dev community. With these two apps, at least, there is a common ground: they have editorial points of view.

All apps entail design decisions, but for users they've typically been confined to the feature set or aesthetics. Vesper didn't have syncing for quite a while, and some people were quite upset by that. Overcast can be criticized for its feature set or its pricing model, but since Overcast includes editorial content in the form of this podcast directory, it can also be criticized for its podcast selection.

The main issue here is: is Overcast obligated to present a diverse list of podcasts? I say yes. Here's why.

The directory screen opens up as soon as you hit the “add” icon to subscribe to something new. Thus, lots of podcast show art shows up right away. It's visual, it looks great, and it has a prominent position. It has a lot of power. Thus, it blows the opportunity to expose people to ideas and shows that they might not have otherwise heard. A lot of these podcasts do sound like they could just be Marco's favorites - there's a lot of Apple nerdery and so forth. That starts to feel insular.

Most importantly, a Starter Kit or directory is a natural tool to help with that insular nature. As I was noticing this problem, I also took a look at my own list of subscriptions - it was all white (!), and mostly men. So where would I turn to next, logically? The built in directory! And yet the tool let me down there.

I must note that searching, which is a feature in Overcast, does help with this a bit - doing a search for “women” or “black” brings up quite a few podcasts from people of color and women - but this is something I must actively seek out. The directory can help and should help, particularly given this app is written by a fellow white guy.

Notably, I tweeted @overcastfm about the origin of this list but did not receive a response. I also contacted Downcast, and was informed that their directory is sourced straight from the iTunes RSS feeds.

Making this Better

So, how can this be addressed?

One thing I must point out is that it's quite possible that the podcasting community writ large is white male biased. I haven't seen any research on that yet so, if you're aware of any, do let me know. If it's true, that doesn't excuse an app like Overcast from promoting and encouraging diversity amongst its user base.

The most visible and supportive idea is to seek out more diverse podcasts from Overcast users and feature them in the directory. This is good for Overcast and the podcasters too. For Overcast, it starts to shift the editorial voice to one of discovery and diversity instead of (arguably) insularity. For the podcasters, they get a bigger audience (so Squarespace will pay more for ads!)

Another way is to not have a Starter Kit at all. This feels like a miss, but it's also an option.Without a directory, no one is steered in any direction. Notably, the directory also makes assumptions about its users - like that they'll be interested in Apple development podcasts. This may or may not be accurate of the population as a whole.

One other idea: smarter categories. Something more customized would be great; Overcast could learn that I give a shit about women's rights and start recommending great podcasts for that.

Finally, the nature of placement in the Starter Kit is unclear; Relay.fm is an entire podcast network and has its own entire category. So another option is to offer paid placement and then get a diverse podcast category in the app that way.

Cloudy

I criticize Overcast because I think the app is good. It's not great, but it's good. I haven't been compelled to pay $5 for the full feature set, and a lot of that is actually due to this editorial decision - not the missing features. But that's the risk with apps that have more of a voice than just a feature set: some people may love it, and others may not.

Epilogue

I'm very happy to share that the great Erika Ensign, co-host of the Verity! and Babylon 5 podcasts, shared this article on Twitter in October 2014:

Shortly afterwards, it got to Marco Arment – the aforementioned author of Overcast. Details emerged, and soon the Overcast Twitter account put this call out:

That tweet was RTed far and wide and as such, the responses to that tweet have been pretty amazing on the whole. However, there have been a few people debating the usefulness of including women based on this article.

The great news is that the Starter Kit, as of yesterday (!) already has more women's voices represented. That's a good thing. It's good for Overcast listeners, it's good for the podcasting community, and as I joked above, it's probably good for Squarespace too.

I deeply appreciate the thoughtful responses from Erika, Marco, and Jason Snell (who compiled some of the Starter Kit), and of course, all the listeners. Here's hoping this is a first step towards a more diverse and more inclusive community for people of all genders and races.

Correction: The original article did not include Isometric in the gaming section, and I apologize for the oversight. That was an error on my part, and the original numbers have been updated above to reflect this.

UX experts do not need to code

One of several never-ending debates in UX circles is, "Do UX experts need to learn how to code?"

My interest in computers started in programming, in part because one had to program in order to use a computer in the 80s. But it moved away from code to a point where I now usually just do CSS tweaks on a Squarespace site. I'm comfortable with this.

This doesn't preclude me from conducting research on and designing for the web. But if I didn't have that background, could I still do my job?

I say yes, but I'll add a caveat: for any given project I have to know the domains of the client and what they're trying to do. If I'm working on a web project, I need to know the conventions, standards, and expectations of web users. But if I'm creating the interface for an object that isn't on the web - as I had the opportunity to do earlier this year - those conventions are useless.

Truly, my experience from art school has been more valuable to my career in many ways than programming: my understanding of typography, the visual arts, photography, and writing has been instrumental in shaping the way I communicate - that is, the way I design.

So, I say that UX experts only need to code if their job demands it (that is, they're really doing UI + other coding). It's foolish to say everyone in UX needs to code. But it's fair to say that everyone in UX needs to communicate well.

You're buying so much more

Over a decade ago I was fascinated by PDAs. I thought they were pretty cool gadgets and as a young geek with extra cash burning a hole in his pocket, I considered buying one. I remember favoring the Handspring Visor. But then I realized, "Oh, hey, I don't really need one." Part of it was due to a lack of need, and part of it was because the PDA didn't really do anything I needed it to do.

I am feeling this once again with fitness trackers. I am relatively close to buying one - leaning towards the Jawbone Up at the moment, although I love me some Nike+ - but there has been something holding me back. After reflecting on it, there are two main thoughts in my head:

1. I don't really need one. It's a pure want.
2. I'm not just buying a fitness tracker - I'm buying a whole ecosystem.

The latter point is what I find immensely frustrating about technology in 2014. It seems like every tech company is building an ecosystem; they want to be your one stop shop for everything, and also make it hard to leave later. Facebook. Apple. Amazon. Samsung. Microsoft. Sony. So when you choose, you best choose wisely; when you leave, it's going to hurt (most likely in the wallet).

Thus, I'm not just buying a Jawbone Up24 or a Nike+ FuelBand SE. I'm buying into the entire system and company that goes along with those devices. And the quant self market is immature - there are no standards yet (and I wonder if there ever will be). This gives me serious pause.

 A decision on something that should be as small as a fitness tracker, or a music player, or a TV streaming box ends up being a very, very large decision with ramifications that could affect you and your data for years. That's a very different place than we were with technology 10 years ago, and I worry for where it's going to be in 2024.

Evolving UX Strategy

I've been involved with UX strategy for a few years now. As I progressed from a developer to a UI developer to a UX designer to a UX strategist, my thinking on what UX and UI are has changed dramatically.

My original, self-made definition of UX strategy was something like this:

UX strategy is the creation, management, and governance of an overall plan for the experience of a product portfolio, ensuring it meets the needs of users and the business through research, design, and measurement.

When I attended the UX STRAT conference last September, many presentations validated my own stance on this. My thinking on this has changed a bit, though:

You make wireframes, you don't make companies

In my experience, having "just" a UX designer, UX architect, or even a UX manager doesn't necessarily bring about the necessary change to ensure an organization is ready to be user-centric. Part of the reason I consciously entered UX strategy was to not only ensure my work wasn't just floating out in "creative UX land" but truly reinforce that UX actually matters when it comes to products and businesses. This was demonstrated primarily through metrics and creating an overall plan to integrate UX activities within Agile frameworks. Fun process stuff!

Since I started real content strategy work within the past 6 months on a project, I've come to deeply respect and appreciate the work that content strategists do. But there's something big and meaty and distinct about content strategy that UX by itself hasn't had, in my experience. Take a look at Brain Traffic's foundational quad chart and let me know if you see it.

Got it?

There are people components and, in particular, there's workflow. Brain Traffic defines workflow in this context as this - emphasis mine:

What processes, tools, and human resources are required for content initiatives to launch successfully and maintain ongoing quality?

This is something that has been woefully missing from UX positions I've both been in and experienced: a lack of expectation that UX people need (or should or can) instill bigger change than "just" research and "just" flows: we, too, need to aid in defining the overall way a company approaches UX in order to ensure its quality.

The tension we feel

This is where I and, I trust, others have felt pain when it comes to growing out of a straight-on UX role into something bigger: because UX is oft aligned with marketing, creative, design, or all three, it may not be taken seriously as an integral part of the business. We hear this when people say, "We'll add the UX later" (I HAVE HEARD THIS AND IT HURTS ME SO) or, "We don't need a UI for this; we'll just have our coders make one" (YOU ARE STILL MAKING A UI).

UX strategy is one way that we can bring our skills out and apply them to things bigger than a product, bigger than a portfolio, bigger than an interface. Instead we can do our research and work, focused internally, and say, "This is how we could design our organization in order to achieve this goal." We state the goal and how to do it. Then we make PowerPoints and use the language of our business partners.

Here is the catch: other people do this work too. They may be called strategists. They may be risk managers. They may be change management. They may be organizational designers. They may not be any of these things. But all of these people, particularly if they are already in your organization, may feel like they've got this. They understand the problem, just from a different perspective than us, and may already working on how to solve it.

So once again, it's on us to figure out how to best work within our organizations - hierarchies, politics, titles, and all - and design plans to achieve our goals. That sounds like a workflow to me, or maybe, a workaround-flow. But none of it will happen if UX is not empowered to bring change in your organization. And to me, UX strategy is analogous to content strategy in that organizational change is not only possible, it is expected.

Taking over the world

In an interview with the UX STRAT folks, I opined that UX and UX strategy will continue to grow and then go away altogether. I do believe that someday, UX will not be a discipline in and of itself within organizations because, by then, these principles and practices will be more standardized. It won't be weird to conduct usability testing for design optimization, or do hardcore deep research on users in order to figure out what to build.

Until then, we are still out there working hard to convince people that UX isn't just a magical thing that one person makes randomly based on gut and nothing else. We are still out there working hard to demonstrate that a designed experience can make people happier and genuinely empowered. But it's not going to happen - or, happen well - without UX strategy.

DTDT

Thus, I'd like to cast out a new definition of UX strategy for myself. (Who in UX doesn't love DTDT, right?)

UX strategy is the creation, management, and governance of a plan for the experience of a product portfolio to support user needs and business goals. This plan encompasses both external and internal touchpoints through research, design, human resources, and workflows.

Consider it a work in progress.

The Warby Parker Experience

Last year during my routine eye appointment, my eye doctor told me something surprising. "You might only have another 2 years or so with contacts," he said, "before your eyes start rejecting them a little more often." I didn't know if he was bullshitting me or not, as I'd been wearing contacts for over 20 years. But I knew that I was growing tired of putting the little plastic thingies in my eyes every day and my glasses were woefully outdated - both in prescription and style. So I decided to buy new glasses.

I naturally thought of Warby Parker when it came time to buy. Now that I've had the glasses for nearly a year (9 months, to be precise), I wanted to share my thoughts.

Before You Buy

Warby Parker's pre-sale experience is fantastic. The home try-on program is killer: request up to 5 frames, try them out, and then send them back. I ended up doing this three times total, at no cost to me. (I didn't think much of their "try them on, online" stuff; that doesn't appeal to me.)

As I got my trial frames, I took them into work to ask co-workers' opinions, and then I started tweeting about them as well. The most surprising part of the whole experience was when Warby Parker made me a YouTube video (!) with frame picks, based on my tweet:

This absolutely floored me. What amazing customer service! After one last home try-on that included the frames I bought, I went ahead and made a purchase.

The winning pair, by the way, was the Wiloughby in Striped Chestnut. (Nice naming too, folks). 

All was great. I received my new glasses in a lovely case, and have enjoyed them ever since.

The Post-UX UX

But there's something that's really been bugging me about my experience, and it is this: after I bought these glasses from WP, I felt like I was dead to them. I was receiving a lot of attention - personal attention, no less - during the shopping process. That's good! That should happen, if I want it (and I did).

Once my order was done, my status with WP seemed to devolve back into "hit up for future purchases only". There was no communication asking me how my glasses were doing, or how I was liking them. There was no video checking in with me, and no one encouraging me to continue to share my experience. Sure, the try-on process is made for our times, practically begging people to post pics on Instagram or Twitter (and I did!)

The only emails I've received from WP since my purchase last year are about sales. That's it. For a company as seemingly customer-focused as WP, this is a huge miss.

Buying glasses online is still somewhat novel for people. Certainly not as novel as it was in 2005, but it is not quite at a Zappos level of comfort. WP has the unique opportunity to step up and say, "Hey! We know you got these great glasses, and we want to make sure you're happy with your purchase." Even a brief, personal tweet or email a week or two post-purchase would have done wonders.

Yes, this means extra time and money. And yes, there's a chance I'd be bothered by more contact from them - that's why they would let me opt-out. But I would happily exchange the "BIG SALE COMING UP!" communications for something smaller and more reassuring.

It's not like my Warby Parker experience stopped the day I received my glasses. In reality, that's when my day-to-day with them just started - and isn't it strange that the company that made them chose that time to no longer be involved in my experience?

Designing for the change

 This entry was updated 11.8.13 to reflect Apple's knowledge base article on iWork.

 Once I wrote:

Cars, computers, UIs... these are things we make and may change rather quickly. In order to highlight the change, we tend to incorporate visual design to signify the change. "This is different!" we're saying. It's pretty amazing that we have design to help us communicate change.

If it's so amazing, why is it trivial to come up with examples of when it doesn't happen?

I'm thinking of Apple here, in part because they're so big, but it applies to just about any redesign rollout ever. Consider this: Apple has rolled out new versions of all of their apps - including Keynote and GarageBand, two I use - and features have been removed. Arguably significant features, too - per Matt Haughey, GarageBand has lost nearly all of its podcast-specific tools (!)

There was a good discussion about why  this may have happened on a recent episode of The Talk Show. If I may paraphrase John Gruber and Dan Frommer, there was a word of caution conveyed: if you use Apple's apps, be prepared for features to go away in the future.

The idea of removing features is not flawed, although it's questionable.  My bugaboo is with the fact that Apple did not communicate these changes in advance or during the change. Instead in the case of the iWork apps (Pages, Numbers, Keynote), Apple released a knowledge base article stating what was coming. While there's a vague laundry list of upcoming stuff, they say:

In rewriting these applications, some features from iWork ’09 were not available for the initial release. We plan to reintroduce some of these features in the next few releases and will continue to add brand new features on an ongoing basis.

Mind you, Apple designed the change, but they did a poor job of designing for the change itself; this knowledge base article came out over a week after the apps did. The way it goes down, there is a massive amount of work that goes into designing the change, and then a switch is flipped. All done, and maybe a note about things later. But it's not enough.

Poof! 

Consider this quite realistic scenario. You use Keynote all the time. It's your go-to. You have automatic app updates enabled because, well, you're advised that it's easier to do so (and it is, arguably). A "stunning" new update is installed overnight and the next morning when you open the app, not only does it look different but some of the features you use are gone.

There is a moment there, a key one, that Apple is ignoring. It's ironic, because it's a very human moment: it's one that can be loaded with confusion, comfort, reassurance, understanding, concern, hate, or love. Apple bets hard on the beauty of its tools, and attempts to provide some reassurance through tutorials - but nothing so hand holding as to say, "Here's what's gone and here's why."

The week-later article is an attempt to assuage these concerns, but consider this: one would only find this article if she actively sought it out. Apple didn't make this a big deal. It smacks of a reaction, and isn't proactive in the slightest.

Christina Wodtke's piece on change, which I will reference again and again and again because it is damn good, applies here.  In talking about Twitter's UI changes for conversations - those infamous blue lines - she said:

Perhaps [Twitter] didn’t spend enough time hypnotizing the users that the blue line is beautiful. Or perhaps they just didn’t warn people change was coming....

I would estimate both are true. There's the hypnotizing part (which I bet Kathy Sierra would rightfully take to task) and there's also the warning part. The change, again, was simply put out there even though Twitter knew about it for probably a long time .

How inhumane is that? 

There's a degree of arrogance at play here, a degree in which companies like this are expressing their superiority when it comes to knowledge of the people using their services and products. Sometimes they're right, and they make tons of money and have happy fans. Sometimes they're wrong, and they still make tons of money and piss off everyone.

It's particularly egregious of Apple to behave this way, because of their heretofore stance as advocates for people. We've seen it in the past: Human Interface Guidelines. Computing for the rest of us. I'm not thrilled in part because I do like beautiful objects - who doesn't? - but don't want to sacrifice ability  for aesthetics  and may have no realistic alternatives. (I mean, a Samsung phone and Android? Really?)

I digress. 

Like anything else in life, not choosing to do something is actually a choice. Thus, it is essential for designers to stand up for their users and design for the act of changing, and not just the change itself. Not doing so is irresponsible, disrespectful, and arrogant.

Chief Wireframe Officer

I was interviewing for a job earlier this year with what I thought was a pretty great sounding place. The CEO had a solid reputation for good work, and some of my former colleagues had worked with him. They called me and wanted to know if I wanted to interview for a Chief Design Officer position.

CDO. 

Let me tell you, the part of me that loves titles... was on board . That part of me saw this as a huge jump, a prestigious one. It sounded great (still does!) And the interview process started off really strongly, too. A couple of phone conversations, sharing my portfolio, and then I was talking with the fellow's executive assistant (who mattered in this case) and an HR person.

The conversation started out strong, speaking about strategy and the role of design in this organization. I spoke about how design has to align with business goals, and how obvious it was that this company got it  because they saw design as a core competency. And they nodded and smiled. Then they asked me a question.

"So, what tool do you use for wireframes?" 

They explained a little more about the job: the CEO would come up with ideas (requirements) and need someone to make wireframes to handoff to development. There were other designers on this team too, so there was a management component, but nothing terribly formal.

My heart sunk. This? This was a CDO?

I did answer, of course, that I could make wireframes in whatever tool, who really gives a fuck. (I didn't say "fuck", but maybe I should have.) I went on to add, "But that doesn't touch on what all of design can or should do. Wireframes are a tiny aspect of it, and sure they're important, but I would be loathe to make something without proper user research." 

"Oh." 

It was clear what this company wanted. But it was equally clear, maybe even moreso, that I knew what I wanted. It was a job where design and research are taken seriously, and where everyone on the team gets it - no fighting nor multiple-year-long campaigns to "fight for UX" involved. 

At that job, I would have had to do that every day. It would have bored me to tears and not challenged me at all. 

I did not hear from that company after our talk, but I didn't mind it in the least.

They wanted a CDO who wasn't really a C, a D, or an O. They wanted a person to make wireframes. 

Locked Inside

I've been waiting for us to break out of a lot of the computing metaphors we've held dear. 

For decades we've lived with computer screens that tried to add depth by simulating... well... something. Some magical desktop where folders took up the same apparent physical space as a trash can. (One of those must be really tiny!) And then there were windows on top of all of this. Layers upon layers upon layers of boxes. Everything has always seemed off, just a bit. Really, there was no real-world equivalent.

This ran counter to early home computer hardware which, initially, resembled a bloated typewriter due to the dominance of its keyboard.

The VIC-20. My first computer, from 1982.

The VIC-20. My first computer, from 1982.

But we saw early attempts to bridge the gap through software. Magic Desk was one of the early tools that employed a desktop metaphor as literally as possible. Note the typewriter on the desk which, when clicked (with a joystick), would bring up a screen that looked like a typewriter. (It even dinged at the end of a line!) But also note the crazy perspective, lack of depth, and so forth. It doesn't look real but it looks real enough.

Magic Desk 64's desktop, from 30 years ago. Yes, clicking the door represented "exit".

Magic Desk 64's desktop, from 30 years ago. Yes, clicking the door represented "exit".

This was an effort, as much as possible at the time, to make people comfortable with it. What's kind of crazy is that it's taken us decades to acknowledge that people are now comfortable with digital devices, conceptually. So we saw this through as much as possible. The technology to make this desktop look really good, essentially, got to a point where we could fully make some whiz-bang 3-D model of a desktop if we wanted to. And that power, surprisingly, bled through to brand new things like tablets and phones. Again, crazy to think that a tablet had green felt in software.

With iOS 7, Apple has said: "you get this". You're looking at a piece of glass, tapping on a piece of glass, so the damn thing might as well work like a piece of glass.

In lieu of shadows and drop shadows, frosted panes. Photos and videos. Layers, but seemingly borne from a place of reason than gee-whiz-ness. Depth through using the Z-axis. And simple text with minimal ornamentation. Because, really, when was the last time you saw a piece of glass in the real world with buttons sticking out in front of it - tall enough to cause bevels and shadows to appear?

Yeah, me either.

It's Code

So, it makes sense conceptually. It is also risky to do this because people rely, in part, on the way things appear in order to clue them in on what things can do - these are affordances.

I'm not sure what to make of buttons, which are still called buttons although they no longer have a resemblance to any button in the physical world I can think of. Buttons are colored text. That's it. No bounding box, no underline, no dancing ants! It really brings up the question of, "How will people know what they can and can not tap?"

Two more things to consider: there's a digital analogy here to the web. Initially, links were blue and underlined. Over time, underlines started to go away. Today links may be underlined, a different color, or both. The web has seemed to do fine. Not quite mystery meat navigation.

The other thing is that people using phones and tablets may not be using a computer, and may not have any of that computer knowledge (baggage) with them. Thus, those metaphors could make less  sense contextually. Might as well redefine them now, lest we pretend that these things are just mini-desktop computers.

Come Alive

Something I admire about iOS 7: the muscle memory I have, in a lot of cases, is still intact. Controls haven't moved a lot yet, and that means the whole thing still feels comfortable. It's a bridge. But this too will change over time, likely with iOS 8 and beyond. Apple put down the groundwork for new metaphors with this version, and now they'll exploit them. 

I trust that in another 30 years, as new interfaces rise to prominence, we'll look back at the early days of touch computing with wonder. What happens when we're pointing and swiping at things that do not exist? Yeah, that's going to be fun stuff to figure out!

Thanks to Alberta Soranzo for inspiring this piece. 

 

Specialize and generalize

We talk a lot in UX circles about the T-shaped person - not someone who wears T-shirts necessarily, but someone who has skills in a variety of disciplines and is really experienced in one.

I've been in places where one is a specialist and where one is a generalist. And really, there's no magic answer that says, "Aha! UX is going to consist of specialists only!" I do think that's where our industry is collectively headed and the generalists will be for organizations that have not truly invested in UX nor integrated it into their overall business - or, simply, organizations that are not large enough ($$$) to do so.

My first job on the web was as a webmaster. I did everything related to the website for the organization: I was a...

  • visual designer
  • IA
  • UI coder
  • database developer
  • JSP developer
  • writer
  • QA person
  • stakeholder
  • Flash designer (yeah!)

Of course I had signoffs from my boss (in marketing), and sat next to IT so they actually took care of the hosting of the site, but it was largely on me to get stuff going. And I did. But look at the list of skills I mentioned: almost every one of them could be a separate role (and thus, person) today.

Now, the organization I worked for probably wouldn't hire a team of ten to make a website today. Maybe they should. But it would cost a lot more than hiring a unicorn and having that person do everything good enough with expertise in whatever area is deemed most important. (Or, no area if the organization was ignorant about UX - possible.)

I see the generalist as the modern day equivalent of a webmaster. The organization that brings in a generalist can turn to her and get just about everything "related to UX" done. That's efficient. That's cheap, too. 

We're maturing

Specialists, to me, begin to mark the maturity of an industry and an organization. It's not as if specialists didn't exist before last Tuesday; rather we're embracing people who have these deep histories and experiences in fields we must learn from. This is great! And things like usability, human factors, and IA are natural topics for UX - they are the core. As UX continues to mature, we're seeing more specializations get pulled in. Strategy! Product! Creative! Industrial design! Customer service! All of this stuff ends up related because it is , or more precisely, should be .

Why are we continuing to talk about this, collectively? Because it means a lot for where we are going as a discipline and it pulls directly into topics we all care about a lot. The conflation of UI and UX is easier when you have one person "doing the UX" instead of specialists. That may be the cost of being a unicorn, and frankly, I don't see this going away unless UX is a part of an organization's DNA - i.e., do they get it or not.

But the fact that our industry, at least for the time being, can support both specialists and generalists means that we're figuring out what does and does not work. We may never end this debate. It may be that we're always a hodgepodge of diverse backgrounds, brought together for the purpose of caring for users - people. And, to be honest, I'm very comfortable with that. The more the merrier, I say.