Archive for the ‘sociology’ Category

Accessibility is an important and worthy goal, but it is not at odds with good design. We should settle for nothing less than beautiful and accessible currency. This isn’t it. 

— John Gruber, April 3, 2008

Recently the U.S. Mint released new five dollar bills that have been redesigned in the same style as all the other denominations. Larger numerals have been added to the obverse sides of each bill, presumably to aid in identification by the sight impaired. The bills also contain further deterrents for would-be counterfeiters, like UV inks and special watermarks. But the money still looks the same. It looks like a multi-car pileup on the freeway of design by committee. And the worst part is most of the committee members never even lived in the same century. It seems as though American currency design has gone the way of most design here: an act of contrition to the flow of time, an act of desperation against petty (and not so petty) crime, and a half-hearted nod to those less fortunate than ourselves.

The goal of “beautiful currency” is probably meaningless to most people. Money is a means, a way to buy lunch and put gas in the tank. But more than any official document or printed decree, money is an ambassador. When the U.S. dollar was strong, millions of these little treaties on American ideals were in circulation in parts of the world where few knew anything about us, testifying for us—even if we could never measure up to all those hopelessly noble faces and mighty monuments of architectural achievement.

The five dollar bill I fidgeted with tonight in line at the grocery store looked like a ransom note from some amateurish kidnapper, stained with red Kool-Aid and ham-fisted attempts at foiling teenagers at Kinko’s late at night. The enormous Helvetica “5″ on its back seemed placed there if not totally by accident then at least without care. Held up to the light I saw the lovingly engraved portrait of Lincoln, the president who managed to give his life convincing half a nation that maybe owning humans like cattle was a terribly bad idea, bemusedly looking on at that purple numeral in reverse.

American money, in addition to being stinky, is ugly. And it’s getting worse. But look on the bright side: at least now its looks and its value are getting in synch. The worse our money gets in terms of its aesthetic value, the more it slips in international market value. Am I suggesting that somehow all the world is as shallow as we are? That somehow, entire Saudi families loved the look of the 1967 fifty-dollar bill so much that they stock-piled them in their palaces by the millions and swam around in them like Scrooge McDuck based solely on looks? In a word, no. But design, as Steve Jobs likes to say, is not how it looks; it’s how it works.

So ask yourself next time you’re at the pump putting eight of these new bills in your gas tank if design makes any difference to you. Would it make any difference if the money you used to do it were beautiful, with slogans that reminded you of a bygone part of our shared history that through perseverance and sound governance we could return to? Or would you rather have the key to a Holiday Inn, with a sticker on the back marked by hand in ball-point pen: do not copy?

So, super Tuesday is upon us. I can’t think of a better way to not only begin Black History Month but the next eight years of American democracy than for people in primary states to cast their votes for Barack Obama. The more I see from and about him, the more I’m convinced that his presidency would be a defining moment for the US and the world; not only that, but his hopeful message—one of the first of its kind in the darkness of the last 7 years—brings to mind the finest moments of figures who defined their generations: John and Robert Kennedy, Bill Clinton, even Paul Wellstone.

I urge you to visit his website to learn a bit more about why Obama is the only clear choice for us right now, and to watch Lawrence Lessig’s elucidating talk on why he’s choosing Obama over Hillary Clinton. Now, go vote!

When Apple announced the iPhone, lo these many months ago, anyone who cared a whit about consumer electronics was floored. Anytime Apple puts its hand to just about any problem, people get floored. Everyone I knew began to conspire about just how they would get an iPhone into their hands in June. As time stretched on, the hype machine slowed to a crawl; Apple talked about other products, focus shifted, and the iPhone took a backseat to other product news. That hype that had been buzzing in the backs of our heads like too much caffeine was replaced by other things, and the iPhone became old hat. This caused some speculation on my part, having been in marketing and advertising, about just how Apple would restart the hype machine when the need arose. I have to admit I may have underestimated Apple this time around.

I’ve seen the new iPhone commercials. The Church of Jobs is open for business once again.

First of all, few companies could generate this much hype to begin with. Whipping the gadget press into this much of a frenzy, six months before a product launches or even has FCC approval? Pure Apple. I dare say there are some others who could turn on the charm for their device—Nokia, maybe—but Apple is the only one who can restart the machine merely by showing you the product working. That’s it. No tricks. No celebrities dancing with it, or Oprah putting it under your chair. A static tight shot of the device. Doing stuff. And that’s the essence of it right there. Any idea that you want the public to eat up with a spoon needs to be, to some degree, self evident. It needs to elicit the response “I never knew I even needed this until now.” Apple has this ability by the truckload.

I. Create a hammer for a thousand nails

Palm used to have it. The Foleo I wrote about previously is a perfect example of something that we didn’t know we needed, realized. The difference is that the niche is so small, the branding so narrow, that it’s easy to talk yourself out of it. Palm used to have an undeniable product that was small and engaging. In the early days, even 3Com didn’t really have all the answers about what it was for. The marketing materials and box copy hinted at the obvious things, but most of the truly novel ways people used Palm Pilots had nothing to do with their creators and everything to do with an enthusiastic community. This is, to a degree, why non-cellphone technology products with narrowly defined uses don’t go over very well. We want to use our gadgets for things they were never intended for, because it makes us feel connected and involved in the experience even if we can’t code a line. The Foleo, to beat a dead horse, doesn’t allow for that unless you’re willing to mod your kernel to boot from flash memory and risk fragging your new lappy in the process. The iPhone, with the addition of a few indie developers, is the platform of choice for people who want to make their own solution to some problem Apple hasn’t even thought of yet.

II. People don’t really need heroes

The television ads for Windows 95, while expensive, didn’t really put asses in seats as they say on the carny circuit. Most of them, and most PC advertising thereafter, showed incredible feats of world saving prowess; saving your company a gazillion dollars, rescuing world economies, lashing once broken families together again over a broadband line and a webcam. There’s just one problem: people are scared they can’t operate that hero computer. How do I do those things, they wonder, staring in amazement at the latest Vista whizbang tech. I have no idea what I would do in front of that computer. With iPhone, Apple’s new ads suggest, you don’t have to be a hero. You just use a map to find calamari. There is more tech in this Lilliputian phone than your tiny mind can ever comprehend, the iPhone confidently whispers, but all you need to operate your little slice of it is your finger. Sure there’s a god mode on here somewhere, but that’s for your nephew the hacker. For you? We have email. No heroes. No manual. Delicious, calming email.

III. That undefinable quality

After using and loving anything with an Apple logo on it for almost 20 years, I freely admit that part of the charm is something I can’t define. Beyond a certain point, I don’t know why my iPod is better than some Creative Labs chunk of plastic. It’s the sum of the parts, the UI, the finish, the “privilege of ownership.” Whatever it is, people want it. It’s the same reason Target is outselling WalMart. It’s a quality that in many ways outstrips our ability to analyze it. Of course Target is cleaner, brighter, and nicer. But look at the carts: molded handles, big wheels with sealed bearings. Would this ever factor into the business plan of a company whose mission was to beat WalMart? Probably not. And yet here it is. That little change helps you know that not only are you not in Kansas anymore, but Kansas is a greasy spot on the highway compared to here. And going back to Kansas is something you’ll pay a premium not to have to do anymore.

Good products are, less good products do. I want the product that manages to wedge itself into my life in ways that I never thought of, that simply exists in my space with me. I don’t want a product that does lots of things, and explains them all to me in explicit detail in the manual and in three languages. Companies are learning this slowly, with guys like Apple, Dyson and Ikea leading them.