Classical Mechanics

Classical Mechanics is a field of physics concerned with the motion on the macro scale. As with any metaphor, I think digging too deep causes it to break, and undoes all the good work. So I’ll keep this (kinda) brief.

Fundamentally, it is a study in determinism. It deals with limited parameters and has the ability to infer future and past states based on present information. For example, a ball moving at 10m/s to the left, will be 10 metres away from it’s present location in a seconds time. By the same logic, 1 second ago, it would have been 10 metres away from it’s present location in the opposite direction.

So, it’s a predictable system. Like a lot of systems on the macro scale. I walk the same way to work every single day. I stop at the same coffee shop. I order the same thing. These deterministic routines are part of our lives. In the words of Leonard Susskind; there’s one arrow in, one arrow out, you know where you’ve come from, and you know where you’re going.

We’re not this way because we’re stupid, or boring, or predictable. It’s because it’s easy. It saves time. Imagine you had to find a different way to walk to work every morning. You’d manage for awhile, but it wouldn’t be long until you were repeating yourself or adding pointless ornamentation (skipping instead of walking) as a way of being original.

You can give people a clear, logical narrative without an array of at best, distracting, and at worst, useless options. A path that can be passively learned, simply because it makes sense, and become second nature.

Thankfully though, people are also adaptable. If there’s road works, you’ll find a different way, you might even find it’s a more pleasant walk. This is the unfortunate side of the routine, it can be hard to alter without an external force. Just like that theoretical ball is doomed to travel at 10m/s forever, unless something outside it acts upon it.

This is why routines, including those in our design process, have to be questioned, tested and honed. Cold and logical is entirely appropriate for some interactions. Warm and idiosyncratic is perfectly applicable to others. If you’re really lucky, you’ll get to do coded and puzzling.

Stop worrying about this colour or that typeface. Make sure that people are able to complete actions, find information and enjoy their everyday experience with your artifact in a natural, context appropriate way.

You should know where they’ve come from, and you should know where they’re going.

Books, Typography and the iPad

Having recently finished The Form of the Book by Jan Tschichold, I’m questioning, as have others, in far more eloquent ways, where the book as an object may stand in the wake of the iPad and the multiplicity of devices that will follow in the next 10–20 years.

Page construction a lá Jan Tschichold (from Wikipedia)

Shattering the page

I’m somewhat mortified that people were paid to waste time developing the page turning animation. It’s as useful as tits on a bull and furthers the belief that even a dynamic narrative has to be presented in a linear sequence. This metaphor of page turning, like the Photoshopped-coffee-cup-on-a-desk website background, is a dishonest one.

The page no longer exists on the iPad, Mr. Mod refers to it as the Infinite Content Plane. This is the way publishers, authors, designers should be thinking about the device. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran-Foer and House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski are two modern examples of the use of experimental book typography, thinking about them, and the translation of that thinking to digital devices, gives me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. The iPad could make books an incredible experience, with the right ingredients.

How much more immersive would it be to see what a character sees, or hear what a character hears – of course discretion would be advisable at the risk of becoming a gimmick – there is a whole new level of narrative construction available to authors.

There will always be books that fit the linear, paged form. This is still not a sufficient reason for impotently imitating a turning page, but is sufficient reason to look seriously at book typography on the iPad.

TypeRoulette

It’s hard to properly criticise the typography in the app, given that I don’t have the device and can’t see it for myself. Still, the following screenshot shines a light on a few bogeys.

The Font menu in iBooks (from Joel Friedlander on The Book Designer).

Maybe I’m a party pooper, but the idea of switching typefaces in a book makes me feel, strange? Maybe we have to ‘let go’ of typography the same way we ‘let go’ of the personal website post MySpace and Facebook. Maybe, but I hope not.

Readers could theoretically change typeface from page to page. How do we make that work?

A change in typeface makes a drastic difference in the pleasure of reading a text. The leading and line-length would need adjustment. The entire tone of the text would shift. Is it possible to define a separate design solution for each typeface? Probably not. The rather wide rivers* in the screenshot make me worried.

If you’ve ever picked up a book designed by a professional, an artisan, you’ll know how much more enjoyable to read they are. Pages pass by with no hint of weary eyes. If you’ve ever picked up a bargain-bin paperback, you’ll know how the first sentence can be a struggle to get through.

Word processing software, Powerpoint, MySpace and so on, have made people believe that type is akin to personal expression. This is a mistake. Type is expression of content. Books are a markedly different beast to a Please Wash Your Dishes memo.

I do not want to be too critical before I physically test reading on the iPad. Conjecture will only take an argument so far.

Oh, the possibilities!

I don’t think we’ll see the real importance of the iPad for a few years, it’s a genuine paradigm shift, they take time. It’s up to book designers and typographers to shift alongside it, or with any luck, marginally in-front of it.

I want an iPad desperately, because I’m starting to realise where my real passions are placed. Typography, self-publishing and writing. Having been floored by typographers like Anthony Froshaug during the age of the private press, it’s impossible for me not to be excited by the notion of the digital private press.

Exactly how the digital private press could function is still a mystery to me, it’s still some years away. The iPad and iPad-like devices would have to be commonplace amongst consumers to make it viable. Fortunately for me the kind of content I’m interested in producing and/or publishing is within the interests of the kind of folk who pre-order iPads.

I want to work with content and technology that can catapult book/publication design straight over the walls of the castle, into a new realm of possibility. My hope is that the technology is used for purposes that truly serve the reader. Robust typography and enjoyable consumption of text, facilitated by someone trained in the art. The other, darker, scarier path is the one that leads to ugliness, poor reading experiences and dismissal of the well set Infinite Content Plane in favour of people expressing themselves.

The sub-title to The Form of the Book is ‘Essays on the Morality of Good Design’. Ultimately, morality might just be where this all ends up. Books exist primarily, if not solely, to be read. Giving the words in them the most accessible form possible is a question of morality. Of course there is no hard and fast rule, for a codified text on design, codified typography has its place. In a vast number of cases however, Beatrice Ward’s Crystal Goblet is applicable. It would be a shame to see the crystal goblet disappear completely, we’d be left crying over spilt wine.

A river in typographic terms is the accidental alignment of word spaces when text is force-justified. More here.

Sub-cultures & social networks

Members of the Toowoomba Motor Cycle Club in 1933 from donaldcee

Most movements are placed in the context of the big city, for example, the history of punk is written via the socio-economic conditions of London and Manchester. But what happens when these sub-cultures bleed out into the counties, shires and other, more parochial, areas? And how do these cultures survive when place, big or small, loses relevance.

My interest in this has been expedited by finding out that first chapter of the Hell’s Angels outside the US was in Auckland. While Auckland in the context of New Zealand is far from a small town—though it does tend to operate on 1 degree of separation, rather than 6—in the context of 1960’s America it’s barely a blip on the radar.

Returning to Toowoomba, sub-cultures when I was growing up tended to focus more on their similarities than their differences. Instead of the manifold factions of major cities (punks, goths, rockers, metalheads, jocks, nerds, car fanatics etc.), we tended to mass together where possible. Perhaps because we realised that despite musical taste, dress sense or belief, we all had something in common. More likely because if one single sub-culture tried to have a party, only 10 people would show up, so you had to break outside of your inner circle if you wanted to avoid cultural incest.

The boundaries of place are less and less relevant with passing generations due to the internet, the global place. The way we interact in this place is the social network. We make friends, lose friends, join groups, accept invites & feel like we exist despite the lack of physical presence. Just like any other place, social networking has it’s sub-cultures.

Some networks seek out specific cultures, there are forums for punks in New Zealand, MySpace clones for those of Gothic persuasion and video chat sites for exhibitionists with ADHD.

On the other hand there are the big boys who welcome each and every one, MySpace and Facebook being the main contenders. The ‘listens to whatever’s on the radio’ of social networking, the difference being the top 40 station they tune in to.

There is a sense of tension between these two forms of networking, the parochial, single focus sites & the open-armed titans. Yet often people come to maintain an existence in both, because just like Toowoomba, there’s only so many times you can introduce yourself to the same 9 people.

In terms of design, the approaches to these networks also differ, they must. ‘Closed’ networks can be designed in a way that appeals to a well-established and recorded audience. Wine review sites can appropriate the imagery of wine advertising, motorcycle forums can put a hog in the header. Designing for these networks is a very different, perhaps(?) easier, challenge.

Facebook & Co face the challenge of trying to please everyone. MySpace takes the customization approach, applying a democratic bent to the notion of the profile, with often disastrous results. Facebook has opted for standardisation, forcing people to express themselves through words and a litany of inane applications, with often disastrous results. If these sites were to take a lesson from pop music and its listeners, I think it would be that the best way of sustaining a fan base is by making yourself accessible. Where MySpace fails in allowing people to make pink text on green backgrounds, Facebook succeeds. Where Facebook fails in allowing some degree of visual self-expression, the virtual mohawk, MySpace succeeds.

Is there some over-arching concrete solutions? No, probably not. Social networks, like sub-cultures, are wont to morph, grow, merge, make mistakes, go mainstream and disappear forever. Making long-term predictions is a dangerous thing. Whether it’s sub-cultures or social networks: both are created, maintained and used by people, who are far too difficult to predict.

Addendum I should add that I think Tumblr has nailed it pretty well in fostering a culture of customization built on the back of designs that are established by professionals. I do have issues with referencing (or the lack of) and ‘curation culture’; but that’s beyond the remit of this post.