Metamorphosis

Erik Stolterman and I have been thinking about the issue of turning non-designers into designers (that would be you!). We see our students moving through three transitions:

(I) Pre-emergence
(II) Transitional
(III) Designerly Thinking

Characteristic of each of these transitions is a penetration of barriers. Rather than progression along a smooth continuum, students penetrate these (intellectual, practical, psychological and social) barriers in a step-like function.

I’d like to share these barriers with you and get your comments (David Royer and Sindhia Thirumaran contributed to the list as well). Perhaps you have additional barriers to suggest, or ones to eliminate or modify.

Barriers (numerals in parentheses indicate the transitional stage(s) where the barrier occurs)

1. Design definitions. Naïve designers’ conception of HCI/d includes mostly graphic design and interface design; experienced designers also include interaction design, experience design, emotional design, and systems design. (I)
2. Best solution. Naïve designers hold onto the belief that there is a best solution; experienced designers believe there exist many solutions and judged by critical criteria and presented through a design argument or explanation. (I)
3. Technology-centered vs. human-centered. Naïve designers focus on the technology; experienced designers study human behavior, motivation and need. It’s very difficult to “let go” of gadgets and things; there’s an over-fascination with techno-fetishism among naïve designers. (I, II)
4. Me and we. Naïve designers defend their own designs; experienced designers look to their team for inspiration and solutions. (I, II)
5. User research. Naïve designers underplay the role of user research; they know what people want. Tools such as personas are resisted rather than embraced naturally in the design process. Experienced designers do not make assumptions about human desires and motivations; they study it instead. (I, II)
6. IT domination. Naïve designers tend to overemphasize efficiency, effectiveness, scalability; experienced designers include experience and emotion. (II)
7. Idea loyalty. Naïve designers hold onto a single idea; experienced designers engage in systematic exploration of multiple ideas. (II)
8. Algorithm / design paradox. Naïve designers expect to memorize algorithmic solutions to problems; experienced designers learn to deal with ill-structured problems, seemingly paradoxical situations and design thinking. (II, III)
9. Critique culture. Naïve designers worry about school grades; experienced designers welcome critique. (II, III)
10. Notebook. Naïve designers sketch for a particular project; experienced designers sketch continuously, deriving inspiration from all contexts. (II, III)
11. Role. Naïve designers are learning what they do and how to do it; experienced designers begin to defend the position of design in a multi-person development team made up of designers and non-designers. (II, III)
12. Research and philosophy. Naïve designers find solutions in the HCI literature; experienced designers explore philosophical foundations of design as well. (III)
13. Reflective designer. Naïve designers spend little to no time reflecting on how they are designing versus experienced designers who can look at themselves “out of body” as they design. (III)
14. Omnipresence. Naïve designers see design embedded in objects; experienced designers see systems that affect designs and designs that affect systems. (III)
15. External / internal. Naïve designers find external answers to design problems; experienced designers begin to look internally and introspectively for inspiration and resolution. (III)

logic of failure

We’re in the middle of designing solutions for a complex, real world problem, and it reminded me of a book I read some years ago: The Logic of Failure: Recognizing and Avoiding Error in Complex Situations, by Dietrich Dörner. The author tells a story of a city council and its mayor trying to fix the volume of traffic, noise, and air pollution in their downtown area. To solve the problem they introduced speed bumps and the speed limit was reduced to 20 miles per hour. But the results were unexpected: 1) the speed bumps forced people to drive in a lower gear, thus increasing the noise and exhaust fumes; 2) but because of the reduced speed, people spent more time shopping, and this actually increased the number of cars in the downtown area; 3) eventually fewer and fewer went downtown because of these reasons; 4) people started shopping in a near-by mall; 5) downtown stores, once thriving, were facing bankruptcy, and 6) tax revenues were significantly down. “The fate of this environment-conscious town demonstrates how human planning and decision-making processes can go awry if we do not pay enough attention to possible side effects and long-term repercussions, if we apply corrective measures too aggressively or too timidly, of if we ignore premises we should have considered.” [p.2]

It seems we’re wired for this kind of ad hoc thinking. Hunting, building a fire, or chasing away a wild animal does not have much significance beyond the act; “…our prehistoric ancestors did not have to think beyond the situation itself. The need to see a problem embedded in the context of other problems rarely arose. For us, however, this is the rule, not the exception. Do our habits of thought measure up to the demands of thinking in systems? What errors are we prone to when we have to take side effects and long-term repercussions into account?” [p. 6]

…

The technique of asking question after question about your design may prevent this kind of failure. Rich Gold’s analysis of smart houses prevents this kind of thinking and leads to solid design arguments. I hope some teams are using this technique and thus avoiding failure.

design abilities

In 1990, Nigel Cross wrote an article called “The nature and nurture of the design ability,” Design Studies, Vol 11, No. 3. He described eight core design abilities of professional designers:

1. to produce novel, unexpected solutions by
2. applying imagination and constructive forethought to practical problems;
3. to use drawings and other modeling media as a means of problem solving. In doing this they need to be able
4. to deal with uncertainty and decision making on the basis of limited information,
5. resolving ill-defined, “wicked” problems by
6. adopting solution-focusing strategies,
7. employing productive / creative thinking and
8. using graphic or spatial modeling media.

Do you see yourself developing along these dimensions? If you rated yourself on a 10 point scale from 1 being total lack of skill to 10 being total and complete proficiency, where would you rate yourself today? How do you plan to get better?

Design is very hard work, and great design is even harder. A design team must embrace the uncertainty of the process. For those teams who are insecure, they have a tendency to go with their first design, and improve on it. But experienced design teams live with the uncertainty of not selecting a design too fast. Don’t be afraid to keep exploring: write more predispositions, continue with your research, draw your insights, and develop many more concepts. Eventually themes and patterns will reveal themselves to you.

Great designs come from many iterations, including sometimes discarding what seemed like a good idea at first. When the design argument is tight, when few holes can be poked into it, then you know you’re onto something.

design courage

I recently read the book, Better: A Surgeon’s Notes on Performance, by Atul Gawande. From the book jacket: “The struggle to perform well is universal: each of us faces fatigue, limited resources, and imperfect abilities in whatever we do. But nowhere is this drive to do better more important than in medicine, where lives may be on the line with any decision.” Gawande describes three core requirements for success in medicine:

1. Diligence – attention to detail.
2. To do right — despite moral obstacles.
3. Ingenuity – arising “from deliberate, even obsessive, reflection on failure and a constant searching for new solutions.”

Medicine is a profession that involves risk and responsibility; and so does human-computer interaction design. As we consider Gawande’s core requirements for medicine, what are the parallels in hci/d?

We are half way through the semester; we are at an important turning point as we engage with the problem of homelessness: will we dig deep within ourselves to find our excellence, or will we simply do what’s necessary to complete the task?

Maya Lin is a design hero. At the age of 21, while still an undergraduate at Yale she submitted her design to a competition: the 1982 Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. And, of course, we all know that she was the winner. What is less known is the political battle she endured, often ugly and filled with racist innuendos. Lin understood that to do right (in Gawande’s terms) meant to defend her vision of personal and national loss. Her design allowed the memorial visitor to enter a “pain of loss,” not to purge it but to contemplate it.

Get inspired. Listen to Atul Gawande as he speaks to the Commonwealth Club of California.

send in the clowns

On Thursday I framed the introduction of the “seven themes of good design” by talking about big concepts and telling about a personal academic experience:

Think of an extremely smart person you know, a person whom many would describe as brilliant. How would you describe this person’s understanding of their area of expertise, whether it be finance, art history, biology, or any other discipline? Typically, these people understand big concepts: they see their world as a handful of basic themes with lesser concepts being variations on these themes.

Most of us don’t organize the world this way. We  don’t see themes and variations, we only see variations, each one disconnected. Our heads are filled with independent facts and principles. But the very smart person reduces this wide array to a small set that helps him or her quickly grasp new situations.

In the mid-sixties, when I was an undergraduate at the University of Illinois, I took a course in physics. In those days, they didn’t offer “Physics for Poets.” There were only hard-core physics courses, taken mostly by engineering majors. But I wanted to know how the physical world worked, so I signed up. A good student, I attended all of the classes, took thorough notes, read the textbook, and completed all of the assigned exercises at the end of every chapter.

All went well until the first exam. I opened the test booklet and suddenly wondered if I was in the right course. “When did we learn how to solve these problems?” I wondered in bewilderment. I muddled through them, trying to remember the formulae I had memorized. Needless to say, I didn’t do very well in physics and redirected my interests elsewhere.

What happened? If I had had the courage to ask my instructor about the exam questions, the professor probably would have been puzzled by my confusion. We had different views of the subject. For me, physics was a vast collection of different problems, each with its particular formula. If a problem looked like example 3.7 in the text, I felt confident. Or if a problem matched well with formula 3.5.2, then the solution was forthcoming. But if a problem was new and different, I was lost. My professor, however, had no box in his head that contained this problem.

He understood physics in an entirely different way. For him, physics consisted of big ideas and central relationships like Force = mass x acceleration. Problems on the exam were not independent problems but variations on the big ideas. Nothing would have seemed unusual to the professor; each problem was a variation of something well known. But everything seemed unique to me, his naïve student!

…

So these themes — human-centered design, transparency, computer imagination, and so on — are the big ideas that help focus our attention on good design. The techniques that we learn along the way — persona development, goal-directed design — are simply tools for the designer; they facilitate the designer’s job.

But if you just focus on the tools (like focusing on single physics examples or forumlae), you will be memorizing single techniques. Useful, yes, but missing the point. Instead, allow your mind to be reflective and ask yourself what do all of these techniques mean. You can read many HCI books (my office and home are filled with them) and can easily become confused by the suggested techniques — trying to line them all up — looking for consistencies and inconsistencies among them. But the expert designer begins to ask what these techniques mean. Variations (don’t worry about the vagaries among the techniques or variations) lead to themes. Big concepts lead to big insights.

We saw in the Al Pacino film, Looking for Richard, an example of Shakespeare expoiting the strengths of the play with his masterful use of words, poetry, and meter. Pacino helps us understand how Shakespeare exploited the theater medium to evoke a deeper understanding of ourselves — our loves and fears, our hopes and disappointments. Shakespeare’s plays employed “theater imagination,” if you will.

Moreover, we may look within the context of Pacino’s film to understand something else about Shakespeare’s brilliance: the threaded connections of the iambic pentameter of the line, the stanza, the play, and ultimately ones life. In the film, Vanessa Redgrave eloquently spoke of this, illustrating theater imagination and big concept thinking all at once:

Shakespeare’s poetry and his iambics floated and descended through the pentameter of the soul. And it’s the soul, if we like, the spirit of real concrete people going through hell and sometmes moments of great achievement and joy. That is the pentameter you have to concentrate on. And should you find that reality, all the iambics will fall into place.

…

As a small exercise here, we can look at another medium — the song. And to illustrate “song imagination,” I’ve chosen Stephen Sondheim’s Send in the Clowns. In this first YouTube video, we hear Sondheim talk about his design of this song:

In the next clip, we see how he conducts a master class with a singer, coaching her in how the lyrics and music come together in this interpretation:

In this clip we see the original star of “A Little Night Music,” Glynis Johns, singing the song with Len Cariou. You hear the song performed in context:

Perhaps one of the greatest interpretations of the song, is Barbra Streisand. Notice her facial expressions matching so perfectly to the lyrics:

Finally, for a haunting interpretation of this song, listen to Sarah Vaughan’s masterful performance:

What is “song imagination” from the perspective of the designer-composer?
And, in the case of music, what is the role of the performer?
The audience?

And where are the clowns
Quick send in the clowns
Don’t bother, they’re here.

the thousand mile journey

The “thousand mile journey” has begun; it’s been two weeks since we took our first step. And yet, already, we’ve come so far. One could point to actual skill development: persona creation, usability testing procedures, prototype design, rationale support, presentation skills, and so on. Yet, what I find more interesting are the less explicit conditions that are emerging within the class: the freedom to ask questions, the freedom to make mistakes, the freedom to experiment. I sense a collaborative bond forming in the class — less about competition and more about sharing what we know with each other. As I was leaving the Telecom Building at 5:45 PM, I was very pleased to observe a group of students heading over to Yogi’s to celebrate the completion of Project #1. At the same time, a group of mentors and I were headed in a different direction to discuss how we were to evaluate the submissions.

I do worry about the few students who appear to be observers looking in; it’s important that they throw themselves into the mix. Ask youself: Are you reading the five team blogs? Are you writing too? Are you contributing to the conversation? This course and this program works in proportion to what you give it.

Some months ago at CHI (in San Jose, California), I articulated a set of goals for teaching interaction design: http://www.informatics.indiana.edu/hcid/CHI2007/workshop-papers.htm

• I want students to think like designers.
• I want students to learn to ask questions and not to be afraid of doing so.
• I want students to have “big strategies” in their head, not little disconnected rules of design.
• I want students to know a lot about the design craft.
• I want students to view their fellow students as a source of ideas and stimulation.
• I want students to learn from each other.
• I want students to learn that design is not a linear path.
• I want students to learn that for any craft process there is a context for when to apply it; it doesn’t work in all settings; knowing when to use a process is important.
• I want students to look inside of themselves for their greatest inspiration.
• I want students to reflect on everything they do and to learn from their reflective practice.

It’s happening, and if you allow the course to “work on you” as much as you “work on it,” then it will happen more quickly and in a deeper way.

 One of the companies that I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know through WisdomTools is DDB (see: http://www.ddb.com/DDBWeb/index.html). It’s a global advertising, marketing, and communications company. Their web site says: “DDB builds and delivers unique, enduring, and powerful brand experiences. Along the way we aim to be the world’s most influential communications company.” Look at the guiding principles of DDB (see: Who We Are : Roots):

• Creativity Is The Most Powerful Force In Business
  DDB’s approach is based on a more collaborative and productive relationship with our clients and partners to find the hidden potential of people, brands and business.
• Insight into Human Nature
  We believe that great ideas are generated by the ability to respond creatively to keen insights. One good idea can propel brand for years. At DDB we are looking for insights that incite.
• Respect for the Customer
  DDB was way ahead of the curve when we recognized that brands are in the hands of consumers, not brand managers. Nothing could be more important and relevant today, proving that great ideas endure.
• Respect for Our World
  As communicators DDB is in a position to use our creativity as a force for good. As Bill Bernbach so eloquently put it, “All of us who professionally use the mass media are the shapers of society. We can vulgarize that society. We can brutalize it. Or we can help lift it onto a higher level.”
• Individual Freedom
  Creativity is freedom of expression. At DDB, we believe that to attract the best talent, we must offer an inspiring environment that encourages individual freedom and growth. This idea was critical at the inception of DDB and remains so today. Keith Reinhard took this a step further with the Four Freedoms. They are not just feel-good philosophy. They are good business practice.
  - Freedom from fear
  - Freedom to fail
  - Freedom from chaos
  - Freedom to be
  Download DDB’s Four Freedoms 

Sound familiar?

the design of possibility

One of the challenges of teaching and learning complex skills such as interaction design is that one needs to know everything on day one. I call this the teaching-learning paradox. Think about Project #1. In order to “successfully”complete the thermostat challenge, you need to be an expert in persona creation, evaluation techniques, ethnographic research, graphic design, team collaboration, solution generation (not just creating one or two possible “answers” but generating a dozen or more solutions), writing, presentation skills and so on. And yet, if one waits until you become an expert in each of these arenas, you’d never do the first project.

So, instead, we follow a process of successive approximations. This is a step-wise progression (or approximations) to an idealized goal (in our case, of becoming an interaction design expert). We can never fully get there anymore than we can achieve total wholeness as a human being. However, we can try one thing and another, and hope that we get good feedback (or critique) along the way. We encourage you to “fail rapidly and fail often.” It’s through this process of trying, questioning, failing, and succeeding, all in small steps, that we improve our skills. We teach a little and you do a little.

Again, this is not like math class where we can assign simple problems in the beginning and then systematically increase the complexity of the problems as you learn new concepts and techniques. Even small problems in interaction design, if they have any relevance to the real-world, are messy and difficult to complete.

To make the point even clearer, let’s examine the differences between real world problems and classroom problems. This is adopted from Sternberg, Robert J. (1985). “Teaching critical thinking, part 1: Are we making critical mistakes?” Phi Delta Kappan, 67, 194-198.

In the real world, the first and sometimes most difficult step in problem solving is recognition that a problem exists. In the classroom, the instructor or textbook signals that a problem exists.

In the real world, it is often harder to figure out just what the problem is than to figure out how to solve it. In the classroom, the instructor or textbook provides the problem.

Real world problems tend to be ill-structured. In the classroom, the instructor or textbook defines all aspects of  the problem.

In the real world, it is not usually clear just what information will be needed to solve a given problem, nor is it always clear where the information can be found. In the classroom, needed information to solve classroom or text-based problems is found in the associated chapter or lecture; often parallel problems (examples) are solved for the student.

The solutions to real world problems depend on and interact with the contexts in which the problems occur. Classroom or text-based problems are self-contained; little or no context is provided.

Real world problems generally have no one right solution, and even the criteria for what constitutes a best solution are often not clear. Classroom or textbook-based problems have one right solution; textbook solutions are found in the back of the book.

Solutions to important real world problems have consequences that matter. Solutions to classroom or textbook-based problems have no consequences other than a grade or school advancement.

Real world problem solving often occurs in teams. Classroom or textbook-based problem solving often occurs alone.

Real world problems can be complicated, messy, and stubbornly persistent. Classroom or textbook-based problems are clear, well-defined, and easily forgotten.

While HCI Design I is conducted in a classroom setting, much of what we do is presented in an authentic context. We are trying to simulate what will happen when you enter the workforce, the so-called “real world” (and I’m not talking about the MTV series). The trick for you is to see a world of possibility. Only fear will hold you back, and it will crush you.

I’m reminded of a favorite book by Noah benShea, Jacob the Baker: Gentle Wisdom for a Complicated World (1989). It is the “story about a man whose humble life and profound wisdom are a source of both inspiration and reflection to those around him” (from the book’s inside cover). There’s a short segment about fear:

“A community leader came to see Jacob, hoping to find peace of mind, an ease for his burden.

The man was troubled by a repetitive dream that he did not understand.

‘Jacob, in my dream, I have traveled a long distance and am finally arriving at a great city. But, at the entrace to the city, I am met by a tall soldier who says that I must answer two questions before I am admitted. Will you help me?’

Jacob nodded.

‘The first question the soldier asks is ‘What supports the walls of a city?”

‘That is easy,’ said Jacob. ‘Fear supports the walls of a city.’

‘But what supports the fear?’ asked the man. ‘For that is the second question.’

‘The walls,’ answered Jacob. ‘The fears we cannot climb become our walls.’”

finding your voice

It never takes long to determine who the “talkers” will be in class. These are the people who ask most of the questions, respond to most of the questions asked, or simply engage in conversation. Yes, there are the talkers and the listeners. And if you look carefully, these often fall along cultural divides. The largest percentage of talkers is Americans. On the other end are the … well, you know who you are. Sometimes the divide has little to do with cultural background and more to do with shyness or simply individual personalities. Sometimes the divide is about being an undergraduate in a graduate class (really, in most cases the difference is one or two years of being a student).

This is going to be a challenge for everyone. Talkers need to refrain from jumping in at every opportunity. Listeners need to think more quickly “on their feet” and take the risk of speaking up. We all need to be patient with each other and ourselves.

There are cultural differences in what people are used to in the classroom. Perhaps some of you would like to share your experiences as a comment to this post.

But being here in the U.S., in this program, in this course requires you to engage. This can occur in many ways: in the Tuesday/Thursday lectures or in smaller group sessions (like the Wednesday night session); in blogs (this gives you an opportunity to think before you speak/write); and of course in team settings.

Choose your way, but over time explore other ways. Remember, you’re here to be “uncomfortable” (that’s another way of saying that you’re here to be a learner rather than a performer or an expert). And for some, that might mean talking LESS or not being the first one to talk. It’s all about learning.