Wednesday, August 15, 2012

A Santa Fe Design Chick's Perspective on Agile

Coming from a land where good design means: ease-of-use, thinking ahead, and making damn sure that an egg dropped from a five story building doesn't break, I've found a few challenges with the idea of Agile Development.

I understand the basic concept - reduce, reuse, recycle.

Reduce: the time it takes to have workable software, and unnecessary functionality, Reuse: user paradigms and code when appropriate, Recycle: hmmm... not sure how this one really fits, but I can stretch it to say - Cycle through the process over and over again with stakeholders.

Of course I'm oversimplifying the process. There's a complete philosophy that goes behind this. There's even a 42 point Agile test developed by Nokia that one can take to see if the team's in-line with Agile.

For me, it's like the land of OZ. Dorothy strutting down the yellow brick road of software development, not sure what direction it's headed, or who the man behind the curtain really is.

One of the main focuses of Agile states, “Business people and developers must work together daily throughout the project”. I'm not really sure where that leaves me - the designer. It's always been my job to find out what the client wants, and communicate it in a term that the developers can understand. I've had developers say to me outright "I don't actually like people". I don't mean to overgeneralize, but the personality type tends to fall into this space. I believe that programmers love programming, not chit-chatting with clients about how they feel about "this or that".

Let's face it, the clients are the ones that are going to be using the software, so there should be a good line of communication with them... and sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words (or a thousand lines of code). Good design is building to what a client needs. I'm not saying that we go down the path of the document heavy UCD process, but what I am saying is that high-level wireframes should be done to understand the flow of the software. We must understand the ultimate goal of what the client wants to achieve - that should not change throughout the course of development.

Agile is supposed to be aimed at giving the client a way of having "checks and balances" as the software is developed. It's meant to get something that is "deliverable" at each phase of its existence. It is an effective way of producing software. The problem that I see with clients driving, is that sometimes they are unsure of what they want, or how to explain it.

Most people are used to shopping for something they need and they don't know what that is until they see it. Some people value objects with good design, and some don't. I think that what we need to be aware of with Agile, is that we should use design where it is needed, and not simply throw it out the window because it uses too much documentation and is too focused on strategy.

Faster to market, quicker return on investment, less-expensive; let these not be the main foundations of Agile, lest we end up with the plastic chair from Walmart that breaks because it was rushed out of the factory before anyone did a study on how wide the American fanny is.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Design, Fear, and Money

I recently returned from Iceland, and everybody asks "why Iceland?"

My answer is simply "Why not?". Sometimes the universe pulls us to places that we never expected to go. Sometimes we learn more than we expected from those places.

I went with my family, not expecting to think much about art and design (after all, it WAS a vacation). Without knowing it, we booked a flat in Reykjavik for the last night we were there. It's called Grettisborg (grettisborg.is), and is owned by Rósa and Snæbjörn, two local designers that have taken the time to design each flat individually, and house the walls with artwork from Icelandic designers. Their studio was right next store. I was given a tour of it by Harpa, an absolutely lovely woman, who helps them to run the place. She apologized to me, while showing it, letting me know that they were moving the studio to a new place "out in the country", and mentioning that it was a bit disheveled. Maybe slightly, but not enough to take away from the beautiful wonder I had in seeing the work there.

She handed me a box, which was a prototype for a "toy" or "kit" that had been designed by Róshildur Jónsdóttir. "Something Fishy", it was called, and it contained fish bones, glue, and paint. I was amazed, captivated, by the ingenuity of it - and the simplicity. I believe that with most creative creations, the ones that inspire us the most, are the ones that make things look easy. "Why didn't I think of that?", is immediately what I thought. Then again, I live in the desert, where there isn't a large commodity of fish bones, so that may be one reason.

Then my mind started spinning with "what ifs". WHAT IF we could bring this "toy" back to the States and "mass market" it. If it's so brilliant, then why has it not worked its way into the old U.S. of A's popular culture?  Then I mentally went through the steps of what it would take to get this into Target.

Is this trademarked? copyrighted? I couldn't likely copyright the name "Something Fishy", nor trademark fish bones. Not unless they were homogenized and made out of plastic. Then think of the litigious consequences if someone were to prick their finger, or swallow a small piece, or pick up some strange fish disease? I guess if they were made out of plastic, I could probably make sure they weren't sharp, or small, or diseased.

BUT WAIT! Isn't the point of this to take something that's not being used and to give it a purpose to fill our lives with fun and inspiration? Oh yeah. I guess the plastic thing wouldn't work.

I wondered if Róshildur had thought of all of this? Then I started wondering how many ideas I had put to the side for the very same reasons. How many did I throw out for fear of litigation, or the inability to mass market it. How many times had I not shared an idea that I thought was good for fear of it being stolen? Was I that black and white?

I have a pretty developed design philosophy, and I've felt that it's solid. It deals with communication, and the best way to do it. It deals with ease of use, and the best way to make that happen. All in all, I feel that it's very "utilitarian".

But now my big question is, "what is it being used for, exactly"?






Thursday, February 23, 2012

Form Follows Function

I had a programmer say to me in jest today "Art and beauty always take a back seat".

Well, I'm not sure what art is, but I think of beauty as ease. Beauty is gives us flow in life, allows us to go, do, and see what we want, when we want. It's the space we make for the things we love.

My colleague and I use "Form Follows Function" on our website for our philosophy when building software. He's a "developer" and I'm a "designer", and the problem with us seems to lie in the fact that we can't agree upon who is the form and who is the function. He's listed as the Function on the website, and I as the "Form". So I guess my interfaces are supposed to follow the functionality that he's building.

It seems like it would work, right? The pretty floral pattern that covers the chair that holds the springs, and the wood, and the... damn hardness that makes the friggin' thing so uncomfortable to sit on! It's sturdy, but I certainly don't want to sit there for a long time.

And this is where I think that many people misunderstand, and devalue exactly what design is.

I used to think of art and design as synonymous, now I'm not so sure. Having lived in both worlds, I know that each carries a broad range of perception. Art is going to take me a long time to define, but I think I finally have a grasp on what design is... or at least my philosophy about it. It seems safer to me to define this. Maybe because I have been more successful, at least monetarily, with it.

I came to my conclusion about design, from living 41 years in the world that I do. I've had chimney fires, and faucets drip, roofs leak, and a ceased engine. I've worn off-gassing plastic clothes, thrown out 10 tons of trash, and ruined books by getting them wet. I've taken the time to watch the sunset every day for a year, and I've climbed 1000 trees. I've learned the names of all the plants in my yard, and which ones I can actually eat. I've failed at gardening for the rights of the weeds.

Design is way of directing a user, and it's about intention. I've heard so many people say, "Oh I hate what they've done to facebook! It's so hard for me to get around!". I have to respond to the fact that facebook contains a butt-load of ads, and the more time you spend on that interface, the more your exposure, the higher the cost of those ads.

Design can keep you in a place where you don't want to be, or it can gather information that you can't get rid of. It can help you to do your job, or let you share something with loved ones thousands of miles away. And it can do all of these things without you even realizing that it exists. It is powerful and silent when it works, or loud and uncomfortable when it doesn't.

I gave my eight year old daughter a flashlight to put batteries into. She kept insisting that she couldn't get the bottom off. When I looked at it, it seemed like the bottom should come off, but it didn't. It simply looked that way. Being as there are no ads posted on the side of the flashlight, I know this wasn't done to keep her looking at it longer. It certainly wasn't planned obsolescence. Maybe it was an aesthetic choice?

Eventually it will end up in my mass of 10 tons of garbage, it's pretty red color faded in the sun of some landfill, it's little extra nodes of shiny plastic broken and cracking - It's "beauty" pushed to the "backseat".

If we equate design with beauty, then we need to redefine what beauty is. To me Beauty is about Function.

Killing Time

Simply to start this blog, I've sacrificed a half hour of my time: thinking of a name, deciding on a design, fighting with an interface. I ended up on design sites, and math sites, and Wikipedia, over and over and over again. This can all be considered "research", I guess, but I'd simply like to label it as "a waste of time".

Maybe I have the wrong tool? Before the internet, I simply would have picked up a notebook and started scribbling away. Do you remember that time where there was a space between typewriters and keyboards? I do.

I would have done my bit, with slight care as to what had been "taken" and what had been "done", and I would have thought myself a genius in the realm of what I was doing. It would have taken some time for me to figure out that my ideas were not unique, or maybe I never would.

I'm trying to figure out if time has become more or less precious in our digital age. I'm not seasoned enough as a designer to remember the days of rubylith, but I certainly am old enough to say, "Before I designed for the web, that typo would have been a nightmare. I had such printing anxiety back then!". And I certainly type faster than I can write these days.