BOOK IS SHOE
As a fan of the design processes, I read through Dan Saffer’s thesis yesterday. My reading wasn’t entirely co-incidental - I discovered Dan’s book, Designing for Interactions last year during a physical computing class. His approach is straightforward and simple, which is especially great for process related work. (I find most theorists to be more engaged in their methodology than the application of it.)
Throughout his thesis, “The Role of Metaphor in Interaction Design” there are examples of the linguistic convention of metaphor: THIS IS THAT.
As I plugged along with my brainstorming today, going from mind mapping to crosses, I had the metaphor idea stewing in the back of my brain. Later, when I was free writing about my experience with the tactile qualities of books, it struck me to write “BOOK IS SHOE”.
It was one of those beautiful ‘click’ moments when connections begin. I started to tease out the similarities with genuine wear, and stamping your identity on object as it ages. Unlike our devices of technology that we keep obsessively unscathed from daily life, there are objects we seek to make an impression (into). There’s a certain pride in establishing presence in a mass produced object. “These are my shoes. I’ve walked hundreds of miles in them.” Along with this gratification is the eventual grief when they need to be retired. The retirement ritual is generally practiced by any regular ‘wearerouter’. Hand in hand goes the “Break In” period when the replacement is acquired. No one wants their sneakers ‘too white’. I remember, as a kid, we used to rub some dirt on the edges so they weren’t so bright. You don’t wanna be that kid who walks into class with the super-white sneaks. That’s just not cool.
But where does that leave us with technology?
We walk around over-protective like a new Cadillac owner. In a way, that’s just silly. A developer friend of mine fully believes in really using his machine. No keyboard cover, no constant cleaning; stickers are mandatory. He always gives a glare to the person who keeps that little microfiber cloth between the keyboard and the screen. “Really?”, he thinks. Then again, when the new model comes out next year and you want to resell the ‘clunker’, does someone really want your scratched up powerbook? Hard to say. Most of us still treat them like Caddies. Maybe because they’re still of significant cost? Maybe because they break easily? I’m convinced that it’s about the wear - to a degree. It doesn’t get a rich patina of dirt and grime that can be admired, (no, they must be clean! we touch them with fingers!), and notes scribbled on them look more like graffiti than a connection to an individual’s experiences.
hm.
