October 16, 2005

Paul Dourish's Where the Action Is

Even though the processing capabilities of computers have changed by several orders of magnitude since they were first developed in the 1970s, the structure of the computer has changed very little. They still have the basically the same inputs (mouse, keyboard) and outputs (speaker, screen). Despite the impressive boost in power, the quality of the interaction has not improved signicantly. Paul Dourish asks why this is, and gives us a few pointers to work with when considering possible future directions for interactivity.

The main reason that our interactions with computers have been so stagnant is due to their design, and especially their raison d'etre. The focus when using a computer is the computer itself, whereas with other devices that use processors (i.e., a microwave), the interaction is focused on a specific activity for which that device is well-suited. As processing power continues to become cheaper, we will move toward "ubiquitous computing," an idea whereby processors will be embedded into everyday objects, which will allow our everyday objects to be "computers" in a limited sense. By giving small individual objects computer-like functionality, but within the scope for which that object is already well-suited, computing as we know it will recede so that the focus comes once again to the actions for which we use the ubiquitous computer-objects.

In the examples Dourish gives, I noticed a lot of ITP-like projects. For instance, one item is called "feather", and it floats a feather in a room whenever an action in another, far-away area, takes place. For instance, the feather might float in my room when my sister lays down on her bed in Minnesota, thus forming a new way of connecting with each other. Also, one project mentioned has a string connected to a motor that moves in proportion to the amount of traffic on the ethernet cable to which it is attached. This reminds me of my instructor's project that advanced the hands on a clock by the number of emails he had received since he last checked his email.

The Tangible Bits project at the MIT Media Lab caught my attention. The term refers to the transition from physical bits (i.e., atoms) to virtual bits, with a focus on the way virtual bits are superseding the need for physical bits. This is a fine idea, and I think that this sort of focus, when also taking into account the ubiquitous computing idea, can take us very far. By focusing on the actual physical objects necessary to do certain tasks, but imbuing them with digital properties, we can combine the best of both worlds.

The idea of multiple limited-ability compute-able objects that can interact and be used simultaneously also allows us to transcend the sequential order of interaction that computers have taught us. When using a computer, there is only one input source used at a time (occasionally we use both mouse and keyboard), and the idea is that one thing comes after the next. But when we employ the digitally-aware objects of a ubiquitous computing environment, interaction is more fluidly defined by a human's needs, rather than limited to sequential instruction to a central computer.

The idea, really, is that the idea of computing fades away and we are left with ideas that we have and tools (well-suited to their individual tasks) that we use to do them, taking advantage all the while of the benefits afforded us by virtual bits but never having to notice them as such.

Posted October 16, 2005 07:46 PM. Categories: Readings , Week 6 | Permalink

October 10, 2005

The Bandwidth of Consciousness

How much information do you think you can process into your consciousness every second? If I were asked the same question, I'd start to think about the fullness of sound (vs. the bit-rate of mp3s), the rich visual landscape I constantly survey (vs. the bit-rate of avi's), and so on, and I would have thought it was multiple megabytes, if not gigabytes, per second.

Yet, according to this reading, our capacity for processing information is only about 10-50 bits per second. That seems unbelievably low to me, considering all the sensory information we have access to. So how could it be true?

Well, the central idea is that we only really focus on one thing at a time, but our brains are so good at switching from thought to thought and input to input that we are able to scan through many different senses at once.

Another way we can get around this is that a lot of information gets processed subconsciously. Once we are so good at a certain task that it becomes automatic, like driving, we are able to subsume a great deal of sensory information subconsciously and not really process it, which frees the mind up for other tasks.

I know my own mind has a sort of "buffer" of information that it holds. When I am engrossed in a basketball game on TV, I have found myself literally unable to hear comments spoken to me. Not that tuning people out is anything extraordinary. The interesting thing about that is, as soon as the play is over (anywhere from a 2 or 3 to more than 10 seconds later), I then become conscious of the fact that someone did say something to me, but I truly had no recollection of actually hearing them speak. I need to ask the person to repeat their comment. I think it's amazing that I can know that someone said something to me but have 0 recollection of the actual act of them speaking to me.

Posted October 10, 2005 12:41 PM. Categories: Readings , Week 5 | Permalink

September 28, 2005

Don Norman's The Design of Everyday Things

Or, as he calls it, DOET. I really enjoyed this reading. Norman articulated many aspects of experience design that I have long thought about.

The thesis of the first chapter could really be said to be, "Keep people in mind when you are designing something." I think part of the reason the principles laid out in DOET appeal to me so much is that a large part of my life philosophy is, simply, "Keep people in mind when you are doing something." I'm a very conscientious person. I develop feelings of discomfort when I realize I am hindering someone's ability to do something. This is pretty prominently pronounced while walking on the sidewalk: I am very aware of my surroundings and don't like to be in someone's way. I naturally gravitate to the side of the sidewalk when I am walking, and when I realize I need to stop and turn around, I will first slow down and then peel off the main foot-traffic flow. When I am having a conversation with someone, I find it difficult to concentrate if we are in a public thoroughfare and in the way, and I'll try to nonverbal influence the person I'm talking with to kind of scoot out of the flow.

So perhaps I'm especially inclined to be concerned about how an object's poor design would hinder someone's ability to operate it.

An example of an object the design of which I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about is the cell phone. I have had two different models of cell phones myself, and used many others' phones, and I think they are truly ripe for design/experience improvement. For instance, my cell phone still doesn't display the time while I'm on a call. Since I have ditched a wristwatch for my cell phone's time display, I am basically unable to check the time while I'm talking to someone anymore.

On my most recent phone, I had to connect to the web in order to send or receive a text message. This is incredibly irksome, because it takes usually over a minute to connect to the web. And then, once I had connected to the web and navigated to my "messaging center," I was no longer able to access my phone's address book so I had to resort to writing down people's cell phone numbers on a piece of paper and then connecting to the messaging center, re-entering the phone number (the phone's input defaults to text input, too, so I had to change it back to number-only input), and then finally being able to send the text message. As a result, I almost never sent or read text messages. My new phone, thank goodness, has fixed this oversight.

Another, more subtle example, is the paltry "recent calls" list on the phone. It only holds 10 numbers at a time for each of missed calls, recent calls, and outgoing calls. I know that the phone's memory must be much larger than this, so why not have a larger list? This could be an option that is not readily available (having only 10 numbers at a time is usually sufficient for basic "recent calls" needs), but I for one would like to be able to go back to a day two months ago and see who I called, and who called me, if for no other reason than curiosity.

Again, I enjoyed reading what Norman had to say; his words resonate well with me, for I too am always finding "Norman doors" and other poorly-designed objects. I had long read the website of his colleague, Jakob Nielsen (useit.com), but hadn't yet heard any words from Mr. Norman. I'm glad I did.

Posted September 28, 2005 03:31 PM. Categories: Readings , Week 3 | Permalink