#but like. i keep imagining scenarios where i can correctly explain myself and he’s listening

[lilgynt]

i really do need to stop thinking about this fight but i’m legitimately gonna blow my brains out about it

[bldeardorff-dfc-blog]

Assignment 1: Innovative Product

Chapter 1 of The Design for Everyday Things begins by discussing the “Norman Door” which was a term I had never been introduced to before. The scenario that was provided hit very close to home, however, as Norman discussed the incapability of a young man's effort to control a door. There have been instances where I, myself approach a doorway that has a handle rather than a push bar and I’ve wondered which way it would open. Often there are times where I am eagerly pushing a door inward when really it is supposed to open outward and I am left looking like a complete fool. I thought this was a great example to introduce the reading since I immediately reconciled with the direction the author was headed.

Discoverability and understanding are known as the two main components of good design, in which I agree with. I believe that when a user discovers the possibilities of how to use something and also understands the benefits of that product, great design has been created. It’s much like the “light-bulb” turning on: discovery, thought, comprehension.  

Norman discusses how users are not interested in thinking while using a product, rather than do and let it be done quickly. I think most could agree that the faster the better. Mindlessly doing or using things is much better than putting in the extra effort. This concept reminds me a lot of Ikea because their whole identity is “simplistic furniture” where a little assembly is needed.

The four types of design mentioned: Industrial, Experience, Interaction, and Human centered design was not new fields to me, yet I did enjoy learning the in’s and outs of each. Occasionally, I like to search for jobs and read their partnering qualifications. I’ve noticed on many applications in the past couple of years “Human Centered Design” is the undergrad major requirement.  Since WVU doesn’t offer that course work, I looked more into it and the existing schools that do provide that major. I would assume a lot of psychology, as well as design principles,  would be implemented into HCD and truly think more colleges should offer that area. I see it as a very important part of designing for the general public and although a lot of design classes explore those components, HCD classes would be more beneficial.

The chapter also discusses the fundamentals of principle interactions that are things such as affordances, signifiers, mapping, and feedback. Affordances are a bit tricky I think. Like Norman mentions, these affordances is determined by the qualities of the object and the abilities of the individual who uses it and that obviously vary from each user. Therefore, if the affordance is different between two different people, the signifier may be as well. Feedback was another principle that I deeply understood because I am one of those people who need constant reassurance I am correctly doing a task. A great example of this is the crosswalk indicator, in which I can relate to. I’m not a huge fan of walking a cross a busy street as it is, so when I don’t get any feedback whether I hit the pedestrian button hard enough, I fall into panic mode. Thankfully, WVU has a very stern, male voice saying “WAIT!” in which helps me dissipate my uneasy feelings.

In Chapter 2, Norman first opens about an elderly woman having a troublesome time with an average drawer. I couldn’t help but think of my mother during this anecdote. My mom is the culprit for someone who blames themselves rather than the object that in return gives them issues. For example, she is a sixty-year-old first-grade teacher who now has to teach young kids using many different programs and technologies. She didn’t grow up nor learn how to educate children with these types of products so she often finds herself asking my brothers and me for tech help. It was just a month ago I had to write down the directions to “copy and paste” something in Microsoft Word. My mom is a very bright, intelligent lady, but sometimes the devices she uses do not fit her understandings, which I can see where design is to blame for that. She experiences the “learned helplessness” that Norman talks about, where she calls herself “dumb” or incapable of doing a simple task like copy and pasting.

This brings me to discuss the elements for design advice mentioned. Blaming the user when he/she cannot use your design and when people encounter difficulty, consider how the design can be adapted to be more usable are my favorite tips. Designers are very bright and intuitive people, yet I think sometimes ego gets in the way. I know I myself will blame my own viewers if I ask them their opinion on my work and they simply don’t get it. It’s natural to feel frustrated, but it needs to be recognized that not everyone is identical when it comes to understanding design choices.

In all, it is vital to remember that the job of the designer is not to make the device into an object of awe and mystery, but to make it useful with minimal effort by the users, such as they are.

Chapter 1 of The Art of Innovation the author Tom Kelley, expresses the importance of innovation and growth for companies or really any business in general if they are eager to continue to keep up with competitors and the ever-changing world. Kelley mentions 4 mechanics that comprise with this practice: capacity, speed, expertise, and innovation.

As I went on to read about the brothers compelling story of IDEO, I thought it was really neat how different workers backgrounds formed to constantly keep creating successful projects with IDEO. I think that’s really cool that despite different upbringings, very different people can work together to make something great. In which I totally anticipate seeing very soon after I graduate in December.  

The IDEO method mention I can recall learning from Kofi last year. It wasn’t until now that I realized not only was there a company behind this model but also a recognized ABC Nightline special. When I get the chance, I plan to watch that episode.

Kelley expresses how important it is to promote and use creativity. I loved this. I believe everyone has a little bit of creativity, so why not embrace that and better the world with the hidden ideas among the ordinary people who do not design for a living.

Chapter 2 was very short, yet was inspiring and great insight on the journey of experimentation and everlasting growth within a career, business or project. When companies like Apple become involved with your business, you know you’ve done something right!

Lastly, Chapter 3 discusses the IDEO approach to investigating how clients and products might interact in real settings by observing and user testing. I honestly would love to go out every day and sort of “people watch” to create a better design. My favorite part of this whole reading was when Kelley explains, “Today the best companies recognize the value of talking and listening to kids.” I couldn’t agree more with this, for I often am around kids and although their thoughts can be wild, they will not hold back on their thoughts and opinions. Not to mention, their imagination is far more vast than general, matured adult.

Assignment 1: Find an Innovative Product

Product: Weed eater

Issue: String trimmer for head of the tool

Synopsis:

There needs to be a string trimmer that you don't need to constantly have to put the string in the head of the trimmer. You just buy a cartridge of 250 feet of string, snap it onto a compartment on the shaft and you can trim weeds all year long without having to take off the head, cut 8 feet of string, manually wrap it on the head, push the spring loaded head back together and reattach to the trimmer.

Imagine being out in a field and you run out of string. You have to stop what you are doing and go back to where you have string and pliers to cut with. You then take it apart, do what the video shows, which can take 10 minutes and then go back to the field. If you had a continuous feed cartridge on the shaft, no need to do any of this.

Process:

I first began by thinking of the common, everyday items I use and how they could be improved, or at least make my life easier. I started by making a list of possibilities:

I then began to research which most of my possibilities in my notes had already been invented or were just simply impossible. I already figured some were out of the question like Willy Wonka's “everlasting gum flavor” but I thought it would help my creativity/brainstorming.

I then thought about the types of places and things I have been or have in my life. My first go-to is my family farm in WV (which is not my home but rather an asset my family owns and visits occasionally). My father visits there weekly and I figured he might have an idea of a farming product or tool that could use a little TLC.

That’s where he mentioned the need for an almost everlasting weed eating string compartment. I knew what he was talking about at first, but I had honestly only used a weed eater to help him out a couple of times so I figured this invention already existed.

I conducted web research of this and it turns out there isn’t a single idea of an everlasting string trimmer for a weed eater.  

For anyone who is big into weed eating or does it often, knows that the hassle of using up 10 feet of trimmer string within an hour then having to re-install more is quite frustrating, especially on hot days miles away in an open field. Although I have never used a weed eater long enough to have to get string, I can imagine how inconvenient the task must be every 60 minutes.

[thisoldnewsletter-blog]

Bricklayer

About 6 months ago I decided to start sending these out again. I’ve been putting it off for tomorrow quite a bit. There were a number of motivating factors that led me to the decision, one of which was that I’d started writing again not long before that.

These early writings are ancient to me. This first one, which is by far the longest of those I have yet, dates back to November. Seeing myself write again, or rather seeing the things I wrote was inspiring. Additionally, writings aren’t complete until they are read, or sent out, published—attained by the public. It’s like making something—it is literally that—and it expresses you, it’s your voice.

This relates to something I was reading yesterday about the life of attention. Monkeys who are raised under exact circumstances rely on one simple factor which proves for them life or death. Baby monkeys with exactly the same food, setting, environment, everything—they’re lives are still not complete. They can have all those physical needs and comforts met, but the attention given to the baby by the care-taker decides whether it will live or die. If the care-taker simply enters, gives food, water, etc., and ignores the baby, it will die. Under the same circumstances—same food, same care-taker, environment—when the care-taker gives the baby some attention—pets it, shows it love, shows the monkey somebody loves it, somebody cares whether it dies—the monkey lives.

I don’t mean to sound morbid or craved—the point is attention. When the monkey is given attention, it feels real, it’s here for something because someone will notice—someone will care—if it weren’t here. If the monkey is ignored, why is it here? It has no purpose, it’s existence is denied, ignored.

So, to make something—words, in this case—or what the words come together to make that’s less-than-physical—its existence, its purpose, relies on attention. These are creations that don’t fully exist and are mostly purposeless until or unless they are sent out, shown, given an audience—given a reality.

Mostly purposeless I say because there is a benefit in my being from the act of creation. However, that benefit is multiplied many-fold when the act is completed, when I give out what I write or make, when others see it or read it or hear it—it has a purpose, my expression gains a greater existence and reality.

With that, I’ll close. None of you are expecting this email. Some of you are also new to the group. What I’ve said thus far explains things pretty well.

There will be more. If you don’t want more, simply respond. I don’t mind removing anyone from the list who doesn’t wish to be on it. What I would mind more—theoretically—is not being told by someone that they wish to receive no more. I’d rather not be a bother. That relies on your honesty.

Past writings are posted on thisoldnewsletter-blog.tumblr.com, and it will continue to be updated with postings of those which are sent out here.

 As I said, the first one is long. It’s good, but it is long. I don’t care if you read it or not, but generally I’ve been keeping writings short—so you know what to expect.

The first—included below—is an introduction. Introductions can be appropriately long. It supplements the light introduction just-given. It’s entirely different, but all I’ve said is also an introduction. So here’s a twofer.

Without readers, without audience—as I’ve outlined above—this work, my work, is incomplete. I am immensely fulfilled by its completion. What you do, just by reading what I write, means more to me than I think most people understand. It’s my voice. This is my platform. Without it, my voice…goes unheard. Yes, I have other voices—I do speak—but this, writing alone, from my heart, is a voice that otherwise goes unheard, unpracticed outside of this arena. It’s easier to write it than it is to speak it. And not often does the opportunity for such expression arrive—it’s really very limited to this platform. So I am grateful to you for reading and allowing said voice to exist.

Thank you very much.

Peter Sebastian Havens _____________________________

To quote the Great Mulla Nasruddin, “Always and in Everything, strive to attain—at the same time—what is useful for others, and what is pleasant for oneself.”

It is with that direction I aim now to write. There is much I could say that might entertain—narratives and personal histories of pleasure and pain, hardships and victories—there is much of which I could speak—I spend the much of my time learning and acquiring knowledge in areas that interest me vastly. I could tell you what I know or what I’ve done. It might be pleasant for myself to do either—I find nearly every moment to be quite pleasant, some of which—with regard to that quality in me which is predisposed to having a pleasant time—I attribute to seeing much importance in everything I do—a secret of mine, not because I dare not disclose it to others, but because many are unwilling to entertain the fact that every of our moments in our lives are of equal significance—and therefor rightfully deserve, each of those moments, the same amount of energy and attention—if the two refer to different things, however slight that difference is—input from our observation, or, if you will, participation—however you like. And so, it may indeed be pleasant for me. What is useful for others—according to what I’ve said, everything is useful. The matter—regards…direction. There is no negative direction, but there is, as we say, a wrong way. Many people drive. If you should be driving, most commonly there is a designated destination. Imagine you are mindlessly traveling in the opposite direction of your designated destination—there is music, you are talking, you are “manning the wheel,” you think not of where you go. Or you are listening to the news, and—so caught up—you miss an appropriate turn—or you, outraged, follow a car in order that they catch glimpse of your inappropriate gestural response to their driving. You find yourself traveling in the opposite direction of where lies your destination—or you become aware that you’ve been misled—or that you’ve, for some reason, led yourself astray and you have a destination.

Let us be timely. Movement is useful—it exercises freedom; will. It is always of use. But the matter, regards…making use of your time. There are endless scenarios in which happenstance brought upon by mistake serves its use. I need not get into them.

I am modeling my writing, now, off of a choreographer. I mean it literally. A wonderful choreographer. Who knows better how to organize movement correctly, with the utmost precision, and in a timing that must be impeccable lest it lose the rhythm and the tempo—he composed human movement in specific ways—with the most minute detail in every movement, by every performer—and aligned it with music so appropriately that he was able to bring together such components in a way that demonstrated life in ways that, well, demonstrated mastery. What better a model could one use.

Imagine now, that I am choreographing a dance. A dance that serves ritualistic value, or simply in which the accurate, appropriate alignment of the dancer’s, their movements, and the music to which they move, speaks. It resonates—it fits some ideal pattern inherent in truest nature. It speaks.

Now, I could be a playwright.  I could have played out and demonstrated a narrative of my life, something that tells a story, something that speaks because it succumbs to words to keep the audience mind at attention. There could be a moral, or some teaching I’ve learned in my life—something profound—but it would not be sacred.

Nature makes the most amazing patterns—ideal shapes, harmony in its ideal form, greatness beyond that which can be told through a narrative.

I could re-enact the life of Jesus on stage—but it wouldn’t speak, its form wouldn’t speak. Thus, it’s not the words—the greatest harmony, and the greatest sentiment, the deepest rhythm of which you can be a part, is through an experience that is beyond words. Words and rhythm can be brought into harmonic patterns—they can be orchestrated to achieve something greater than which can be said. Words choreographed can display something larger than narratives, or information, or poetry. Bricks used to serve a purpose. They were invented for it—they were stacked—and there were master bricklayers, there are still phenomenal bricklayers. Pyramids, the Brooklyn bridge—how many people died constructing the Brooklyn bridge? Homes, cathedrals—I lived in an area of Spain that was famous for its bricks—Spain, historically, has been very rich. They don’t have much money now, but there are remnants all over of their richness. The center of the city enforced a law—because it was so known for being a city filled with this beautiful gold brick—large bricks, not the small red American bricks—that all building done in the center of the town—what we’d call downtown—all had to be done with this specific type of stone. For hundreds of years—many hundreds, for the university in that town is among the three oldest in Europe—over 800 years old—the town has been recognized for their great structures and their beautiful stone bricks. Among the most beautiful cathedrals in all of Europe—is one of the two that are in this town. It is home to countless architectural marvels—all done with the same stone bricks. The city population is around 160 or 180 thousand, 80 thousand of which are students. There are two major universities there, both extraordinary. The number of bricks in the 900 year old first cathedral is portrayed in an architectural sketch of the structure which is seen in my bedroom. Between domes, arches, columns, figures—facades, beautiful, beautiful facades—and hundreds of feet of tower height, this required master bricklayers. Still the undertaking seems impossible to me—but there it stands.

So much went into making these buildings—Spain is filled with very old, wonderful, fantastic cathedrals and palaces, convents, monasteries. They’re from a time—well, Philippe of Portugal—Portugal at a time had actually conquered a huge part of the world—they rivaled only one other country in the quantity or vastness of their conquered lands, and that was Spain, their neighbor—also, two tiny countries that fit on a peninsula about the size of southern California. But look how many countries speak Spanish! 21, outside of Spain. Portuguese—some. Derivations of one of the two or both—quite a few. The Philippines were named after this Philippe of Portugal. Well, when Portugal was at its height of world-conquery-ship, Spain was too—and happened to find itself in the hands of a nice young lady of royal birth. So—doesn’t take a genius—Isabela of Spain married Philippe of Portugal, and they got so much free labor and gold. Growing up in California, part of fourth grade involves visiting some of the 27 missions built here by the Spaniards, by which I mean they directed the construction of said missions. Amazingly, they still stand today. They used mud and twigs dried in the sun to build these missions nearly 500 years ago, using only something like straw—straw, I believe—for roofs which not only covered the rooms built by brick, but covered the bricks from being reintroduced to moisture via the rain which would have rendered them back to their pre-dried elemental nature. They would have melted—so it’s amazing that these still stand. A testament of the skill of the natives. Back home in Spain, that native gold went into bricklaying of an entirely different type—though both types were said to be religious—and you can still be amazed at the construction of the bricklayers’ and architects’ doing. It’s a great example of architecture at its best.

Bricks, though, have changed over time. Not those particular bricks set in place hundreds of years ago—those remain largely unchanged. But modern day, bricks carry connotation. Bricks are reminiscent of old construction on the east coast, ivy league schools and their imitators—this is red, small bricks I’m speaking of—and a peculiar sense of posh ghetto. Philadelphia, once called the world’s factory—or something to that nature—is now full of long-since empty, uninhabited brick structures that served as the workplace for the largest population of factory workers in the world. Now, they’re largely inhabited by heroin addicts. Philadelphia is home to, now, what may be the largest Heroin epidemic in the world. Old factories and buildings on the west coast, made of brick, make a famous backdrop for graffiti. I had a good friend growing up who boasted of his cousin’s skill with spray-paints. She had done in more bedrooms than just her own, using only spray-paint, a decorative art that involved painting one of the walls—inside the bedroom—in such a way, with much precision and care, that the wall, regardless of color, was made to look as though it had been made of small red bricks—and not freshly laid, but the façade was made to look like an old brick wall, as if from a building that no longer belongs, to then serve as the backdrop for the great graffiti art that she would then place on top of this brick façade. Bricks carry connotation—very, very specific connotation, specific to different regions all over the earth. In the Spanish town I referred to, the bricks are so important that it is against the law to use any other building material in the heart of that city—it is so known for its use of those stone bricks, the city would suffer a loss if that image were distorted. There, bricks are regal, elegant, golden, expensive, handcrafted and carefully laid. Spain is full of wonderful architecture—entire cities being the color of the stone used for their bricks, which were used to build bridges, palaces, convents, churches, cathedrals. In Italy, the old city of Siena has given us a color—the color of the town, of the bricks used to build it—and a name for it. I remember using crayons in the fourth and fifth grades, one crayon in particular, that was a somewhat awful shade of brown and burnt orange. That’s what the city looks like, that’s why the color’s called Siena. Throughout time—the great wall of China, famous bridges in London, Italy, Greece, and all over Europe, homes for people of many times and in almost all places, structures, religious architecture, aqueducts, walled cities, streets, sidewalks, towers, palaces, ruins, fortresses, temples, on and on and on—bricks have built great things, things of all shapes, types, sizes, and epochs. In each region, bricks now carry specific meaning. Like the tower of Babel. Bricks in ancient Egypt are about as far from our idea—in the modern U.S.—of bricks as one could get. Ask an ancient Egyptian what a brick is. To describe how it’s used, how it’s laid the foundation for their culture, religion, traditions, and fame. The empire of Egypt lasted at the least 3000 years. The Sphinx is known to be much older than—what, Egypt lasted until about 500 CE—4500 years old—there’s water corrosion on it. Between all of their brick structures, bricks played a literal and figurative huge role in their culture and everyday life. If the Jews were used as slaves to build the pyramids, what would a Jew at that time feel about bricks—especially considering that they weigh(ed) 80-100 tons. To inner city youth, Brooklyn natives, Philadelphians, and rich kids in southern California who have a talent for recreating the “urban,” and a desire to do so, bricks have different meaning.

A brick is not universally interpreted in the same way. I could show a small red brick to an ancient Egyptian and they’d scratch their head. I could bring a 100 ton yellow rectangular prism into the heart of Los Angeles and nobody would have the idea that if we got some more of these we could build something really great.

But cathedrals, and bridges, and pyramids—all of these are magnificent. And no matter the rectangular prism you imagine when you hear the word “brick,” and no matter if you understand the English word itself or can identify the system of alphabet at all—what people have built with bricks, regardless of time, has the ability to astonish, captivate, and mesmerize—inspire—people no matter where they’re from, how they speak, how they read, or how they don’t speak and don’t read—those structures speak universally, and are lost not to time.

That is a composition of bricks.

The composition, not just the brick, has a voice—adds voice—to the collection of, in this case, bricks. Brick may have one meaning, but composed, more bricks can bring an unspoken meaning to each individual brick, and the collection of bricks as a whole. Bringing and arranging other bricks can shape the meaning of what is otherwise just a brick. If I add a word next to brick, its meaning changes. Egyptian brick versus Spanish brick. And who I say it to brings further meaning. A Jew in ancient Egypt and a central American in the 1500s would find personal meaning in one but likely not both. But that meaning, that personal meaning, is beyond words—outside of words. It might take a book to describe that meaning, but still it would only touch it. It might set the background of a feeling—of what that personal feeling is—the events leading up to it, the people’s history with the item, the bricks, what they associate with it—but to feel how they feel when they are sparked by such a term, by something that has so much meaning to them—that may have defined their lives, shaped their days, been the magnetic center of their being and society, around which all things gravitate and orbit. To each of them, it relates to a structure, and it’s not expressed in a word. The word is but brick. It is the compositional essence, the essence given by the composite as a whole, as shaped by its composition. Of this we speak. Choreographers of words, mastering the art of the dancing bricks like synchronized swimmers—individually without meaning, synergistically combined: an igloo in the snow, a pyramid in the desert.

I referred to Salamanca—the town in Spain. 900 years ago the first cathedral was built. To this day, it is seen for miles and miles before reaching the city. And still, today, there is nothing around Salamanca. There is a river, yes, and a cathedral—two cathedrals—on the river. The second was added adjoining the first, 500 years ago—like Isabelle and the left side of the Iberian Peninsula—combining the left and right, the male and female. For miles, today, and even more so almost 1000 years ago, the structure designates something, a spot—someplace special. It’s between Portugal and Madrid—Madrid being the exact geographic center of the peninsula. There’s not a lot else out there—near Salamanca. But an hour outside, on the freeway—so for maybe a week on foot, or for days at the least, one would see it as they approached—marked by the bell tower of the cathedral. 100 years after that the university of Salamanca was made—but more pronounced than the long-alive student atmosphere of the town is eternal thrive of religious life. Convents and monasteries dot the town. Churches lie on every block. 2 cathedrals. But it’s not that—I mean, to say convents and monasteries and churches doesn’t do them justice. They’re remarkable—some of them rival the façade of the new Cathedral. One doesn’t often see nuns or monks—even visiting their monasteries and convents, which is weird. But one sees their convents and monasteries everywhere.

The cathedral marked this town for miles and miles. It still marks an empty religious presence—beautiful facades and I’m not being facetious. A town where exist battle churches—the town that marks the point on the peninsula that the Muslims didn’t conquer when they invaded the peninsula. Along a line that made the border lies Salamanca—below that was Muslim for almost 700 years—but Salamanca not.

One battle church I used to see a lot—it occupied the center of a square, a plaza, where lived a good friend of mine. They still held services there, last I was there. It was cylindrical, with thin slit windows thru which arrows could safely be shot out but not enter. It was such a strange building. I saw it a lot, but still it never quite became familiar. A round cylinder building in the center of a square, amidst square buildings, holding mass on Sundays where mean looking, dried out and wrinkled old faces would attend, stuffed inside this can of a building with no real windows. All at once it would end, and they’d all come flooding out, as if to breathe the air.

I always imagined it must be very dark in there. Even more-so before electricity—huddled inside a compact, dark can—a fortified church. No air or light, staying inside to protect from what could be without. Shooting safely from within, safe within this little tin can building battle-church of God. No light anywhere.