kip/bot/blog

One of the smartest designers I know gave a typically compact and smart assessment of the iPad:

DOA. Apple does better (in the last 10 years or so) when it re-imagines categories, not when it invents them. I’m sure I will regret saying this, but that’s how I feel right now.

It does a nice job highlighting Apple’s strengths (re-invent what’s out there after drafting on others’ experience in the market and with an unwavering focus on user experience), but it also hints at the bigger problem: it’s trying to be several categories (reader, netbook, bigger media player, game platform, web browser), under one technology (shiny, thin, touch screen, with none of those nasty mechanics that collect crumbs from your lunch) without being any one thing that is clearly needed.

While Apple often wins by delivering better versions of stripped down, less function-laden things like the iPod, the iPad is doing this across too many categories and likely to fail in all but one:

Reader Steve Jobs infamously said he would never do a reader because people don’t read anymore. He’s actually onto something — some people are passionate readers, while most do it casually. This means the number of passionate readers is too small for an e-reader to be as big as the iPod. The iPad won’t serve either audience well. It will suck for passionate readers: the battery life is dubious, the finger smudges will be a drag, and most important, the backlighting will be prohibitive. Jane Jepson, the creator of the OLPC screen and founder of Qi technologies (LED displays) likened reading from a computer screen to putting a flashlight in your eyes, it’s unsustainable for passionate readers. Casual readers won’t read enough for it to be worth dropping a big chunk of change and things like beach reading, subway reading will be dicey with a fancy device that large. The math will look better than the Kindle’s — spending $400 on a Kindle vs buying books is a quick and obvious decision for many — but the all-in-one argument is pretty weak when it comes to the reading.

Netbook Jobs’s digs at netbooks totally miss the value they have for people who like having a portable work device. The iPad doesn’t replace the processing power or precise mousing needed for real apps like word processing or spreadsheets with graphics, and it’s still unclear whether typing on glass for extended periods of time (like writing something longer than an email or entering numbers into a budget) works for people.

Bigger Media Player This one is tricky to guess, but I have a hard time picturing people dropping serious coin on a third screen that is bigger than their phone but smaller than their TV. Where would you use it? To watch something in bed before going to sleep? Is that worth the cost of getting a decent flat screen?

Game Player Again, a risky proposition. What’s the market for people wanting to play games bigger than the iPhone but smaller than their console? What do those games look like? They’ll lack the immersion of a TV or computer screen game because it’s too small, but will they add to the little games of the iPhone?

Web browser Right on! The video on apple.com references the superior web browsing experience of the iPad many many times, and they’re right. Having the iPad in the living room (with a remote built-in) so I can do quick simple email tasks (like writing “you’re very welcome” as in the video, or forwarding with “FYI”, or deleting what you don’t need) and look up baseball stats while watching the Yankees on an iPad is vastly superior to using overheated macbook or my crunched netbook keyboard. I do a lot of web stuff while I watch crap TV and baseball, and, as a reasonably affluent convenience-obsessed guy with some concerns about the aesthetics of my appliances, this might be enough to see my way clear to $500.

But that’s it. The iPad will be a high-end version of the web appliance that we all talked about several years ago. Only it will be too fancy to use while cooking (one of the standard scenarios we all gushed about), and much too fancy for us to call it an appliance.

I finally hit a wall with the Kindle where I could no longer continue reading a book on the device and had to get a pressed-pulp book. The book is Dickens’s Bleak House. The factors that moved it into unKindleable, and which make me think there are serious limits to the academic application of the Kindle are:

- complex, rich novel
- first time reading of the novel
- taking notes for more than the recall of a passage
- not a translation, and a deeper engagement in the language

I think Dickens, in particular, provides some challenges for e-reading. His long, circuitous sentences - loaded with asides and interjections - cross Kindle pages in ways that make the button navigation and screen flashes unbearable. Less particular to Dickens, but more to 19th century British writers, the language poses a challenge too. The otherwise convenient in-line dictionary lookup function is helpful less than half the time in Bleak House because the subtlety of the word choice isn’t covered in the dictionary (small dictionary limited definitions), the particulars of the word’s use isn’t covered (British vs American dictionary), or the word isn’t covered at all (19th c.).

Before diving into the real problems with reading Bleak House on Kindle, some things that did work:

Footnotes are very convenient on the Kindle - highlighting the note, clicking the d-button, reading the footnote and then hitting “Back” to return to the text sounds arduous but is actually fantastic. Looking up footnotes with a big brick of a paperback can be a sufficiently prohibitive drag to make me just ignore the reference or word that I don’t understand and stick to the larger flow. (Whether the footnotes are worth reading is a different matter, of course. In my Kindle edition, they ranged from useful historical information, to the explanation of the image or metaphor, to cheesy HS English tips for understanding the book.)

Connecting margin notes to specific text is also an improvement on the Kindle. In paper, you typically have to cram something into the margin and then draw a line to the passage or word the comment refers to, or do an asterisk in the text, and then an asterisk on the note. Kindle is kind of handy in this regard.

Margin notes in general are cleaner and clearer without the space limits of the margin on the paper, it’s possible to take much clearer (no abbreviations or omitted words) and much more legible (no sideways or cramped handwriting, it’s all keyboard) notes.

Now for the #fail part. To transition into the downsides of the Kindle when reading a rich, complex, non-translated book for the first time, an image:

This is a page from Vladimir Nabokov’s ‘teaching edition’ of Madame Bovary. It can be found in Nabokov’s Lectures on Literature. The book itself is great. Nabokov’s lectures are opinionated, rich, and show how exciting a deep read of a book can be. Each lecture is accompanied by a page from his teaching edition. And the image above shows some of the problems the Kindle potentially solves: tight margins creating illegible notes, the difficulty of noting a particular word choice.

This picture also begins to highlight the problems of the Kindle. The first problem is access to the notes. On the Kindle, there is no scanning for notes. Many times, I’ll try to find a note or passage which I imperfectly remember — I remember the spirit of the passage, or I remember that I put a question mark next to it, or I remember simply that I made a note in a particular scene. On the Kindle, I need some precise information to do a search, or I’m stuck browsing through all my notes.

A bigger problem is when I have more complex notes. The left hand side of the page is mostly highlighting or attaching a comment to a part of the page. But the right hand side is much richer and deeper. On that side you see Nabokov connecting one word to another (in this case a word associated with a character) and highlighting how the sentence structure works or is altered in translation. Kindling Bleak House, I quickly got frustrated at how hard it was to connect Dickens’s carefully worded and important description of a character’s physical attributes to the actual character. In a book, I would circle the name and connect it to the phrase, making it easy to find and emphasizing that relationship. Not easy on Kindle. It was also hard to track the evolution and repetition of word choices with Kindle’s note-taking. The start of Bleak House is all about atmospherics of muddy, foggy, smoky London and the people moving through it and its thick air. Noting what makes it work, or how it connects to the muddy, foggy, smoky Chancery Court is impossible with the Kindle.

Another Nabokov screen highlights both his intense reading and a dimension of the note-taking problem that seems unsolvable for several more years. This one is from Kafka’s The Metamorphosis:

OK, not everyone is going to spend time to draw the specifics of Gregor Samsa’s transformation. And some of Nabokov’s extensive note-taking simply can’t be done in the book and forces him onto plain sheets of paper: a map of Leopold Bloom’s circuits through Dublin, a map of England highlighting the action in Bleak House, a floor plan of the houses in Mansfield Park (all to be found in the book). But it does highlight a problem with all e-readers and tablets and the iPad, the obvious and reflexive answer to which is “give the reader a touch screen and a stylus.” But the resolution is just too low for good note-taking. Anyone who has worked with a tablet over the years or drawn on the iPhone has seen that the lines are unusably jaggy, the letters look terrible, even an asterisk or a simple circle is impossible to use. The iPad video mentions that there are 1000 touch points on the new screen, which is quite a lot but nowhere near enough to be a meaningful input/note-taking device.

The last bit of suck in reading a rich, serious book on the Kindle is random access. I’m using the phrase loosely, but the idea is that this kind of reading experience (and re-reading and referencing) benefits from or requires the ability to jump around in the book quickly — going back to a character introduction, following a passage that covers several pages, recalling a passage of dialog — in order to re-orient yourself, or, more importantly, follow a development or theme. Not a big deal with a lighter weight business book or genre fiction, but maddeningly off-putting for deeper reads of deeper stuff. (Random access has always been a problem with e-readers - even with the wheel of the first Kindle or the side buttons of the Sony Reader, this seems unsolveable - but in the context of this kind of book, is crippling rather than merely inconvenient.)

So, my personal choice was to switch over to a Penguin edition. It will solve most of the problems above and leave me with the problem of how to turn a page on the subway, the dilemma of whether to find the footnote or just keep reading, and force me into tighter, messier note-writing on the margin. If I want to read deeper (and enjoy more), it seems I have to let go of Kindle-y conveniences.

Which raises the bigger issue: is my Kindle making me a sloppier, less thoughtful reader? I have a line that “I read more and better in less time” with the Kindle. This line is practically a reflex when people ask me about it. I think it holds true for middle-brow reading, work stuff, and periodicals, but I’m worried about more complex books. Is my reading style flightier and more focused on catching the high points and moving onto the next book now?

One of the few ‘technology is hurting us’ arguments I’ve ever bought is Nicholas Carr’s Atlantic Monthly piece about the new cognitive style being created by Google. (I blogged it here, the original article is here.) The key passage that threw me off in Carr’s article seems relevant to the Kindle-enforced shallowness of my reading of Bleak House:

The idea that our minds should operate as high-speed data-processing machines is not only built into the workings of the Internet, it is the network’s reigning business model as well. The faster we surf across the Web—the more links we click and pages we view—the more opportunities Google and other companies gain to collect information about us and to feed us advertisements. Most of the proprietors of the commercial Internet have a financial stake in collecting the crumbs of data we leave behind as we flit from link to link—the more crumbs, the better. The last thing these companies want is to encourage leisurely reading or slow, concentrated thought. It’s in their economic interest to drive us to distraction.

I don’t think there’s economic interest in the Kindle making us shallower readers, but I think it is a natural outcome of the design — at least for encounters with new books or books that require deeper engagement and a record of that engagement.

Here’s a mini-version of the upcoming documentary about William Kamkwamba, The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind:

Watching it today, William’s comment about needing electricity to get to the internet (at 5:21) struck me: “Most people want internet technology, but they can’t use internet technology without electricity.”

This reminds me of some of the smug criticisms of the OLPC project, where critics were piling on that it was inappropriate to provide web access, learning tools, and technology to these countries when there were other pressing needs. While I don’t disagree that there are other pressing needs, this blithe criticism seems ill-informed in light of what William has done for his village with access to a small number of (old) books and the way he has framed electricity as a path to economic development, prevention of famine, increased education, and more culture and enjoyment of life.

Just finishing The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind as the author, William Kamkwamba caps off his US speaking tour with a Daily Show interview (tomorrow). With the money he has raised, William has added solar panels to his village, another windmill and has achieved his goal of irrigating the land for a second season of planting. Now, he’s raising money for a variety of projects on his website.

There is a great range of things to donate to:

Wimbe Primary School Windmill
Cost: $300
Priority: medium

Books for Village Library
Cost: The need for books is high. $3,000-$5,000 will help further this extensive project.
Priority: high

Practice Jerseys and Children’s-Size Soccer Balls for Wimbe Primary School
Cost: $700, including shipping
Priority: high

Women’s Netball Uniforms
Cost: approximately $5,000
Priority: medium

Secondary School Scholarships
Cost: $2,000 for 20 students (10 in public school, 10 in boarding school)
Priority: high

Football Goal Nets (Soccer)
Cost: $3,000
Priority: medium

New Primary School
Cost: estimated at a minimum of $50,000
Priority: medium

I like the priorities here: the new school is less of a priority than the scholarships, which are the same priority as soccer balls. It’s realistic about giving kids a complete education and life. (For my part, I donated to the book initiative.)

Interesting read in May 2009 issue Servo Magazine, which I got free at Maker Faire about new ways to teach groups.

The writer/editor, Bryan Bergeron, teaches a course on technology and the future of healthcare at Harvard Medical School. Each year, a session of the class simulates the creation of a business to give students a brief sense of the hours, adrenaline rush, complexity, and many dimensions of a tech start-up. This year, he did something new. He had his class break into two teams and gave each of them a Lego Mindstorm NXT kit and an hour (another link here). The assignment was to “design, build, and program a robot that could traverse 32″ and then stop just before the obstacle.” (This is a classic, and continually revisitable, robotics program - a combination of “hello world” and a sorting algorithm. There are a million ways to have a robot measure/detect/sense/calculate the distance it has traveled with various tradeoffs around accuracy, amount of code, use of resources, speed, etc.) The winner would be whichever person’s robot got closest to the goal. (In the case of a tie they would look at business plans. This course didn’t teach the immutable law of marketing that quality and performance just don’t matter, apparently.)

The two groups further subdivided themselves into teams: the business crew which figured out a model for selling the robot; the programming crew which learned how to program the thing; the “alogrithm” group addressed the problem of how to measure 32 inches; and a fourth group that attempted to spy and prevent spying(!). Both groups built their robots successfully and the difference in performance was one millimeter.

It’s important to point out, and this is the point of the column, that these people were not technical. They weren’t programmers. They learned the NXT language and interface on-the-fly and then applied that knowledge to the solution of their problem. They focused their time mostly on solving the problem (creating an algorithm for moving the distance, essentially designing the product), implementing it (figuring out the production and engineering), and debugging and trying additional ideas (optimizing). Valuable modes of learning both for individuals and teams, enough technology to open people’s eyes to some of the complexities of tech development (but not so much as to kill the exercise).

Most important, though, it was a real-life problem to solve. Lots of team building exercises tend to focus on hypothetical situations into which you can throw hypothetical answers. The intangibility of the assignment forces us to say the process is what matters, not the outcome. But, really the process can suck too — one person can do it all so it looks good when you present back to the group, the conversations can be blue sky with no grounding, etc. This exercise forces people to think analytically, solve a problem, communicate, and really, really work together.

Kind of an adult version of another President Nerd charge featured at Maker Faire:

Psyche! I finally made it to Maker Faire and it was every bit as fun, interesting, and inspiring as I hoped. It was big and massive with welded giants of art and smashery. It was cool and witty with installations that made you laugh and wonder how the hell they did it. It was people-focused, having a large number of things that required no power or revived old skills (from vaudeville to composting to a lotta lotta Victoriana). Most of all, though, it was smart and, I hate to use the word, empowering. Everything had wit and intelligence and everything was comprehensible with a little help from the presenters, who were psyched to explain what they were doing.

My favorite, and I kept going back over and over again, were the soldering areas. Both the MAKERShed (MAKE Magazine’s store at the Faire) and Sparkfun (my favorite purveyor of fine electronic goods) had large tables set up with soldering stations where people could take the kits they had just bought and put them together with the help of staff.

These tables were never less than half full and it looked like there was always a mix of adults/kids, noobs/pros, male/female (though the females were predominantly adult). Sparkfun and Make both did a nice job of putting out projects that were doable, but not simplistic. Some kits let you solder two wires coming out of a battery pack to a thing that’s already running. While you learn to make a decent connection, and you’re not likely to fry any parts, you don’t really learn much and it’s not all that energizing. These kits, involved matching resistors, getting polarities right, and required some precision. I love the intensity on everyone’s faces.

The only disappointment is that there wasn’t much around renewable, social, or eco-preneurial. The DIY ethos was strong — make rather than buy, fix rather than replace — but it seemed like they could have dialed some of that up more, without being over-earnest or taking the fun out of it. Example: they had several playground toys designed by MAKErs. They were fun, looked cool, and had some interesting story to them — one was bicycle powered, one worked like a swing and was powered by leaning and leaning back. It would have been cool, given the theme, to see some of the playground toys that generate electricity or pump water.

Still, it was awesomely fun. I bought my second arduino kit and I’m converting space into a little work area and unpacking my soldering iron and box of switches, pots, leds, resistors, caps, transistors, etc and getting back to work. My first goal is to work with the Peggy:

It’s a board that allows you to address a 25*25 grid of multi-color LEDs. Loads of possibilities, especially if they’re connected and working in synch.

More pictures and vids and more to be added to a set on my flickrstream.

During President Obama’s Inaugural Address, lots of people got jazzed, and many tweeted about supporting, celebrating, and being “”the risk takers, the doers, and the makers of things.” MAKE Magazine is building the Maker Faire and the most recent issue of the magazine about the transformative power of DIY — to innovate,to satisfy, and to solve problems.

In the intro to the issue, Editor Dale Dougherty, makes the big but cool claim that “makers offer one of the best hopes for the future.” He has a list of things people can do to “Make Things”; improve “Energy Usage” (monitoring and improving home usage; make “Transportation” smarter and better for us (bicycles, electric cars, reduced transport overall); better handling of “Food and Water” (raise your own chickens!, cook (gasp!)); and do more “Learning”. I hope the list gets viral (I don’t want to do two scans), but it’s worth re-typing the “Make Things” list:

Make things that people want
Make things so that you don’t need to buy them
Start a business that employs people making things
Make things closer to where they’ll be used
Repair things instead of replacing them
Harvest usable components from devices and redeploy them
Get to know your local salvage yard and recycling center

For a while I have been, not obsessed but itched, by the notion that environment and sustainability has a big maker hook. In an age where men can no longer tinker with their cars (they’re too chip-based, and the engines are increasingly black boxes), focusing on their power supply, tweeking their environment, making their stuff last longer and hacking it to work better, could be a satisfying alternative.

Sadly, for me, the first place my head goes is my last trip to a hardware/home supplies store and my urge to buy a sewing machine and make pillows and curtains, cuz I hate buying that stuff. Ah save . . . I also had the urge to hack motherlovin’ sh*t out of solar panel backup systems at Home Depot. (Flickr link provided as proof that I had this impulse BEFORE admitting to the sewing one. Excessive swearing purely out of compensation, of course.)

Today’s NYTimes had an intriguing ad in its masthead, which I actually clicked:

“Sponsors of Tomorrow” is a little cheesy, but as an avid reader of the Science Times and a techno-fetishist, ii was drawn to it. When I clicked it, I got the usual metaphor of a room and cluster of objects as a way to engage me:

As everyone knows, people, especially NYTimes readers, are afraid of technology, so you need to give them a “virtual space” to lower blood pressure and reduce techno anxiety. In fact, so scared is the audience that you want to avoid text, and let users explore the almost-engaging images presented. (But they’re not clickable!)

So, the piece leads with the Virtual Wind Tunnel. That sounds geeky/futuristic/cool enough to check out:

Again, because I am so techno-phobic, I am gently eased into a screen with a picture with an explanatory sentence. When I click to say “Yes, when I said I wanted to explore the virtual wind tunnel I really meant it, so take me to the fucking virtual wind tunnel already”, I get this:

Now, I might be getting somewhere. There are clickable things at the bottom of the screen! Time to learn how Intel is creating the future, sponsoring tomorrow, blowing my mind with the possibilities of integated electronics. So I click the banana:

Ha ha! Funny! The “Aero Dynamic status” of the banana is “Non-existent”! (In the full sized-version of the screen, the punch line, or rather the “pay-off”, is buried in the upper left corner, in type barely distinguishable from the atmospheric data in the upper left. So, yeah, the actual design is pretty bad too.)

What about the bunny man? Is he aerodynamic?

No!! He “Might as well be a brick wall”! And that concludes the interactivity of this Virtual Wind Tunnel. I get to click five different objects and read the copywriter’s jokes.

In fairness, I have to admit some professional jealousy. I once had Intel as a client and I dreamed of being able to tell customers the deeper story of the amazing things Intel does. The making of micro-processors is, once you look a little closer, fascinating and nearly miraculous. Why not build the brand by telling that story? So, when I see something like this, it bums me out cuz it’s a missed opportunity (and blown budget), and it’s just plain bad click-n-play interactive.

Some things I would suggest to the next team who gets a shot at this (assuming they haven’t poisoned the idea for the next crew):

Remember that interactive is more than just an on/off switch — this experience is essentially an animation player and a weak one at that. It offers no information, no opportunity to go deeper, and, most important, no chance for experimentation and what if. (Actually, for Intel, the most important miss is that this really doesn’t make Intel look that smart or future looking — no processing power was needed for the conclusions we drew. Without the benefit of a computer, a 4th grader who has held his hand out of the window of a moving car could surmise that the able-to-fly humingbird is more aerodynamic than a guy in a bulky suit, and that scientifically dimpled golf balls have more jump than a banana. They might not know why that is the case, but this experience doesn’t help them with that.)

Don’t assume your audience is as dumb as you are — that’s really rude, but I have to believe that the on-the-ground creative team, who grew up with technology, were ready to tell a much smarter, deeper story. I’m guessing that the ECD-level people, who still have troubles with Flickr and computer games and are outraged at what txting is doing to language, insisted that they were the voice of the customer and they were the bar for the level of dialogue — so keep it really simple.

Remember why you bought the space — you went to the NYTimes to engage serious-minded, reasonably intelligent people, so why not talk to them at that level? Even when David Pogue is at his cutesiest accessible, he gets into speeds and feeds and explains real things.

Broaden the range of emotions you engage — go beyond wow, giggle, smirk, cool!, ha! pleasing, soothing, and allow that there are other emotions that can engage people: fascination, the thrill of discovery, the satisfaction of learning, the empowering nature of knowledge. People, especially those in the NYT reader demographics, actually make big life decisions in their careers and education around things that fascinate them, spark their imagination, and make them think.

What a shame. Will agencies ever learn to do truly interactive experiences?

The most artistic thing about theatrical [and] advantage of the small theatre is that you are looking through a small window. Has not everyone noticed how sweet and startling any landscape looks when seen through an arch? This strong, square, this shutting off of everything else, is not only an assistance to beauty; it is the essential of beauty - GK Chesteron, 1909

My friends Tom and Donna take me to all sorts of lo-rez, lo-tech, junk-tech performances: puppet shows, performance art based on slide-shows (literal slideshows — with carousels, film-strip projectors, unsynched sounds, live music), and toy theater.

Last night, I went to St Anns Warehouse’s 8th toy theater festival, produced by Great Small Works. It consisted of four shows:

• a traditional Indian story told through one singer and a partner moving toys around various tableaux;
• an Isaac Babel short story performed in a toy theater with Chagall-like backgrounds with accompaniments on clarinet and fiddle;
• a Stalin-era Russian SF novel (in the traditions many of us know through Stanislaw Lem), performed by three voices and a narrator who was also operating an analog synthesizer. (The synthesizer with its weird beeOOOOOOs and staticy sounds was the perfect aural accompaniment to Cold War era, concrete apartment towers, and emerging realities after the bomb. Tom wryly noted that only people from MIT’s Center for Advanced Visual Studies would consider an analog synthesizer to be as lo-tech as stick puppets)
• a story of the devil destroying the world and orgy that precedes it, done with amazing sound and a devil with cool led eyes and the dance moves to rival Terrence and Phillip in Uncle Fuckah

As a digital designer who tracks CG for improved hair and water effects, it’s fun to watch powerful stories emerge from <1 fps, 0-fidelity, 0 apology to artifice media and find them even more engaging than the adventures of Niko and Roman.

One of the cool things with St Anns is that they usually have theater and festival memorabilia on display around the warehouse. So I got a lot of (crappy iPhone) pics of small toy theaters, an art form unto themselves.

Inspiring morning about invention, innovation, design, and the cognitive surplus. It started with reading Clay Shirky’s web2.0 expo talk on the blog White African (”where Africa and technology collide!”). On White African I read an interview of the founder of CraftSkills, Simon Mwacharo. I’m having one of the moments where accessible technology + surplus time + application to small aspects of big problems == something amazing.
Craftskills focuses on bringing affordable energy to parts of Kenya that are currently off the grid. It has a special focus on wind power because it’s more readily available and less prone to theft than solar equipment. My favorite part of the interview is the origin story. The founder knew that he wanted to do something with wind turbines, and got it moving thus:

I started with two workers. I could not afford to hire trained people so I decided to train myself first then train my two boys. Then I got a friend who repairs radios and TVs in Kibera to help me design and put together a charge controller.

There are so many powerful dynamics in that simple story.

• cognitive surplus: he saw something he wanted to do and trained himself in the skills he needed to do it

• physically accessible technology: he collaborated with friends to acquire the basic skills needed

• intellectually accessible technology: those basic skills (managing electrical power) already existed, just in another place (TV and radio repair) and partly obscured. (Intellectually accessible, doesn’t mean that it’s simple. Rather, it refers to the fact that this technology is transferable among non-experts, without need of a lab or deeper training.)

• small aspect of big problem: the problem of getting people on the grid was defined as simply as: I need to figure out how to build a charge controller

And just like that, Mwacharo is transforming the lives of thousands of people directly, and many thousands more indirectly through the promotion of an industry.