kip/bot/blog

I love this passage from Hot, Flat, and Crowded and keep forgetting to just post it:

The only thing that can stimulate this much innovation in new technologies, and the radical improvement of existing ones is the free market. Only the market can generate and allocate enough capital fast enough and efficiently enough to get 10,000 inventors working in 10,000 companies and 10,000 garages and 10,000 laboratories to drive transformational breakthroughs; only the market can then commercialize the best of them and improve on the existing ones at the scope, speed and scale we need.

But markets are not just open fields to which you simply add water and then sit back in a lawn chair, watch whatever randomly sprouts, and assume that the best outcome will always result. No, markets are like gardens. You have to intelligently design and fertilize them so they yield the good, healthy crops necessary for you to thrive.

More here.

After my TEDx Kent talk — a delightful romp though kipbot’s pissiness at how kids today don’t respect the amount of craft and expertise needed to do digital — someone recommended I read Rethinking Expertise, by Harry Collins and Robert Evans. Collins and Evans are sociologists at Cardiff University who specialize in the acquisition and social understanding of knowledge and expertise. The book is

meant to increase the chance that the process of coming to be called an expert will have more to do with the possession of real and substantive expertise … to treat it as something other than relational

It’s quite a good read, though the introduction, and the purpose is kind of sad: “First we need to work out what it means to know what you are talking about.” What a sad task to have to take on.

There is a lot in this book to blog about, and I haven’t finished reading it yet, but I had an aha! on the subway (the realization and insight kind, not the marketing kind). The book is based on a ‘periodic table of expertises’, which contains a spectrum of knowledge levels around which we build our expertise. The spectrum reads:

beer mat knowledge - little trivia fun facts that are technically right, but doesn’t get you beyond definitions
popular understanding - such as a pop science book that gives you enough to talk about it at parties, but not enough to answer questions
primary source knowledge - reading books in the field
interactional expertise - doing it
contributory expertise - originating ideas in the field, serving as part of the peer community that defines and propels it

The last two are the areas of true expertise - people who study a field by immersing themselves in the primary literature (often in university) and then do the field, where they gain deeper knowledge and understanding, eventually moving into a kind of mastery where they shape the field with their contributions. The book is focused on science, so the idea can be understood, by majoring in biology, going to grad school where you study more primary literature, but are in a lab and teaching (interactional), and then doing some research that can be published as a contribution to the field (the dissertation).

Anyway, I love the beer mat analogy, and it’s actually real — they found a beer mat for Babycham company that tells you what a hologram is (with exclamation points too!). But the real insight for me was the faultline between primary source and interactional expertise. How many times have we made ourselves conversant in (and considered ourselves capable of managing) a field after reading a couple books in the field? Without doing the work, without reading something by or talking to someone who actually has done the work to see what the difference between dynamic interactional and static written knowledge would be. The degree of immersion is important here. In his reportage and non-fiction writing, Martin Amis regularly refers to reading a couple yards of books to get a handle on the field (specifically he was talking about nuclear disarmament policy and Stalin research). This was a huge insight for me as a manager and as an observer of other managerial cultures.

The other piece I really liked was the distinction around popular literature on a field. Somewhere between beer mats and text books are popularizations — the Stephen Hawking pop science stuff. I used to make fun of the Business Week cover dynamic in the internet industry — the day something gets covered in BW, the client or your boss calls and says “OMG we need to have this!!!!” But now, looking at the broader spectrum of expertise — going from beer mats out to doing and originating — I’m wondering if things like our beloved HBR, the sacred text to many of us (including me), is actually popular or primary.

PS Jeff Parks, in his talk, “Being Human is not Quantifiable” has a funny riff about expertise. While looking at Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000 hours quote, he gently mocks the notion of a social media expert arguing that this stuff hasn’t been around long enough for some to put 10,000 hours into it!

I don’t know if I’m just noticing this or if it’s new. But it’s kind of weird — Amazon is touting books that have ‘deckle edge’. I originally thought it was an effect of when books needed the pages cut before reading, but it’s actually an effect of papermilling:

Definition: The ragged edge of the paper as it comes from the papermaking machine is the deckle edge. Handmade paper normally has 4 deckle edges while machinemade paper has two. Normally it is cleanly cut. Left in place, the deckle edge becomes a decorative, textured edging. An imitation or fake deckle edge can be created by tearing or sawing the edge of the paper.

Smoothing the edges is an extra cost, of course, and there have always been books — cheap pulpy, genre stuff, and higher end literary stuff — with the edges. But now it’s being called out as a feature of the book:

Right around the time eReading is set to experience another wave of growth . . . curious.

Steven Johnson is one of my favorite writers. With the exception of Interface Culture, I would gladly see every one of his books (Everything Bad is Good for You, EMERGENCE, Ghost Map, and even The Invention of Air) be made mandatory reading people in digital design, digital strategy, digital marketing. Johnson goes deep into cognitive patterns, longer arcs of human behaviors around entertainment, information-seeking, and learning and provides great frameworks for understanding the features and technologies that are usually the center of gravity in digital discussion.

His Time article on the iPad does a nice job of setting the right tone for discussion. Rather than being millenial (Apple fanboys) or crotchety (iPad haters), he grounds the conversation in the longer arc of how we’ve envisioned computing in the last ten or so years:

If you time-traveled back to 1995 and asked the leading futurists of that time where our machines were soon to take us, you might well have heard just as much rhapsodizing about document-centric interfaces as that about hypertext and the World Wide Web. The first generation of software interfaces forced the user to think too much about the tools, the story went, and too little about the task. …

The weird thing about the iPad is that it has landed us 180 degrees from where we thought we were heading. The iPad interface — like the iPhone’s — tries to do everything in its power to do away with documents and files. There is no Finder or root-level file navigation. It’s apps, apps, apps, as far as the eye can see. According to the demo last week, the main way to launch iWork documents is by an internal document-selection process after launch, where your files are presented to you in a gallery format.

I truly don’t know how I feel about this. It might be genius. Maybe most users are more confused by Finders and File Explorers than I’ve realized. But I can’t help thinking that if the iPad really wants to be a device that you might take on a business trip instead of the laptop, it’s going to need a little more document-centrism.

Couple things to love here:

- pointing out that there is a widget-centricity to the iPad. Hadn’t noticed it, but now that I think about it, it sounds like a bad way to make netbooks suck less.

- The comment that “most users . . . might be more confused than I realized”, highlights another weird dynamic in the discussion — just how bad do laptops and netbooks suck? Aren’t hundreds of millions of people living with these supposedly “fatally flawed” devices? A lot of the dialogue about the iPad as netbook talk about how unpleasant people find computing, but is the problem of OS stability and feature bloat so bad that we need a neutered appliance to replace it?

And what a great writer Steven Johnson is. I’ve been scribbling in my notebook, in evernote and two blog entries (this’n and this’n here) to get this idea across:

The iPhone revolutionized smartphones, but I think we all accept that smartphones were in our future. There is no equivalent consensus that tablets or couch computers or casual computers are inevitably on the road ahead. We don’t even agree on the aims here: Is the iPad replacing the laptop or supplementing it?

Anyway, a great article.

Oikos (οἴκος) meaning “House + Nemein (νέμω) meaning “To manage”

One of the things the iPad debate is missing is consideration of household and customer decision-making. Many of the conversations out there ask legitimate questions about whether the iPad meets real needs well. Other conversations have legitimate points about how it’s an important step in improving human computer interactions even if the need isn’t clear. What’s missing, and I think this is an interesting design discussion, is how people make high consideration purchases.

One of the biggest mistakes in the discussion is likening the iPad to the iPhone or iPod. Both the iPhone and the iPod were entries into well-established categories — mobile phones and portable music (I’m thinking Walkmans here, not MP3 players). Both categories had known pain points. For the phone there were crappy interfaces, the number pad as input device, and for me the miserable voice mail systems. For the music players there was the tradeoff between how many songs you had with you and how heavy/cluttered your bag would be (Walkman and Discman), or what a pain in the neck it was to get music onto your MP3 player. Apple walked into a known category which was serving known needs poorly and addressed pain points within it. For consumers already inclined to spend their money in this space, Apple’s premium price point wasn’t a problem — and millions gladly paid for the superior product.

The iPad purchase decision, however, happens in a different space - One in which people aren’t already spending money in the category to meet their need or where they are meeting their needs in other ways that don’t particularly suck. The not particularly sucking is important:

- books and eReaders work fairly well
- game consoles and portable game devices work extremely well (I’m gonna ignore the various rings of death on the XBox)
- people have TVs and iTouches for watching stuff and they work well

(Netbooks kind of suck and web browsing on a laptop often sucks, so Apple has an insight there, though it’s not clear that the iPad is really a tablet or netbook competitor.)

This is a pretty weak set of impulses to buy a high-price device. The urgency for the purchase of the iPad is much less than the iPod (I need to have my tunes in my bag! at the gym, in the car, at the office!) or the iPhone (I hate my phone; I don’t want to carry an iPod, a camera, and a phone). Lots of momentum and lots of day-to-day justification to drop some real coin in the phone and music player category . . . but where’s the energy for a mass audience on the iPad? I don’t see it — changing the way we compute is pretty tepid for something that’s more than half a thousand dollars — with which you can buy an XBox and best-selling titles, a good digital camera, a good netbook, a flat screen tv in the bedroom. It’s also a nice sum not to spend at all.

Put this decision in the context of a semi-affluent, or non-affluent household. Think of a family where money decisions of this size are made by two people and against larger issues like mortgages, tuition, college savings, car payments, etc. That person is spending $500 for . . . what?

Add to that, the number of devices already present in someone’s home:

- a flat screen TV
- a gaming console (that may be netflix-enabled)
- a desktop computer and/or a laptop
- a mobile phone and/or an iPod touch
- a DVD player that plays Hi-Def and may be netflix enabled

Hard to see how this conversation ends in a purchase: Honey, I want something for games that are bigger than my DS, but not as big as my TV. Darling, lets drop $500 so we can watch TV in bed on this thing (which I’ll need to buy a stand for) instead of the laptop or the TV. But sweetie, I need a bigger media screen for movies on the subway, my Touch doesn’t cut it.

In grad school, I loved when Robert Heilbroner would remind people of the origins of the word economics — household management. Managing the household is something we still do, but as marketers or product designers we tend to ignore the larger household in which a purchase decision is made (at least those marketers or product designers participating in the iPad frenzy). I think it’s an interesting design question and might make me feel less small-minded as I repeat that the iPad will sell well as a web appliance, but it won’t be much bigger than the Apple TV.

Nicholas Carr blogs about Eric Schmidt’s evolving thinking about whether Google Makes Us Stupid. Carr wrote the Atlantic article that asked that question. Schmidt initially dismissed it out of hand, but seems to be wondering . . .

Darren Barefoot turns out to be even more skeptical than I am of the iPad — arguing that it doesn’t even make a good web browsing appliance. (Which is a fair point . . . I see its value for, and will buy one based on, for the scenario of managing my inbox and looking stuff up while I watch TV — Barefoot points out that mine is a very narrow use case.)

Scott Berkun posts Woody Guthrie’s approach to New Year’s Resolutions.

I’m getting some traffic from a few places where I’ll be speaking/visiting/workshopping next week and the most recent posts don’t make me look particularly good. So here are links to some posts which put a better face on me and might be interesting to read. And yes, of course, this screams of the need to re-design, get some WP modules, and making the thing decent again . . . meanwhile:

A revelation I had about the difference between design and creative (at least in interactive and marketing)

A curmudgeonly screed complaining about how simplistic our notions of design thinking have become.

More churlinshness about innovation and what a weasel word it is.

If your read only one (and why should you even bother with that?):

A happy post about innovation and craft and a jubilant post about that awesome young man who built the windmill in Malawi. You’re probably better off going to his site. I just wanted to counterbalance the crank with something positive.

Some thoughts on simplicity in web design, by way of tests I used to give IxD candidates interviewing for a job.

An overview of my obsession/fascination with emergent design

Several posts about craft and the XO people (additional obsessions)

Great story about a 14 yr old boy in Malawi who, unable to afford school, gets his hands on books about windmills and electricity, and then makes windmills that power his house, charge people’s phones and transform the world around him.

Just signed up for bookarmy this morning. Someone had posted on an old entry of mine that it was pretty good, but first impressions can be killer. Leaving aside some confusing design issues (a mix of authors, readers, reviews, publisher descriptions, and user-generated content threw me off), the first recommendation was beyond terrible. After you sign-up, you ‘get started now!’ by entering a book. I entered my standard Unbearable Lightness of Being. Not only is it a favorite book that I go back to again and again, it’s also the classic example of how weak recommendation systems are — Amazon seems to always indicate that if I liked that book by Milan Kundera, I might like these books. Until very recently, all these other books are invariably by Milan Kundera — like reading more of this author hadn’t occurred to me.

So what did I get at bookarmy?

In fairness, the top listings can be hard to sort out, so I went to the second page of recos:

This would almost have to be driven entirely by “people who read this also read this” with little to no reliance on even basic publishing data such as genre, period, fic/non-fic. Bummer. I’ll give it a few more titles.

Nice cartoon by Tom Fishburne:

Featured in his bid to speak at SxSW this year.