Recently in Design Category

There have been a number of attempts to redesign US currency, which I'll readily admit looks old and drab next to that of many other countries (but which also demonstrates that beauty does not always equate to utility or value, but that's a completely different issue).

The Dollar ReDe$ign Project brings many of those attempts into a central location, and it's interesting to scroll through the wide range of variations put forth by designers.

The design firm of Dowling Duncan provides one of the more innovative approaches, with a vertical layout (based, the company says, on research into how we actually use currency) and different lengths for different denominations. The latter would solve one of the great pressing problems of currency, and that's how to make it easier for sight-impaired people to distinguish among the different denominations of bills. But, of course, putting a living president on a bill is simply not going to fly, for any number of reasons. Nevertheless, their attempt at tying each bill's amount to a symbolic historic reference (e.g. $50 = the 50 states of the Union) is laudable.

Then, there are the designs put forth by Mark Scott, a Brit (many of the designs are submitted by non-US residents apparently eager to help drag our currency into the 21st century). Sensing the inevitability of ubiquitous corporate sponsorship, he's replaced the usual political and historical references with symbols representing iconic American brands, such as Coca-Cola, Wal-Mart, and the NFL. I'm especially fond of the $50 Apple bill, although I'm sure Steve Jobs would prefer that it appear on a $100,000 note.

There are scores of designs on this site, some of them quite whimsical (including a 10 cent note with the inscription "Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?").

Hat tip: Subtraction

Once upon a time, when I was a real blogger, I had a category called "Usability Hall of Shame," wherein was found posts about poorly designed products and websites. Sometimes I think about reinstating that category because no matter how hard I try, the world inexplicably refuses to come around to my way of thinking about how things should work.

Take commercial movie DVDs, for example. When they first appeared on the scene, it seemed that the studios were in a heated competition to see who could create the most convoluted, hard-to-read implementation of a menu. One often had to sit through an interminable animated sequence of sight and sound before finally being presented with the buttons to play the dang movie already.

I'm pleased to say that this is much better, for the most part, undoubtedly thanks to my writing about it lo these many years ago. But one area remains neglected. It's not a huge thing, but when you think about it, it's really illogical and annoying.

Almost every movie DVD has the option of activating subtitles/captions, right? And I suspect I'm not the only person with good hearing who still activates them because I watch movies while on a noisy treadmill or exercise bike.

So, here's the illogical annoyance. When one clicks the "Subtitles" menu item, why is the default always "Off"? I mean, isn't it logical to assume that one doesn't click on that menu item unless one wants subtitles or captions (since by default they're always off)?

Countless remote control clicks could be saved each and every day if DVD designers simply made the default for the Subtitles menu "English." If you're not an English speaker and want another language, you haven't lost anything, and you're still probably a click or two closer to your selection than you are with the default "Off.")

OK, I've done my part. I'll be watching for improvement, Hollywood, and not patiently, either. Don't make me come out there.

Remember this post from a week ago, in which I discussed the difference between designing a website and developing it? I can now provide a practical example.

We just went live with a new website for Stacy Peterson, a local illustrator and graphic designer. Stacy is a design pro (she did the illustrations for one of Madonna's children's books, The English Roses: To Good To Be True) and as such certainly didn't need my limited skills in that area. So she brought me a fully realized design and it was my job to translate the printed layouts into something that rendered accurately in web browsers. I worked with Stacy's artwork which was in Adobe Photoshop and Illustrator formats, and tried to replicate as closely as possible the vision she laid out for her site.

As gifted as Stacy is in the area of graphic design and illustration, she would be the first to admit that she's not an expert in website design and the mechanics that make a site functional. Her design presented some challenges from a development perspective - things that are quite simple to do in print media, like the nice drop shadow surrounding the main content window, or the seamless tiling of the flowery page background - are harder to replicate in a website. Finding solutions that work across a wide range of browsers and platforms is an ongoing challenge for everyone who builds websites, but especially when the design is conceived with no forethought about how those issues might come into play.

The new website includes some tasty jQuery scripts (for the illustration popups and the book cover slideshow) and some semi-complex CSS (I finally had to resort to a separate style sheet for Internet Explorer 6 and earlier to work around some conflicts between the aforementioned scripts and certain parts of the design; if you're still using IE6, you have my deepest sympathies, although only if someone is forcing you to do so).

We did have to compromise on a couple of rather insignificant design details that didn't work as well on screen as they did on paper, but overall, I think I succeeded in creating code that accurately brings Stacy's design onto your computer monitor while keeping it compliant with current standards and as visible as possible to search engines.

And, if I've played my developer role correctly, the only thing you're aware of is Stacy's beautiful artwork.

Prepare to toss your preconceived notions about the compromises one has to make in order to live on the water. This is a fascinating look at a floating house in the Seattle area [link via Twisted Sifter]. The architectural creativity is inspiring, but I'm puzzled by one minor detail, which is best described by this floor plan drawing:


Wouldn't the basement on a floating house be, like, underwater? What am I missing here? The article doesn't even touch on this aspect of the home.

I have to admit that the sub-sea basement idea is pretty cool, especially if the level contained lots of viewports (which seems not to be the case based on the drawing...just a couple in the "bunk room").

There's also no mention of the depth of the water where the home is placed, so I suppose that the basement could actually extend into the seabed.

I'd also like to know more details about how they've run the plumbing lines.

And, finally, I'm curious about how much this cost to build...and what the owners are paying for flood insurance.

When people ask me what I do for a living, I generally tell them that I build websites, but if I want it to sound more impressive [than it really is] I say that I'm a website designer. That's not technically accurate though, and not just because I don't really make a living at it (but that's another issue).

Technically, I'm a website designer/developer, but the distinction between design and development may not be meaningful to many people. It's not complicated, though. Every website goes through a design phase where conscious (we hope) decisions are made about layout, color scheme, font selection, graphics, etc. and a development phase where the coding and scripting necessary to make the design accessible to web browsers is applied. This is analogous to building a house, where an architect comes up with the floor plan and a construction crew executes it.

The design stage is the glamorous part of the process - it's where the obvious creativity takes place - but the development stage is where equal parts of creativity and practicality are combined, and that combination can be as challenging as it is non-obvious.

There's an unending dialog (or debate) in my profession about those challenges. Designers claim that developers always monkey with the layout and compromise the vision the former have worked so hard to create. Developers accuse designers of being impractical, of coming up with design elements that can't be replicated in the real world. And, often, I think both have legitimate complaints.

Lately, I've had more pure development projects than ever before, where someone comes to me with a complete design (as opposed to an idea or a vision) and wants me to make it happen. I'm working with ad agencies on a couple of websites, and with an artist on another, and they don't really need my design skills (which is a good thing, because those skills are pretty rudimentary). And, frankly, I'm dealing with some of the frustrations of the design-vs-development debate.

For one thing, a lot of designers come from print backgrounds, and the rules for print are often vastly different than for web. In some cases, print provides more flexibility and freedom, and the design elements I'm asked to implement just don't translate well to screen display. In other cases, the web provides possibilities that the designers aren't taking advantage of - to their clients' detriment - and I have to try to figure out a way to diplomatically educate them as to how their designs might be improved. In addition, print designers aren't necessarily keeping up with the latest trends in web design, which can result in layouts that looked dated from the very beginning. I'm not suggesting that all such trends are positive and should be blindly followed, but there is value in incorporating elements of current trends into more traditional layouts.

When I both design and build a website, my design ideas are explicitly influenced or tempered by my understanding of how difficult it will be to bring those ideas into practice. This is good for my client, as it makes me more efficient in getting the job done and saves the client money. But it probably results in more pedantic design work as I rarely push the envelope to try things that I'm not sure will work.

The designers I'm working with now have no such limitations, unless they've consulted with me in advance and we've discussed the technical pros and cons of their ideas (and, ideally, that happens frequently). Still, more often than not, I'm asked to do some things that left to my own devices I wouldn't try because I know they're impractical.

Despite the challenges, I enjoy playing the role of developer, especially when the designer has considerably more talent than me (which is most of them). I enjoy taking someone's vision for a website and figuring out how to bring it to life in a website using the appropriate technologies while adhering to web standards to ensure that all visitors can access the site. I know the glory is in the design, but the satisfaction at the end of the day for me is in knowing that I made something work...something that someone else finds useful.

In other words, I build websites.

My new computer monitor arrived late yesterday via FedEx (and, by the way, I'd like to know why our neighborhood seems to be The. Very. Last. Destination. for FedEx deliveries) and I immediately neglected plans to do some much-needed housekeeping in order to get it connected and configured.

It's a 24" Dell* display, and it replaces a six year old 19" NEC that had developed a disturbing...well, I'm not sure what to call it. It's like someone dribbled liquid down the inside of the screen, right in the center of the display. It wasn't always obvious, but while my mind had learned to ignore it, it was always there. Plus, it was just 19", and while I'm old enough to remember 13" monitors (OK, I'm old enough to remember TI Silent 700 terminals; what's it to you?), nineteen inches no longer seem to go as far as they once did.

I love the new monitor, and that may be an understatement. But here's the thing: I didn't anticipate the extent to which I needed to adjust my work processes to accommodate the increased screen real estate. I mean, I knew that on the old monitor I was constantly resizing and moving windows in order to work with the dozen or so applications I need to have open at all times to do my job, but it's not as easy as I thought to adapt to the extra space.

On the old monitor, I could take in everything on the screen via direct or peripheral vision. On the new one, I have to either shift my eyes or turn my head to see stuff on the edges. And I can't put everything in the middle of the screen. That pretty much defeats the purpose of having a large display.

I had also grown accustomed to having both sides of the screen dedicated to menus in applications like Photoshop, with my work situated in the middle. But it's now a lot of mousing to move from one side to the other to change tools or settings. I need to come up with a new toolbar workspace to cut down on that.

Nevertheless, these are problems I'm happy to deal with. Being able to put two full-sized documents side-by-side is nothing short of a joy, and I can now actually identify the 60 icons that rest perpetually in the Dock at the bottom of the screen. But, for now anyway, I'm glad I didn't fork over the extra bucks for a 30" monitor. After all, sometimes more is too much, something I've learned well by observing Congress lately.

*Yes, I know...why is a Mac guy buying a Dell peripheral? For one thing, I haven't had an Apple monitor since the 80s. I had a 15" Sony CRT prior to getting the NEC. For the price, I'm not impressed with Apple's monitors. But, primarily, when I started looking for a new monitor I confess to being completely discombobulated by the plethora of choices, and the disparity of reviews for any given model. I was locked in analysis paralysis until I had a meeting with my pal Darrell, who's the head creative guy for a local ad agency. He's also a Mac user, and the last time I was in his office he had a big honkin' Cinema Display on his desk. But this time, he had a Dell, and I asked him why. He basically said the same thing: for the price, the Dell is a fabulous value, and it was perfectly calibrated right out of the box. I figured that a recommendation from a graphics pro whom I know and respect was better than a thousand anonymous website reviews, and I went home and ordered the same model he had on his desk. Great call, Darrell!

Happy February! Here's another psychedelic interactive website primarily for my Uncle Bud, but I'm sure he'll share it with you, too: Into Time by Rafaël Rozendaal (link via Today & Tomorrow)

Some things are inexplicably compelling...Slinkys, Fergie, and bubble wrap come to mind.

I think we can now safely add this website to the list.

[Link via Web Designer Depot's Twitter feed]

There's a lot to be said for simplifying one's life, although it's usually much easier to talk about it than to actually do it. I often declare (to no one in particular) that every time we buy something new for the house, we should get rid of something old. Of course, that only allows us to break even, so to speak, and we hardly ever do it anyway, so it's just a lot of posturing on my part.

Even on those occasions when I put my money where my mouth is, it's for stuff that I don't really care much about anyway. Debbie will bring home two or three new shirts for me, and it bothers me not a bit to toss an equal number of old ones (I have shirts that originate further back into the 20th century than is comfortable to admit). But if I get a new iPod, do you think I'm deleting an old one? Heck, no. One can never have too many iPods.

I'm sporadically successful in convincing my wife to discard old drinking glasses or mugs when she buys new ones, but even that's an uphill battle. Who knew one could develop a sentimental attachment to crockery?

What we do try to do is not acquire stuff that we won't use and enjoy, or to expend so much of our income on acquiring things that there's nothing left to give away to others. Frankly, I feel pretty good about the balance we've achieved in creating a comfortable lifestyle. And I'm dead certain that our sense of well-being would not be improved by shoehorning it into 96 square feet.