John Siracusa, of Hypercritical, Accidental Tech Podcast, Reconcilable Differences, and The Incomporable fame, is an underrated storyteller. Whether it’s cooking, researching cheese graters, reviewing toasters, moving refrigerators, or, as I discovered this week, troubleshooting his new Mac Pro, I’m somehow always enthralled. No detail is too small, and subtle hints live amongst the minutiae.
Casey: So right before we started recording, something appeared in the after show section of the show notes. And it says, “John’s Mac Pro woes.” Oh no. What’s going on…
Marco: “I saw this too and right at that moment I’m like “Oh no… This is not good. Oh John. What’s up?”
John: “Hmm… Well… This is one of those things where… it’s not a slow-moving disaster, but it’s kind of a gradual thing… I’m trying to pinpoint when did this all begin.
Who knew troubleshooting could be so entertaining.
An hour after presenting, Systrom was reminded of Facebook too. His iPhone flashed with his new boss’s name, and he went to a quiet spot to take the call. Good, he thought. Even if Cox and Zuckerberg weren’t attending the event, they were at least acknowledging the accomplishment. He swiped to answer.
“We have a problem,” Cox said. “Mark’s very angry about your icon.”
“Are you serious? What’s wrong?” Systrom asked.
“It looks too much like the icon for Facebook Messenger.” The IGTV logo had a sideways lightning bolt shape inside a TV-shaped box. The Messenger logo had a similar bolt, but inside a cartoon dialogue balloon.
After the drama of the day, there was no praise from on high—only Zuckerberg’s concern that Instagram would step on Facebook’s branding.
This similarity did not occur to me. Take a look for yourself.
Each icon includes a lightning bolt, but they are different enough to not be confusing. However, one wonders if the IGTV design team was winking, nodding, waving, or sneering at the Facebook Messenger team.
This reminds me of when Facebook Places launched in 2010. Facebook partnered with Foursquare and Gowalla on their new product for sharing your location. But, if you look closely at the Places icon, you’ll notice the Places icon includes a “4” inside of a square. Were the Places designers winking or sneering at Foursquare?
Marcin Wichary writes about an interview he conducted for his upcoming book about keyboards on his corresponding Shift Happens newsletter.
I have a feeling chasing people isn’t the right take, anyway. You have to chase stories. But stories don’t announce themselves as such. Many are hiding inside people’s heads, feeling like nothing very exciting. It haunts me that somewhere within the readership of this very newsletter, there are great stories that will never see the light of day; even if I had time to talk to everyone, and you had the willingness to engage me, well… I’m not a great interviewer.
I’ve had some luck with chasing stories on Twitter, and I’ll write about that some other day. And I was pretty lucky with finding some wonderful people who surrendered great stories too: fans of mechanical keyboards, people who typed on the oldest of computers, ergonomics specialists, inventors. To the extent I could determine it, I thought I was already done with interviews about a year ago.
And yet, despite that, the most unusual interview I‘ve done happened only last month.
Marcin is a master storyteller. If you have never seen him speak at a meetup or conference, I recommend watching his latest talk from Config 2020: I Pressed ⌘B. You Wouldn’t Believe What Happened Next. I absolutely cannot wait for his book.
The biggest was “community first,” meaning all their decisions should be centered around preserving a good feeling when using Instagram, not necessarily a more fast-growing business. Too many notifications would violate that principle. Then there was “simplicity matters,” meaning that before any new products could roll out, engineers had to think about whether they were solving a specific user problem, and whether making a change was even necessary, or might overcomplicate the app. It was the opposite of Facebook’s “move fast and break things,” where building for growth was valued over usefulness or trust. There was also “inspire creativity,” which meant Instagram was going to try to frame the app as an artistic outlet, training its own users and highlighting the best of them through an editorial strategy, focusing on content that was genuine and meaningful.
It’s clear today that these early values, especially “simplicity matters,” are lost. Instagram is a confusing mess. There are 3 camera flows each with their own interfaces, features, and content placement.
The book also includes several passages discussing Systrom’s refusal to build a “regram” button that would allow me to post others’ photos to my feed similar to a “retweet” button on Twitter and a “reblog” button on Tumblr. He believed Instagram should be a place for expression and creativity; not viral content. This button does not exist today, but sharing others’ photos and videos to Instagram Stories is possible. This functionality means my Stories are filled with impersonal nonsense.
I’d been thinking about how the inclusion of a road in a photograph affects the way I felt and what I thought about when I viewed the image. So, on a recent evening, I searched my catalog for photographs in which a road was a prominent feature of the composition. I found and created a new collection of a dozen examples. As I examined them more closely I discovered that they fell into two broad categories: one in which the road drew my eye into a clearly seen destination, the other where the road disappeared into parts unknown.
While making landscape photographs I look for a place to set my camera in order to represent an evocative view. I want my print to give the viewer a feeling that they are standing, virtually, where I had stood to make the photograph. I call this “giving the viewer a place to stand.” When a road is also included in the composition, the viewer is not only offered a place to stand, but he/she is invited to enter deeper into the image.
As I continued looking at my road photographs I began to explore what I was feeling when I made these two kinds of images. In the case of the road leading to a clearly seen destination, the feeling was obvious: the road had drawn me to a view that exuded a sense of heightened beauty or grandeur. It was as if I had arrived at a captivating place and could now stop and gaze at the view. I felt happy…my spirt soared. The second type, where the road disappeared around a bend or over a hill, made me wonder what was beyond, what awaited me. I felt a sense of curiosity, mystery or longing. In both cases the inclusion of a road in the image invited me in–stimulating new feelings and thoughts.
This is our 6th campaign and we’re more excited than ever to bring you our first line of bags for the NEW work - backpacks, totes, and organizers for working anywhere and traveling everywhere.
The Klein household currently uses a Filson tote (thank you for the wonderful gift, Jesse) when we travel to family members’ houses and wife-approved hotels. The Filson tote is pretty but its lack of pockets and zipper causes anxiety. Cables and chargers also end up tossed into a suitcase which results in cables getting tangled amongst my allbirds underwear and socks.
The river runs from Fujisawa to Enoshima and on the return trip, the Enoshima lighthouse acts appropriately as a beacon in the distance. The other night, the moon fought through hazy cloud cover, and the river water looked stage-lit. There’s a path along that river that runs for miles and miles. At 10 PM it’s empty. Just me, on my orange bike, total silence, floating through the soup that is the air of August in Japan, air that even at 10 PM is as soupy as you can imagine, more soupy than even in the afternoon since the humidity rises at night. My bike has a beautiful little German-engineered light and dynamo hub on the front wheel. Totally silent in operation. It lights the path (which is otherwise unlit). The river glints. My presence is nothing more than a gentle rubber-on-cement hum. Every now and then a fish flies up and out of the water, splashes back down with a thud. Bridges bisect the river at various intervals and one of them carries the Enoden, a small local train, and as
you hover alongside the river, the fishes flopping, the air like soup, the lighthouse marking the way in the distance, every now and then a train will trundle past downriver and you’ll catch a quick glimpse of a few heads, yellow-lit from within, and the rough reflection of the cars in the water.
In 2005 I was a teaching assistant for CS 130 Introduction to Web Design at Cornell (ever heard of it?). At the start of the semester the professor was thrilled to show off her new convertible laptop that she could fold over and write on using a special pen. She presented PowerPoint slides during each class, and after a few minutes the slides would have highlights, questions, and notes scribbled all over. Later in the day she would upload her improvised slides to the class website. I recall this being a clever process for disseminating information because it combined prepared and improvised thoughts into a single source.
These laptops were particularly popular amongst MBA students (yes I took a few MBA courses while I was a CS grad student). A handful would take notes on the screen, but most settled for the traditional laptop orientation. I believe the reason these laptops actually sold well was not because of the fancy handwriting technology, but because it was an innovative feature placed on top of a traditional laptop. If you were walking by you would most likely not notice that the laptop could be converted into an entirely different product.
Fifteen years later (oy) we have the Surface Duo. I am not trying to compare the Duo and old convertible laptops because they fold. They should be looked at together because new technology is placed on top of a traditional device. The smartphone (or “cellular telephone” which is what I call it around the house when I am unable to locate it) is now a “traditional” product because it has settled into a predictable form: a black rectangle with rounded corners with the front rapidly approaching 100% screen.
The Surface Duo, to its detriment, is not only too far removed from the predictable smartphone form, but it’s also much more expensive than what the market expects to pay ($1399?!). Of course it’s exciting to see new form factors tested by the market. It’s been far too long since we’ve had unusual and fun hardware. However, I predict this will be a dud compared to old convertible laptops which were both competitively priced and recognizable by purchasers.
When we first set out to design a logo for Components AI, we naturally gravitated towards generative concepts. The idea of a static mark didn’t seem to make sense as a brand concept. As people interact with the design tools, Components AI as a product is constantly altered. The logo is an opportunity to play with and reflect that concept in our visual language.
Makes sense considering the goal of the company.
After looking at thousands of options, this output felt balanced and inline with what we wanted. It’s got enough variance to feel alive and dynamic. It’s only 1 degree removed from a random grid of dots. While simple, we feel it’s a step forward aesthetically and a bit more recognizable as a mark.
I highly recommend reading this post. At first I was highly skeptical, but after walking through the process they really did land on a simple, recognizable mark.
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