Best of '07

I typically don't create lists of my favorite things because I tend to be so biased about certain products that's a rather short, predictable one. However, I now have a blog that, like the dog, doesn't feed itself.

Best car of '07: No surprise, it's still the '06 Cooper S.
Specifically, it's Kyality's Cooper S which made the list by being purchased in '07.

Runner up: The '07 Cooper S.
If there's a car that would make me consider giving up my '06 S, it's this one. The jury is still out on the turbo lag, fake intake duct, larger speedo, and toggle switches on the roof, but that's not a long list compared to all the things done right. Like Kyality, the shape has grown on me and I prefer the redesigned tail. Pilfered from miniusa.com: the '07 in its natural habitat.



Best book of '07. Creature by Andrew Zukerman and designed by David Meredith.
I saw the design in March and placed an order months in advance. My copy finally arrived in November and it is fantastic. Whereas most books published this year tried to intimidate me into voting for certain politicians or consume less air, Creature lets me just sit, relax, and lose myself in deep, detailed pictures of animals with perspective that I've not had before.

Best holiday/new year design of '07. That'd be the one over at Canister.

Happy New Year.

There is no Marble

There has been a recent debate swirling among web designers regarding the lack or even need of a canon of design. The nuances and conversation aren't particularly interesting so I won't cover them again. However, they could be found here (ALA), here (Subtraction), and the one that started it here (Speak Up). The basic premise is this: a print designer questions why there are not many great web sites held up as phenomenal design as there are in print, i.e. why has the genius of print not carried itself over to the web? Khoi Vinh said it, web design is boring.

In return, the web designers create a well-articulated, thoughtful response explaining that the creation is the design. In essence, the engineering and the interface combine to create an organic design that is genius in its own right. Web designers argue that holding the web to the standards of print is futile; the two don't compare and should not be. Great web design is great when compared with poor web design.

I beg to differ.

Truly great design always results from the combination of two things: creativity and skill. The skill is the key, as there are more people with creativity than skill. Skill refers to the specific tool at hand and the designer's ability to master it. The harder the skill to master, the fewer who do, and inevitably fewer phenomenal pieces are created. But, those phenomenal pieces are great. For example, Michelangelo sculpted David from marble, which is an incredibly difficult material to work from. In order to accomplish this, he would have mastered creating sculptures in materials such as wax, clay, wood, and so forth that are cheaper, more pliable, and have an equivalent of the modern "undo" button. The point is, regardless of how creative they are, no hack can create a worthwhile sculpture from marble. In fact, many creative artisans are unqualified; it requires the truly skilled.

The playing field has leveled some in the current age of design, but not entirely. As is pertains to print and web design, there are some parallels to sculpture. Speaking strictly about visual design, changing something as trivial as a color on a finished-and-launched web site, even universally, can be done in seconds with minimal cost and impact on the surrounding elements. To do the same in print is often as expensive as creating the first print(s) and requires disposal of that prior run. The economic cost discourages those who don't have the technical skills to create great press-produced designs. Or at least it makes them practice first.

This isn't to say that all web designers are untrained sloths, only that some are. The rest are frustrated with the tools at hand. So, for the purpose of oversimplification, the two categories of web designers are 1) unskilled hacks and 2) those frustrated by the tools. The first group uses all the tools that Adobe has made available to Windows' users. In many cases they use templates, rules, and all sorts of tricks that make them feel better about creating something 'pretty.' The second group is frustrated that they can't make type run vertically, on an angle, or follow a curve. In fact, they're irritated that they can't even dictate a specific typeface without making it a graphic. For them, the web is still in its infancy; it's boxy, developing, shows potential, but although they can envision design, they can't actually create it.

For the purpose of diplomacy, I should subdivide the second group into further categories. Group 1a are malcontented print designers displeased with the state of the web and either don't venture in or stay on the fringes creating print-like designs while breaking web standards. Group 2b contains Flash designers who combine motion, print design, and control into an embedded object. It's not html, but it is viewable in a browser. It's a good in-between step for these designers, but they sometimes wish they didn't have to live entirely in this world. (Not that that world pays badly, mind you.) Group 2c are css-compliant designers who are skilled with the craft of browser-compliancy, css validation, and standards-based design. In short, they lower the bar enough that great design can be achieved via a checklist. They are good designers, to be sure, and some great, but only when they use graphics or workarounds that aren't truly html (i.e. the good stuff is embedded).

Ultimately, I'm not crying foul on web designer's talent. I do think that there are many, many very talented web designers. (Indeed, many are better print designers than I am.) I am actually protesting the fact that we can't really do on the web what we want. The solution, however, is not to redefine the measure of success to a state of engineering, but to continue to figure out (and force engineers to create) a platform worthy of our skills.

We want our marble.

(Some of) the best days of 2007.

At the risk of alienating my persevering wife, I make the following claims. My kids aren't old enough to be offended, so they'll have to read this entry in ten years and feel insulted long after the fact.

About the most fun I've had this year was driving around the country with my Cannondale as my co-pilot. The Cooper S, with 29K miles, is not yet a year-and-a-half. It has crossed the rockies twice, been stuck in New York snow, and driven streets in Atlanta, Salt Lake City, Chicago, and Manhattan. The S has seen over a thousand unique miles of I-70 and over two thousand of I-80. It loves the road trip. I love the road trip. And it's so much cheaper than a therapist.



The Cannondale fits inside the car. Yup, inside. With the front wheel off, it covers both rear seats and the handlebars hook the passenger seat, which means that if the Cannondale hitches a ride, then no one else can come. It's a good listener, a good traveler, and doesn't ever complain about where we go to eat. My aim most days was to split up a thousand miles of driving with an hour of cycling somewhere along the interstate. The location was usually selected randomly based on the weather conditions and just how interesting the hills looked. (The GPS typically provides the exact route once I pull off the freeway.)



If it didn't make things harder on the fam, I'd figure out a way to do a road trip every month. Days on the open road are really good days.

Southern fall

Although I grew up in the west, I've long been fascinated by the east coast, particularly for its abundant trees. I do love the trees. For the past several years, I look forward to driving and/or cycling aimlessly while the trees change.



In the south, it is not just the hills that change marvelous colors. No, every canopy-covered road along my daily 15-minute commute becomes a study in relaxation and wonderment. And even trees that stand alone are intoxicating.

The Safest People in SLC

In Salt Lake City last week for several things, notably among them was the XanGo Conference. (Canister does a lot of international design for them.) I got to see a little of my handiwork, and a tremendous amount of Struck's.



In the network marketing industry, XanGo has effectively captured the color orange. It's a very bright, noticeable tone. I do have to say that I like it. And then comes the conference, the store, and the thousands of XanGo faithful.

As I walked from the convention center while carrying my orange-and-gray bag, hat, name badge, and notebook I looked at the others around me sporting the same colors. It was obvious that we didn't need to grab one of the orange safety flags provided to pedestrians crossing the street. We personified safety orange. We and 7000 others walking around downtown Salt Lake were very, very safe.

Starting somewhere, predictably

Writing entries is not new, but historically I've been able to wax nostalgic about my kids. Now I'm faced with a forum solely for insight into my mind. And anyway, my kids have their own blog, now authored by their mother.

This leaves me to muse about cars, design, and whatever else pops into my head. Today's insight is toned down; there will be time for the inflammatory stuff later. Here's the S.


Over the past decade, I've owned ten cars; this is the first year I haven't bought one. A little more than half have been new, and while that makes me sound spoiled, I don't feel defensive. Obsessive people like having new things, and those who believe used or new are mutually exclusive paths don't understand the mathematics of auto ownership. I don't have the patience or desire to go into the numbers right now, but it basically boils down to two irrefutable premisses: 1) cost is the purchase price minus the sale price, added to the maintenance price, divided by the number of days and months in between. Arguing cost on any one of those factors alone is shortsighted. 2) The perceived value is related solely to the buyer and unrelated to cost. This, apparently, trumps rule number 1.

Which brings me to the S. It's not the fastest car I've owned, neither the most expensive, least expensive, nor the most utilitarian (obviously). But so far, it's my favorite and it's the one with which I identify most. As a designer, among all my biases, I hold a couple that apply to the MINI. Among them, not all cars are equal; some have soul. The S has an undefinable quality that causes its owners to ponder their cars with respect for much more than just the numbers that appear on a spec sheet. This can be evaluated by taking cars at a much larger sample. A random owner of any car may be attached, in love, or all out obsessed with their car because it's their first, the most modified, paid-in-the-clear, fully loaded, great performer, or any other number of reasons. Every model of car has at least one owner that feels this way, even the Aztek (although that person hasn't yet come forward). But among S owners, who represent a huge demographic range, they all do. This speaks to the transcendent appeal of the MINI in a way that goes much deeper than forced induction and double-centered tailpipes. If all cars have some good, the S simply has more.

Tagged

I've been tagged. Now I've got to come up with a whole new set of css rules to make this look even better.

I feel oddly enthusiastic.