“Smarter Planet,” one of IBM’s cleverly designed Icons of Progress

Solving global challenges is on many people’s minds these days (see my last post). Businesses of all sizes have become much more proactive in rethinking their values, culture, services, products, and operations to serve the greater good while staying profitable. But a select few companies are leading the way with bold ventures in the social and global spheres. IBM is among these titans of corporate social responsibility who are leveraging their powerhouse resources and expertise to improve people’s lives.

Now in its centennial year, the tech giant has commited serious resources to showcase its storied past, its formidable present, and its promising future. Among these efforts, the most intriguing has to be the THINK exhibit, a month-long “unique interactive experience” housed in a newly renovated part of Lincoln Center in New York City. The website’s opening statement succinctly describes IBM’s intent:

Much has already been written about the experience itself, ranging from praise to skepticism. Nearly a week after its closing and after having seen it twice, I thought I’d share my impressions of THINK.

What impressed me most:
This exhibit engaged a broad audience at many different levels, and communicated at different depths. For the young at heart, the entryway data wall was a giant mesmerizing toy that invites you to chase after the fluttering LED data points drawn from sensors around the city. The opening movie flowed briskly but steadily, sustaining the most fleeting of attention spans across multiple screens. In a blink, those same movie screens transformed into touchscreen information displays about different areas of IBM research and innovation around global issues, such as data mapping and technological discovery. Play became the immediate impulse rather than investigation. With each touch of these colossal iPhones, one could control how close or far images appeared and set the pace of reading captions. If boredom set in, there were still four other panels to explore in the 25-minute time window.

What I thought of the design:
Honestly, it’s hard for me to fault the design of the whole experience. It’s not so surprising, considering the design firepower that was brought to bear: the strategic design consultancy SYPartners, the renowned exhibition design firm Ralph Appelbaum Associates, and the relatively new digital storytelling company Mirada. Since data are central to IBM’s story, their visualization required great thoughtfulness and restraint. With the involvement of Casey Reas, the resulting data wall succeeded in conveying information in a fluid, textural way without feeling too scientific or too vernacular. The opening movie deftly interwove graphic boldness with artistic nuance in the choice of imagery, juxtapositions, and narrative devices, all within the space of about 12 minutes. I particularly liked the use of six simultaneous video displays in a circle to play with the sense of space and location; when the movie shifted to deeper content, just three displays became the focus to prevent viewers from developing whiplash.

What could have been improved:
A few minor tweaks would have satisfied my fussy designer side. For instance, I liked that image credits were included and easily accessible by touching a button on the bottom right corner of every display, but I would have preferred to save my limited time with the displays and get the information online afterwards. I also felt like there was a missed opportunity at the end of the exhibit to engage visitors to participate in IBM’s grand vision for a better future, either by participating in further research or just building community around the key issues at hand (I should add that there was a general visitor feedback station at the end of the exhibit, which I did not take part in). The most direct way to participate I could find was the invitation on the exhibit website to tweet with the hashtags #IBM100 and #THINK. Finally, I wasn’t sure what the future of the exhibit itself was, or how I could revisit some of the research in the information displays. One volunteer I spoke with was unsure of this herself. I wonder if IBM considered developing something like an iPad app to extend and enhance the shelf-life of this great content.

My Top 5 Takeaways:

1. Great solutions reflect great thinking. This exhibit revolves around strong thematic concepts that mesh well to IBM’s brand, philosophy, legacy, and core DNA. In execution, the core themes really shine: the experience informs, delights, amazes, and inspires with a remarkable economy of means.
2. Sometimes storytelling is more important than information design. Any number of possible outcomes could have materialized, but the one that made it was presumably the most effective because it tells a human story in human terms. Even the data displays were humanized and kept very minimal to avoid taking attention away from the story.
3. People should always be at the center of experience design. Almost from the moment you entered the exhibit space, you were immediately within reach of a volunteer who could help with any question. The area was fully ADA accessible, and I think an app was available at the exhibit to provide subtitles for the movie in different languages.
4. Great design never draws attention to itself. There was nothing about the exhibit that seemed excessive or self-referential of the design. Every word, every object, every moment was deliberately assembled to amplify content, which carried through from beginning to end. 
5. Technology, used wisely, allows design to have tremendous impact. The use of touchscreen panels could have been pretty hokey and pseudo-futuristic, but here they were used in a rather elegant way. Perhaps IBM learned a few lessons from their earlier foray into interactive displays at the 1964 World’s Fair

I will definitely be paying more attention to IBM now, but not so much their stock price as their ability to preserve the sense of wonder and curiosity that fueled the many innovations on which their success is built. How will IBM realize their vision to “build a smarter planet”?

This is the third part in an extended rant. Before you start a rant in response, check out Part I, Over Design, and Part II, In Praise of the Design Underdog.

Part of what makes it so hard — and so frustrating — to advance dialogue about the design profession in any constructive way is that it’s getting harder to set boundaries around what design actually is. Defining it by its deliverables, like identities and websites, is too narrow. Positioning it purely as problem solving is too broad. One could attempt to bridge the two and say that design is a problem solving process that may result in an identity or a website, but that still doesn’t do it justice. Intangibles such as services and processes can be designed conceptually, and their basic function modeled visually, but the end result lives in the experience of it and the outcome — like, say, an optimized document management workflow that improves findability or a streamlined hospital admissions process that reduces wait times.

As design’s application extends and its impact increases, its inner complexity grows. New subsets of design practice emerge to satisfy new needs. New methods and tools start to complement the traditional design arsenal. And, inevitably, new players enter the marketplace wielding new expertise. Consider the many flavors of design that exist, and how many new words have been added to the design lexicon just in the past 5-10 years (not exhaustive and in no particular order):

• Strategic design
• Transformation design
• Service design
• Social business design
• Experience design
• Interaction design
• Design thinking
• Sustainable design
• Infographic design
• Information design
• Graphic design
• Communications design
• Publication design
• Web design
• Environmental design
• Product design
• Industrial design
• Motion graphics design
• Architecture
• Information architecture
• Game design
• Fashion design
• Et cetera

To me, the primary challenge becomes making sense of all these “designs” for the benefit of the profession at large. Some design disciplines are better defined than others, but is there a hierarchy or unifying structure here? Are we just tossing words around, or are there genuine differences among the newer design phenomena? Can we create some governing logic about design? Has anything come close?

If we can succeed in mapping the landscape of design in any meaningful way, perhaps we can start to tackle the second challenge: understanding and aligning needs to the right services and ultimately, to the right service providers. This is an immensely difficult task given the nature of our free market economy and the multitude of players in the market, not to mention defining what needs design can really address (all of them?). Professional organizations like AIGA have worked to define what design business should look like (running a business, conducting business, etc.), but what about the initial contact between designer and client? How would a client know if they’re engaging the right designer or agency to help them? The converse — a designer or agency knowing if they’re the right ones to take on the work — is a trickier subject, since a common approach is to secure the work first, then scramble to figure out how to do it afterwards, regardless of capability. So how do we set professional boundaries around design practices? Can we certify designers and agencies to practice certain types of design and not others? And how do we protect people from design fraud? Is any of this possible?

It would be great if there was some governing body to make all these distinctions and set standards of practice, like a Better Business Bureau for design. Something like an AIGA on steroids and with the authority to enforce standards. How much power would such an organization wield? How many designers would be receptive to this idea?

Are we just accumulating more unanswerable questions than answers?

Next and final installment (coming soon): The World Can Change Design

This is my perception of information design from when I first got into it up until the present day.

This is unofficially the age of information design. Visualization is in vogue. Information is suddenly beautiful. Data is free flowing, ready to be poured, molded, sculpted, and remixed at will. Displays of facts and figures are everywhere, from newspapers to magazines, websites to television, public spaces to the palm of one’s hand.

But amid this frenzy of info-obsession, a fundamental clarity is sorely lacking. For a field centered on demystifying, clarifying, and explaining the complex, information design has a lot of explaining to do for itself. Does anyone really understand what information design is or isn’t given the state of affairs today? Is it possible to achieve a holistic, unified view of the field — from academia to professional practice to the public sphere?

Context

Before diving into the issue, let me provide some context. I live and breathe information design, practicing daily and surveying constantly. I’ve done so for the past twelve years, beginning with an undergraduate thesis specifically focused on information design. In raising these issues here, I am sharing a point of view informed by my experience as an information designer and opening up a broader conversation on this topic — deliberately leaving loose ends untied for the sake of further exploration.

It is also important to note that the field of information design has been continually evolving and growing over time, thanks to work of individuals and organizations who have sought to give it form and meaning. The concerns I list are less criticisms of any efforts to bring clarity than reflections on the confusion that exists today, brought about by the enthusiastic over-production of “info-stuff” and the underdeveloped efforts to synthesize and crystallize real knowledge that advances the field.

For the sake of this post, I am using the term “information design” to refer to the broad spectrum of work that deals with making all types of content and data understandable and usable by people — regardless of the specific tools or technology involved. There is a strong graphic element to information design, but I wouldn’t limit it to the only element. Ambiguous language and varying definitions are central to the confusion that surrounds this subject — and have been for some time — so I recognize that my own use of the term may draw criticism.

Here are my top five observations:

1. There is yet no single, widely-accepted definition of information design.

Wikipedia presently offers this definition:

“…the skill and practice of preparing information so people can use it with efficiency and effectiveness. Where the data is complex or unstructured, a visual representation can express its meaning more clearly to the viewer.”

The International Institute for Information Design, perhaps the closest thing to a professional organization for information design (and to which I belong) defines “information” and “design” separately, then presents a single definition:

“…the defining, planning, and shaping of the contents of a message and the environments in which it is presented, with the intention to satisfy the information needs of the intended recipients…”

The front page of the InfoDesign discussion forum (whose archives date back to 1997)  defines it as:

“…the art and the science of presenting information so that it is understandable and easy to use: effective, efficient and attractive.”

Each of these definitions provides a window into a broader, though still incomplete understanding. It isn’t fully apparent what is considered information or by what skills or means one makes information understandable? Of course, a more exhaustive survey of definitions and descriptions could certainly raise more questions than answers (particularly in the realm of graphic design), but suffice it to say that clarity is still needed.

Looking more closely, information design has long escaped easy definition for numerous reasons. There is debate over whether it is an off-shoot of graphic design, a distinct field unto itself, or a hybrid of many different fields united by a shared purpose. Hand-in-hand with this debate is the question of information design’s history and origins; some think it began with the cave drawings, others think it was a 20th century phenomenon, and yet others place its beginnings somewhere in the Renaissance. Can there ever be a truly far-reaching history of information design?

2. There are no clear professional boundaries around information design.

What was once an unrecognized field with relatively anonymous and unwitting practitioners is now a diverse constellation of fields brimming with their respective experts, gurus, and evangelists. As the picture grows more crowded, the interrelationship of players becomes more fuzzy. What hierarchies and connections exist among the more popularized realms of practice?:

• Data Visualization
• Infographic Design/Illustration
• Visual Thinking
• Information Architecture

Where do other closely-related fields fit in?:

• Library and Information Science
• Technical Writing
• Environmental Graphic Design
• Cartography
• Instructional Design

Answers to these questions are as elusive as the aforementioned definition and origin. Still, there are several consequences of this lack of boundaries and disconnection, ranging from poor public understanding of information design as an actual profession to marketplace confusion over what qualifies as an “information design problem” and who is skilled enough to tackle it. To that last point alone, no professional standards exist for what information designers do nor is there clear recognition or delineation of agencies doing information design work. Every practitioner and agency paves their own way by the types of challenges they tackle, services they offer, processes and methodologies they follow, and deliverables they produce.

3. More emphasis is on execution and visual appeal than analysis.

Armed with an array of sophisticated tools, today’s visualization professionals can readily gather raw content and produce a multitude of views showing as many diverse perspectives as graphic treatments. But the real usefulness of many of these outputs is questionable, as function takes a back seat to form and process yields to product.

Designers (professional and otherwise) take much creative license with content when creating works of information design, making it more beautiful than functional, presumably for the sake of public appeal. Examples of this abound. For instance, GOOD magazine has done a noteworthy job of incorporating information design in clarifying social, political, and environmental issues, but I often cringe at what gets published in the Transparency section. So much rich data, yet so few skillful or insightful visualizations. Would we have such a proliferation of information design artifacts if tools and technology weren’t so readily available — and if more time and mental energy were invested in the content?

4. It’s hard to find places to study information design.

It’s no surprise that the present confusion and lack of clarity within and around information design would pose challenges for those pursuing a formal education in that area. Only a handful of colleges and universities offer any degree programs in information design: Carnegie Mellon, Bentley University and The University of Reading (UK) notably number among them, yet even these programs vary in what is taught or not taught. Some schools fold in a course or perhaps just an assignment or two within a traditional graphic design curriculum. Others assist students in pursuing independent studies and tailoring their courses to suit their interest. As I write this, I don’t know for certain how many programs actually fall under these categories, but I’m sure a listing of those schools would benefit many aspiring information designers.

5. It’s hard to find quality resources dedicated to information design.

There’s a lot of stuff out there about information design. The problem is separating the good from the not so good. Books abound on numerous facets of information design, but in my experience, only a handful yield any lasting benefit. (I have to write a post just on books some time.) Some websites aggregate related content, creating a highly selective view depending on what is most popular, visually attractive or novel. Other sites, like Information Aesthetics and Visual Complexity provide a good current survey of projects and developments in data visualization, but there is little by way of critical thinking or deep analysis. Flowing Data is another great blog featuring data displays and infographics, with the occasional analysis. Edward Tufte’s site falls on the other end of the spectrum, with plenty of discussion and exploration of information design topics, but mainly at the tactical level of data display techniques. Most other sites I’ve seen either dive deep into the technical side of tools and techniques or collect and republish information design examples.

Conclusion

The need for information design has always been high, but I find that too often the ability of the profession to meet that need effectively falls short. There is no shortage of opportunities for information designers to make a difference in the world and to ultimately help solve some of the biggest challenges facing this planet. Without a unified understanding of what the profession is and does, the full potential of information design’s role in society could be diminished, a casualty of fragmentation and misrepresentation.

M74 Spiral Galaxy photo by Simon Dye (Cardiff University) overlaid with Shri Yantra Mandala.

Humanity’s search for knowledge, in its many forms, has always fascinated me. Spanning geographies, cultures, faiths, and generations, the enduring pursuit of truth and insight into the diverse realms of human experience has yielded some of the greatest works of science and art — from the sequencing of the human genome to Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling. Each school of thought or path of study carries its own distinct challenges, “great questions” and intellectual rewards, but it is the same mind that is driven to find answers.

Several months ago, I had read a New York Times article about Carl Jung’s Red Book, a hauntingly personal collection of writings and paintings exploring the depths of his unconscious. Despite the little knowledge I have of Jung’s work (I admit), I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see this long-lost treasure up close at the Rubin Museum of Art. When I finally made it to the museum over Christmas vacation, I decided to start at the top floor and take a quick walk through the other exhibits first, saving the “best” for last on the bottom floor (surely, I thought, some trippy mandala paintings and multi-limbed Hindu deity sculptures couldn’t hold my attention for very long, fascinating though they may be).

I was quickly proven wrong.

Almost every exhibit blew me away, but one resonated with me the strongest: “Visions of the Cosmos: From the Milky Ocean to an Evolving Universe,” up until May 10, 2010. Here’s a Flickr photo set of the exhibit.

While perspectives shifted greatly from spiritual to conjectural to empirical, the quality of execution and level of diligence in constructing coherent visual narratives were remarkably on par across all works. Metaphor and symbolism were as vital as brush and ink in depicting Buddhist and Hindu cosmologies; the artists behind these works employed the tools of design to depict the interrelationships between physical and ethereal planes with such compelling clarity as to affirm their reality. Turning to the early Western astronomers, meticulous drawings of their observations with the naked eye and with simple telescopes helped demystify the heavens and bring humankind’s grasp of the world beyond Earth within reach, religious controversy aside.

Rounding out the survey of astronomical study was a series of typically dazzling photographs of distant nebulae and galaxies marking our present level of achievement. A projected Powers of 10-style video of The Known Universe flaunted the astonishing accuracy with which we now claim to know the universe and our place in it. On the same wall as the projection but directly above was a giant mandala painting (part of the exhibit “Mandala: The Perfect Circle”). I don’t know if the juxtaposition on the same wall was intentional, but graphically and thematically, the two images made perfect sense together.

Reflecting back on that day, I realized that it is the same quest for knowing that links the devotional artist, the scientist, and the modern information designer. The content, the context, and the methods may be different, but all of these individuals share the same purpose: to model reality — be it physical, spiritual, or otherwise — for human understanding and enlightenment. (Even Jung, in working through his inner turmoil, used art and writing to make sense of what he experienced. Psychological information design?)

Today, the skill of modeling reality has been professionalized into many discrete roles, including information designer, infographic illustrator, data visualization expert, CG artist, et cetera. Technology continues to enhance our understanding of the world and expand the means by which we can communicate. Slowly, what our brains actually do is still evolving: how we perceive what is and conceive of what could be, as well as how we construct understanding. I wonder what a “Visions of the Cosmos” exhibit might look like in 50, 100, or 1,000 years from now. What new models will we create? What new understanding will we reach? What will our universe look like then? Will it still be a “universe”?

(Along the lines of how we know what we know, the Rubin Museum of Art is running a pretty amazing event series called Brainwave 2010. I wish I could attend every session!)

About a year ago, I attended an AIGA panel discussion spotlighting designers who create and work with data displays (I could call them information designers, but that wouldn’t be entirely true). Information design typically gets short shrift in the design community — a tip of the hat at best in annual competitions — so I was quite surprised and encouraged by this event. I was even more surprised to find the venue completely packed.

Part of the answer had to do with who was on stage. John Maeda, the moderator, had attracted plenty of attention at the time with his appointment as head of RISD. He could fill a room on name recognition alone. Two of the panelists were what I’d call hard-core data visualization experts: Steve Duenes of the New York Times Graphics Desk and Fernanda Viegas of Many Eyes. However, the third panelist, Andrew Kuo, seemed to me a bit out of place in this context. He is an artist who visualizes his thoughts and feelings in the form of multi-colored charts and graphs, some of which have been published in the New York Times. While Steve and Fernanda come from the world of objective and accurate representation of facts and quantities, Andrew’s work conversely deals in the subjective and somewhat murky expression of personal emotions. For me this was a jarring combination, as I was looking forward to a serious exchange on professionally relevant issues. The gap between Steve / Fernanda and Andrew was bridged rather poorly, if only by Maeda’s repeated quips to lighten the conversational load and keep the audience entertained. I ended up leaving the event feeling disappointed and, I hate to admit, even less fond of Andrew’s work.

Fast forward to yesterday. I’m walking down 12th Street toward 3rd Avenue when, out of the blue, my eye catches a pie chart hanging on a wall inside a gallery. I take a closer look and immediately recognize the style as Andrew Kuo’s. The execution was unexpected: acrylic paint and carbon transfer lettering on paper, instead of digital output of an Adobe Illustrator graphic. Other works including intricate cut paper pieces, figurative and abstract paintings, and sculptural data displays were interspersed throughout the space.

Overall, seeing the exhibit gave Andrew’s work new meaning for me. While I was initially turned off by the apparent inanity of his charts and graphs, I realized that there was more to it than some attempt at pseudo info design. He’s using that language to tell a story and to try to make sense of everything floating around in his mind. Sometimes it’s funny, other times it’s sad, but it’s all honest. And as I thought about my own work, I couldn’t bring myself to draw comparisons or make judgements one way or the other. This type of work is simply different by nature of what it is, not measurable by any presumed info design standards.

So I encourage everyone out there to go check out the exhibit if you’re in the NYC area. It runs through May 16 at Taxter & Spengemann, and it’s called “I’m Dyin Over Here!”