The breaking point of man vs. machine: a classic moment from the 1999 movie Office Space

Modern life can be really annoying sometimes. Just think of all the little inconveniences, nuisances, and irritants that make your day just a little less enjoyable. I don’t mean the stubbed toe or paper cut or spilled milk variety. I don’t even mean the person who beats you to the last parking spot at the mall (if you happen to drive). Those really can’t be helped. I’m talking about those moments when we poor, wretched humans must deal with technology’s shortcomings.

In a typical work day, who doesn’t smack face-first into some of these gems?

• The elevator “close door” button that never works.
• The printer that literally eats paper.
• The hour of internet down time due to “emergency server maintenance” which was caused by “usage overload.”
• The smartphone sync that completely and irretrievably wipes your calendar clean.

The list could go on and on. But why do we put up with all of this? With all our advances and highly-evolved intelligence we could eradicate so many pesky little problems. Yet we haven’t. Instead, we apply that power to creating more new technology to further complicate our already messy lives. We’ll come back to that in another post.

Let’s pause for a moment. Despite the countless downsides of technology, we should take the time to consider the ways our lives are different and our capabilities enhanced because of this very same technology. On this Thanksgiving Day, it seems fitting to reflect on not just the many great and wonderful things in life we often take for granted, like fresh air, clean water, and the people around us, but also the artificial things that enable and extend everyday activities. I can think of a few things that I’m pretty grateful for, error messages and all:

• A global network that allows me to share my thoughts with almost anyone, anywhere and to tap into scores of information resources, wirelessly.
• A small device in my pocket that I can use to talk to almost anyone anywhere, wirelessly.
• A flat square device no bigger than a magazine that gives me access to an astounding amount of literature and history that would otherwise be nearly impossible to obtain (wirelessly).
• An astounding palette of tools by which my design work can be created, communicated, and distributed.
• The simple fact that if I can think of saying or doing something, a technology exists (or will soon exist) that enhances the way I create and distribute it.

For some, these facts are already old news; “bigger, better, faster, more” seems to be on many people’s minds. But we shouldn’t forget that we got here from a much humbler place and time, when today’s possibilities were largely invisible and the vast technology empires we know so well were once mere seeds of ideas. We should be in awe of what we have accomplished, however great or small, and appreciate the good that can be brought about by the marriage of circuits and code, imagination and human agency.

We’ll probably never fully debug our lives. In fact, it is in those “reboot” moments that we are reminded of our dependency on technology, both in its fragility and its power. We have formed a symbiotic relationship with technology, its bonds growing stronger every day. In days to come, we’ll see fantastic changes at blinding speed, and we will always struggle to adapt to them, make sense of them. We will continue to confront the gap that exists between human and machine — indeed, it will always be there (at least I think it will). Before we resist the urge to hurl our computer out the window or smash our smartphone to smithereens, let’s remember the time we didn’t have such wondrous, mysterious objects in our lives and be thankful for what we have.

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.

Design is a funny thing sometimes. You never know what ideas will surface in the process of designing, nor what bizarre associations you may make. In the process of working on this site, for instance, I drew a connection to—of all things—the famous plaque affixed to the Pioneer F spacecraft (shown above).

Launched in 1972, Pioneer F (also known as Pioneer 10) was the first spacecraft to venture beyond the solar system into the vast abyss of deep space. The plaque was an attempt to communicate with intelligent life forms who may happen upon it along its infinite journey, and successfully decode its message. In diagrammatic form, it tells the story of the lone spacecraft: where it came from, what its makers look like, and when its journey began. (Similarly, the twin Voyager spacecraft, launched in 1977, carried a gold record etched with images and sound recordings of life on earth.)

Pioneer 10 and its accompanying plaque are remarkable artifacts of a civilization capable of broadcasting itself outside of the confines of its own planet. And yet, how we as a civilization chose to tell our story to other sentient beings in the Cosmos is peculiar, since much of the content in the plaque is deeply encoded, not to mention highly compressed. (Granted, the task of designing complex communications for alien life forms is a formidable one, but couldn’t the scientific messages be a bit more accessible to humans at least? Couldn’t they have hired designers?)

Now that much of the planet is growing familiar and comfortable with the World Wide Web, the capacity for individuals to broadcast themselves outside of their own social and economic confines is profound. The honeymoon has long since worn off for many veterans of the Web, though I am still fascinated by my ability to make my presence known to anyone in the world with internet access. The fact that I can put information out there so easily is seductive, especially given all the framed outlets such as MySpace and Facebook; the knowledge that anyone and everyone can see—and respond to—what I post makes the act of authorship all the more challenging to me. Thankfully, unlike the static Pioneer plaque, I can revise, edit, elaborate on or delete most anything I publish.

While this technologically enhanced freedom of expression exists in the “now” of our cultural consciousness, I wonder what it’s consequences will be and how far they will reach. What effect does all this stuff really have on one another and our civilization? Will all the content on the Web live on long after us? Will it, along with everything else we’ve put on this planet, eventually find an extra-terrestrial audience? What would some yet unknown race of beings think of our blogs and our YouTube movies and our various other creations?

Time will tell, I guess.

More info on Pioneer 10:
Pioneer 10 Spacecraft Sends Last Signal To Earth
Science Daily, February 26, 2003.