I was delighted to read the minute-by-minute story.

Always loved to have a glimpse of somebody's life routine somewhere in a distant place -- especially if it's on the other side of the planet. For me, the most inspiring things in such stories are observations of small and seemingly insignificant things. This is what gives a sense of the place and time.

Like, stepping barefoot outside. Or, a mile-long walk to the bus (in silence?.. is it a forest road or a city?..). Or, a snarking bus-driver. -- these are the paints that form a picture I can feel and align myself with.

*

There was an article on Cooper blog, saying that the best interface is no interface. It gained lots of attention and praise -- to my surprise, because I felt it was wrong in the very core. 

Is the ideal world an empty one? Reading your thoughts and giving you everything you want at once? Even if it was possible, it would be unbearable for sure. Humans are not goal-oriented machines; activities of doing things and related interactions are integral part of life. Sometimes an interaction can be far more important than a goal or task.

And you know, these interactions should not be perfect. 

Recently I realized that I don't love my iPhone. I don't have any attachment to this ideal peace of glass and metal, with ideal chamfers and transparent interface I don't even notice. It's like an artifact of a higher culture from another galaxy, a black monolith from Space Odyssey 2001. It's cool to have one, it does the job perfectly, but you can't love it. And isn't love something that makes everything spin for a human being?

So the ideal interface is definitely not a transparent one. It's the interface that gives the most joy while helping people to do what they need. What is more inspirational -- a car that unlocks itself when you approach it, or a rich feeling of a key rotating smoothly until a firm click, touch of a metal handle, and that unexplainable but familiar sound of a door open and close with a hard snap?

Perfect things are great at first, but as they fail to gain an emotional connection, all their wonders soon become familiar and dull and don't bring any joy anymore. This makes us long for a new toy, then another one, in a futile attempt to fill the emotional desert we're sitting in.

I'm trying to be as much pathetic as possible, but isn't it true? :)

*

Imperfections are crucial for a really good and loved product. Small unnecessary details, unexplainable behavior which makes you notice, good humor in text and graphic. Things that tell a story, things that give hints about those who made them.

I think that could be the reason behind passion for old games and machines many people share. That's something we are clearly lacking in things we make today.

What do you think?


++

"Things that give hints about those who made them." I love this. It's something I've been thinking about for a while, but never so succinctly. I want to see the human behind the product. I think that's where I get the most happiness out of a thing.

//

I do too. Once a friend was in a pottery class. She made a huge vase; about half as tall as her. In the kiln, it fused with another piece in the class, making a big apple sized ball on the bottom/side edge. She got ready to knock off the apple for her perfect project.

Her Japanese teacher said, "Leave it. Only god makes perfection." My friend was very unhappy. She felt that his guidance was killing the aesthetic of her piece. But later she realized that the misfired apple isn't only the part with the most character … it means that she can pour water out of it, because it's become a handle. The piece would have been impossible to tip without the mistake.

// ^^^ What a great story! It even rivals the blossoming tree piece! :)