Every year at about this time, the networks unveil their new fall series and I pick the one (or two) that will likely make it to my TiVo Season Pass. It’s an old habit I picked up when I was a writer for TV Guide after college. Last year, I made the disastrous choice of Studio 60 which I have since, heartbroken, stopped watching and NBC has mercifully pulled the plug on.
The NBC line is that the new “Bionic Woman” is a “re-imagining,” not a remake. Executive producer David Eick, a “Galactica” veteran, believes that the familiar title and premise may in fact give the writers more room to monkey with the concept, paradoxical as that sounds.
The series that spawned all those plastic dolls and rust-susceptible lunchboxes seems more innocent than ever alongside the new, noir-ish “Bionic Woman,” which tosses ’70s optimism (technology can make us stronger!) in favor of post-9/11 paranoia (technology can make us expire!). It even concludes with a rain-soaked, city rooftop fight that looks descended from “Blade Runner,” that ultimate classic of sci-fi noir. This is a “Bionic Woman” for anxiety-ridden grown-ups, not lunchbox-toting kids.
It can’t be any worse than Studio 60. I mean, after all, it does have sexy cyborg women fighting each other in the rain. Aaron Sorkin, take note.
Lots of time to hang out with yours truly this summer at various engagements, both in the US and in Europe.
First in June: Talking about Playful Interaction Design at Business to Buttons in Malmö, Sweden on the 15th. Although I’m talking about games, is not the same talk we’ve all heard in the past about how to make your application more like a computer game. Ugh. Instead, I’m looking at the deeper structure of games and figuring out how those structures can inform our own work. I’m in the middle of researching and writing this presentation now and I think it will be very interesting.
Then on the 20th at UXI Amsterdam (use my code of FODS and get 15% off!) I will be teaching the Interaction Design Day, which was a big hit in Chicago last month and is being slightly revised for this outing.
My family got a very hard lesson recently in how human beings give meaning to objects. Coming back from a plane trip, my six-year-old’s favorite stuffed animal was left on the plane. Despite multiple trips to the airport lost and found, poor Moussie was gone. All of us cried. Once my wife even remarked, “We’ve cried less for human family members who have died.” And it was true. This stuffed dog had an incredible amount of meaning for us.
In considering the characteristics of good interaction design for my book, meaningful was one trait I have frequently thought I overlooked. But I’m not sure designers can really make anything meaningful to anyone. Objects only become meaningful through use and context.
Mugge’s underlying idea was that if people feel strongly attached to a product, they will be less likely to discard it (which her research confirmed). The lifespan of the product therefore increases, which has positive environmental effects. Mugge distinguishes four factors influencing product bonding: self-expression (can I distinguish myself with a product?), group affinity (does ownership of a product connect me to a group?), memories (related to the product) and pleasure (provided by the product).
Now, I have not read Making Meaning: How Successful Companies Deliver Meaningful Experiences yet, but I am dubious that designers alone can make a product meaningful. Pleasurable, yes. Useful, yes. But meaningful? Significance is a personal thing; what might be important to one person is garbage to another. I’m not sure you can make meaning anymore than you make an experience; both are created in the minds of users. As a designer, you can only design for the possibility of meaning (and for an experience).
I think I am much more of the school of thought outlined by Peter-Paul Verbeek in his book What Things Do (My review). Products, Verbeek writes, coshape the relation between humans and the world. Objects allow us to form a relationship with the world based on how they are used. The meaning we derive from objects comes from that use. Had my daughter’s stuffed animal sat on a shelf untouched, it would not have the same meaning as it had because it was used. Thus, designers should design for use, not meaning. Meaning comes through use. Verbeek says, “Products to which people develop an attachment are not generally as emotionally charged and irreplaceably present as heirlooms, but neither are they as anonymous as a throw-away item…what distinguishes these goods from our most loved possessions is that they are used rather than cherished.”
Moussie was both used and cherished. He was meaningful. Goodbye, old friend. Thanks for everything.