There's a tacit understanding with a panel title like "Worst Website Ever: 2 Stupid 2 Fail" that the content is designed to draw a laugh. Yes, the visual gags are there, and yes, the slightly-naughty puns were in force as well, but the actual content of the presentations (faux pitches for truly terrible ideas) revealed a lot about the things that are funny because they are so terribly true. Here are a few lessons that I was able to glean from the panel, and what they mean in a practical way.

Lesson #1: A pale copy is a bad place to start from.

Lots of the presentations presented ideas that relied on the humor of "almost, but not quite." Versions of popular (young-skewing) internet communities aimed at the over-40 crowd, transparent riffs on popular sites that offered no value over the original site, and blatant rip offs all drew big laughs from the crowd. The internet is full of just such clones, and they're always slightly missing the point. While you can often come up with some great ideas by thinking about what other people are doing, the angle always needs to be, "What aren't they doing?" not just an attempt to make something different enough that it won't cause a lawsuit. Some of the funniest fake pitches of the panel were obvious riffs that aimed to do less than the original (such as "Faceoffbook" for fans of the movie FaceOff, and Petflix).

Lesson #2: Your fax machine does not need an "App Store."

Really - it doesn't. It might seem obvious, but by the same token, who isn't trying to jump on the "App Store" bandwagon these days? I think the greater lesson to be learned from this point is that mindless bandwagon jumping leads to creating things that there is no demand for. Just like a fax machine doesn't need its own port of "Angry Birds," not every website needs a comments section or its own check-in system. People who are always looking to make the "next big thing" work for them are often missing the ways in which not every solution fits every problem. While each new craze might be worth consideration and exploration, it's perfectly acceptable for the conclusions drawn to end with, "We don't actually need this."

Lesson #3: You're not going to successfully use every technology.

One of the presentations didn't actually have much in the way of a proposed idea, instead, it relied on the joke that the website was so 'technologically advanced' that it used every technology. It even used "all of the clouds," and just about every possible API that is currently in vogue. I think we've all seen some variation of this site. There are so many social icons squashed together that you can't tell the difference between the little bird-shaped blob that you think is Twitter-blue from the tiny square that you think might lead to Facebook. You're not really sure if you're about to leave a comment with Disqus, send a Tweet, or post to your Facebook wall, and even if you could figure it out, you're probably not interested in sharing the content by that point. The page aggregates tweets, shows you the weather in Bangladesh, and lets you map things on google while you browse headlines. There's so much on the page that you reflexively lunge for the close button because you're afraid you might have a seizure.

Just because an API exists, doesn't mean you should use it on every page. Data is cool, but relevant data is even cooler, and when you don't bury the good stuff, your page gets a lot more interesting. I'm an API dork - I love to see them mashed up and filtered in brilliant ways. True story: after the worst website panel, I shook the hand of the guy who created WaitingForBieber.com. (I plan to retell this story to everyone who will listen for the next three months, so consider yourself warned.) The reason I love this site is that it uses the Twitter API in a way that is so bizarrely specific that it draws a cohesive (and terrifying) picture without any sort of long-form explanation. As best I can tell, the page is returning tweets sent to Bieber's username, and scanning the text of the response for the word "follow," so that it only returns the tweets asking Bieber to follow the user back. That's all the page does: display a constant stream of tweets, asking Justin Bieber for a "follow" on Twitter.

Now that we've established the concept, lets quickly ruin it with complications: imagine if it also pulled in headlines containing the terms "Bieber" and "Twitter." Imagine page real estate depleted by an option to share those tweets on facebook. Imagine a comments section where users could leave their opinion on tweets and rank their favorite. Imagine a series of music charts and store widgets so that users could see how Bieber is currently selling. Quickly, the idea becomes polluted and the page loses the laser-focus that made the joke funny in the first place. None of these things immediately sound like bad ideas, but compare the value added by the additional data to the value lost by distracting from the site's real purpose. There's a lot of cool, easily integrated stuff on the internet these days, but just like we don't always need to be jumping on the shiniest bandwagon, we also don't need to dilute every idea with 'value-adds' that act as distractions.

The panel definitely gave me a lot to think about (and when I'm not so exhausted and overwhelmed with information, I'll probably think of more things I gleaned from it), but most of all, it was amazing to me how not implausible most of the ideas were. Many of them didn't seem all that far off from sites that have actually been built, and I think that fact really speaks to how the best humor is close to the truth. (For the record, the "winner" of the contest was the "App Store" for the Fax Machine. The runner-up was a site for outsourced, webcam babysitting.)

Labels: bad ideas, sxsw, user experience

So far, I've been trying to write blog posts that "hang together," but part of the fun of SXSW is the way that you're constantly bombarded with amazing and interesting details and experiences. In the interest of sharing as many different angles on the event as possible about the event, I'm abandoning that format today in favor of sharing some shorter notes I've collected over the past few days.

• You have probably never seen as many smartphones, tablets, and laptops in your life as I've seen at SXSW. You have definitely never seen people so incapable of putting them away (she says, as she blogs from her smartphone). It's a little bit disturbing, actually. Mobile platforms are definitely the "now," but I'm not really sure that they're also the "future." There has to be tech fatigue at some point.
• Everything here is covered in QR codes. Everything. Most of them seem to rely on the hope that people will be inherently intrigued by the presence of a scannable code, and they'll check it out on the strength of that curiosity. When everything is covered in codes, that's a pretty bad assumption. I was highly intrigued by the idea of a QR coded cupcake, but not so much that I didn't stuff the entire thing in my mouth without scanning it. (A friend did try to scan the code, but apparently edible ink doesn't hold up well enough for it to register). The only code I've actually scanned was on a sticker that I liked the design of, and the only reason I scanned it was to verify that it didn't point to anything I found objectionable. QR codes are cool technology, but I'm not sure people have quite figured out what to do with them.
• I have never stood in so many lines in my life.
• My favorite one-line gem of the week: "If you think you can multitask well, your work should be judged by somebody only doing one thing at a time."
• At an event like this, it's worth seeing some of the "web personalities" speak, even if you don't immediately see the connection between their work and yours. After seeing Mathew Inman ("The Oatmeal") and Felicia Day speak, I've realized that these people are successful at what they do because they are passionate about their work. There is definitely something to be learned from their process, even if your projects are very different.
• I am obsessed with the brilliance of the cheese-wedge-shaped restaurant in the convention center that only serves grilled cheese, large grilled cheese, and tomato soup. They're making great use of a concept that so many people are trying to advocate for in other spheres: do one thing really, really well. Grilled cheese as inspiration for a web development philosophy? Why not?
• No, really - I have never, ever stood in so many lines. I am trying to learn patience along with all of the cool tech inspiration I'm getting, but it's not easy. I mention this fact because I'm trying to convince myself that no experience is wasted time; maybe if I commit the idea to "paper," the concept will sink in a little bit.
• The most important thing I've learned about the emerging web technologies (HTML5 and CSS3, to name two of the biggest ones), is that it's not yet time to jump in with both feet. The specs haven't been finished yet, and they're still moving targets. Experimenting with the technology will be fun, but it's not time to start large projects that rely on the bleeding edge features.

Tomorrow was going to be more of a "wrap-up" post, but after catching the encore presentation of "Worst Website Ever," I'm definitely going to write about that tomorrow, once I've had a chance to let it marinate. As much as the panel was presented as humor, it also might have been the most inspiring and insightful panel I saw. (So there's your preview for tomorrow!)

Labels: CSS3, front end development, HTML5, mobile, sxsw

Apparently, HTML5 hasn't "launched" yet.

You might remember a few months ago when the Arcade Fire released an interactive multimedia experience called "The Wilderness Downtown." The conversation about the piece was two-fold: the general public enjoyed the content, while the tech-savvy community was abuzz with the fact that the project had been built in HTML5.

(But the spec isn't finished, guys. It's not "ready.")

I spent this morning's first session at a panel on how to build cross-platform applications using HTML5. Using technologies that we traditionally consider as web-only, it's now possible to build applications that can be quickly and cheaply ported to both mobile and desktop platforms as applications that leverage the native features of the OS.  As a developer, this is exciting stuff, and it has made me want to rush home and start immediately tinkering with some of the tools suggested by the presenter.

(But HTML5 isn't "done," so. . .)

Okay - continuing the joke is a fairly silly conceit, but I think the point is clear: the genie is out of the bottle. In my second panel this morning, a couple of the people involved in creating the HTML5 spec discussed some of the political wars being waged behind the scenes during the development process. Concerns about accessibility, digital rights management, and artifacts of previous specs are all part of the set of issues that are delaying the official "blessing" of the W3C's definition of HTML5.  On one hand, it's hard to hear the arguments and not consider them to be valid and important concerns, but at the same time, how much longer can the spec be delayed before these discussions are made moot by the fact that an unfinished spec has already become the de facto standard? 

If the issues are debated for much longer, the ship will have already set sail (if it hasn't already).  One of the panelists said a scary thing while describing the concept of web-sockets (a powerful HTML5 feature that allows for what is essentially bi-directional http). Currently, that portion of the spec is in version 5. The panelist stated that developing for the version 1 spec of a year ago would've been like creating "another ie6.". If that analogy doesn't strike fear in the hearts of developers, I'm not really sure what does. The web-socket spec isn't even expected to be stable until version 6. HTML5 is already being used, but segments of it are still half-baked and flawed, and there is a very real danger of creating another "box-model" problem, where different browsers and mobile platforms interpret the spec in different ways, or render content in ways based on previous, unfinished versions of the specification.

I think the community has learned from their past mistakes. The hundreds of people involved in developing the HTML5 spec come from all areas of the development community, and all of them have an interest in not replicating the cross-browser mistakes we have already suffered through. Still, all of this careful planning can't fully account for the fact that people are excited about this technology, and they are rushing to use it, regardless of its preliminary nature.  There are already enough examples of its use that I was able to attend a panel debating HTML5 as a flash-killer.

One of my favorite parts of SXSW has been the way it sparks these intensely geeky conversations, centered around the kind of minutiae that aren't often discussed in such detail. To some extent, talking about the politics of a web spec could be seen as debating an already dead-issue, or posing a purely rhetorical question. At the same time, in talking about the process, we can anticipate where the points of friction are likely to arise, and hopefully outmaneuver some of the pitfalls. I know that if I start experimenting with HTML5 in the near future, I'll be conscientious of web-sockets and other new features of the spec, and I will also be wary of suggesting any radical shifts in technology until I feel confident that we're building on a stable foundation. Yes, the new spec is extremely exciting, but it's probably worth using a little caution until it's a little less raw.

Labels: front end development, HTML5, sxsw

After my first full day at SXSW, I feel very much like Dorothy in 'The Wizard of Oz,' experiencing that famous moment when Toto pulls open the curtain hiding the man behind the machinery. Of course, if you're familiar with the film, the metaphor has two layers to it. We usually associate "pulling back the curtain" with a positive experience that satisfies our curiosity, however, let's not forget that the original allusion also carries with it a sense of betrayal. We want our "wizards" to be great and powerful, and finding out that they're only human can be disappointing. At the same time, this realization can also be freeing because it reminds us that the "correct" answers have not yet been settled upon, and that even the "experts" are often engaging in the same learning processes as the rest of us.

Running with the positive sense of the metaphor, I've peeked behind some amazing curtains today. At the morning's first panel, I was able to learn about the processes and logic behind the testing and development model behind "New" Twitter. As someone who watched the launch unfold (and personally adopted, abandoned, revisited, and finally embraced the changes), it was fascinating to hear about the way the new model of interaction was actually chosen. As a developer, I'm embarrassed to admit this, but until the presenter pointed it out, I hadn't thought about the fact that New Twitter's interaction model "breaks" our fundamental understanding of how the web works. Links open panels, not pages; layers and drawers present content, rather than page-turns refreshing information. Nothing does what you expect it to, and yet the final product works in a way that perfectly suits the data being presented. Still, after watching my timeline almost unanimously resist the changes, I have to think that the counter-intuitive behavior of the page contributed to the initial venom that the change inspired.

Do I agree with the choices? Yes, adamantly. No, vehemently. I can't commit to an answer. If I look at the question as a developer, then I can't quite stomach completely disregarding the value in respecting the system - links should behave as links. If I look at the choice with my anthropologist's hat on, then I suppose my answer boils down to the fact that all culture changes over time. As much as we like to place conventions and standards on a pedestal, they can become shackles if we allow them to become larger and more important than their practical purposes require. Links should behave like links when it helps our users; links should not behave like links simply because "that is how it is done."

When Twitter made the choice to break this model, it was done deliberately, and it was done because they saw a need to do things differently. I can't speak to it in any broad, official capacity, but based on my personal network, I think that after the initial shock wore off, people warmed up to the changes, and ultimately, the gamble was successful.

Another good example of having the curtains pulled back on a process that is usually opaque comes from listening to a panel on CSS3, given by people involved in developing the specifications. CSS3 will offer a whole new set of possibilities for web design, while simultaneously creating a whole new set of pitfalls, browser clashes, and headaches of backwards compatibility. While listening to the panel, I realized two things: that everyone there understood the problems, and that none of them necessarily had the answers. I feel okay about that fact, especially because I now know that the people developing the spec work with and for a variety of browsers, and that they're all going through this process collaboratively. No one browser is claiming to have the one unique solution, and hopefully this will make the transition to CSS3 run more smoothly than previous iterations have.

A lot of what I'm hearing at SXSW consists of some variation on, "This is really cool, and this is what we think it means, but we're not entirely sure just yet." The best panelists have been the people with interesting questions, rather than interesting answers. In a sense, these people are drawing back their own curtains. Not only do they make themselves transparent and honest by doing so, but they're allowing the conversation to flow in both directions. Twitter is learning from its users and developing new features based on what they perceive to be user needs. CSS3 is being defined by people who use and develop the web, and who are working together to make something that they hope will satisfy everyone. Even the man behind a popular zombie website spoke today about the value of letting your community shape your content, and of abandoning your own ideas when you perceive that they have become out of sync with the needs of your users.

So maybe it's best that we don't keep hoping that Oz begins and ends with the great and powerful facade. As it turned out for Dorothy, the man behind the curtain was much more accessible and helpful in the end. I believe the same premise holds true for our technological gurus, and that perhaps the reason I've yet to hear anyone claim that this isn't a messy, collaborative process might be the fact that those people have failed to thrive the way their more flexible contemporaries have.

Labels: CSS3, front end development, sxsw, user experience

One of the first questions people ask at a party is, "What do you do?" I dread this question. Not because I don't want to talk about work, not because I hate my job, but because the answer, "I'm a taxonomist." usually results in a lot of blank looks. Sometimes I just tell people I am a librarian (which I am) but explaining why Sears.com needs a librarian is even more difficult.

About 6 years ago I was at a SXSW party, and was faced with just this question. I told them the boring truth--I worked on metadata quality & harvesting, but that my research area was taxonomy & classification of online data. After waking from her nap, she replied, "You know, no one knows what that is now, but in 5 years, everyone will want someone who knows how to do that well."

At the time, newly out of grad school and not relevantly employed, this statement made me angry. I think I told her, "That's great--what do I do until then?!" But in retrospect, it's the most prophetic statement I've ever experienced.

Often in information architecture, we complain about how no one takes us seriously; no one understands what we do. We fantasize about all the great work we'll be able to do only when everyone recognizes us for the geniuses we are. That's the wrong way to go about it. Keep kicking ass at a solution to the problem instead of shouting about how everyone should pay attention to the problem. Eventually people will realize there's a problem themselves and need you. And no one else has spent the last five years solving their problem.

People will never like the person who keeps pointing out the problem, but they won't complain about the person who just fixed the problem no one saw.

Labels: IA, jenny, kicking ass, metadata, professionalism, sxsw, Taxonomy, user experience, UX