One morning, during my time in Bath, I took a Scarper’s Bus Tour to Salisbury, or in other words to see Stonehenge. People seem to have mixed reactions to this site, ranging from awe to profound disappointment. I stand, mouth agape, among the awed.
Quick plug (I have no special loyalty to or arrangement with this company): The tour was timely, the bus was comfortable, uncrowded, and had huge windows allowing great views of the countryside. I found the driver friendly and knowledgeable, pointing out several fascinating features along the drive, including the Westbury White Horse - a chalk drawing sculpted into a hillside below an Iron Age fort. The price of the tour covered tickets (no standing in line - yay!) as well as an audio guide (this would have also incurred a fee). I found the tour well worth the price.
Ticket and audio guide in hand, I was set loose for a couple hours to wander and wonder. The territory of archaeological interest around Stonehenge is actually quite extensive. In fact, just from the parking lot to the visitor center and stones is 1.5 miles! Normally I would have relished that walk, but due to my timetable I was obliged to join a queue for a short, park-furnished ride that ferried me to the historic site itself. The wait for this ride was only perhaps 15 minutes, so it was not long after I debarked my tour bus that I stepped down, my stomach jumped, and my nerves tingled with the knowledge that I was about to pass through a looking glass into ancient history.
Friday, January 26, 2018
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
Do you want to deliver the value that your audience needs to receive?
“Discover the real problems.” - Don Norman, The Design of Everyday Things
Guiding principles of user research:
- You are not the user
- Keep an open mind
- University of Minnesota, User Research and Design course, Brent Hecht
Do you want to deliver the value that your audience needs to receive? It is a design thinking question, and I pose it to anyone (myself included) who wants to contribute to the world. “Delivering value” applies to many of our situations. You might want to manufacture a product, give a speech, provide a humanitarian service, or participate in a relationship. Your “audience” might be a user base, a room full of business associates, a stranger on the street or a life partner. In all cases, the basic concerns remain the same.
Originally I intended to preach about designing your deliverable to meet the goals and understanding of the people who use it. However, I am relatively new to the world of design and don’t have the experience or authority to start handing out road maps just yet. What I have is growing awareness of and excitement about the landscape of this discipline. Its insights have broadened my perspective and creative output, and so I can speak with enthusiasm about the topic given in the title, as a migrant to this land inviting others to join me.
Our starting point is not how to design, but why we should care about design. Our audience benefits - we benefit - if we embrace that our audience’s goals may be different than ours, and that delivering something of value to them takes a special attitude and special effort.
Guiding principles of user research:
- You are not the user
- Keep an open mind
- University of Minnesota, User Research and Design course, Brent Hecht
Do you want to deliver the value that your audience needs to receive? It is a design thinking question, and I pose it to anyone (myself included) who wants to contribute to the world. “Delivering value” applies to many of our situations. You might want to manufacture a product, give a speech, provide a humanitarian service, or participate in a relationship. Your “audience” might be a user base, a room full of business associates, a stranger on the street or a life partner. In all cases, the basic concerns remain the same.
Originally I intended to preach about designing your deliverable to meet the goals and understanding of the people who use it. However, I am relatively new to the world of design and don’t have the experience or authority to start handing out road maps just yet. What I have is growing awareness of and excitement about the landscape of this discipline. Its insights have broadened my perspective and creative output, and so I can speak with enthusiasm about the topic given in the title, as a migrant to this land inviting others to join me.
Our starting point is not how to design, but why we should care about design. Our audience benefits - we benefit - if we embrace that our audience’s goals may be different than ours, and that delivering something of value to them takes a special attitude and special effort.
Thursday, January 18, 2018
Timeless in Bath, part 1
My ride to Bath was uneventful and leisurely: a good indicator of how the next three days would proceed. Arrival at Bath Spa was likewise peaceful. The only notable features were the rain - by my count this was only the third time in almost 60 days that I had encountered rain - and the relatively cool temperature. I actually put on a raincoat when I exited the station!
Looking back now as I write this, I am staggered by the relative oven that southern Europe baked in this year, and concerned for my new friends and acquaintances and all their fellow citizens. On balance, I enjoyed the warmth and clear skies I encountered between May and July, in spite of sweltering days, soaked shirts and fatigued afternoon naps. Of course, I also recall that it was the heat that finally chased me north, where I could relish getting rained on in Bath. As I retreated in the face of 38 degrees Celsius (100 Fahrenheit), those I waved goodbye to persevered, with some measure of comfort (I hope), as by mid-August temperatures neared 48 C (almost 120 F). Heat, drought, fires, service breakdowns: it seems appropriate that Europeans named the heat wave Lucifer.
It is hard for me to conceive of. Even though the areas where I normally live are also encountering more extreme weather in recent years, we do not also contend (as many of the places I visited do) with seriously compromised economic health. Now, when I think about moving to Europe, I think not just of the ways in which it would be enriching or fun for me, but also how I might adjust to new, everyday environmental, economic, even sociopolitical norms. Furthermore, I wonder what I would contribute. My experience this summer was high on receipt and short on delivery. If I were to take part in a community, there would need to be more balance in that equation.
For now, though, back to Bath:
A slight drizzle was on as I exited the station.
Looking back now as I write this, I am staggered by the relative oven that southern Europe baked in this year, and concerned for my new friends and acquaintances and all their fellow citizens. On balance, I enjoyed the warmth and clear skies I encountered between May and July, in spite of sweltering days, soaked shirts and fatigued afternoon naps. Of course, I also recall that it was the heat that finally chased me north, where I could relish getting rained on in Bath. As I retreated in the face of 38 degrees Celsius (100 Fahrenheit), those I waved goodbye to persevered, with some measure of comfort (I hope), as by mid-August temperatures neared 48 C (almost 120 F). Heat, drought, fires, service breakdowns: it seems appropriate that Europeans named the heat wave Lucifer.
It is hard for me to conceive of. Even though the areas where I normally live are also encountering more extreme weather in recent years, we do not also contend (as many of the places I visited do) with seriously compromised economic health. Now, when I think about moving to Europe, I think not just of the ways in which it would be enriching or fun for me, but also how I might adjust to new, everyday environmental, economic, even sociopolitical norms. Furthermore, I wonder what I would contribute. My experience this summer was high on receipt and short on delivery. If I were to take part in a community, there would need to be more balance in that equation.
For now, though, back to Bath:
A slight drizzle was on as I exited the station.
Monday, January 8, 2018
Cardiff, Wye Valley Walk, Tintern Abbey
I departed Oxford for Cardiff in typical form: loading up my bags, then loading up my body with their weight, leaving a thank you note for my hosts, and finally walking through Oxford to the train station. Walking is such a pedestrian term for this ritual, though: my full-bodied exertion, not just of muscles but of senses, sweating, squinting, adjusting and cinching, becoming aware and shifting the weight of not just what I carried but everything I was taking in through my eyes, ears, nose, hands and feet.
I took mental snapshots of the tall, shoulder-to-shoulder dwellings, the River Cherwell (for this last, heavy-laden trip I opted for a shorter route through town and not my earlier circuit along the Thames, hence I crossed the Cherwell, which branches northwest out of the Thames and through “downtown” Oxford), boats and bridges. As I crossed into the University area, I swam through an already bubbling sea of perambulators and sightseers, and committed this to memory as well, along with the many colleges’ stately towers and facades.
From the station I took a short bus ride to Didcot. My seatmate was a pleasant, middle-aged woman who indulged my travel-animated tongue, listening and asking about my trip. I can’t recall a bit of this conversation, only that we both seemed to enjoy ourselves.
Arriving in Didcot Parkway, I had a short layover in its small terminal. I took in the chummy, relaxed feel of the place as I sat on a small bench between a glassed-in ticket booth and the turnstiles to the platform. Opposite me, a jovial ticket agent sat at a folding table, smiling at arriving and departing travelers and answering questions.
When it was time for me to get back underway I boarded my train and met my latest seatmate. This young, bearded Englishman left a more detailed picture in my memory than I have of my earlier bus ride. He was quite well-traveled, having lived in or visited numerous countries, including India, Canada, New Zealand, and Singapore. His girlfriend was from Spain - another place he had lived. Singapore in particular impressed him, as he found it more open and accepting, more diverse, than most other places he had been. On one road, for instance, he remembered seeing churches, mosques, synagogues, and other religious buildings all side-by-side.
We chatted about Brexit as well, a move with which he disagrees, which he nevertheless feels must be honored since it was a democratic decision, and the progress of which he will watch with interest. Shortly before he got off of the train we talked about life and work. His story is personal and yet familiar to me: his first love is teaching, but economic pressure has steered him into a high-earning corporate data job. I wished him well as he left and I rode on toward Wales, and now as I remember and write I wish him well again. I wish us all well in seeking a wholesome balance between accepting the reality we inherit and creating the reality we hope to inhabit.
A very warm afternoon greeted me at Cardiff Central Station. I found this to be a modestly bustling city - well-suited to my mood. My hosts lived near Cardiff Bay so once again (to my delight) I was in store for a long, hot walk.
I took mental snapshots of the tall, shoulder-to-shoulder dwellings, the River Cherwell (for this last, heavy-laden trip I opted for a shorter route through town and not my earlier circuit along the Thames, hence I crossed the Cherwell, which branches northwest out of the Thames and through “downtown” Oxford), boats and bridges. As I crossed into the University area, I swam through an already bubbling sea of perambulators and sightseers, and committed this to memory as well, along with the many colleges’ stately towers and facades.
From the station I took a short bus ride to Didcot. My seatmate was a pleasant, middle-aged woman who indulged my travel-animated tongue, listening and asking about my trip. I can’t recall a bit of this conversation, only that we both seemed to enjoy ourselves.
Arriving in Didcot Parkway, I had a short layover in its small terminal. I took in the chummy, relaxed feel of the place as I sat on a small bench between a glassed-in ticket booth and the turnstiles to the platform. Opposite me, a jovial ticket agent sat at a folding table, smiling at arriving and departing travelers and answering questions.
When it was time for me to get back underway I boarded my train and met my latest seatmate. This young, bearded Englishman left a more detailed picture in my memory than I have of my earlier bus ride. He was quite well-traveled, having lived in or visited numerous countries, including India, Canada, New Zealand, and Singapore. His girlfriend was from Spain - another place he had lived. Singapore in particular impressed him, as he found it more open and accepting, more diverse, than most other places he had been. On one road, for instance, he remembered seeing churches, mosques, synagogues, and other religious buildings all side-by-side.
We chatted about Brexit as well, a move with which he disagrees, which he nevertheless feels must be honored since it was a democratic decision, and the progress of which he will watch with interest. Shortly before he got off of the train we talked about life and work. His story is personal and yet familiar to me: his first love is teaching, but economic pressure has steered him into a high-earning corporate data job. I wished him well as he left and I rode on toward Wales, and now as I remember and write I wish him well again. I wish us all well in seeking a wholesome balance between accepting the reality we inherit and creating the reality we hope to inhabit.
A very warm afternoon greeted me at Cardiff Central Station. I found this to be a modestly bustling city - well-suited to my mood. My hosts lived near Cardiff Bay so once again (to my delight) I was in store for a long, hot walk.
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