Interaction 11: ...Let’s Get Back to Work
February 14, 2011
In a critical recap of Interaction 11, second-year student Russ Maschmayer urges interaction designers to move beyond broad theorizing and return to the workbenches.
Well, that’s it. I’m home. After five days, enough nice-to-meet-yous to send my voice packing, and more free booze than I care to admit, I’m back in my citified Brooklyn apartment, safe once again from the call of the Rocky Mountain Wild. Boulder was, of course, beautiful, and Interaction 11 managed to buck the routine of typical conference hum-drummity by pushing its bleary-eyed practitioners out of the ballroom doors and into the fresh air… at least for an hour or two.
The view from Boulder. Image credit: Jeff Kirsch
This was my second IxDA conference, my first was Interaction 10 in Savannah, and I do believe there’s truth in the romantic notion that we never forget our first. Leaving Savannah I remember feeling overwhelmed by the ingenuity and depth of craft my (future? fellow?) practitioners displayed in their presentations. Savannah felt like a World’s Fair designed just for me. Wonderful with a capital WONDER.
This morning I watched Boulder pass out of view on my way to the airport, feeling a bit as if I had witnessed the (un)making of an indie band’s sophomore album. Just who do we think we are? Just what is it that we do? It’s not like we’ve never answered these questions before. Beautifully articulated definitions have come from Robert Fabricant, Bill Moggridge and this year’s Definer General, Richard Buchanan (to name but a few drops in a vast ocean). Yet, we seem to let their words drift by us like buoys in the night.
Why is it we don’t grab on? Is it because we’re an entire profession of Renaissance mavericks who refuse pigeon-holing? Are we in some kind of epic land grab for design turf? Or is it just that we harbor an unshakeable insecurity bred by the lack of any shiny, plastic, consumer-ready deliverables? My parents hardly understood when I told them I made websites. How do you think they’ll react when I tell them I make experiences?
It’s enough to make an interaction designer want to become a dentist. Bruce Sterling, in his jaw-dropping closing keynote/roast (if you weren’t there, just wait for that video to surface), insisted “the best [Interaction Designers] can hope for is a morality in permanent beta.” So this year, as my cab drove away from Interaction 11, I was left wondering whether we’d ever make it to release candidate.
Interaction 11, absinthe, Boulder. Image credit: Stephanie Aaron
Then I remembered Interaction 10. Suddenly, I realized why existential questions reigned supreme this year: it was designed that way. However, I couldn’t say that I see why. The presentations chosen by the committee were almost indiscriminately focused on broad theorizing and philosophical waxing about ethics and naval-gazing questions about where we’re going. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of it was great stuff, but much of it came at the expense of discussing our craft.
Where was the experimentation? Where were the new boundaries in interaction design application? Brenda Laurel’s brilliant presentation was the high point of this year’s conference. As I watched her detail thirty-five years on the forefront of interaction design from Atari to virtual reality, sussing patterns of emergence and cultural change out of the soup of our profession’s history, I was left with this one thought: I want to make stuff like that.
I think we need to return to our workbenches; let all these existentialist fears extinguish themselves in our wake. One of Bruce Sterling’s closing comments hit home for me: “What will make you a better designer is a fanatic dedication to craft and no fear of failure.” I don’t think many of us would have found ourselves in a profession so off the beaten path without both of those virtues in spades. And whether we like it or not, our output will be the only thing left to defend us. Our medium is our message. Our interactions speak louder than our words. The proof will be in our pudding. So, let’s get back to work.
–Russ Maschmayer, Class of 2011
