Sci-Fi Hi-Fi

Thanks to Brent, Michael, and others, my Project Looking Glass post generated a fair amount of interest, and some interesting comments (thanks to everyone who participated!). Because of the level of interest, I feel compelled to continue beating the horse by responding to two criticisms (one potential and one actual).

The first thing I’d like to address is what I fear might be taken as a disconnect between my Looking Glass post and one of my first posts way back in February, which defended Apple’s frequent invention of “non-standard” UI widgets in the iApps. No one has mentioned it, but I realize that the opinion I express there (that after 20 years of desktop interfaces, absolute UI consistency might not quite be as all-important as it once was) could appear to be at odds with my claim to be a “traditionalist.”

If this is what anyone is thinking, fine: I abdicate my claim to UI traditionalism. The rest of what I say is still consistent, though. I consider things like iPhoto’s “zooming” mechanism and Exposé to be examples of what I described in my last post as innovating within a traditional desktop framework, rather than going for radical reinvention. By contrast, I consider what Sun is doing to be closer to Lifestreams or (and I know this is a loaded example) Microsoft Bob: an attempt to fundamentally change the metaphors people use to interact with their machines. In the case of Project Looking Glass, Sun appears to be favoring a more literal, “real world” approach.

This comparison between Apple’s and Sun’s approaches brings me to the second thing I want to address: Eric Hancock has posted a response to my critique, in which he argues that I’ve judged Project Looking Glass using only my personal likes and dislikes as a standard. For example, he questions my emphasis on heuristics and speed, arguing that sometimes people simply want to browse freely without a specific target in mind, and that Sun’s 3D interface is superior for that sort of thing.

Eric definitely has a good point there: it is easy for me to forget that just because I don’t personally like to use the “Browse” feature in iTunes, that doesn’t mean there aren’t users who swear by it. I might even go so far as to agree that the browsing functionality could sometimes be more useful if it displayed an album’s cover along with it’s name. What I still won’t buy into, however, is the idea that 3D would improve the browsing experience.

When it comes down to it, what does 3D buy us in the GUI? Maybe I’m just missing something big (and I’m sure someone will point it out if I am), but it seems to me that the only significant benefit of a 3D interface is the ability to create a sort of “virtual reality” environment, where things look and are manipulated more like real world objects. And, as I’ve explained, I think that approach is both unnecessary and undesirable for most purposes.

I’ll be the first to admit I could be wrong, though. It is very possible that my criticisms of Project Looking Glass represent a huge failure of the imagination. Only time (and, as Eric points out, user testing) will tell.

I have a confession to make: when it comes to UI, I’m bit of a traditionalist. It’s not that I believe the reigning desktop metaphor is sacrosanct, or that there isn’t room for innovation, but I guess I have the same idea about UI design that Robert McKee has about screenwriting: there are certain proven principles that have always worked, and it’s better to work within them than to go for radical re-invention.

This being the case, I always roll my eyes when I see things like Sun’s Java Desktop System. I believe the JDS to be the most egregious misapplication of the term “Java” since the christening of JavaScript, and a marketing blunder almost on par with the original .Net naming confusion, but what really has me slapping my forehead is Sun’s misguided 3D UI experiment, Project Looking Glass.

The JDS website hypes Looking Glass, which is essentially a 3D desktop environment, with a lot of hypotheticals like the following:

What if your CD or movie database became a 3D jukebox, where titles were joined with images to make finding what you want easier than ever?

My answer? Well, judging by the provided screenshot, it would take a lot longer to find what I’m looking for in my music collection since I would be scanning through hundreds or thousands of literal images of CDs instead of performing a lightning-fast type-ahead text search in iTunes!

The problem with Project Looking Glass is that it falls for a common fallacy in UI design: the idea that the more literally a user interface apes the real world, the easier it will be to use. The jukebox concept really shows where this idea breaks down. After all, isn’t one of the big advantages of a digital jukebox that I can instantly call up any song I can think of without having to rummage through my real world CD collection?

I’m not formally trained in human/computer interaction, but to me it’s simply common sense that any UI design should be judged both on its ease-of-use and its heuristic value to the user. Put another way: a large part of the responsibility of any interface design is to stay out of the user’s way while helping him or her perform an action or get to a piece of information as quickly as possible. Usually, slavish emulation of the real world isn’t the best way to acheive this goal (otherwise, what’s the point of using computers at all?).

This is not to say that some level of metaphor use isn’t valuable, of course. In fact, both Bruce Tognazzini and Jakob Nielsen name it as an essential principle of UI design. The problem comes when the metaphor ties an interface too literally to the inefficiencies and limitations of the real world. We all appreciate the familiar “folders” of a hierarchical file browser, for example, but how would you like it if your Documents folder could only contain a small number of files?

It is the job of any UI designer to act as a mediator between the real and the virtual, but it is the measure of a good one that he or she gets the balance between concrete and abstract just right. By that standard, Sun’s UI designers have a long way to go before they can justify their claim that Looking Glass is more than mere “eye candy.”

I’ve come to an unexpected realization about the Bay Area in the past week: it turns out that I really love the place in the winter. Unlike Denver, where it gets cold and snowy this time of year, the recent weather around here has been bracingly cool and intermittently rainy—pretty much my ideal climate!

On Sunday morning, I took a walk from my apartment to one of Cupertino’s local hangouts, the Donut Wheel (which really shows you what a happening place the town is!), and noticed that some rather dramatic clouds had descended over the nearby Santa Cruz Mountains. Rather than spend the day cleaning up around the apartment, as I had planned, I decided to throw my camera in the car, queue up the Blue States’ Man Mountain on my iPod (“Season Song” is number 1 with a bullet on my current favorites list), and indulge my love of rainy weather by going for a scenic drive.

Without really knowing where I was going, I headed south toward Saratoga, took CA-9 into the mountains, and followed CA-35 north toward San Francisco. I traveled as far as the point where the road splits, with Half Moon Bay on one side and San Francisco on the other (if I had remembered to bring a map I would have probably noticed how close Half Moon Bay was and continued on—oh well…). Along the way I saw little mountain towns, vineyards, verdant forests, fogs so dense I could barely see the road ahead of me, and vista points that provided occasional glimpses of both San Francisco Bay and the Pacific—and all of this no more than a half hour from the sprawling Silicon Valley metroplex!

Not to suggest, of course, that I don’t miss “real” winter weather from time to time (it seems particularly odd to see Christmas decorations going up without a trace of snow), but I have to admit it’s nice to find myself in the dead of winter and still feeling like staying active and exploring rather than retreating indoors. Let’s hear it for Mediterranean climates!

A few photos of my little expedition…

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I’ve been pretty satisifed with my current digicam, the inexpensive but highly capable Canon A70. I’ve been so happy, in fact, that I eagerly recommend it every chance I get (see Eric Albert and Mark Pilgrim’s weblogs for example). To me, it’s the “little digicam that could”—it may not be as fancy, or tiny, or as high resolution as its more expensive counterparts, but it has one thing that I personally value above all those things: unlike some digital cameras I’ve owned, it’s very reliable and consistent.

That said, I’m afraid my eye has begun to wander a bit now that Leica has announced the Digilux 2. As the adoring owner of an M6 and two of Leica’s superb M lenses (a 35mm f/2 Summicron ASPH and an older 50mm f/2 Summicron), I’ve wanted to like Leica’s digital cameras for the longest time. Unfortunately, I’ve always been scared off by reviews mentioning a so-called “pointillist” effect on its images and excessive image noise at anything but the lowest ISO—annoyances that made it hard to for me to justify the cameras’ prices (and that’s just the current generation—Leica’s previous iteration of re-badged Fujifilm cameras were really lame).

I’m not sure if the Digilux 2 will fix these flaws, but it’s being marketed with one phrase that, if accurate, may well get me to forgive them: “the ‘analog’ digital camera.” The Digilux 2 appears to be Leica’s attempt to create a digital version of the classic M6—a digicam to please luddite photojournalists and curmudgeonly Leicaphiles everywhere. True to Leica form, the Digilux 2 looks backward and seeks to emulate traditional, all-manual cameras: to focus the lens, you turn a ring; to set the shutter speed, you move a dial; to check the focus distance, you look at markers on the lens. From a distance, you could even be forgiven for mistaking it for an actual M6 (something not everyone appreciates, it would seem…)!

What really seals the deal for me, though, is Magnum photographer David Alan Harvey’s psuedo-endorsement of the camera (as mentioned in Digital Photography Review’s coverage). Harvey is known for being a rather minimalist in his approach to equipment, and he’s definitely representative of the sort of people Leica is targeting, so his nod speaks well of their efforts.

(Update: An anonymous comment poster has pointed me to a Photo.net discussion about the Digilux 2, which illuminates another similarity between it and the Leica M: a very high price tag! I’m not quite ready to dismiss the D2 entirely, since I suspect a lot of its cost is tied up in an excellent lens and I still pine for the camera’s simple, “analog” operation, but I have to admit it would need really outstanding reviews to be competitive with the Canon 10D and the other mid-range digital SLRs it will be going head-to-head with.)

As I mentioned, one of the major reasons for my recent blogging hiatus was the trip I took to Denver for Thanksgiving. It was a bit of a whirlwind tour, given the number of people I planned to catch up with, but it was an enjoyable one nonetheless. I got gorge myself on my Mom’s fantastic Thanksgiving cooking, play with my family’s beloved dachshund Wilco (pictured below), chat with my brothers (one of whom left for school on the East Coast at the same I departed for the West), finally see Lost In Translation (which I loved, as expected), have lunch at Qdoba (a chain that, sadly, has no presence in California) with my former coworkers, get a haircut with my favorite stylist (a family friend who, until I moved to California, had been the only person ever to cut my hair!), see some snow (only a little, though, sadly), drop in for Evensong at St. Mark’s Parish, and enjoy an evening downtown with some of my oldest and best friends. Not bad for a mere three non-travel days!

I haven’t really been gone long enough yet to have forgotten much about Denver, but one thing I was definitely more aware of on this visit was the dryness. I’ve always known that Colorado is famous for its arid climate, but I’d never really noticed it until now. Every morning while I was there I woke up with an absolutely parched mouth, and by the end of the week my skin was feeling rather chapped. My friends also thought I was becoming a bit too sensitive to the cold, so I guess my inevitable Californication is well under way!

Mainly for the benefit of my friends and family (and for journaling purposes, and for my fellow “hoont” afficionado nala), I’ve posted a few photos from the trip below (hey, if Mark Pilgrim can do a gratuitous family pictures post, I think I’m entitled to a little self indulgence here!).

Wilco in his favorite chair.

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