Peering beyond the edge of language, we discover experiences that are distinctly real and yet unnamed. There is much to be learned from a give-and-take with the material world.
Taking a cue from Transcendentalism, we can write—and rewrite—our own history through the decisions we make about language in our products.
As demonstrated by a unique path from print to digital, full immersion is necessary for developing real fluency in the cultures and languages of new platforms.
The file formats that define the web range from audacious to disturbing, and an examination of their idiosyncracies offers an illuminating glimpse of history.
By concealing complexity, we may miss opportunity for more powerful, meaningful engagement. Technology doesn't have to be invisible; rather, its complexities can be made appropriately visible.
"What do you do?" may be a hard question to answer. But when we learn to articulate the complexity and value of our work, we gain not only better understanding but greater respect for our profession.
As the web matures, great designers are distinguished not by conviction but by the ability to look beyond the tools at hand, to inquire deeply, and to define a lexicon for the field.
Playing off our enthusiasm for the new, galleries misrepresent web design as a state, not a process. In the exhibition and archival of web design, more context is essential.
The concept of the page has lasting influence on our understanding of the web. An awareness of the history and meaning of the term makes room for new possibilities in the evolution of the web.
In our new public, behavior is not an etiquette we can memorize. The web yields space for a multiplicity of identities, and a greater sensitivity to context is required.