…Don’t say it was “delightful;” make us say “delightful” when we’ve read the description. You see, all those words (horrifying, wonderful, hideous, exquisite) are only like saying to your readers “Please will you do the job for me.”.— C.S. Lewis
Simulations are powerful when students need to be engaged more than they are. Clearly, this is an area in which distributed classrooms have suffered, as death by PowerPoint has not just been refined in many programs but almost weaponized to military specifications.— Clark Aldrich
Love data visualization? Love pies? So do I.
Last Tuesday we had a Thanksgiving potluck at work, and at the instigation of a coworker I made a Venn diagram pie. Here’s how I did it, if you want to try it yourself.
What you’ll need
You can use whatever flavors you want, but remember they have to combine into a pleasing flavor profile. The flavors of the three ingredients I used were pumpkin, pecan, and apple crumble.
The recipes were fairly straightforward. Since the undertaking was complex I went simple with the recipes. For pumpkin and pecan filling I adapted About.com’s Southern Food Classic Pumpkin Pecan Pie recipe. For the pumpkin filling I bumped up the ginger and added nutmeg. For the pecan filling I used dark corn syrup, replacing about 1/3 of the dark syrup with maple syrup and a little molasses.
For the apple pie I used Cortland, Gala, and Honey Crisp apples. (I recommend The Apple Works for good information on what apples work best in what contexts.) Once again the About.com Southern Food section provided a good Apple Crumble Pie recipe.
I’d never used it before, but Pillsbury’s rolled up pie crust did pretty well!
So, to make this happen you need the following:
- Two sets of aluminum cake or pie pans (4-6 pans). Cake may allow you to overlap the three pans and the middle section more easily, but pie works, too. You’ll need three pans for baking, and at least one extra to make the middle crust.
- Aluminum foil to cover the pie plates and prevent leaks. You’ll also need it to protect the crust while baking.
- Enough pie crust for the bottom of four pies. This will cover the three-plate section, provide crust for the middle, a base to hold the middle pie crust in place, and a little extra in case you want to add decorations.
- Pumpkin pie filling to taste.
- Pecan pie filling to taste.
- Apple pie filling to taste.
- Crumble mix (no pecans to start).
- Pecan halves for topping and to add to crumble mid-way.
- A cookie sheet to support the pie plates, which will not be structurally sound enough to support the weight of the pie.
- Two six-packs of graham crust mini-pies (for excess filling).
Making your Venn pie plate
Here’s how the three pans overlapped. Note how corners are folded over. I used an ancient pizza pan for support instead of a cookie sheet (most cookie sheets don’t fit in our tiny oven).
A detail from the bottom. Cut your flattened sides into sections so they lie flat and don’t warp your pan.
Line your completed pan with aluminum foil to cover the sharp edges you’ve cut and prevent leaks.
Making your crust
Preheat your oven to 350°.
Unroll your pie crust and lay it out. Cut away excess and press edges together so you have a continuous bottom that isn’t too thick.
What not to do
The image below, with raw dough and supporting aluminum, does not work. The crust melts and doesn’t hold its shape. Thin metal dividers also do not work: they leak abominably. I learned this making my first “pie chart” pie; metal dividers were much more trouble than the crust below (for one thing, I had to tilt the pie in the oven until the pecan filling set).
Partially bake your pie crust edges and bottom about 10 minutes at 350°. Also bake sections for the middle crust, separately (see below). Note that the middle crust has a slightly tighter curve, to make the overlapping areas slightly egg-shaped instead of pure circles. This will give you more space in the middle sections. Don’t forget to puncture the crust with a fork to avoid bubbles!
Important: reserve extra unbaked pie crust. You’ll need it to make the middle section work properly.
These are the crust pieces you’ll need to shape the middle of your Venn pie-agram. I used six crust lengths: one long curve, one not-so-long, three short ones, and one tiny one.
To make the crust stay in place and reduce leaks, use unbaked dough to hold the partly-baked middle sections in place. It doesn’t need to be perfect. Tip: Use a bread knife to gently saw the pie crust sections. Pie crust is crumbly. Try to make them line up naturally with the outside edge.
Filling and baking
Tip: Start with the firmest filling first. It will fill up any weak spots a more liquid filling might break through, keeping your sections more compartmentalized. Here, the apple pie section has been filled and covered with crumble; apple has been layered in the bottom of its three overlapping sections in the middle. To the right, pumpkin filling (my next step). The pecan filling is in the center; pecans have yet to be added. I used crumbled pecans for a thicker mixture. Pecan filling went in last.
Here’s how I did the fillings, in order:
- Apple crumble
- Apple covered with pumpkin filling with normal crumble (no pecans)
- Apple covered with pecan filling
- Center: Apple covered with pumpkin filling with pecan crumble (I added pecans into the food processor with some of the crumble mix)
- Pumpkin covered with pecan
- Cover the pecan area with pecan halves; place pecan halves in the three pecan-containing middle sections
Ready to bake! Note the aluminum foil protecting the edges from over-baking. You can see some of the mini-pies I made using the excess filling.
The pie baked about an hour before a knife came out cleanly from the pumpkin filling. The mini pies, which I baked after the pie, took about 35 minutes without a cookie sheet. Oven heats vary, so check your pie at around 45 minutes, and your mini-pies at 25 minutes.
I’ve submitted a proposal for SXSW 2014! Vote here.
User experience and storytelling go hand in hand. UX professionals consciously apply personas, use case scenarios, underlying narratives, content strategy, and visual elements to provide a stage on which users play. But there is a key element missing in this drama: taxonomy. Much more than mere collections of categories, hierarchies, facets, and navigation elements, taxonomies “narrate the natural relationships between concepts.”
That quote is from a 2011 article in the journal Data & Knowledge Engineering, in which three computer scientists explored narrative taxonomy from the perspective of data algorithms in effective, adaptive content retrieval. This session will discuss the implications of narrative taxonomy for user experience design; specific kinds of taxonomy stories; how to recognize, analyze, and apply narrative taxonomies; and the results of user testing against different narrative taxonomies in different contexts.
- How does a taxonomy tell a story, and what are the narrative elements of that story? How can a UX professional recognize and analyze them without the help of sophisticated database algorithms?
- Why and when is analyzing taxonomy from a narrative perspective helpful to UX design? How does it compare to more typical approaches?
- In UX, taxonomy is primarily addressed by information architects and content strategists, but not always by both at the same time. Can narrative taxonomy bridge gaps between these different specialties?
- What does narrative taxonomy mean from an interactive perspective? What are concrete examples of this? Can users tell their own stories?
- How can narrative taxonomies be tested, and what are the results of such tests?
Pabini Gabriel-Petit approached me for an article in UXmatters in May, 2012, and in July published Intention-Focused Design: Applying Perceptual Control Theory to Discover User Intent. Below is the article as it appeared.
At this point in the development of the field of user experience, I’m assuming that most good UX professionals know how to tailor sites or applications to user profiles, create personas, and tell a compelling story that drives user process flows. But sometimes we encounter a situation that’s a bit more challenging: we’re asked to design one product for very different users—or even users with seemingly conflicting goals.
Without a unifying narrative, such challenges can result in compromised user experiences. A client, or even a UX designer, may find it simpler to either target the most valuable or common user profile or to design very different process flows and interactions for different users. These approaches aren’t necessarily bad, but integrating them gracefully is difficult without a shared context. Intention-focused design is a specific UX strategy that can help you to discover hidden and shared user narratives.
Perceptual Control Theory and User Intentions
You know you’ve got a good piece of software when people use it for purposes for which the designers never intended or designed.
Psychology is the UX designer’s friend. We use it all the time. Our process flows and interfaces apply learning, perception, and cognition theory. Decision-making research, gamification, and emotional appeals evoke the appropriate response to the stimuli we provide. But the most useful framework for understanding users that I’ve encountered is a little-known system called Perceptual Control Theory (PCT). The invention of William Powers, an engineer with degrees in physics and psychology, PCT is based equally in cybernetics and psychology. It has recently been gaining ground as a useful framework in areas such as education and psychotherapy.
The basic premise of PCT is that human behavior is not about the behavior itself, but about reinforcing desired perception. William James said, “My experience is what I agree to attend to.” William Powers suggests that behavior is not just about agreement, but about constantly refining our experience to achieve an agreeable level of perception.
For example, a bagger at a grocery store who packs items carefully—cold with cold, fragile on top—may be reinforcing a self-perception as a caring, careful person. An executive who signs the order for a layoff may be reinforcing a self-perception as a strong, dominant person. A voter voting against his own interests may be reinforcing a perception of himself as a moral person. A programmer who writes elegant code may be reinforcing a self-perception as being a particularly rational human.
PCT suggests that a person starts off with a desired reference point for her experience. (This may change over time.) She compares her environment to that reference point and takes action to bring it closer to her desired perception. She compares the result to her reference point and acts accordingly. If something external, called a disturbance, interacts with her environment, the same comparison of input and reference point recurs, resulting in the appropriate output, or behavior. This feedback loop is the core of PCT. As Powers wrote, “Control is a process by which a person can maintain some controlled variable near a reference condition by varying actions that oppose the effects of disturbances.”
In UX terms, users actively work to optimize their own experience as much as possible. Let’s take a look at how a user-focused PCT feedback loop works, as shown in Figure 1.
PCT goes further: it reminds us that what we think a person is doing and what they think they’re doing can sometimes be very different. Powers demonstrated this very simply at a presentation to the American Education Research Association in the 1990’s.
Using a large, knotted rubber band, a chalk board, and a piece of chalk, he asked a volunteer to maintain the knot over a dot, while also holding a piece of chalk there. Powers then pulled the other end of the rubber band around in a large circle. Although Powers took care to move deliberately and not too fast, the volunteer’s chalk described a smaller circle on the board. Powers then asked the audience what the volunteer had done, and they replied that he had drawn a circle. But when Powers asked the volunteer what he’d done, he said he had held the knot over the dot.
The volunteer neither expected nor intended to draw a circle, but worked to maintain the knot’s placement. However, despite hearing the instructions and watching the demonstration, the audience had seen the visible evidence of the volunteer’s behavior, the circle, as the primary object. An analyst looking at the behavior without having heard the instructions might easily take the circle to be the purpose of the exercise.
PCT is valuable to UX designers because it helps them discover what users actually think rather than what we think they think.
Several design challenges benefit directly from intention-focused design. Next, I’ll discuss how to apply intention-focused design when we’re asked to transform a site or application.
Occasionally, a UX designer or creative team receives a request to completely re-envision a site or application. Perhaps the company’s business value is changing, or the site has to adapt to the mobile world. Yet the site may have a strong following of users who are content with the site as it is, so resist change. Often UX designers offer users a more usable interaction, then are surprised by a vehement negative response. It’s a truism that users resist change. The PCT insight that people desire equilibrium at their personal reference point goes to the heart of this.
A person’s desired reference states operate in a hierarchy of importance and awareness. People work to maintain equilibrium at different levels of being. I’ve adapted this hierarchy for a compassionate animal lover from a 1982 diagram from psychologists Charles Carver and Michael Scheier:
- System concept: Be a compassionate person.
- Principle: Be kind to animals.
- Program: Walk the dog.
- Relationship: “Dog walkingness” sequence: Keep the dog from running into traffic by pulling on his leash, tightening his choke collar. (I know, I know. Wait for it.)
- Transition: Pull on the leash.
- Configuration: Fingers around the leash.
- Sensation: Friction of the fabric against your fingers.
- Intensity: Muscle tension.
The animal lover simultaneously compares all of these perceptions to an expected, desired reference point, but those that are lower in the hierarchy can change in response to new information—provided they match the deeper expectations of system and principle. But I know that choke collar is bothering you, so let’s provide our dog owner with new information: choke collars are painful to dogs. The animal lover’s self-perception as a compassionate person and the principle of kindness to animals trumps maintaining equilibrium in the “Walk the dog” program or “dog walkingness” relationship. A new program appears: Buy a walking harness.
You have to address not just the level of environmental equilibrium, but the deeper levels of purpose and self-perception. Not doing this can result in debacles like the Netflix separation of streaming and DVD viewing. Had anyone at an empowered level said, “Customers don’t want DVDs or streaming video, they want movies and entertainment,” they might have averted the loss of customers. Great design actively engages purpose and self-perception to change the user’s environmental expectations, effectively resetting their equilibrium to a new state.
The Hidden User
Sometimes a site’s users are not the only participants in its narrative. For example, the medical software company I work for provides software for quite a few highly specific user personas: nurses, therapists, schedulers, billers, marketers, and more. Some of these are not only very different, but initially seem to have conflicting interests.
I struggled with this when I first began—looking for the underlying hook that would tie a good, user-centered design together; chunking out different user activities; getting data from customers and coworkers who knew them deeply. But it was a PCT analysis of their intentions that exposed their shared narrative. Part of every persona’s internal script was a hidden user the persona focused on every day: the patient. From then on, patient first became the design mantra, and I’ve set aside all design that doesn’t center on that hidden, absent user.
A retail site offering educational toys and tools for children offers another example of a hidden user. Parents, educators, and others are on the site, but the purpose they all have in common is a better-educated child who enjoys learning. That child is the absent user, providing the context for a taxonomy based on age, special needs, specific curricula, and other factors driving customer intention.
When designing solutions for user activities, it is very easy to fall into the common-sense trap. Anyone trained in experimental methodology knows that common-sense assumptions are often proven wrong. For example, in a study of the likelihood that drivers would call 911 or otherwise act in a dangerous situation, the results were surprising.
Someone looking like a small child walked beside a rural road, a suburban road, and a busy highway. Common sense might make people expect more 911 calls from the busy road, because more people were there. But the opposite occurred: the more people were present, the fewer calls or offers of help they made. Analysis revealed that drivers on the little-used road figured there might not be anyone else to help, so they took action. Drivers on the busy highway figured someone else must’ve already called, so took no action. The response on the suburban road fell in between.
My favorite example of a common-sense design mistake is the typical business mental model for sharing user-generated content. Viewing users as single units in a much larger pool of users, who touch only some of that pool, businesses place a user at the center of an ever-expanding circle of sharing: user, friends, site members, public, as shown in Figure 2.
But users don’t perceive themselves that way. They experience themselves as the horizon between their self and their world, and they adjust how they share according to a greatly varying series of needs. With a friend, they might share dreams and romantic details, but not the physical details of a medical problem. With a doctor, the opposite holds true. Both kinds of data are intimate details, but shared intimacy is not the same across the board. Different groups of people receive different kinds and levels of information.
Here, the user’s system concept might be a desire to be likable to as many people as possible. As a result, the user might share only information that is appropriate, to avoid putting people off by sharing too much. Of course, people vary, and context should always drive analysis of user intentions. LiveJournal got this years ago, offering highly customizable, user-created groups years before other social networks—but the social circles of Google+ are hands-down the best design implementation of it.
Intention-focused design deliberately empowers users as active, goal-driven participants in shaping their experience. In this article, my goal was to introduce the concept of Perceptual Control Theory at a high level, showing why it redefines our basic understanding of user analysis beyond site interactions and immediate goals to deeper levels of intent. As examples, I showed three strategic uses of intention-focused design: getting a handle on site transformation, discovering hidden users, and empowering users through design.
Carver, Charles S., and Michael F. Scheier. “Control Theory: A Useful Conceptual Framework for Personality—Social, Clinical, and Health Psychology.” APA Psychological Bulletin, 1982, Volume 92, Number 1.1.
Powers, William T. Behavior: The Control of Perception. 2nd ed. Montclair, NJ: Benchmark Publications, Inc., 2005.
One of the first things I did for Kinnser Software was begin to establish content strategy guidelines, and this was the first one. It was published in the Kinnser UX blog I started and maintained, as well as the living (coded) style guide I created.
When writing for headers, buttons, navigation links, and similar items, the guidelines are simple:
- Use nouns for things.
- Use verbs for actions.
- Avoid generic terms like “Submit,” as the action may not be interpreted correctly. Instead, describe exactly what the action will do. This is particularly important for our users, since the term “submit” can have multiple meanings. For example, Medicare claims are submitted. An example of good button text can now be seen in the Approve Claims area of Billing Manager [a key Kinnser feature]. Instead of “Submit,” the button helpfully says “Approve Claims for Submission.”
- Avoid gerunds: verbs functioning as nouns by adding “-ing” to the end of the word. For people for whom English is a second language, this form can be confusing.
For a little over two years, I left work and went to a particular bus stop on Elliott & Western in Seattle. So I spent a little time every day looking at this building, near the base of a hill leading up to the Queen Anne Hill area.
One day, for whatever reason, I turned around and looked behind me. Due to an accident of unusual angles (hills, buildings, streets), suddenly I could see everything the building was hiding from me, including the Space Needle!
The beauty of turning around is that it changes your perspective. Sometimes it even shows you the forest for the trees—or in this case, the neighborhood for the buildings.
So how do you turn around, metaphorically speaking? Here are some straightforward and a couple less obvious methods:
- Try the other person’s perspective on for size. You may not end up agreeing with it, but you’ll understand it better, and this process frequently provides insight into design challenges. You UX people are used to this one.
- Are you looking from the outside in, or UI first? Try flipping it. Do the mental exercise of imagining your web application from the back end out – network to content buckets to databases to identifying the right content to surfacing, navigating, and consuming it. Getting a better understanding of the building blocks will let you do more with your Lego.
- Set yourself challenges that push you beyond your normal boundaries to see the point of view inside someone else’s. For example, find a song you like in all the music genres you can think of.
- Like sitting alone? Join a group. Like groups? Try taking some time away from them.
- Reverse the flow. (No, not that flow.) Does your taxonomy go from broad to specific? Why not try specific to broad? Or, put everything on the same level and make it flat. The meaningful concepts will float to the top.
Back to William James again, and my favorite quote: “My experience is what I agree to attend to.”
Previously I wrote about what this said regarding the range of experience UX designers could leverage to engage users (UX happens everywhere). But there’s more behind this statement than the observation that where a person’s attention goes, there goes their experience of the world. There’s an ethical responsibility implicit there as well.
What and how we attend to things matters to our quality of life. Psychologists, medical doctors, and Buddhists have known this for some time (Buddhists have known it a bit longer). Focused attention is used in mindfulness-based stress reduction programs for cancer patients; an excessive level of difficulty in maintaining focus is a diagnosable disorder; “right mindfulness” is part of the Buddha’s Eightfold Path. The very process of therapy involves drawing attention to specific patterns of behavior.
But attention isn’t the whole story. If William James is correct, then experience involves not just attention, but an agreement to attend. When a user agrees to give us (UX architects) some of their attention, they are in effect agreeing to make us a small part of their experience of the world. They are allowing us to have an effect on their quality of life, small or large depending on what our product or service is.
As the other half of that agreement, we enter into an unspoken contract with users to make that experience worth their while.
Originally posted on alexfiles.com (1998–2018) on January 2, 2011.
“My experience is what I agree to attend to,” said William James. Although James wasn’t talking about user experience as designers think of it, this is my favorite UX quote, and one I believe every UX architect, designer, or strategist should keep in mind. Today I’m writing about the implications this has on where we should focus our attention.
Where a person’s attention goes, there goes their experience of the world. In other words, UX happens everywhere.
Your product may be the ultimate experience you want your users to have, and your web site experience may help get them to purchase it (or be the goal itself, if you’re a social network or some other online service). But long before they land on your site or purchase your product, every interaction of the user with your brand is UX.
What people say about your product on social networks or blogs, your advertising (online and off), how your competitors represent you and your service. Your content lives everywhere, and your existing users and prospects can potentially encounter it everywhere. You can’t control this, but you can add to the milieu in a variety of ways: blogs, forums, social networks, videos, mobile applications, gadgets, rich media advertising, news, and choosing to advertise on more targeted sites.
Why does this matter? Because people make decisions in an all-or-nothing manner. Neurologically speaking, every encounter creates a positive or negative moments in a user’s head—a yes/no binary decision. A user’s overall impression comes from the preponderance of the individual binary choices associated with a concept.
Further, in the absence of knowledge most people tend to go with whatever information gets in first with the most. In this way informational cascades are spread across a population which may or may not be accurate. (This may be why car salespeople are trained to get customers to say “yes” more than once, and to speak to more than one salesperson. You can read more about binary decision making and informational cascades in The tyranny of dichotomy.)
If you expect users to “agree to attend” to ultimately experience your product, one way is to create more positive binary moments about your brand and product than there are negative ones. Every encounter with your brand weights a user’s interest in one direction or another. As UX strategists, it’s clearly in our interests as UX strategists to create positive user experiences in every relevant context possible.
Update: I don’t think I said clearly enough here that “positive” requires an experience to be honest and to the user’s advantage. So I’m saying it now.
Originally posted on the alexfiles (1998–2018) on January 1, 2011.
Simplicity in design is not a goal by itself, but a tool for better experience. The goal is the need of the moment: to sell a product, to express an opinion, to teach a concept, to entertain. While elegance and optimal function in design frequently overlaps with simplicity, there are times that simplicity is not only not possible but hurts usability. Yet many designers do not understand this, and over the years, I’ve seen the desire to “keep it simple, stupid,” lead to poor UX.
I was therefore glad to see Francisco Inchauste’s well-thought, longer version of Einstein’s “as simple as possible, but no simpler” remark.
From the column:
As an interactive designer, my first instinct is to simplify things. There is beauty in a clean and functional interface. But through experience I’ve found that sometimes I can’t remove every piece of complexity in an application. The complexity may be unavoidably inherent to the workflow and tasks that need to be performed, or in the density of the information that needs to present. By balancing complexity and what the user needs, I have been able to continue to create successful user experiences.
Plus, as I’ve commented before, messy is fun!
- Inchauste, F. The dirtiest word in UX: complexity. UX Magazine, 6 July 2008.
Originally posted on former personal blog UXtraordinary.com.