Over the years, I’ve had the following either blow up, splutter and die, melt, catch fire, or just simply stop working:

• 1 graphics card
• 2 Power units
• 1 LCD screen inverter
• 2 Logic boards
• 2 RAM controllers
• 4 hard drives

It’s the last in the list that has caused me the most pain and anguish. Since then, I’ve been paranoid about finding a good, sensible, relatively cost-effective way of ensuring that when hard drives die — and they do — that I won’t lose any data. Losing work is bad enough, but losing precious photographs, or your entire music collection is worse.

A Digital Home in 2005

In 2005, Emma and I made the decision to sell our DVD and CD players, digitise all of our DVDs, tapes, CDs, records and stuff. Declutter our shelves from all this crap and go completely digital. To do this we needed a few things:

• Some kind of Network Attached Storage (NAS) with ample room
• A way to back that up
• Apple TV or some kind of media player attached to our TV and amplifier

I went back and forth on several solutions, but opted for Apple TV in the end. Simply because we can buy shows and music, rent films and it’s easy. For a while, I used a Lacie RAID server (2TB storage) that doubled up as my work backup when I started freelancing. It was a decent bit of kit and has lasted very well (we still use it at Mark Boulton Design now). What was lacking in all of this was a backup. The NAS was expensive, so I couldn’t afford two. It was RAID, which eased my fears somewhat (until the controller actually went a few months ago).

So, I did without backup. Luckily for me, there’s no bad ending to this little story. There could have been. The drive lasted well but our media was outgrowing our storage, and I needed a way of expanding it, plus the nagging in my head that I could have some kind of hardware failure and lose everything.

A Digital home in 2012

Last year, I reorganised our storage. I bought a 4TB RAID G-Technology drive (they’re excellent), which was hooked up to my iMac and I kept my iTunes and iPhoto libraries on there. I had an old Airport Express which I put in the kitchen attached to a B&W Mini Zeppelin (which have to be heard to be believed: stunningly rich sound for a small unit), and an Apple TV in both the living room and the bedroom. These have both been ‘flashed’ with aTV Flash.

I’ve been using aTV flash for a few years, ever since using it on my first gen Apple TV. It provides a bunch of additional features, but by far the most useful to me is the media player which plays different file formats and also has an automatic hook into IMDB for importing meta data.

But what about backups?

Still the nagging in my head continued. We have all of our digital files sitting on one drive. Movies, music, TV shows, but most importantly our photographs. Photographs of the moments both of our children were born, our wedding, holidays, of people no longer with us. Photos I just couldn’t lose.

Last year, I sat down and had a good think about the best way to back all of this up that wouldn’t cost me an arm and a leg. I opted for buying another 4TB drive which mirrored my library and would backup daily using SuperDuper. That took care of drive failure in the primary drive. But, what about if there was a double drive failure, or a fire or flood? I decided that the photos were most precious and I would back these up to Amazon S3 nightly using Arq. Of course, with the addition of iTunes Match late last year, my music also now had a cloud backup option. Work and documents are backed up to Dropbox, and I have Backblaze on continueous backup.

There we have it. Paranoid? Probably.

Of course, for the backups, you could opt for something simpler; like a Time Machine and Capsule. Or you could buy a DAT tape drive. Or backup everything to Amazon S3. or just use iCloud for all your documents and photos. That’s the thing; there are so many bewildering choices out there for such an important aspect of consuming all your media in digital form. It’s so bewildering, the size of the data in question is so large, that most people don’t bother. Until it’s too late.

For playing media in your home, there are an increasingly wide range of devices available: from Boxee to Sony’s new player. There’s a lot of choice for the consumer.

After six years the nagging in my head is slightly reduced. As I said at the beginning of this post, I’ve had hardware fail many times before. I’ve lost data. I’ve lost work in the many tens of thousands of pounds that had to be recreated. If your media is primarily digital, spending a few hundred pounds, and putting in place a good scheduled backup solution, could save you the heartache of losing data in the future.

From that time until about ten years ago now, I taught, and practiced Martial Arts. Specifically: freestyle karate, kick boxing and capoeira. Since then I’ve done a fair amount of other fighting styles and systems; from boxing to MMA. I’m not training at the moment, but may well return to it. In all honestly, martial art thinking (not necessarily practice) is such a part of my life now, I don’t think I’ll ever give it up.

Throughout my time teaching, I’d been involved in several self-defence courses: both in university and in the work place. Central to our teaching back then was not necessarily the tools or techniques to effectively punch someone in the face, but to give people a deeper understanding of their own awareness.

We used a system of colour codes to describe awareness that was derived from John Dean Cooper’s ‘The Cooper Color Code‘. The system does away with the notion that the best way to survive a lethal confrontation is to be a superior practitioner (in his case, a rifleman), or have better weaponry. Instead, the primary tool is that of the combat mindset. Cooper describes each state of awareness as colours starting with White:

White – Unaware and unprepared. If attacked in Condition White, the only thing that may save you is the inadequacy or ineptitude of your attacker. When confronted by something nasty, your reaction will probably be “Oh my God! This can’t be happening to me.”

Most people walk around in a pre-occupied fog for most of the day. Their mind is elsewhere: the errand they’re running, what they did last night, speaking on the phone, checking Twitter… Humans are great at giving our tasks just enough attention. The rest — looking, watching, observing, walking, breathing — is all done automatically. We also respond automatically to certain cues, questions, thoughts and external stimuli. Such as checking your watch when someone asks you the time. Don’t be in this state.

Yellow – Relaxed alert. No specific threat situation. Your mindset is that “today could be the day I may have to defend myself”. You are simply aware that the world is a potentially unfriendly place and that you are prepared to defend yourself, if necessary. You use your eyes and ears, and realize that “I may have to shoot today”. You don’t have to be armed in this state, but if you are armed you should be in Condition Yellow. You should always be in Yellow whenever you are in unfamiliar surroundings or among people you don’t know. You can remain in Yellow for long periods, as long as you are able to “Watch your six.” (In aviation 12 o’clock refers to the direction in front of the aircraft’s nose. Six o’clock is the blind spot behind the pilot). In Yellow, you are “taking in” surrounding information in a relaxed but alert manner, like a continuous 360 degree radar sweep. As Cooper put it, “I might have to shoot.”

This is about knowing what is going on around you. Engaged in your surroundings rather than dreamily ambling along checking your phone.

Orange – Specific alert. Something is not quite right and has your attention. Your radar has picked up a specific alert. You shift your primary focus to determine if there is a threat (but you do not drop your six). Your mindset shifts to “I may have to shoot that person today”, focusing on the specific target which has caused the escalation in alert status. In Condition Orange, you set a mental trigger: “If that person does “X”, I will need to stop them”. Your pistol usually remains holstered in this state. Staying in Orange can be a bit of a mental strain, but you can stay in it for as long as you need to. If the threat proves to be nothing, you shift back to Condition Yellow.

This is an elevated state. There is a specific threat — such as a small group of threatening men walking on your side of the road, coming towards you, and it’s dark. of course, this elevated state can happen in conversation, or a business meeting, or on Twitter too. Whatever can be perceived as a threat, the state you find yourself in is one where you’ve established what that threat is, and are acting upon it.

Red – Condition Red is fight. Your mental trigger (established back in Condition Orange) has been tripped. “If “X” happens I will shoot that person”.

This is the decision to engage in the threat. Either verbally or physically.

For the past fifteen years or so, I’ve been going about my day to day activities in the Yellow state. Normally I don’t recognise I’m doing it, until I’m in a new situation. This weekend was one of those.

This summer I started cycling. On the road, not mountains or footpaths. I bought a nice little bike, and we’re lucky to live in a great place to get out and explore the countryside. On Saturday, as I like to do most weekends, I wanted to get some miles in and it was an unseasonably beautiful day here in Wales. I’d been out for about an hour and was heading downhill on a main road in a residential area. As I was concentrating on the road (in my ‘Yellow’ state), suddenly a car reversed straight out into the main road without stopping for me. After slamming on the brakes I barely missed the bonnet of the car as I screeched to a halt. The driver had still not seen me. The driver was in ‘White’. And it’s my experience over the past few months, many are.

My overall point is this: be aware. Be aware of your surroundings. People around you – especially vulnerable people. Don’t think, walk — or drive — in White. It’s dangerous for you and for those around you. It’s a thoughtless state of mind.

As I was soon to find out, Do is a magical place. Nestled in the woods, it is an intimate affair: thirty speakers and eighty attendees. You sleep in tents, share your meals seated on benches, and pack into a twin-roofed teepee to listen to the talks. You think big thoughts, whilst quietly reflecting on a wooden deck overlooking natural meadows supping freshly brewed tea.

Do is also unlike every conference I’ve been to. I wouldn’t even describe it as such. It’s more like a retreat. The content of the lectures was also a wonderful mix of big things from small ideas and small beginnings from big ideas. Personal highlights for me was an emotional talk from a Midwife about maternal care in the developed world, and a rousing final lecture from Mickey Smith: a surf photographer who had never spoken before in public, yet his raw passion for his work made every stumbled word a vital part of his delivery, ending the lectures with a superb film. The Internets Frank Chimero also spoke. For those of you who haven’t heard Frank speak before, he’s like a poet. Like an American version of Richard Burton reciting ‘Under Milk Wood’. I could listen to him all day.

For me, Do was nourishing in a way I’ve not felt for a long time.

We all individually have to ask ourselves: ‘what nourishes us’? How do we grow? Is it grass-roots bar camps, or skipping from one web conference to another listening to the same people say similar things. Or is it just hanging out with your friends and peers discussing our work.

I’ve asked myself a question over the past few years: are there too many web design conferences; what value are we *really* getting from them? For a long while, I thought the market was getting too saturated, and we’ve seen signs of this ripple through the industry consciousness. People see the same people say similar things time and again. For conference organisers, it’s hard to find the right mix of experienced speakers – who will sell tickets – and people who are doing smart, interesting work, but don’t have the speaking experience. Andy Budd wrote a great blog post on this subject a few weeks ago going into great detail on the challenges organisers face.

Yet, more conferences appear throughout the world and more sell out. Our thirst for all getting together under one roof to share, collaborate, listen and grow is an overpowering need that will not go away. But, let’s ask ourselves: do we get the nourishment from the conference, or from simply being with our tribe. And if your answer is the latter, then are big, expensive web conferences the best place to just be together. If this is all really about community, then how can we do this better?

Since I began working with the Drupal community in 2008, I’ve attended – and spoken at – five DrupalCon events in Europe and the US. DrupalCon is different to other web conferences. It acknowledges that its primary purpose is for people who are working with Drupal to get together. And the result is infectious.

DrupalCon is managed by one of Mark Boulton Design’s clients, the not-for-profit association: The Drupal Association. They are independent of the software and work to market Drupal, in addition to arranging and planning the bi-annual DrupalCons. They receive donations and membership from all over the world to pay for such events, and because one of their core remits is to nurture and grow the Drupal community, they keep the ticket prices down and focus on community collaboration over big-name speakers (except the keynotes) and venues. And it works. In DrupalCon Chicago earlier this year, over 4000 people packed a downtown hotel for a week. A big, collaborative soup of all kinds of people. And as a direct result of DrupalCon, every year, Drupal gets better. It’s about the people, not the speakers or the glitzy conference. People speak for free. Give workshops for free. Not because they’re being nice, but because they are giving back to the community and furthering a common goal.

Remember SXSW in 2006? Remember how that felt? Right?

So what if…

What if there was a web design association? A not-for-profit organisation that was small – with elected members, funded by donation and membership – set up and operated in exactly the same way that the Drupal Assocation is run – whose core remit was to provide a twice yearly event: one in the US and one in Europe for people to attend to be and work together. Now, of course, there wouldn’t be the central goal of ‘making Drupal better’; our efforts are not open source and largely commercial (read: secretive), but there is much we share. When people get together things happen. We find common problems and solutions; ideas are born; approaches simmer and products are created.

This would not be about profit. It would be about providing a place for us to be together. It wouldn’t be expensive to attend. It would be about being inclusive, where people from all disciplines could gather round and share their work.

Now, I’m not sure this would be at all achievable, or in fact if it’s really a good idea. It would be hard work. It would be political. But what we could gain from this would be the type of nourishment I got from Do…

Nourishment that is slowly being eroded in the web industry as the volume of conferences reduce variety…

Nourishment that is lacking by speakers under pressure to give quick, practical info-talks rather than to inspire, challenge, provoke, debate or collaborate…

Nourishment that is increasingly lacking in polished, high price, high cost (for the organisers), high risk (for the organisers) professional web conferences….

Nourishment that we get from being together.

What if we could do that?

During the Do Lectures, speakers are encouraged to communicate a Big Do – a big idea, that may take a lot of hard thinking and hard graft, and a Little Do – something you can do right now. They also encouraged attendees to think of the same. So here’s my Big Do: how can we create a place or a gathering for our community that isn’t motivated by profit, but by nourishment? And my Little Do: make a conscious effort to reach outside of the community and industry to help me learn and grow as a designer. Yes, even Midwifery. Or surfing.

What are yours?

In 1992, I started using my first Macintosh when attending art classes at college. Frankly, it was a frustrating experience with tools that were not as immediate as pencils or paint. Yet, in that small dark room, surrounded by the smells of powder paints and musty paper, this large box attached to a CRT display captured my imagination. Next year, I will have been using Apple Macs for 20 years.

This morning’s news of Steve Job’s passing was shocking and saddening. Made even more poignant by the fact I’m working in Bangalore in India currently, and this week is a Hindu religious festival called Dussehra. This festival goes on for ten days, and on the ninth day in Southern India, Ayudha Puja is celebrated. On this day, people give thanks for the tools they use everyday: vehicles, spades, kitchen tools and computers.

Without these tools I use, I wouldn’t be doing what I do now. I wouldn’t have studied design, or studied at the university where I met my wife. It all started back then in that small, dusty room in the art rooms in college.

Today, I’m thankful to Steve Jobs for giving me the tools to do my work.

January

The start of the year got off to a typically hectic start. Mark Boulton Design were knee deep in a big design and technical project working with – the then development release – of Drupal 7. Leisa Reichelt and I announced our little side project on trying to make Drupal 6 (and eventually 7) a nicer place for content creators and administrators: Project Verity.
There was snow and ice. For the first time in nearly ten years of living by the coast, Emma, Alys and I were snowed in.
It was Emma’s birthday. Nick (my brother) and I cook a Thai feast for eight guests. It was fun.

February

Went snowboarding to Chamonix with family. No new snow in a week. Cold and icy. Not so great for snowboarders.
Malarkey and I sat in an old pub and discussed an idea that came to fruition later in the year.

March

Attended the best web conference in Seattle. An Event Apart was astoundingly good.
Released my book online, for free.

April

Alys’ 2nd birthday. How time flies.

May

My birthday. Three more years and I’ll be 40.

June

Went on a short break with the family.
I spoke at @Media Web Directions on Designing Grid Systems.
Five Simple Steps turns the dial up and launches A Practical Guide to Information Architecture by Donna Spencer.

July

Emma and I spend a child-free couple of days in Amsterdam thanks to my parents.

August

Five Simple Steps is in launch mode as we publish Brian Suda’s A Practical Guide to Designing with Data.
Speak at DrupalCon Copenhagen.

September

Went on holiday to Portugal.
Attended my brother’s wedding in Portugal.
Gave a workshop at dConstruct in Brighton.

October

Spoke at Webdagene on Designing Grid Systems. Ate raw whale sushimi. It was amazing.
Spoke at Web Developer’s Conference about clients.
Launched Hardboiled Web Design by Andy Clarke. It was a big hit.

November

Attended Build in Belfast. The conference, like last year, was a special little event with a great community. I’ll be back again next year.
Thought I was going to die in a plane crash on the return from Belfast. Three failed attempts to land with a diversion to Birmingham.
Went to Portugal to work on my book. Procrastinated and redesigned this blog.

December

Together with 24 Ways, launched The Annual – a limited edition, printed magazine – and raised over £10,000 for UNICEF.

Next year is looking great. I’m honoured to be speaking at New Adventures, DrupalCon Chicago and An Event Apart in Boston. I’m publishing my second book on Designing Grid Systems. We’re working on some great projects at Mark Boulton Design for some wonderful clients. Five Simple Steps has a couple of big projects in the works next year. Once again, it’s looking busy. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

As always, I have a few personal goals for 2011:
Make yoga part of my day
Lose weight and get in shape
Delegate my work
Do more designing, less managing.
Do less designing, more living.
Support my family the best I can.

I’d like to wish all of you a happy new year.

Like many people, over the past couple of years, i’ve relied on Twitter to provide me with links to blog posts from people I follow. It worked well for a while, but when you live on a diet of 100 characters or so, you get get thin, jittery and unhappy. For a long time, I’ve been unhappy with the way Twitter has altered my content consuming behaviour. I’m hoping that by having a device that won’t multitask (for now, I think this is a feature, not a bug), and provide me with daily feeds in an almost newspaper-like format, will get me back to reading long-form again.

Oh, and this was posted using the WordPress app on said iPad. Maybe I’ll start blogging more again. You never know, pigs might fly.

The brief was pretty simple. I wanted illustrative drop caps produced that were aligned to the inspiration for this design; namely Renaissance illustrations and carvings. They ended up being slightly broader in inspiration than that though. They’re hand painted on thick, textured cartridge paper in black ink.

I planned on interviewing Helen (and I still plan on doing that), but I just couldn’t sit on my hands until then. Here’s a few letters that are particular favourites of mine. Interview coming soon…

I’m a little tired of justifying my position and opinions on Twitter, so I thought I’d pen a few thoughts here and explain my personal viewpoint and hopefully spark some considered, intelligent debate (see my paragraph citing Matt Henderson for an example of this).

Defining Spec

I’m not going to spend a huge amount of time defining this here. I think most people understand what spec work is and why it’s damaging. Speculative work (or spec), can be defined by the AIGA as:

‘work done without compensation, for the client’s speculation’

Spec work, in my view, leads to a number of things:

1. Sub-standard work.
2. It undermines and devalues design.
3. It harms the design industry.
4. Exploitation.

Are Design Competitions Spec Work?

If you’re in the UK, you probably know of Blue Peter. Blue Peter is a long-running childrens TV series that has been going for, oh I don’t know, maybe 500 years on the BBC. Up until recently, Blue Peter ran many, many design competitions for children across the UK to enter. Kids would send in drawings of their wild and wonderful designs for all many of things. Now, is this spec work? Is it unethical? No, I don’t think so.

Children aren’t designers. It’s not their profession, and they’re not submitting professional work.

There was a great comment on the thread yesterday regarding Threadless. People submit designs to threadless, get paid if their design is picked, and get the glory of seeing it printed on t-shirts. Is this spec work? Even though Threadless are making money from this? No, I don’t think it is.

Designers and Illustrators want to be part of the Threadless brand. They have a lot of pull, so much so that professionals are willing to contribute to that brand. In the same way that if Apple were to do something similar, I’m sure many people (probably myself included) would contribute. Wanting to contribute to something you feel part of, or want to be part of, even if money is being made as a result is not spec work. It’s about wanting to belong.

Personally, I see a competition that targets a profession and solicits entries for a prize as exploitative and professionally unethical. For some, it may just be a bit of fun, but for me, it’s pretty reprehensible. I feel rather strongly about it.

The Personal Cost

I’ve worked in two industries where spec work is the norm: advertising and print design, and I’ve a close relationship with another: architecture.

I used to work for a reasonably sized design agency. We would spend maybe 30% of our time on unpaid, creative pitch work. We would also spend perhaps 10% of our time on design competitions, which I believe is spec work. That’s right, 40% of our time was spent working for the potential of winning one project that would pay for all of that speculative time. Now, if you’re starting out in business, or feeling the pinch as many companies are during these difficult times, your time, and the way you spend it, becomes critical. If 40% is spent doing stuff your not paid for that is potentially damaging.

The practice of spec work is the industry norm in architecture.

My father’s an architect. He runs a small practice and spends an extraordinary amount of time producing spec work. Unfortunately, the industry demands it. The spec work is conducted on the hope that one of the projects will be awarded to the practice and that will pay for the time lost on the other projects. Architecture is also an industry that is rife with design competitions. Some would argue that this is worse than spec work to a shortlisted field. Architects are invited to submit bids, proposals and designs for prestigious competitions. The winner gets the contract and the glory. The losers get nothing; the work is conducted speculatively.

I believe the practice of spec work harms business. It can be crippling, for both suppliers and consumers. Businesses fold, and consumers get sub-standard work.

A Free Market

In amongst the usual trolling on Ryan’s blog, I had a very interesting discussion with Matt Henderson regarding spec work. Matt is a guy I admire tremendously. I’ve worked with him in the past out of his Marbella office on some fascinating projects and he’s a smart bloke.

Matt’s take on spec work, if I understood this correctly, was that the market will dictate the practice. If both sides of the market – the supplier (the designers), and the consumer (the client) – find that speculative work is mutually beneficial, then the practice would become an industry norm. This view sidelines personal opinion, and presents spec work as a consequence of market conditions, which is fine, it is. But does that mean that the creative profession should shrug their shoulders and accept it as such despite ethical misgivings?

For The Record

For the record, Ryan is a good guy. My intention wasn’t to target Ryan personally, or to claim that Carsonified was unethical, they’re not. He doesn’t deserve the lambasting he receives on his blog for genuinely trying to do the right thing; for doing something he believes in. But all of those designers who commented on that growing thread were also doing that – commenting on an issue they believe in. The debate wasn’t personal, or unprofessional, it was a raw nerve.

I’m hoping this post sheds some more light beyond 140 characters on my own personal relationship with spec work and how I’ve seen first hand the damage it causes. I for one welcome an industry that debates these issues. An industry where you’re free to make a mistake, to openly question motivations and to do something you believe in. As Matt said, ‘let the market run its course’, but if you don’t agree with where it’s headed, push back and fight for what you believe in.

I’ve used this 3G phone since August without too many problems. Well, that’s not strictly true, I’ve had the usual phantom restarts, blank screens, and general software lag. Just like everyone else. But, as I’m an Apple fanboy, I’ve put up with it, hopeful that with subsequent software releases, the platform would become more stable. The pitfalls of early adoption.

That all came to a grinding, abrupt halt on Thursday when my phone croaked and then died. 

Here’s what happened.

I’d just finished a call. Then two minutes later, I tried to call someone else. The iPhone was just a white screen. Unresponsive. I turned it off, turned it back on. Same thing. This was a problem as, because of AirShare, I had some important documents I’d just picked up from a client (who needs USB sticks right?), that I needed to review on the journey back to Cardiff. Back to the white screen. This must be a known issue, so I started on the hunt to track down either some wifi, or at the very least, a book on the iphone, where it might just give me some indication of what to do. Even a hard restart. I could live with that.

Sod’s Law dictates that ‘if something can go wrong, it will’. Following missed trains, cancelled trains, momentary panic when I thought I’d lost my wallet. All of this without being able to call anyone, email anyone, Google for help. In a crowded station, I felt completely alone and helpless. Then, I came to my senses. I wasn’t going to let blind panic ruin an otherwise good day.

I couldn’t find a book, and the wifi was down. My last resort was to quickly hook into the wifi in the stations en-route to Cardiff. Reading, Didcot, Swindon, & Bristol all have wifi, so I was able to snatch moments to try to get to the bottom of the mysterious White Screen Of Death.

Common problem

Turns out it happens a fair bit. Your iPhone will enter some kind of error loop. It will still be visible to iTunes. In fact, it will still be operable ‘behind’ the white screen – you just can’t see anything. It can usually be fixed by a hard restart of the device. Holding down home and sleep for 10 seconds should sort it out. Well, it didn’t. Failing that, I read, you might need to do a factory restore. Bugger. Not to worry, I have a backup, should be fine. Although, I didn’t backup AirShare before getting this important file.

The restore didn’t work either.

Apple were surprisingly helpful. ‘It’s defective’, I was told. Yes. It is. ‘Take it back to where you bought it, and they will replace it’. All good.

O2 where actually quite helpful too. Although, it was all a bit of a headache. They couldn’t issue a replacement, as they had to send it off for repair. So, I had to buy a new handset, wait for the replacement to come through and then get a refund on that handset. A lot of messing around. Why can’t they just replace the handset? Why can’t O2 interface with Apple customer support (with reference numbers)? Why does the consumer have to jump through hoops to replace a defective handset?

Over-reliance

This whole episode made me realise the over-reliance I have on this phone. The gravitation from simple phone, to mobile computer has made business possible on the move, but with that, it’s made business potentially impossible too. Previously, when travelling, I’d be incommunicado. Sure, I could answer the phone etc. but the enforced solitude from the daily grind had massive benefits. Not just the headspace it provides, but by not raising expectation of what I could and would do whilst sat there watching the world go by.

I learnt some important lessons about data too. I lost that important file from a client. I lost the time to review it on the journey. The following day, I had to call to explain, the file was resent, reviewed etc. Luckily there was a copy. AirShare is a cool app, but I was using it in the wrong way. I won’t be doing it again. 

And, like Jeremy, I was contacted a while ago by the nice people at Sumo, asking if I wanted an Omni in exchange for a blog post.

Yes, like I said, I’m a blogwhore too.

When I was a kid, my brother and I had beanbags to sit on when we watched tv, or played with lego. We would use them as islands, ships, weapons, dens. Many hours went by trying to find the most comfortable, or damaging, beanbag configuration for the particular task at hand:

The Egg

There was the ‘egg’, as demonstrated by position five on the Omni page. This was great for general TV watching, providing good support. The downside is, it’s difficult to get up out of. As Emma said, ‘you don’t want to sit down on this when you’re pregnant’.

The Pancake

So called because it’s flat. This configuration provided perfect cushioning for many, many hours of lego assemblage. It also doubled up as a nice bed, or landing platform for the death-defying jump from the 5th step on the stairs.

The Ball

Pick the beanbag up, let all the filling fall to the bottom, spin the bag until you have a nice handle with a tight, heavy ball at the bottom. The perfect clubbing weapon.

There were probably more, but those three were the favourites.

So, when the Omni arrived, all these memories quickly came flooding back. Sadly, it’s too big for the The Ball (and yes, I did try).

I opted for a lime green bag (as you can see, I’m a sucker for lime green). The first thing that struck me was the scale of these things – they’re enormous. Alys quite likes it too, although is somewhat dwarfed. They’re made out of this tough-as-nails nylon (so would be perfect for The Ball if they weren’t so large).

Emma and I decided in the end that it was just a little too large for our house. So, it’s now providing ample seating provision for the Mark Boulton Design library. 

A few days ago, I took a business trip to Brussels, via Amsterdam’s Schiphol airport. I’ve wanted to visit Schiphol ever since I attended a lecture in 2005 by the designer of the signage system, Paul Mijksenaar. As a designer, you know when you get those moments where something somebody says turns you’re entire understanding on its head? Seeing Paul talk, I probably had one of those moments every minute.

Schiphol vs Cardiff

Cardiff International Airport has, without doubt, some of the worst signage I think I’ve seen. I’m not sure what constraints (or lack thereof) where placed on the designers in order to produce these. I mean, white Arial on blue lozenges? All the same, regardless of content. Honestly, it makes for a navigation nightmare.

Cardiff International Airport signage (left) compared to Amsterdam Schiphol airport (right). More photographs of these are on Flickr.

Thank goodness Cardiff is not often used for transferring flights, like some of the major hubs throughout the world. Case in point, on Tuesday, in Schiphol Airport, I had 25 minutes to:

• Take a leak
• Change Terminals
• Xray my hand luggage again
• Find some water to buy

I was running in-between each of these tasks to make sure I didn’t miss my flight to Brussels. Without clear signage, in the place I expected them, I would have missed my flight for sure, and may have wet myself along the way.

Schiphol has some of the clearest signage I have seen in any airport (in fact, its signage system has been copied by several airports, London Heathrow included). It is designed around some extremely simple rules (Paul explained some of these in his talk a while ago), the three that stood out for me were:

• Conspicuity
• Contrast
• Task

Conspicuity is obvious. Make the signage stand out. They should compete with other things; architecture, or advertising. They should be high contrast. Most of all, they should help users complete their task. Paul mentioned three things that people want to do when they arrive at an airport (and this holds so true)

• Go to the bathroom
• Find my gate
• Get out of the airport

On arriving in Cardiff on Wednesday evening, it took me a good ten minutes to find the bathroom. Ten minutes! This was because the toilet signage was ingeniously attached to a wall facing away from the prevailing traffic through the baggage reclaim hall. A genius bit of wayfinding that is.

Parallels with web design

It’s not difficult to draw parallels with airport signage (in fact, most wayfinding systems) and website design. Good signage should enhance a user experience, it should help a user complete their task, and it should do it in a way that is unobtrusive.

Over on Paul’s website, he has some fantastic gems of design advice. These are written in a context of designing wayfinding systems, but they could also be applied to a multitude of other media:

Colour Coding

Should reinforce a category of information that is equally clear without colour coding.

A no brainer this one, but it’s amazing how often colour-coding is abused.

Jargon

Assume that all visitors know nothing about the airport. Select terminology geared to users rather than concocting clever airport gibberish.

To be honest, I’ve not visited an airport where they’ve used their own jargon. Of course, there are cultural differences. For example, I’m sure I’ve seen a sign for ‘Bathroom’ in a US Airport. As a British bloke I’m sure this would make it difficult to find if I was in the muddled state of badly needing a pee.

Maps

The number of passengers capable of reading (and correctly interpreting) a map is negligible. By and large, maps are display windows for the presentation of airport facilities and not substitutes for signposting.

I hate maps. Hate them. Why is it, in any attraction/shopping centre/airport, the designers of maps see it as a creative exercise? I’ve lost count of the amount beautiful isometric maps that are completely useless.

Fonts

Only graphic designers show interest in fonts. Do not use more than one font and, unless you have plenty of time and money, stick to Frutiger, Clearview, Gill or Meta

This one made me chuckle, but he’s got a very good point. Take Cardiff for example. Arial? Why? Why not use Clearview, or Frutiger. Why use a font that is an inferior knock-off of Helvetica that is less legible as a signage typeface? Licensing? Probably.

Illuminated signs

Don’t save money on lighting. All primary signs require built-in lighting. The sunnier the climate and the more daylight available, the bigger the need for illuminated signs.

I don’t think any of the signs in Cardiff airport where illuminated (although I may be wrong on that).

Pictograms

Don’t expect too much of pictograms. Always add text to less generally known functions.

This is another little beauty and can be applied to web design with regards to icons. Don’t expect too much from them.

Put it to the test

Test all ideas that deviate from the standard solution.

This must be the number one recommendation for signage, but note the closing words. But, that said, testing standard solutions can always solidify thinking and may throw up the odd surprise.

Some wise little nuggets of design advice.

There are more photographs of airport signage, good and bad, on the aptly named Airport Signage, Airport Signs and Pictograms, and Signage Systems Flickr groups.