The Personal Disquiet of

Mark Boulton

It's not you, it's me

September 7th, 2014

Dear web conferences, It’s not you, it’s me. Something’s changed and it’s not your fault. I’m just on a different path to you. Maybe we’ll be friends in a while, but at the moment I just want some space to do and try other things. I still love you. But we just need a break. Love, Mark


I’m taking next year off speaking at web conferences. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, or contribute, but more that I have better things to do with my time right now. Speaking at conferences takes about two weeks per conference if it’s overseas once you factor in preparing and writing the talk, rehearsing, travel, and the conference itself. That’s two weeks away from my wife, my daughters, my new job and a team that needs me.

Two conferences the world over

What I’ve noticed this past year or so is, largely, we have two different types of web conference running the world over: small independents and larger corporate affairs. The former is generally run by one person with hoards of volunteers and is community-focussed (cheap ticket price, single track). The latter is big-budget, aimed at corporations as a training expense, maybe multi-track and has A-list speakers.

As well as these two trends, I see others in the material and the way that material is presented. ‘Corporate’ conferences expect valuable, actionable content; that is what corporations are paying for. Schlickly delivered for maximum ROI. ‘Community’ conferences have their own trends, too. Talks about people, empathy, community, and how start-ups are changing the world. Community conferences are frequently an excuse to hang out with your internet mates. Which is fine, I guess.

My problem with both of these is I’m not sure I fit anymore. I’m not what you would call a slick presenter: I ‘um’ and ‘ah’, I swear, I get excited and stumble on stage in more ways than one. Some would say I’m disrespectful to the audience I’m talking to. I’m lazy with my slides, preferring to hand-write single words and the odd picture. I’ve never used a keynote transition. I’m not really at home amongst the world’s corporate presenters who deliver scripted, rehearsed, beautifully crafted presentations. They’re great and everything, but it’s just not me. Not for the first time in my life, I don’t quite fit.

And then there’s the community conferences. I feel more at home here. Or at least I used to. This year, not so much. A lot of my friends in this industry just don’t really go to conferences that much anymore. They have family commitments, work to do, and – frankly – just aren’t that into getting pissed up in a night-club after some talks with 90% men. Younger men at that.

Time for something different

All of that may sound like I’m dissing the conference industry. That’s not my intention, but more like a realisation that, after nearly ten years at speaking at events, I think it’s time I had a little break. Time away to refresh myself, explore other industries that interest me like typography and architecture. Maybe an opportunity to present at one of these types of conferences would present itself; now that would be cool.

I know it’s a bit weird me posting about this when I could quietly just not accept any invitations to speak. To be honest, I’ve been doing that for a little while, but not for the first time, writing things down helps me clarify my position on things. For a while I was angry at web conferences in general. Angry at the content, disappointed with speakers, disappointed at myself. Then I realised, like so many times before, that when I feel like that it’s just that my ‘norm’ has changed. I’m no longer where I used to be and I’m getting my head around it.

It’s just this time, I’m going to listen to my head instead of burying it two feet in some sand.

Laters.

Filed under Me, Conferences.

A Purple Princess

June 12th, 2014

When I told my eldest daughter, Alys, about Rebecca Meyer passing away, she wanted to draw her a purple picture. Rebecca was the same age as Alys and she knew ‘exactly what she’d like’. So, here it is:

A purple princess for Rebecca Meyer from Alys Boulton

A Purple Princess for Rebecca Meyer from Alys Boulton, Age 6

In memory of Rebecca, whose favourite colour was purple.

Filed under Personal.

My Handbook – Environment

June 5th, 2014

I’ve been doing a talk this year called ‘My Handbook’. it’s a rather silly little title for a bunch of principles I work to. They are my ‘star to sail my ship by’, and I’m going to start documenting them here over the coming months, starting with Environment – a post about how, for me, design is more about the conditions in which you work.

I’d describe myself as an armchair mountaineer. I enjoy reading about man’s exploits to get to the roof of the world, or to scale precipitous walls under harsh conditions for no other reason than the same reason George Mallory said he was climbing Everest: ‘Because it’s there’.

In any expedition to a mountain, great care and consideration is taken over the kit, the climber’s skill, the team around them, the communications, the list is seemingly endless. But, the biggest single factor in a successful trip are the conditions of the mountain. Will the mountain let them up. And back down again. Assessing the condition of a mountain takes experience, time and careful consideration; it may be snowing, too warm, too much snow on the ground, too cold, too windy. The list of variables is endless, but the climber considers all of them, and if necessary moves to adjust the route, or simply doesn’t attempt the climb.

Now, let’s shift to design – not necessarily web design, but commercial design of almost any kind. Let’s say you take a brief for a project, you begin the work and suddenly in the project, other stakeholders come on board and start to have comment on your work and direction on strategy that was unknown to you. We’ve all had projects like those, right? Suddenly, your work becomes less about what you may think of as ‘design’, and more about meetings, project management, account management, sales, production work. You know, all of those things that have a bad reputation in design. Meetings are, apparently, toxic. Well, I’ve started to look at this in a different light over the past few years.

As I’ve grown as a designer, like many, I’ve found myself doing less ‘design’. Or, rather, less of what I thought was design. Five years ago, I thought design was creating beautiful layouts, or building clean HTML and CSS, or pouring over typefaces for just that right combination. Now, this is design. But, so are meetings.

Experienced designers spend time making the environment right whilst they are doing the work. Because, frankly, you can push pixels around forever, but if the conditions aren’t right for the work to be created and received by the client in the right way, the work will never be as good as it could be. But, what do I mean by ‘conditions’? Here are a few practical things:

  • The physical space: I see a large part of my job as making the environment in the studio as conducive as possible for good work to happen. That means it’s relaxed, and up-beat. Happy people make good things.

  • A Shit Umbrella: It’s my job to be a filter between client and my team on certain things. Someone recently described this as being a ‘Shit Umbrella’.

  • Politics: Wherever you get people, you get politics – because people are weird. I spend a lot of time on client projects trying to traverse a landscape of people to understand motivations, problems, history or direction. Once you understand the landscape, you can assess, and work to change, the conditions.

  • People first, process second: We fit the processes to the people rather than the other way around. Our team runs things that works for us, but that’s the result of a lot of trying & discarding. Like tending a garden, this is a continual process of improvement.

  • Just enough process: I’m a firm believer in working to the path of least resistance. Being in-tune with how people work, and changing your processes to suit, helps create a good environment. But we ensure we impose just enough structure. To much, and it gets in the way. This doesn’t work if you don’t do the previous point, in my experience.

  • Talk. Do. Talk.: It really is true that the more we talk, the better work we do. We talk in person, on Slack, on Skype, on email. Just like meetings, there is an industry-wide backlash against more communication because the general consensus is we’re getting bombarded. But recently, we’ve been working to change that perception in the team so that talking, and meetings, and writing is the work. It’s tending the garden. Making the conditions right for good work to happen.

  • Making things is messy: This is actually another point from my ‘handbook’. Since the 1950’s clients and designers have been sold a lie by advertising. Design generally isn’t something that happens from point A to Z with three rounds of revisions. It’s squiggly, with hundreds or thousands of points of change. A degree of my time is spent getting people – clients, internal clients, the team – comfortable with the mess we may feel we’re in. It’s all part of it.

I see all of this as design work. It’s also my view that much of the disfunction from large agencies to other organisations is that this work isn’t being done by designers because they don’t see it as the work. It’s being done by other people like account managers who may not best placed to get the conditions right. Designers need to take responsibility for changing the environment to make their work as good as it can be. Sometimes, that means sitting in a board room, or having a difficult discussion with a CEO.

Mountaineering is so often not about climbing. You may do some if the conditions are right. Design is so often not about designing beautiful, useful products. But, you may do some if the conditions are right.

Filed under Design, Process, My Handbook.

Ingredients

May 13th, 2014

Jeremy wrote something special yesterday. That’s not unlike Jeremy, but this blog post in particular struck a chord with me.

A couple of weeks ago, Google Chrome has toyed with the idea of removing most of the URL because it’s a “power user” feature in favour of a simple, easy to understand signpost of where the user is. Jeremy’s point is there is a deeper warning here of ease of use.

… it really doesn’t matter what we think about Chrome removing visible URLs. What appears to be a design decision about the user interface is in fact a manifestation of a much deeper vision. It’s a vision of a future where people can have everything their heart desires without having to expend needless thought. It’s a bright future filled with seamless experiences.

I read Jeremy’s post and kept re-reading it. My instant thought was of food.

I enjoy cooking – have done for a decade – and the more I do, the more I care about ingredients. Good produce matters. Now, I’m not talking about organic artisan satsumas here, but well grown, tasty ingredients; in season, picked at the right time, prepared in the right way. The interesting thing is most people who eat the resulting dish don’t think about food in this way. They experience the dish, but not the constituent parts.The same way some people experience music – if you play an instrument, you may hear base-lines, or a particular harmony. If you enjoy cooking, you appreciate ingredients and the combination of them.

But ingredients matter.

And they do of websites, too. And the URL is an ingredient. Just because a non-power user has no particular need for a unique identifier doesn’t mean it’s any less valuable. They just experience the web in a different way than I do.

Without URLs, or ‘view source’, or seeing performance data – without access to the unique ingredients of websites – we’ll be forced into experiencing the web in the same way we eat fast food. And we’ll grow fat. And lazy. And stop caring how it’s grown.

As Jeremy says: Welcome aboard the Axiom.

Filed under Web design, URLs, Google.

A new beginning for Five Simple Steps

May 8th, 2014

I’m so happy to tell you that Five Simple Steps has been acquired by Craig Lockwood and Amie Duggan. The dynamic duo behind Handheld conference, The Web Is, FoundersHub and BeSquare. Before I tell you again how thrilled I am, let me take you way back to 2005…

Next year, it will be ten years since I wrote a blog post called Five Simple Steps to better typography. The motivation behind the post was simple: the elements of good typesetting are not difficult, and, with a few simple guidelines, anyone could create good typographic design. That one article became part of a small series of five posts: five simple steps, with each article containing five simple steps. It was a simple formula, but it turned out pretty well.

Soon after that initial post, I wrote Five Simple Steps to designing grid systems for the web, then the same for colour theory. This was now 2006 and I’d just left my job at the BBC. It was a dreary October day and, whilst sat in a coffee shop in Bristol after just visiting one of my first freelance clients, I was talking over email to the Britpack mailing list about compiling my posts into a book. In 2008, Emma and I hired my brother to help me design it and in early 2009, we finally released it. And with the release of that first book, Five Simple Steps Publishing was born. But we didn’t know it at the time.

Over subsequent months and years other authors saw what we produced and wanted us to publish their books. Before we really knew it, we were a publisher with a catalogue of titles and providing a uniquely British voice to the web community. But publishing is tough. As we found out.

All over the world, publishers’ profits are being eroded; from production costs to cost-difference in digital versions. And – except for a couple of notable companies – you see it in the physical books that were being produced for our customers by competitors: terrible paper quality, templatised design, automated eBook production. Everywhere, margins are being squeezed, and the product really suffers.

Our biggest challenge was that Five Simple Steps started as a side project, and always stayed that way. Over time, we just couldn’t commit the time and money it needed to really scale. We had so much we wanted to do – there was never any shortage of great authors wanted to write a book – but could never find the time and energy when we had to run a client services business. Oh, and also during this time, Emma and I had two children. Running and growing two businesses is somewhat challenging when you’re being thrown up on and have barely four hours sleep a night.

So about a year ago, Emma and I sat in our dining room and faced a tough decision: wind down Five Simple Steps, sell it, or give it one more year. We chose the latter. It was a tough year, but Emma, Nick and the team worked to make the Pocket Guide series a great success. So much so, it required tons of work and compounded the problem we had: Five Simple Steps needed to take centre stage rather than be a side project.

A month ago today, Emma and I announced that Five Simple Steps was closing. The team were joining Monotype, and Five Simple Steps could no longer be sustainable as a side project. The writing had been on the wall for a while, but the stop was abrupt for us, the authors and the team. We tried to find the right people to take the company forward before the sale, but we couldn’t find the right people. Luckily, immediately following the announcement, a few people got in touch about seeing if they could help. Two of those people really said some interesting things and got us excited about the possibilities: Craig Lockwood and Amie Duggan.

Craig and Amie live locally in Wales. They run conferences: Handheld conference and The Web Is conference later this year. They also run a co-working space in Cardiff called FoundersHub. They have a background in education and training, and together with their conferences and BeSquare – a conference video streaming site – they have the ecosystem in place to take Five Simple Steps to places we could only dream of. As you may gather, we’re chuffed to bits that Five Simple Steps is going to live on. Not only that, but it’s in Wales and in the competent hands of friends who we know are going to give it the attention it deserves.

Emma and I can’t wait to see where it goes from here.

Filed under Five Simple Steps, Publishing.

Conference speakers, what are you worth?

May 2nd, 2014

Over the past couple of days, there have been rumblings and grumblings about speaking at conferences. How, if you’re a speaker, you should be compensated for your time and efforts. My question to this is: does this just mean money?

I’ve been lucky enough to speak at quite a few conferences over the years. Some of them paid me for my time, some of them didn’t. All of them – with the exception of any DrupalCon – paid for my travel and expenses.

When I get asked to speak at a conference, I try to gauge what type of conference is it. Is it an event with a high ticket price with a potential for large corporate attendance? A middle sized conference with a notable lineup. Or, is it a grassroots event organised by a single person. In other words, is it ‘for-lots-of-profit’, ‘for-profit’, or ‘barely-breaking-even’. This will not only determine any speaker fee I may have charged, but also other opportunities that I could take for compensation instead of cash.

Back to bartering

When I ran a design studio, speaking at conferences brought us work. It was our sales activity. In all honesty, every conference I’ve spoken at brought project leads, which sometimes led to projects, which more than compensated me for my time and effort if it kept my company afloat and food on the table for myself and my team. The time away from my family and team was a risk I speculated against this. Conference spec-work, if you will.

In addition to speculative project leads for getting on stage and talking about what I do, I also bartered for other things instead of cash for myself or my company. Maybe a stand so we could sell some books, or a sponsorship deal for Gridset. Maybe the opportunity to sponsor the speaker dinner at a reduced rate. There was always a deal to be done where I felt I wasn’t being undervalued, I could benefit my company, product or team, but still get the benefit of speaking, sharing, hanging out with peers and being at a conference together.

It’s about sharing

If every speaker I knew insisted on charging $5000 per gig, there will be a lot less conferences in the future apart from the big, corporate, bland pizza-huts of the web design conference world.

My advice to anyone starting out speaking, or maybe a year or so in, is have a think about why you do it. If you’re a freelancer, let me ask you: is speaking at a conference time away from your work, and therefore should be calculated as to how much you should charge based on your hourly rate? Or, is it an investment in yourself, your new business opportunities, and the opportunity to share. Of course, the answer to this is personal, and – for me – depends on what type of conference it is.

This community is unique. We share everything we do. We organise conferences to do just that. Most of the conference organisers I know come from that starting point, but then the business gets in the way. Most speakers I know, get on stage from that starting point, but then the business gets in the way.

There’s nothing wrong with valuing yourself and your work. If speaking is part of your work, then you should be compensated. But next time you’re asked to speak by a conference, just stop for a moment and think about what that compensation should be.

Filed under Conferences, Personal.

Why?

April 24th, 2014

Just like most two year olds, my daughter likes to ask ‘why?’ Recently, I’ve tried responding to every ‘why’ to see where it leads. It’s like a cross between improv and some perverse version of Mallet’s Mallet. Here’s a transcript of a conversation I recorded in the car earlier today:

  • Me: We’re going into Cardiff today.
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: To go to the castle
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: Because it’s better than watching TV, and it’s a nice day!
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: That’s what happens when the sun shines
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: Because there are no clouds
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: It’s due to high pressure
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: Because that’s how weather works
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: There’s lots to it: solar radiation, air movement, global warming…
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: Weather is complicated
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: Lots of factors. That’s why we have people telling us what the weather will be.
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: So we know when to wear a coat
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: So we don’t get wet
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: Because wearing wet clothes is miserable, and it’ll give you a cold.
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: Because, apparently, it can make you more at risk of infection.
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: Maybe your immune system. Everyone has one.
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: To stop you getting sick.
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: So you can continue living.
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: To procreate.
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: To continue the human race.
  • Two year old: Why?
  • Me: You know, i’ve no idea.
  • Two year old: OK.

A conversation like that has happened almost every day for the past few weeks. This was the longest. And deepest.

Filed under Personal.

Mark Boulton Design and Monotype

April 8th, 2014

Today is a big day for me. One of the biggest of days. I’m delighted to announce that Mark Boulton Design has been acquired by Monotype. You can read the full press release here, but before you do, I’d like to take you back a few years…

Eight years ago, Emma and I were driving down from visiting my parents near Manchester. It was a sunny, blustery day in June 2006.

During this time, we both worked for the BBC – Emma in Audience Research, and me in, what was then called, New Media. As a lot of designers do, I was working some freelance work on the side. A couple of weeks prior to that car trip, however, I’d been offered a freelance project that was too good to turn down, but it was big. Bigger than a few hours a night when I got home from the day job. On that car trip, we decided that one of those jobs had to go: my freelance work, or the job at the BBC. I chose the latter, and the very next day, handed in my resignation at the BBC. It was time to head out alone.

Eight years later and it’s time for another change.

Running a design studio has been a fabulously rewarding experience. I’ve worked with some talented people on some great projects for wonderful clients. But, all through this time, there has been a niggling problem, one that I’ve talked about at a couple of design conferences this year. When we’re hired by a company to work on their project, just by the nature of the engagement, we’re not as close to the problem as we need to be. We’re not in-house. We’re not experiencing them day by day. And, quite often, we’re not in the position to help fix the problems in the organisation as we uncover them. Having the opportunity to be closer to the problem really excites me, and that’s why this change is such an important decision for me at this time in my career.

We know the web is going through an interesting time right now. This is not so much being felt by us in the industry, but by the myriad of companies who publish content that are struggling to cope with the changes and demands their readership and customers put on their services. Being close to that problem excites me, and that’s just what this opportunity with Monotype represents. We’re going to be working with some of smartest people I’ve met on a broad range of tools and services that cross the boundaries of two fields of design I hold dear: web design and typography. What could be better than that?

Five Simple Steps will also be closing its doors. For five years, Emma and I have been accidental publishers and, together with the team here, and some talented authors, have produced many practical and influential books. Those books aren’t going away, though. As of today, Five Simple Steps is ceasing to trade, but is giving those books back to the authors to distribute as they see fit. We’re also freely distributing our ePub template and process, to help people self-publish just like I did five years ago. And, today, I’m also giving away my book, Designing for the Web. You can freely download it in PDF, ePub and Kindle (.mobi) formats.

Our responsive grid application, Gridset, is currently being considered as how it can sit alongside Monotype’s Typecast product. Since both services launched, I’ve lost count of the amount of people who use the two together and asked us to integrate somehow.

The last eight years has been quite a ride, but as I said, it’s time for a change. And, for me, a great change at that. The team here at Mark Boulton Design will still be working with me. We’ll still be contributing to the community the best way we can. I’ll still be harping on about something or other on Twitter.

Today marks the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another. It’s the part in any story that I love the most, because, to my mind, it’s the best bit.

Filed under Gridset, Monotype, Mark Boulton Design.

Collaborative Moodboards

April 1st, 2014

Creating moodboards is something I was taught from a very early age. In primary school, they were a simple mixed-media way of expressing a form of an idea.

The thing I find interesting about mood boards is not the end-result, but the process of creation. Watching my children make posters from torn up bits of newspaper and magazines is really no different to watching my clients do it. Similar to watching other activities – such as affinity sorting, or depth interviewing – it’s the listening that I find interesting. Every moodboard tells a story, and as a designer, listening to your clients tell that story when they make them can be very insightful.

Making moodboards for you, not for me.

I have to be honest, I don’t make moodboards for myself. Not physical ones anyway. When I familiarise myself with a brand, or make some suggestions for design context, I always try to place those things in a context the client understands. This is where design visuals are important. They are almost unsurpassed in their immediacy of understanding for a client because they show the design in context. Of course, replace that with a high fidelity prototype, and you get the same thing. But, I want to step back a little here, as to when I find creating moodboards valuable.

Let me ask you a question: how many times have you heard this from a client?

‘I’m not so sure I think the design is heading in the right direction’. ‘It needs more pop’. ‘It’s just not us’.

These are all because a client cannot communicate about design at the same level we do. So, it’s abstract. Either that, or:

‘I don’t like that green’. ‘That button is great! But, it needs more pop’. ‘The logo needs to be bigger’.

Then things get subjective and extremely detailed. Why? Because these are approachable things people can comment on. More often than not, these comments are a failing that should rest firmly on our shoulders. We need to give our clients the words and understanding to express their thoughts. Either that, or we tease out these issues earlier in the process, in a way that is abstracted from the design work that will come later. This is where I feel collaborative moodboards work extremely well.

So, why would want to try and run one of these sessions?

  1. When a client’s brand is repositioning, sometimes we’re brought in very early on the back of a strategy. No tactical work as been done. So, it’s up to us to navigate the waters of implementing the branding strategy. Making design work on the back of a few bullet points in a slide deck can be challenging.

  2. Usually in a discover process, I will get a few red flags from speaking with a client. Generally these come through when talking about competitors, or things they like.

  3. When I get conflicting stories from different stakeholders. The homepage team has a completely different view on the branding than the marketing team.

  4. When branding needs evolving. A lot of organisations have mature branding collateral for print and advertising. Not so much for web (still!), so these are useful exercises to start to tease out differences or how they can align to the web in future.

I’m sure there are more, but those are few I can think of off the top of my head for now.

How to run a collaborative moodboard session

  1. Get the stakeholders in a room. 3-4 is ideal. 9 is way too many.
  2. Bring with you lots of magazines, newspapers, flyers – just physical paper stuff – that you can all cut up.
  3. Glue. Lots of glue. One tub each.
  4. Large (A1) pieces of paper.

The thing about this that I find interesting from a people-watching/behaviour perspective, is that the act of cutting things up and sticking them down is something that most of these people wouldn’t have done since school. The process involves collaborating, getting stuck-in and discussing the work. I find it a great leveller for the client team (hierarchy quickly disappears), and a very good ice breaker.

You set the brief for the morning/afternoon (all day is generally too long for the making part of this process). The idea is to find content that communicates part of the visual story of the product – and that could be anything:colour, type, texture, image – and stick it down.

For the agency team, it’s our job to ask questions throughout the day. To tease out the insights as people are in the moment of choice – before they’ve had chance to post-rationalise. And you know what? Answers like: ‘I just really like this green’ are great, because our next question is ‘Why?’ and it forces rationale. Without us being there, and asking that, almost always post-rationalising and ‘business stuff’ gets in the way of finding the truth behind those choices.

Quite often, just like cave paintings, moodboards are an artefact of a conversation. We often discard them from this point because they have served their purpose. We have the insights. The marketing team are best buddies with the homepage team. We all heading in the same direction.

So, next time you start a project and you need some steer on branding, or reconciling differences of opinion on a client team, try collaborative moodboarding as a way of coming together to try and solve the problem.

Filed under Design, Process.

Responsive Web Design – Defining The Damn Thing

March 10th, 2014

Unlike many design disciplines, web design goes through cyclical discussions about how to define itself and what it does – anyone who’s ever spent any time in the UX community will know about this.

I was prompted to write about this from reading Lyza’s column on A List Apart, and Jeffrey’s follow-up post this weekend.

In 2010, I attended An Event Apart in Seattle. During that show, I saw three or four presentations – from Eric Meyer, Dan Cederholm, Jeremy, and of course, Ethan. All of them, independently, talked about how using media queries and CSS we could change the content using a fluid layout. It was a perfect storm, and indicative of the thinking that led Ethan to write – and A Book Apart to publish – Responsive Web Design a year later. The rest, they say, is history.

Responsive Web Design had a simple formula: fluid grids, media queries and flexible images. Put them all together, and your web product will be responsive. As Jeffrey said:

If Ethan hadn’t included three simple executional requirements as part of his definition, the concept might have quickly fallen by the wayside, as previous insights into the fluid nature of the web have done. The simplicity, elegance, and completeness of the package—here’s why, and here’s how—sold the idea to thousands of designers and developers, whose work and advocacy in turn sold it to hundreds of thousands more. This wouldn’t have happened if Ethan had promoted a more amorphous notion. Our world wouldn’t have changed overnight if developers had had too much to think about. Cutting to the heart of things and keeping it simple was as powerful a creative act on Ethan’s part as the “discovery” of #RWD itself.

The idea of responsive design has taken a few years to go from cubicle to board room. But now it is a project requirement coming directly from there. For the past eighteen months, at Mark Boulton Design, we’ve seen it as a requirement on RFPs. And with that, it brings a whole other set of problems. Because what does it mean? Hence, we have to Define The Damn Thing all over again. And recently, to be honest with you, I’ve stopped doing it. Because, depending on who you speak to, responsive web design has come to mean everything and nothing.

There are some who see it as media queries, fluid grids and scalable images. There are those who see it as adaptive content, or smarter queries to the server to make better use of bandwidth available. There are those who just see it as web design.

Me? I think it’s just like Web 2.0. And AJAX. It’s just like Web Standards (although to a lesser extent) and exactly like HTML5 (in the minds of those of you who aren’t developers) and its rather splendid branding. Responsive design has grown into a term that represents change above all else. To me, responsive design is more about a change in the browser and device landscape. A change in how people consume content. A change in how we make things for the web. And responsive design is just the term to encapsulate that change in a nice, easy solution that can get sold to a board of directors worrying about their profit and loss.

‘Responsive design is forward-thinking and means it will work on a phone, and that’s where things are headed’.

We’ve heard this line time and time again over the past couple of years. You see, responsive design is a useful term and one that will stick around for a while whilst we’re going through this change. How else do we describe it, otherwise? Web design? I don’t think so. No board member is going to get behind that; it’s not new enough.

Filed under Responsive Web Design, Design.