By Shadrick Addy & Victoria Gerson

Asgraphic design practices gradually shift beyond traditional boundaries toward inclusive user-centered and user experience research methods, awareness of the ethical implications of our profession has become a necessity and responsibility of design practitioners and educators. This article highlights three graduate studio projects in which the authors investigated the ethical implications of graphic design. Each investigation led to the development of reflective tools that encourage graphic designers to reflect upon personal and collective values to evaluate the cultural and social impact of their work. The authors thereby define ethics as the moral principles or values held or shown by an individual person, as well as the codes of conduct or moral principles recognized in a particular profession, sphere of activity, relationship, or other context (Oxford English Dictionary, 2017).

Ken Garland, Noah Scalin, Elizabeth Resnick and Andrew Shea are among prominent designers, educators, and activists whose work and publications focus on design ethics and social responsibility (McMahon, 2018). David Goh (2012) referred to design responsibility as the ability “to adhere to a design process that involves sufficient research conducted in an ethical manner relative to the scale of the project with considerations for the well-being of society.” Although great strides have been taken to push our profession towards a socially responsible future, ethics in graphic design is still in its infancy (Roberts, 2006). As designers begin to explore new territories, social responsibility should become a core value within their work. Therefore, we encourage designers to view social responsibility as an integral component of our profession, rather than a constraint.

The Ethical Design Canvas

The first investigation addresses the provocation, “How might an ethical standard of practice encourage designers to become aware of the cultural and social implications of their work?” A series of mini-studies and further reflection upon the provocation led to the creation of the Ethical Design Canvas (EDC) and the Cultural Review Framework (CRF). The EDC is a reflective tool that helps designers visualize and align their personal values with their clients’ services to avoid unintended implications of their work. In response to stereotypical African American advertisements discovered during the design of the EDC, we developed the CRF to help facilitate how businesses review culturally sensitive advertisements.

In “Black Designers Missing in Action,” Miller (1987) raised the question, “What is missing in the design industry as a result of so little input from the largest of all American minority groups?” The unique perspective and cultural aptitude of African Americans and other American minority designers make them valuable contributors to design teams. Conversely, the lack of diversity can lead to stereotypical advertisements by businesses seeking to reach minority communities.

In 2011 consumers became outraged over a Dove advertisement (Figure 1) considered to be racist (Knafo, 2011). The stereotypical ad, along with others depicted in the poster below (Figure 2), echoes the sentiments of Miller and raised the questions—were there no black designers involved in the decision making that led to the creation of the advertisement? What could have been done differently had an African American designer been apart of the discussions? These inquiries led to an attempt to recreate the advertisements without the stereotypical representation of African Americans, to show that it is possible to maintain the intended message the company sought to convey to its audiences while designing with a cultural awareness (Figure 3).

Figure 1. Dove advertisement.

Figure 2. Examples of ads with stereotypical messages.

Figure 3. Recreation of the advertisements without stereotypical representation of African Americans.

We are aware that designers outside of a project may more easily notice ethical errors that design teams overlook when rushing to meet a project’s deadline. This understanding led to the creation of the EDC (Figure 4), which could be used by designers to construct an ethical system to serve as a guide from the beginning of a project to completion.

Figure 4. The Ethical Design Canvas

The EDC is inspired by the Flourishing Business Canvas, a set of tools and methods created to support business leaders in their efforts to design organizations that are socially beneficial, environmentally conscious, and financially viable (Flourishing Enterprise Innovation, 2018). The significant differences between the FDC and EDC is the application of each canvas. The FDC is used by business owners seeking to create sustainable enterprises. The EDC encourages designers to become cognizant of the cultural and social impact of their designs, as well as to avoid costly, adverse reactions from their clients, client’s stakeholders, and their communities. Once preliminary business endeavors have been completed, and the client has approved the design brief, the designer refers to the inquiries prompt sheet (Figure 5) to reflect upon a set of questions that relates to a section on the canvas. Each sub-section of the canvas is nested in a more extensive section, enabling the designer to navigate to a broad or specific inquiry as they construct the project’s guidelines. The arrows at the bottom of the canvas indicate that the answer to an inquiry may inform a response to the next or previous section, further emphasizing that design processes are not always linear.

Figure 5. Ethical Design Canvas Inquiries

Because a project is still liable to have controversial errors even if it is developed through an ethical lens, we created the CRF (Figure 6) to help guide the final review process of marketing campaigns before they are published. This framework takes a project through a series of stages in which stakeholders review different elements of the advertisements. The framework also suggests that businesses hire cultural liaisons—individuals that have an in-depth understanding of the company’s target audience and serve as the last line of reviewers before a campaign is published.

Figure 6. Cultural Review Framework

MGD Code of Ethics Workshop

In this section, we present an overview of the process and the development of a workshop formulated in response to Ken Garland’s First Things First manifesto (Soar, 2002) and Meredith Davis’ AIGA Design Futures Trend #4: Core Values Matter (Davis, 2018). The authors worked with the NC State Master of Graphic Design students to develop a code of ethics that expresses the ideas from the Core Values Matter trend. Following the structure and sentiment of Garland’s manifesto, we created a collaborative space for the students to develop a declaration for the future of the graphic design profession.

Market research shows that quality, reliability, and transparency are the core values that help brands build trust amongst their consumers. Because core values matter in shaping people’s attitudes and behavior, design has the potential to be a force for social change (Davis, 2018). In preparation for the workshop, we identified two core themes of importance as described in the Core Values Matter article—the values that businesses and companies must use to gain trust from their consumers, as well as the independent values that designers must cultivate to create ethical work.

We situated the workshop within four domains—designers’ responsibility to their clients, public, society + environment, and fellow designers. The workshop participants split up into four groups with each team assigned to a domain. The facilitators provided three case studies from which the participants chose one to write an analysis of the project’s ethical implications (Figure 7). The project analysis exercise encouraged the teams to consider unintended implications of various design projects and create a foundation upon which they began to develop the MGD Code of ethics.

Figure 7. Teams working together to write an analysis of a chosen case study.

Following the analysis and class discussion, the facilitators provided each team with four prompts—“we will, we won’t, we recognize, and we are responsible.” The prompts provided a framework through which each group could brainstorm statements outlining values, principles, and standards of practice, as related to their assigned domains (Figure 8).

Figure 8. Teams brainstorming statements for each of the four prompts.

We asked each group to come up with statements for each of the four prompts, followed by a group discussion to narrow it down. The groups read their statements to the class for everyone’s approval to finalize the declarations that are included on the MGD Code of ethics manifesto.

Figure 9. A participant writing one of the final sixteen declarations on the manifesto.

Once the students refined and agreed upon the statements, each participant hand wrote one of the final sixteen declarations on the manifesto and recited it in a video (Figures 9&10). Participants’ involvement in formulating the manifesto and video fostered a sense of community, agreement, and understanding among the students

Figure 10. Video of participants reciting the manifesto.

Introducing Core Values into the Classroom

People are no longer passive consumers of information, but active participants in generating the content of their experiences (Davis, 2018). Design classrooms have become active learning environments, and design students can no longer passively receive instructions and be expected to produce meaningful design solutions. Designers must now be taught how to create work that aligns with their own core values.

A designer’s ability to identify their own core values, that can be incorporated into their professional practice, begins in the classroom. Cinthia Wen (2011), writing about design education in the book Just Design, expresses this sentiment:

In the classroom, we engage in active learning, and can use assignments as the premise to provide opportunities for students to engage, research, and concern themselves with world issues. As educators, we can inspire critical thinking and encourage each other to take on the responsibility in balancing the relationship between what designers do commercially, and what designers can do socially to bring about positive impact (p. 147).

Students’ social and cultural aptitude is strengthened by emphasizing that core values matter within design curriculums. Exposing students to a social, political, or environmental issue can instill within them an understanding that such concerns can be addressed by graphic designers. This pedagogical approach can ignite exciting ideas in students and encourage them to pursue solutions for social issues beyond the classroom.

Building upon what was learned through the first two investigations, this final investigation audits an undergraduate sophomore level design course. The investigation utilizes data visualization and mapping to reflect upon and address pain points that are potentially solvable by implementing lessons on core values and ethics within the curriculum. Pain points are a specific problem that a user is experiencing, in this case the users are students and professors.

Visual diagramming gives you the ability to pick, choose, and combine content, allowing you to observe from multiple perspectives. The process of reflection for this class began by mapping out the semester in a calendar format—filling out the calendar with the daily tasks, phases of the design process, and all lectures, demonstrations, and critiques (Figure 11).

Figure 11. Visual mapping of the semester’s curriculum.

The mapping exercise aids in identifying key pain points, phases of the design process, and instructions. For example, unusable materials left after a demonstration on how to use spray adhesive to mount and cut paper on a foam core board, raised concerns on sustainability. If the instructor implemented lessons on conservation within the demonstration, there would not have been wasted material and the students would begin to think about environmental issues. As previously stated in the EDC investigation, a lack of cultural awareness can lead to the creation of negative stereotypical images. This lack of awareness became apparent in class critique when students presented a mobile application that intended to serve a predominantly African American community. The icons for their mobile interface depicted stereotypically white features, eliciting negative feedback from the class and instructors. Lessons on developing design solutions with considerations of your audience could have helped the students avoid the cultural mishap in their work. Reflection on these instances brought attention to the lessons on core values that can address these pain points within the class.

Figure 12. Key for Figure 13.

Figure 13. Circular diagram used to visualize the data.

As projects, classes, and semesters can be seen as a cycle representing continuous reflection and improvement, the circular diagram is used to visualize the data (Figures 12&13). The outermost ring is the visualization of the core values that align with each project, which can be used to identify what lessons can be introduced and where within the existing instructional course materials.

Lessons covering core values do not yet exist within the current projects and a reflective mapping exercise can help pinpoint the places where we can implement ethical principles within the existing curriculum. Design educators can use reflective processes and data visualization to analyze a class they have already taught and use the class analysis as a tool to improve upon and make adjustments to the class curriculum continually. We can actively and intentionally introduce core values by identifying opportunities and inserting subtle changes to already existing instructions.

Final Reflections

Through an analysis of our investigations, we observed that reflection is an essential component of understanding how to implement core values and ethics in graphic design practices. Businesses and entrepreneurs can use the Ethical Design Canvas and Framework to lead their organizations in a socially conscious direction. Through exercises such as the Core Values workshop, designers can use reflective practices to identify their own values and beliefs and implement them in their practice. Design educators can use mapping and visualization to reflect upon their courses and introduce core values within design curriculums. Therefore we conclude that it is imperative to educate designers on how to implement ethical design principles within their work and provide them with the reflective tools and exercises needed to do so.

References

• Davis, M. (2018). Core Values Matter. Design Futures Trend.
• Flourishing Enterprise Innovation – Tools for the Strongly Sustainable Revolution – Financially Rewarding, Socially Beneficial, Environmentally Regenerative. (2018). Retrieved from http://www.flourishingbusiness.org/
• Goh, D. (2012) In The Pursuit of Ethics (thesis) Retrieved from http://www.starvingforethics.com. (Open access)
• Knafo, S. (2011, July 25). Dove Ad Casts Spotlight On Madison Avenue Racism. Retrieved April 18, 2019, from https://www.huffpost.com/entry/dove-ad-racist_n_866895
• McMahon B. (2018) Designing Computer Supported Collaborative Conversations (thesis) Retrieved from https://college.design.ncsu.edu/thenfinally. (Open access)
• Miller, C. D. (1987). Black designers: Missing in action. Print, 41 (5): 58-65, 136-137.
• Roberts, L. (2006). Good: An introduction to ethics in graphic design. Lausanne: USA and Canada Watson Guptill.
• Soar, M. (2002). The First Things First Manifesto and The Politics of Culture Jamming: Towards a Cultural Economy of Graphic Design and Advertising. Cultural Studies, 16(4), 570-592
• Wen, C. (2011). Doing. In Christopher S. (Ed.) Just Design. ; Socially Conscious Design for Critical Causes (pp. 145-147). F. M. Last Editor (Ed.),  F & W Media, Incorporated.

By Ellis Anderson

In 2016, when I first applied to be part of the Masters of Graphic Design program at NC State University, I met with the Director of Graduate Programs, Denise Gonzales Crisp. We talked about program expectations and my personal goals in pursuing a graduate degree in graphic design. When the conversation turned to reviewing my work, I was nervous. My experience in design was relatively limited, having been out of undergraduate art school for more than 6 years. I had spent the majority of my time playing music in bands, working as a screen printer, and taking on occasional freelance illustration and graphic design jobs. During our conversation, to compensate for my limited design portfolio, I attempted to explain the connections between my illustrations and graphic design. Surprisingly, Denise offered a different perspective. “Your music is more akin to design than your illustration,” she said. I smiled and nodded in agreement. Of course, I had no idea what she was describing. At the time, the question “why is design like music?” was almost as nonsensical to me as “why is a raven like a writing desk?”

Some clarification came from my first graduate studio course at NC State in the Fall of 2017 with Professor Gonzales Crisp. Students were asked to redefine the culture of graphic design through visual and conceptual artifacts, “things” that would demonstrate a shift in our own understanding of graphic design and propose alternative visions for its future. Throughout the semester I felt like a fish out of water. I kept asking myself: how am I supposed to participate in a conversation without experience or knowledge of the domain? It was an exercise in extended suspension of disbelief over the course of the semester; not only did I feel ill-equipped to contribute, but also the class was largely impromptu, assignments being continuously added to and altered with little time to acclimate. At the end of the course, I felt as though I had taken part in a long-form zen koan, in which I was tested on my ability to “trust the process.” While I may not have understood what I was doing at the moment, in time I have come to better understand and appreciate the teaching method and the positive implications it had on students’ creative output, especially my own.

Professor Gonzales Crisp’s research concerns the implementation of improvisational methods into design pedagogy (Abdullah & Gonzales Crisp, 2018; Abdullah & Gonzales Crisp, 2019). The Fall 2017 studio adopted an improvisational structure as a method for coping with uncertainty, encouraging cross-pollination of ideas between students and generating unforeseeable outcomes. Framing the studio experience as an improvisational performance instead of chaos began to reveal a deeper relationship between music and design. Although I do not have formal training or play in a traditional jazz ensemble, “jamming” is an integral part of my musical repertoire. This process, like jazz or improvisational theater, operates on a shared understanding between participants. The “rules” are to accept experimentation and let a conceptual direction unfold intuitively, knowing that actively engaging in the process will yield an outcome or reveal a connection that otherwise would not have presented itself.

Why is improvisation pertinent to design practice? What is its value? Consider two qualities of an ideal designer. First, when faced with an ambiguous question, a “wicked” problem as Horst Rittel and Melvin Webber describe (1973), the designer must be curious. The designer must seek out a variety of paths and is rarely satisfied with the status quo or a predictable solution. We see this through the designers’ tendency to develop multiple possible solutions to a single prompt. The iterative behavior of pushing past initial concepts is a paramount competency for the seasoned designer. Designers do not iterate because early ideas are by nature bad or fail to satisfy brief requirements. Iteration is a practice based on the belief that an even better, more creative, or surprising idea is just around the corner, on the other side of inevitability.

Second, in order to discover the relevancy of their designs, the designer must remain open. Here, openness does not refer to being agreeable or open-minded per se; rather, it means releasing one’s conceptual trajectory to the response from others. In the context of the Fall 2017 Studio, students’ project directions would take abrupt turns following group critiques as ideas would converge. At one point, students were forced to literally switch projects, taking on research questions that another student had generated based on their own interests. Donald Schön’s The Reflective Practitioner (1983) refers to this kind of responsiveness as “situated cognition,” describing design’s reciprocal back-and-forth between intuition—or, “knowing-in-action”—and contemplation—or, “reflection-in-action”—when confronted with feedback from an outside source (Mccall, 2012). Schön is referring to the student-professor relationship, a dynamic that reflects a more traditional understanding of the academy and design education. In contrast, Professor Gonzales Crisp intentionally created a learning environment in the fall 2017 studio where students would be responsive and responsible to each other rather than to an “all-knowing” instructor.

In another way, think of attention and openness to others as a kind of deep listening, the trust of another, the process and the here and now, or, as Schön (1983) puts it, “seeing-as.”  Coincidentally, the term “deep listening,” coined by the late experimental electronic musician Pauline Oliveros, is tied to improvisational methodology and ambient music. Oliveros talks about respecting what comes back to you (TEDxIndianapolis, 2015), while Schön (1983) marks the shift between knowing and reflecting as the moment when the “situation talks back” ( p. 131). Openness means listening, reflecting, and respecting the encounter with something other than oneself or one’s own proclivities.

Not surprisingly, the aforementioned qualities of an ideal designer, curiosity and openness, are the same qualities of an ideal improviser. A musical improviser is only worth her weight if she explores the sonic territory. In jazz improvisation, social structures dictate that soloists are given priority based on experience and proven ability to take creative leaps (Bastien & Hostager, 1988; Kamoche & Cunha, 2001). Those who do not venture out, or “play it safe,” run the risk of losing their platform, or in the case of jazz, the opportunity to solo. By the same token, experimentation must be coupled with an awareness of the group. Those musicians who diverge must be able “to blend their competence with that of the other members” (Kamoche & Cunha, 2001, p.747). In many jazz environments, the “centering” technique allows players to gradually expand musical variation once each member familiarizes themselves with the previously explored sonic terrain (Bastien & Hostager, 1988). “Centering” shares many similarities to designers’ use of mental models, intersubjectivity, knowledge integration, and design “framing” (Cross, 2010; Hong, Lee & Lee, 2016; Kleinsmann, Deken, Dong & Lauche, 2012; Mcdonnell, 2018; Yuill & Rogers, 2012). Both curiosity and openness are necessary for the musical improviser and designer alike. Both the designer and improviser are social creators, requiring feedback from a variety of sources. Both design and improvisation are exploratory in that an obvious solution is rarely satisfactory. However, the two share differences as well as similarities. Improvisation, while providing procedures for conceptual exploration, is ultimately concerned with the pursuit of a musical idea for its own sake, for the sake of the art. Design, on the other hand, is fundamentally concerned with improving a problem or situation, entailing creative exploration as a means to an end rather than a means to itself.

So why expand the role of improvisation in the design process? Design has plenty of its own ideation strategies, many of which have been tested and finely tuned to yield efficacious results. Some, like brainstorming, mashups or rapid prototyping, even resemble strategies from improvisation (Design Kit, n/d). Why attempt to alter a paradigm that works as is? The answer may concern the proportionate quality of ideas generated via different strategies.

Design ideation methods, especially those from human-centered design (HCD), seek to determine the appropriateness of an idea (Giacomin, 2014). However, few of these methods prioritize novelty over efficacy. Relying too heavily on existing user experience methods may lead designers to produce designs that “work” but are ultimately lacking in inspiration or, dare I say, magic. In his book Design Thinking (2011), Nigel Cross references renowned product designer Philippe Starck’s “Juicy Salif” lemon squeezer, created for Alessi. Starck’s solution is visually absurd but captivating, looking somewhat like a miniscule version of the alien crafts from H. G. Wells’s War of the Worlds. While a more pragmatic solution may have gotten the job done, it is Starck’s strange take that provides both function, form, and a unique kind of enchantment (as David Rose might refer to it). Designers are positioned to blend novelty and efficacy, less they become aesthetically concerned versions of their developer and engineer counterparts. They pursue the problem and the solution concurrently (Cross, 2010; Cross, 2011). To a certain degree, designers must creatively “guess” to receive feedback, reflect, and adjust accordingly. The end goal is to create something both surprising and appropriate. Established design ideation methods cover the latter, improvisation engages the former (Healey, Leach & Bryan-Kinns, 2005).

Designers can incorporate improvisation to alter some of the common missteps associated with designerly behavior and thinking. Fixation, or the “blind adherence to a set of ideas or concepts limiting the output of conceptual design” (Jansson & Smith, 1991, p. 3), is something that all designers struggle with, especially novices (Cross, 2010). While Cross explains that fixation can be both negative and positive—such as being fixated on pursuing “relevant first principles”—the negative manifestation can become detrimental to developing surprising design outcomes. Negative design fixation can lead a designer to regurgitating tired clichés and overused tropes, mimicking what has worked before in place of surveilling the territory prior to committing to a conceptual or formal path. Conversely, improvisational thinking has been shown to increase creativity by encouraging positive evaluation of “deviant ideas” (Kleinmintz, Goldstein, Abecasis & Shamay-Tsoory, 2014), which may be key to overcoming negative design fixation. To be clear, relying on the status quo serves a purpose; for designers without large R&D budgets or time to experiment, resorting to established schemas serves the bottom line (think the use of rounded corners in contemporary user interface, or bold “Hi, my name is…” landing pages on young tech professionals’ personal websites). However, for those who are seeking design potentialities to emerging situations or contexts, what has worked before may not work for what has yet to come.

The trickiness with an improvisational approach to ideation is determining where or when the designer should implement its methods. Staying curious and flexible is relatively feasible at the beginning stages of the design process. However, once designers have significantly developed an idea, fixation becomes that much more difficult to break (Tseng, Moss, Cagan & Kotovsky, 2008; Crilly, 2015). In both a cognitive and pragmatic sense, as a project develops, resources and hard work cement a concept in place (Crilly, 2015). Additionally, the kind of social network needed to model an improvisational performance effectively poses complications. Designers will often work in interdisciplinary teams or groups of different stakeholders where ideas can be traded back and forth. Yet many designers have no choice but to work independently to generate initial concepts. Some researchers have proposed developing “design heuristics,” rules of thumb or creative provocations to stimulate new modes of ideation after creative “exhaustion” has set in (Gray, Mckilligan, Daly, Seifert & Gonzales, 2017). Design heuristics may function well in a highly controlled situation where designers are aware of their own creative deficiencies when they arise. However, a system that could monitor a designer’s progression and intervene at the appropriate time would be better equipped to handle a variety of contexts, as it would allow the designer to work intuitively until her intuition expires.

Since my conversation with Professor Gonzales Crisp in 2016, I have been preoccupied with—fixated on, you might say—solving the riddle: why is music like design? Despite my fascination, the reality may be that the two are not related. However, there are connections to be made, notably the connection between musical improvisation and design process. Improvisation relates to design through the mutual value of curiosity and openness. While only a handful of researchers have studied this (Kleinmintz et al., 2014; Sowden, Clements, Redlich & Lewis, 2015), improvisational competence can enhance divergent thinking and may be able to compensate for common difficulties in the design process such as negative fixation, attachment to early concepts, and creative stagnation. Identifying effective opportunities to introduce these methods is essential to expanding the cross-application of improvisation in design.

References

• Abdullah, N. & Gonzales Crisp, D. (2018). Improvisation in the Design Classroom. Dialectic, 2(1).
• Abdullah, N. & Gonzales Crisp, D. (2019). Managing Miscellany Socially in the Design Classroom. DRS Learn Design 2019.
• Bastien, D. T., & Hostager, T. J. (1988). Jazz as a Process of Organizational Innovation. Communication Research, 15(5), 582-602.
• Crilly, N. (2015). Fixation and creativity in concept development: The attitudes and practices of expert designers. Design Studies, 38, 54-91.
• Cross, N. (2010). Designerly ways of knowing. London: Springer.
• Cross, N. (2011). Design Thinking: Understanding how designers think and work. New York: Berg.
• Design Kit. (n.d.). Retrieved from http://www.designkit.org/
• Giacomin, J. (2014). What Is Human Centred Design? The Design Journal, 17(4), 606-623.
• Gray, C. M., Mckilligan, S., Daly, S. R., Seifert, C. M., & Gonzalez, R. (2017). Using creative exhaustion to foster idea generation. International Journal of Technology and Design Education.
• Healey, P. G., Leach, J., & Bryan-Kinns, N. (2005). Inter-play: Understanding group music improvisation as a form of everyday interaction. Proceedings of Less is More—Simple Computing in an Age of Complexity.
• Hong, S. W., Lee, S., & Lee, J. S. (2016). Incongruent Aesthetic Preferences in Design Collaboration: An Enabler or Barrier for Novelty and Appropriateness? Journal of Asian Architecture and Building Engineering, 15(1), 81-88.
• Jansson, D. G., & Smith, S. M. (1991). Design fixation. Design Studies, 12(1), 3-11.
• Kamoche, K., & Cunha, M. P. (2001). Minimal Structures: From Jazz Improvisation to Product Innovation. Organization Studies, 22(5), 733-764.
• Kleinmintz, O. M., Goldstein, P., Mayseless, N., Abecasis, D., & Shamay-Tsoory, S. (2014). Expertise in musical improvisation and creativity: The mediation of idea evaluation. PLoS One, 9(7)
• Kleinsmann, M., Deken, F., Dong, A., & Lauche, K. (2012). Development of design collaboration skills. Journal Of Engineering Design, 23(7), 485-506.
• Mccall, R. (2012). Critical Conversations: Feedback as a Stimulus to Creativity in Software Design. Creativity and Rationale, 11-40.
• Mcdonnell, J. (2018). Design roulette: A close examination of collaborative decision-making in design from the perspective of framing. Design Studies, 57, 75-92.
• Rittel, H. W., & Webber, M. M. (1973). Dilemmas in a general theory of planning. Policy Sciences, 4(2), 155-169.
• Schön, D. (1983). The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action. Basic Books.
• Sowden, P. p., Clements, L., Redlich, C., & Lewis, C. (2015). Improvisation Facilitates Divergent Thinking and Creativity: Realizing a Benefit of Primary School Arts Education. Psychology Of Aesthetics, Creativity & The Arts, 9(2), 128-138.
• TEDxIndianapolis (2015). Pauline Oliveros: The difference between hearing and listening [Video file]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QHfOuRrJB8
• Tseng, I., Moss, J., Cagan, J., & Kotovsky, K. (2008). The role of timing and analogical similarity in the stimulation of idea generation in design. Design Studies, 29(3), 203-221.
• Yuill, N., & Rogers, Y. (2012). Mechanisms for collaboration. ACM Transactions on Computer-Human Interaction, 19(1), 1-25.

By Hannah Faub

Research

The focus of the studio class this semester was different kinds of machine learning. Before working through various studies, we read journals and articles, listened to podcasts, and watched youtube videos. One of the sources that the class viewed was AIGA Designer 2025. They explored seven trends that focused on communication design. We read a piece by Kate Darling that discussed anthropomorphizing robotic technology in specific contexts. She found that people have a tendency to project life-like qualities onto robots and found that giving the robot a name impacts how people perceive and treat a robot (Darling, 2015).

Inspiration

One of the studies that got my attention in studio class was the exploration of Conversation User Interfaces (CUIs). This study challenged me to think beyond the bounds of the interaction of machine learning and humans. I was intrigued by finding the silver lining between machine and human relationships since we live in a world where humans are so intertwined with technology that it can take away from face-to-face interactions. I wanted to find a tool that the user could tap to wake the system, offload the user’s mind (talk) while it listened, gathered the information, and organized it on an application that the user could go back to later and view. A tool that could keep the users’ interest but also help with daily tasks or things people are not always capable of handling—all the while feeling more human-like when someone talks to it at the same time.

Background

We began working through a provocative study that prompted me to think critically about our relationship with conversational interfaces. This study, combined with the debate around CUI, made me curious about the potential opportunities of CUIs. Can we build a new relationship between humans and machines via CUIs? We began thinking about what the CUI could potentially do, such as creating a new kind of relationship between humans and machines.

Study One—Build a bot

The first study my partner and I built a chatbot. It consisted of creating an assistant with three personality traits. We brainstormed questions and responses the bot could answer (Figure 1). We then created a scenario where the user would approach the bot for a specific reason and converse with the bot. The final step was creating a diagram of the conversational flow.

We came up with traits such as contemplative, efficient, and proactive. To put it in context, we created a scenario for the users: “You recently lost your job. You need help finding another one. This chatbot will take you through an interview process that will assist in helping you find a job. It will ask you a series of questions at random—some will be serious, others will be hilarious, and they may even seem a little absurd.”

Figure 1. Flowchart of chatbot conversation pattern.

Study Two—Research

The second study focused on the voice input and UI feedback of the system. Individually I studied existing systems like Siri and Alexa by asking them questions and then sketching ideas and conversation flow between a virtual assistant and a human using a mobile device. It became the startup of plans for the diagram of states. As I continued to develop possible visual systems for a CUI, I considered six different directions (Figure 2) that showcased a series of screens that indicated: the user speaking, a dialogue that is occurring, when the system succeeds, when the system fails, cues for sending text input, and the switch between text and voice.

Figure 2. Six conversation explorations.

I explored even further the idea of movement as the user was speaking. I was intrigued by the idea to design a piece that feels more humanistic when you talk to it and began iterating forms that could act as different and recognizable facial expressions. This process entailed my exploration of how the system would indicate that the user was talking, how dialogue occurs between two entities (the human and the machine), and when a system succeeds and fails. I also considered text input and cues for sending text input and the switch between text and voice (Figure 3).

Figure 3. Explored diagram of states.

Study Three—Deliverable     

The third study focuses on how the user would engage in a conversation using the CUI portrayed as a prototype based off of the diagram of states. For the end, I created a prototype slideshow that demonstrates how the user would engage in a conversation using the conversational interface including a scenario that reflects how a human cannot sleep because they have a lot on their mind that they want to offload including a way to view later (Figure 4).  With this technology, people can speak their mind and then go to sleep knowing that nothing will be forgotten later.

Figure 4. The connection between a product and an application.

Moving Forward

I found my niche of a part of the design I want to explore further. I have a passion for communicating with others, both listening and speaking. I believe that the ability to connect and have a good conversation with someone is the foundation of building a relationship. This study made me think about how, as a designer, I can create a tool that helps families and friends better communicate with each other—taking into consideration that we live in a world of screens, and face-to-face interaction is dwindling.

Working on study three, I realized that I want to support those who may not be able to speak what they feel and help them find their voice. Therefore, with the help of machine learning, I would like to continue research and discussion with CUI in the future. Specifically, I want to look at four different variables—connection, vulnerability, empathy, and relationship building. Using these four variables, I want to design a tool that can help facilitate a conversation between family and/or friends.

In study one, it was challenging to design a robot that had humanistic qualities. I was challenged to think beyond and find a way to hear the person’s authentic voice. People hide behind screens, so I am questioning how we can use the screens to our advantage; I believe that with the help of CUI we can build better relationships and connections with one another that have the potential to be more “real” than they are currently.

References

• AIGA Design Educators Community | AIGA Designer 2025. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://educators.aiga.org/aiga-designer-2025/
• Darling, Kate, ‘Who’s Johnny?’ Anthropomorphic Framing in Human-Robot Interaction, Integration, and Policy (March 23, 2015). ROBOT ETHICS 2.0, eds. P. Lin, G. Bekey, K. Abney, R. Jenkins, Oxford University Press, 2017, Forthcoming. Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=2588669 or http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.2588669

By Randa Hadi

Note-taking is a magical handheld time capsule—it captures moments in time through text or drawing, which people treasure because of how personal it is to them and sometimes something they can only understand. Writing is an action created by us, it transfers bodily gestures onto the physical world by the pressure created on the tool leaving a trace on paper (Mueller & Oppenheimer, 2014). Our experience taking notes is intimate and personal–it lives in the physical world that is contained on pages that are bound together. Over the years the notion of taking notes has been altered with technology, where students, professors and even kids use laptops to type their notes, which removes traces of emotions, personalization and the human touch.

This project explored two of the seven trends from the AIGA Designer 2025—bridging digital and physical experiences and aggregation curation. AIGA defined the constantly changing context in design by identifying seven trends that will make an impact in the profession (AIGA, 2018). These trends are meant to help people in the field anticipate and prepare for the future of design. During a critique, students usually take notes of the feedback for each other and share them at the end of the presentation, primarily through sharing pictures or scans of what they had written down. The project addresses the first trend, “bridging digital and physical experiences”, by keeping note-taking as a physical experience but allowing the discussions between the notes to happen digitally–using organic forms that connects to the human touch.

Note-taking is a form of expression, personalization, and communication that has been around since the beginning of time; notes have been painted in caves, written and drawn on paper, and typed on laptops. The information that is processed is translated into one’s own language and understanding—visually and textually. People look back at their notes as a way to remember what they had written down, a way to see their progression, and a way to feel the emotions through the way they wrote out their letters. Physical note-taking requires cognitive processing as a way of encoding information and allows for flexibility in terms of tools that one can use, as well as the notebook itself (Mueller & Oppenheimer, 2014).

Note-taking can transport someone back to the specific location where they can immerse themselves with the marks they have left on pieces of paper. People’s notes are brought up in conversations and sometimes talked about with peers, who then write their own notes from what they have interpreted. The process of writing letters is a cycle that we all share. What if we could individually write notes but have the ability to participate in synthesizing notes together? What if our letters talked to each other to create a whole and complete note?  

The project also addresses trend two, “aggregation curation”, by creating a system that allows for aggregating information in public spaces through participation. By placing the interactive projection in open areas, it engages a wide range of people and spread information about design and the design process—it opens up space to a broader range of design like graphic design, architecture, and industrial design. By creating a flexible system, it could be available to all other disciplines to engage in more meaningful conversations with handwritten notes. The Edge Effect will be a learning hub that would intersect in any public space in a design school, increasing interaction among people. The projection would allow for information to aggregate over time while still having the ability to leave a mark in a community of designers that requires interaction.

The concept for this project stemmed from the Edge Effect—an ecological phenomenon that describes the diversity of life in a region where the edges of two adjacent ecosystems overlap. When the two ecosystems overlap, they create a more prosperous life, one that supports growth from each ecosystem and includes new life that only lives in the Edge Effect (Johnson, Hill & Melnick 2013). This phenomenon occurs when two ecosystems meet and clash, creating an innovative and diverse meaning that makes sense of things from the two ecosystems. Diversity is one of the main characteristics found in Edge Effect and one that inspired the design of this project (Van Der Ryn & Cowan, 2007):

Diverse ecosystems give rise to diverse life forms, and to diverse cultures… Seeding with diversity is a way of catalyzing creativity by providing a diverse repertoire of behaviors for the system to build on. (p. 164)

Creating a space where people can interact with another’s projection sparks new conversations. The Edge Effect is an interactive, responsive projection system that encourages participation—taking inspiration from both words and visuals from ecology that can manifest in the design. This system is created to be used by design graduate and undergraduate students right after their critiques as a way to formulate and digest the feedback. This becomes another form of discussion, allowing your notes to converse and talk to each other as a means to develop new ideas. Creating a space for people to participate would allow for several notes to aggregate, which would lead to a higher sense of creativity, a clashing of two systems. It fosters communities and encourages participants to expand their knowledge, keeping the projections living and growing when people interact with it. Participatory design is a way to “aggregate, transform, and distribute user content, building user communities through their actions” (Armstrong, 2011, p. 12). Students generate content during their critiques by writing notes based on their conversations and feedback. Studies have shown that “encoding [your own notes] suggests that the processing that occurs during the act of note-taking improves learning and retention” (Mueller & Oppenheimer, 2014, p. 1159). The system would encourage students to write their notes during critiques so that they could project it on the wall and gain new ideas through participation. Figure I visualizes two students notes and how it would look like when projected–using ecology as inspiration for the design.

Figure I: Transformation from notebook to projection.

Edge Effect would allow students to interact with it by projecting their notes in their desired space [see Figure II] and having the ability to grab specific notes with a 3D object of their choice that would snap to the wall. After their critiques, students can project their notes to formulate a new and complete note. The projection would allow the students to mesh and grab specific notes from their peers as a way to expand their projects further. The system would encourage students to move to the particular space that the notes were projected on as a way to revisit and redigest the information. The Edge Effect is archived the same way human memory works—it is an organic, living being that fades and expands depending on the information it is fed, as well as the number of times it has interacted with people. It transforms from a personal note to a universal participatory note-taking system, requiring human interaction to remain in the space and alive. The more someone interacts with it, the longer it stays in the area. The less someone associates with it, the more faded the information becomes. Figure II shows a variety of spaces in which the Edge Effect projection would live to allow for interaction among people and the system itself, as it requires community interaction to stay alive. The Edge Effect would enable people to meet to have meaningful conversations. By allowing for projections to happen in a shared space, there is a higher chance people will talk to those they normally do not, therefore encouraging interaction and participation, both with one’s notes and others.

Figure II: Spaces Edge Effect can live in.

Pushing this project beyond the bounds for continuation has a lot of opportunities to address how participatory design can facilitate interactions and create meaningful conversations surrounding note-taking. With the rise of artificial intelligence and machine learning, this project opens up the possibility of how these problem spaces can be addressed. How can we keep the tradition of note-taking while creating new ways of communication, archiving, and connecting?

Figure III: Edge Effect after students have synthesized their notes with some of them starting to fade away.

Figure IV: Flat interface of Edge Effect showing four notes being synthesized.

References

• AIGA. “Design Futures: Designer 2025.” Aggregation Curation, 2018.
• AIGA. “Design Futures: Designer 2025.” Bridging Digital and Physical Experiences, 2018.
• Armstrong, Helen & Stojmirovic, Zvezdana. (2011) Participate: Designing with User-Generated Content. Print.
• Baek, Joon & Kim, Sojung & Pahk, Yoonyee. (2016). A sociotechnical framework for the design of collaborative services: diagnosis and conceptualisation. 10.21606/drs.2016.203.
• Johnson, B., K. Hill, and R. Melnick. 2013. Ecology and Design Frameworks For Learning. Island PressWashington.
• Koria, Mikko & Best, Kathryn. (2017). Design, Collaboration & Evolvability: A Conversation About the Future.
• Mueller, P. A., & Oppenheimer, D. M. (2014). The pen is mightier than the keyboard: Advantages of longhand over laptop note taking. Psychological Science , 25 , 1159–1168. doi:10.1177/0956797614524581
• Ries, L. and Sisk, T. D. (2004), A Predictive Model of Edge Effects. Ecology, 85: 2917-2926. doi:10.1890/03-8021
• Ryn, S. V., & Cowan, S. (2007). Ecological design: Tenth anniversary edition. Washington, D.C.: Island Press.
• Vedantam, Shankar. (Social science correspondent). (2018, June 02). Edge Effect [Audio podcast] Retrieved from https://www.npr.org/2018/07/02/625426015/the-edge-effect

By Grace Herndon

Problem Exploration and Inspiration

The problem area which I chose to explore was the space on the outside of a community. While multifaceted and wicked, one of the most pertinent problems plaguing our society is loneliness and polarization. The more distant people feel from each other, the more of a serious impact it can have on a community. There are countless studies on the harmful effects that loneliness—which can also be defined as the lack of a sense of belonging—has on an individual (Whon, 2014).

The initial spark for this dive into community belonging came from a workshop led by fellow classmates who challenged us to visualize a dataset that could create a portrait of ourselves. The idea was to discover ways that data tell a story, create a portrait, and be more readily understood when translated into a visual format. The present idea was that designers have the power to bring understanding and meaning to large audiences. Creating my own data portrait also prompted thoughts on how subtle formal choices in data visualizations could not only bring understanding but also give a richer essence to what boils down to numbers.

The other essential source of inspiration for this research came from two AIGA Designer 2025 articles, “Bridging Digital and Physical Boundaries,” as well as “Core Values Matter” (Davis, 2019). The AIGA 2025 articles, are meant to paint a picture of the attributes and skills that designers must cultivate today in order to stay relevant tomorrow.  The article “Bridging Digital and Physical Boundaries” presents the idea of making the invisible visible. What are the forces or elements of our lives that are seen and unseen, and how can designers help or hurt by switching the two? I wondered if it could be beneficial to be able to visualize belonging and if it could strengthen a community to know if others felt like they belonged or not. This AIGA article prompted me to think about what the physical yet invisible experience of inclusion would look like when translated digitally. The “Core Values Matter” article discusses how a designer of the future might design for a more ethically and environmentally concerned audience (Davis, 2019). I thought it was powerful that a large portion of the consumer base is beginning to take into consideration how consistent an entity’s actions are with their advertised message. If an entity advertises belonging and inclusion as one of its values, a designer could then hold this community accountable through data on the actual sense of belonging. Discussions on theories of communities with my cohort also informed these ideas on belonging. The honeypot effect is one theory that breaks down how an individual may move from the periphery of a community to an acting participant and eventually to an advocate. An example given to explain the theory was how audience members in one study participated in an interactive art installation (Cox, 2016). Art and curiosity as a method for involvement sparked my attention as an opportunity.

The previously mentioned investigations ultimately lead me to the question: How can Designers facilitate belonging among newcomers in a small city context such as Raleigh, NC? In Brené Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfection, she defines belonging as:

The innate human desire to be part of something larger than us. Because this yearning is so primal, we often try to acquire it by fitting in and by seeking approval, which are not only hollow substitutes for belonging, but often barriers to it. Because true belonging only happens when we present our authentic, imperfect selves to the world, our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance. (Brown, 2010, p. 26).

The component of belonging that I will focus in on in this speculative exploration is the idea of a sense of belonging that comes from “be[ing] part of something larger than us” (Brown, 2010, p. 26). I will also supplement Brown’s definition with the addition of social support as an integral piece of belonging, which makes it so important to a community. Social support has been found to have notable influence on mental and physical health (Hale, 2005).

What could it be?

The research culminated in an idea for a large-scale art installation visualizing how much Raleigh citizens feel they belong to the community. This visualization acts as an aid to Raleigh citizens, allowing them to see how others in the community feel about their own sense of inclusion. The desired outcomes of this installation are an increased awareness of the belonging-climate, meaning and understanding of how many people feel like they belong and how much they feel like they belong in Raleigh, and a sense among users of being a part of something larger than themselves. The methods of achieving these outcomes are the visualization of abstract concepts, participatory structure of the installation, and supplemental resources to increase involvement.  

Who is it for?

This visualization is meant for Raleigh community members who may rate themselves as having a low sense of belonging and who do not feel connected to the community. The imagined user is an individual who has just moved to the area. This user would have a new residence, a new occupation, and potentially no ties to the local community. Participation in this installation would allow the newcomer to easily visualize the surrounding community and their shared states of connection. In addition to an increased awareness of the city’s belonging-climate, the survey used to collect belonging data would also be able to provide each user with customized suggestions for getting involved. This visualization could also function as a way for the city’s initiatives to reflect their value of inclusivity, a way for the city to communicate to newcomers that their sense of belonging is a priority.

How does it work?

Placed in a central location to the community, three large screens containing projections of small dots of varying opacities, locations, and sizes, make up the physical visualization. Each dot represents an individual user. The location and opacity of the dot determine the reported belonging of the user. A more opaque dot located towards the center of the screen reflects a user with a greater sense of belonging whereas a more translucent dot on the further edges of the screen reflects a more disconnected user (Figure 1).

Figure 1.  How the data visualization might represent a community that reports a low sense of belonging.

An essential feature of this visualization is its interactive nature. For the purpose of this explanation, I will describe those visiting the installation as interactors and those contributing their data as users. Using sensors in the installation space, as interaction increases (more people enter the space), so does the brightness of the data on the screens (Figure 2). This relatively simple reaction is meant to provoke the sense that together, the interactors have had an impact on their environment. Closer investigation of the installation allows interactors to access more information about individual users represented by the dots. By tapping a single dot on the screen, an interactor will be able to pull up the age, gender, neighborhood, and level of reported belonging of a user (Figure 3). The option to find out more personal information about each user is an attempt to facilitate finding similarities between interactors and users, but primarily to reinforce the understanding that each dot on the screen represents a real human being (Figure 4).

Figure 2. How the data visualization might represent a community that reports a high sense of belonging.

Figure 3. How an interactor would tap the screen.   

Figure 4. What would be displayed after a dot is tapped.

By downloading an app, the participant in the visualization is provided a survey to fill out regarding their sense of belonging in the Raleigh community. Data collected from the app serves as the primary source for data on belonging used in the visualization. The questions posed to the user on the in-app survey are based on both psychological and sociological qualifications for a sense of belonging (Hagerty, 1995). After the survey, the user is supplied with further resources for connecting and getting involved. As users begin to feel more connected and update their belonging data through the app, the changes are recorded live in the visualization, creating a moving, living, and breathing quality to the data displayed in the installation.

Beyond  

In the continuation of this project, one of the primary questions is the way that a more full definition of belonging could incorporate into this model for community involvement. While I chose to focus on a single aspect of belonging defined by Brown (2010), there are further opportunities in other aspects she goes on to define, such as “presenting our authentic, imperfect selves to the world” (p. 26). Facilitated and embraced by a designer, it would be interesting to explore the idea of presenting our authentic selves digitally or through an installation.

References

• Brown, B., & OverDrive Inc. (2010). The gifts of imperfection: Let go of who you think you’re supposed to be and embrace who you are. Center City, MN: Hazelden.
• Cox, T., Downs, J., Harrop, M., Moere, Oliveira, E., A.V., Vetere, F., Webber, S. &  Wouters, N. (2016).  Uncovering the Honeypot Effect: How Audiences Engage with Public Interactive Systems. Proceedings of the 2016 ACM Conference on Designing Interactive Systems, [doi>10.1145/2901790.2901796].
• Davis, Meredith. (2019). Introduction to Design Futures. Retrieved from https://www.aiga.org/aiga-design-futures/introduction-to-design-futures/
• Hagerty, B. M. K., & Patusky, K. (1995). Developing a measure of sense of belonging. Nursing Research, 44(1), 9-13.http://dx.doi.org/10.1097/00006199-199501000-00003
• Hale, C. J., Hannum, J. W., & Espelage, D. L. (2005). Social support and physical health: The importance of belonging. Journal of American College Health, 53(6), 276-84. doi:http://dx.doi.org/10.3200/JACH.53.6.276-284
• Wohn and LaRose. (2014) Effects of loneliness and differential usage of Facebook on college adjustment of first-year students. Computers & Education 10.1016/j.compedu.2014.03.018

By Jessye Holmgren-Sidell

In almost any bookstore or local library, there is a young children’s section—a secluded friendly corner filled with squashy chairs, colorful wall art, and preschoolers sitting in their parents’ laps. Those children are reading picture books. Picture books can facilitate preschool children’s literacy comprehension and ability to retain information (Fang, 1996; Strouse et al., 2018). Through interactive reading with their parents, children begin to internalize the illustrations they see in stories and apply them to real-life experiences (Strouse et al., 2018) (Figure 1). As a visual means of conceptualization and communication, picture books offer an array of potential benefits to young readers but are not an inclusive medium for those with visual impairments.

Figure 1. A diagram of picture book benefits for preschool children, as identified by Fang (1996); Greenhout et al. (2014); and Strouse et al. (2018).

While accessible, interactive picture books do exist, they typically use raised illustrations that are not scalable (Living Paintings, n.d.; The Tactile Picture Books Project, n.d.). Children feel the pictures alongside their parents but cannot take accessible elements from one story and use them to conceptualize another; each book is its own entity with its own set of tactile visuals. My final project for NCSU’s Master of Graphic Design program centered on creating a toolkit that children with visual impairments and their parents can apply to multiple existing picture books to create interactive, performative reading experiences.

When creating solutions for accessibility, I found it most helpful to conduct and observe interviews with end-users (children with visual impairments and their parents) and literacy development experts. As a sighted designer, I cannot assume anything about my users’ experience; I need their insights and expertise. I used the information gleaned through these conversations to develop four personas, two sets of parents and children with a range of visual impairments. I then journey mapped their current reading experiences to isolate opportunities for design intervention (Figure 2).  

Figure 2. A journey map of my persona’s current reading experience.

Identified pain points:

1. Exploring contextualizing picture clues.
2. Using visual references to follow the story.
3. Understanding the Gestalt of the story.

In Fang’s (1996) research on the relationship between illustrations and text, he notes that picture books function in multiple ways, specifically to establish setting, describe and develop characters, extend or develop plot, provide readers with a different perspective, contribute to textual coherence, and reinforce text. To generate potential components for my toolkit, I created a conceptual matrix using a combination of Fang’s identified modes of functionality (Axis 1), accessibility methods (Axis 2), and systems of meaning (Axis 3) (Figure 3).

Figure 3. The conceptual matrix. This diagram structured my investigation’s exploratory studies.

In addition to the identified pain points, I wanted my components to address:

1. Mobility as an opportunity to help children with visual impairments develop fine motor movement skills (Ferrell et al., 1990, as cited in Erickson et al., 2007).
2. Tactility as a means for children with visual impairments to identify and differentiate between specific forms and functions (Hathazi and Bujor, 2013).

Figure 4. My completed conceptual matrix.   

I initially focused on illustrations as plot development (Fang, 1996). If illustrations dictate a story’s progression, then page turning controls its pacing. How could mobility and tactility represent the act of page turning?

Figure 5. Blank booklets with turnable pages. Children can flip through the booklet to simulate the same action in picture books and control pacing.

Figure 6. This prototype uses page-turning as completion. Every time their parents turn a page, children drop a pom-pom until they fill the container.

Figure 7. Dial with scored indents that reference page numbers. Children feel the ridges on the curve and turn the dial to align with the scores.

I also considered how to give children an overview of a book’s plot before, during, and after story time. Would that overview involve moving elements, like a character following a path? How could children situate a specific moment in the story that they are reading on the plot overview?

Figure 8. Pipe cleaner symbolizes plot developments, both positive and negative. As their parents read aloud, children follow the story by moving the sponge along the line.

Figure 9.  Children trace the bent wire to follow positive and negative developments.

Creating character representations posed the biggest challenge for me. I initially made moveable pieces on a board that children could customize using attachable accessories. While their parents read aloud, they would use the figures to act out scenes and interactions happening in the story. I applied the same approach to settings and built particular forms that I thought would be recurring elements in stories (trees, for example). One solution I considered was that children would generate these elements themselves before and during story reading. Every time the scene changes in the book, children and parents would work together to create and assemble the new setting.

Figure 10. Realistic human representation with removable hair and outfit.

Figure 11. Abstract human representation.

Figure 12. Abstract tree representation.

I observed that the majority of my explorations fell on the line between tactile and mobile, indicating that components should address both characteristics, rather than one or the other. Additionally, setting a scene for each picture book spread takes time and could become confusing for children, particularly if some spreads requires a new setting and characters. Tactile and mobile systems of meaning should help children conceptualize existing picture books, rather than become tools for children to create their own stories. Most importantly, I understood that while it is essential to explore and generate initial solutions, these solutions have no value until tested. Moving forward, I began to think of my toolkit, not as a collection of disparate components, but a functioning system that enhances a parent and child’s actual reading time.

At the beginning of this investigation, I kept going back to digital solutions and trying to work within those limitations—“This should be an interface,” I thought. “This should be designed for screens.” Research and interviews helped me better understand users’ needs and identify the tools necessary to address those needs; this meant working with three-dimensional, tactile objects, as well as going beyond the scope of my interpretation of “graphic design,” which, I realized, was a narrow scope and interpretation. So often, we get caught up in making products for the most amount of people, without considering what specific people particularly need and the resulting affordances. I strongly believe that designing for accessibility encourages us to look beyond existing solutions, to work with end-users as they bring their expertise to the conceptual and creative process.

References

• Erickson, K. A., Hatton, D., Roy, V., Fox, D., & Renne, D. (2007). Literacy in early intervention
• for children with visual impairments: Insights from individual cases. Journal of Visual Impairment & Blindness, 101(2). Retrieved from https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/EJ755444.pdf
• Fang, Z. (1996). Illustrations, text, and the child reader: What are pictures in children’s
• storybooks for? Reading Horizons, 37(2). Retrieved from https://scholarworks.wmich.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1280&context=reading_horizons
• Greenhoot, A. F., Beyer, A. M., & Curtis, J. (2014). More than pretty pictures? How illustrations
• affect parent-child reading and children’s story recall. Frontiers in Psychology, 5. Retrieved from https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4106274/#B29
• Hathazi, A., & Bujor, M. (2013). Development of Tactile Strategies and Use of Tactile Resources
• in Emergent Literacy at Children with Visual Impairments. Studia Universitatis Babes-Bolyai, 58, 41-52.
• Living Paintings. (n.d.). www.livingpaintings.org
• Shulevitz, U. (1985). Writing with pictures: How to write and illustrate children’s books. New
• York, NY: Watson-Guptill Publications.
• Strouse, G. A., Nyhout, A., & Ganea, P. A. (2018). The role of book features in young children’s
• transfer of information from picture books to real-world contexts. Frontiers in Psychology, 9. Retrieved from https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5807901/#B24
• Tactile Picture Books Project. (n.d.). www.tactilepicturebooks.org

By Matthew Lemmond

The Problem

The mind’s impact on cancer’s ability to grow is on the horizon—if not well beyond the bounds—of academic research.

38.4%of people in the U.S. will receive a cancer diagnosis in their lifetime (Cancer Statistics, 2018). Those facing a life-threatening illness are likely to experience what is known as psychological distress—negative emotions that impede everyday activities (Ridner, 2004). A warped sense of the self and one’s circumstances is common with psychological distress, and patients commonly experience depression and anxiety as a consequence of their illness (Gundelach & Henry, 2016). Cancer-related psychological distress distinguishes itself as a patient’s negative emotional response to a cancer diagnosis and includes four attributes—depression, anxiety, fear, and feeling discouraged. These people experience distress because of the unknowns of cancer and would identify with questions like the following: Why me? Will the treatment work? Will the cancer come back? Did I do something to deserve this? I’ve lived a simple life; why did I get cancer? When will the pain go away? Who will take care of my children? Will I live long enough to walk my daughter down the aisle?

This is a 3D recreation of a typical chemotherapy infusion facility.

Cancer-related psychological distress has serious consequences. According to Psychology Today, 45% of survivors experience anxiety and 25% experience depression (“Neglecting Mental Health in Cancer Treatment,” 2017). As Brower (2014) points out, depressed survivors are twice as likely to die prematurely. Abrams (2017) notes that many patients experience Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and that suicide is twice as likely for cancer survivors as compared to the general population. Cancer patients with high levels of distress have a 32% greater chance of dying (Batty et al., 2017).

In contrast, according to the National Cancer Institute (NCI), “there is no evidence that successful management of psychological stress improves cancer survival;” however, NCI goes on to acknowledge that evidence from experimental research suggests a tumor’s ability to grow and spread can be encouraged by psychological stress (“Psychological Stress and Cancer,” 2012).

What the NCI calls “experimental research,” others call “strong evidence.” Mental activity affects behavior, and behavior can negatively influence physiological (bodily) and molecular processes like cellular apoptosis (cell’s self-destruction procedure), the rate of cellular mutation through the discharge of stress hormones, and immunity (the body’s defense system), and therefore the speed at which cancer grows (Cordella and Poiani, 2014).

The Intervention

The academic evaluation of metaphor in gaming is on the horizon of academic research, and the use of metaphor as a way of understanding cancer in VR is well beyond the bounds of academia.

Cancer is, at least in part, beyond the understanding of even our greatest minds and buried in the essential elements of our biology, and as a result, must be undertaken with a broad range of experts beyond traditional medicine. Consequently, it should not be surprising that patients struggle to understand their future with this disease. Cancer is an unknown entity. Fearing the unknown future is a source of distress for cancer patients.

As previously mentioned, cancer-related psychological distress can distort the image patients have of themselves, as well as their cancer, treatment, and circumstances. In collaboration with treatment, coping with stress can help, at least to a degree, in the prevention of some cancer types (Cordella and Poiani, 2014). The patients use of metaphor is one form of coping. Metaphors help patients make sense of their past, present, and future experiences with cancer.

In conceptual metaphor theory, a metaphor is pervasive and foundational in everyday language and thought (Lakoff & Johnson, 2003). Conceptual metaphor theory posits that our brain maps the source and target domains of an entity or action to understand the world better. For example, cancer (target), is a fight (source). This investigation and supporting research posits that to the cancer patient, a metaphor is shielding, playful, communal, a bodily experience, educational, allows for control, and provides perspective.

Additionally, this investigation asserts that serious games in VR can improve cancer patients embodied conceptual metaphors. Embodiment refers to the idea that cognition and communication form by physical experience and bodily interaction with a tangible world, as well as giving shape to thoughts and feelings (Davis, 2012). A serious game is any game designed for something other than pure entertainment.

According to Fahlenbrach (2016), “In the most general sense, video games—and also other forms of play, for that matter—can be regarded as metaphoric in that they involve a mode of ‘playing as’” (p. 252). The user is ‘playing as’ a character within the game and gains said character’s abilities. In VR, the embodied conceptual metaphor ‘playing as’ is strengthened by what Jason Jerald, Ph.D. (2016), author of The VR Book, calls “self-embodiment,” which is “the perception that the user has a body within the virtual space” (p. 47). However as previously stated, cancer is an unknown. What should happen when the experience is unknown?

VR is a medium that can visualize metaphors or provide alternative ones that help distance patients from cancer and regaining control over it. The design of a VR space can visualize abstract ideas. Our imagination is as a stage where we can visualize and rehearse for alternative roles and scenarios. According to Sadoski & Paivio (2013), “a key feature of human imagination is the ability to rearrange our world or to create new worlds (p. 65).” However, our imagination is limited to our past experiences.

For a cancer patient, their unknown future with cancer is a source of anxiety. Additionally, cancer can be mysterious, unpredictable, and unfamiliar to the patient. What if a VR experience helped cancer patients see themselves in alternative roles and scenarios? This investigation will explore such questions.

VR as a distress intervention is within the bounds of academic research. In addition to the metaphorical benefits of VR, the medium also helps with psychological distress. A mini-review by Chirico et al. (2016) used VR with 839 patients and concluded that “VR improved patients’ emotional well-being, and diminished cancer-related psychological symptoms” (p. 1). Fourteen of the nineteen articles in this mini-review studied VR and anxiety, and four studied VR and depression. According to Dr. Susan Schneider, an associate professor at Duke University School of Nursing and an oncology nurse with 30 years of experience, “by decreasing chemotherapy-related symptoms [like anxiety], virtual reality has the potential to increase compliance with treatments, affect survival, and enhance the quality of life” (Schneider et al., 2004, p. 1). Quality of Life (QoL) is an individual’s assessment of physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being. Additionally, Dr. Schneider describes VR headsets as “horse blinders” because they block out all the visual stressors.

Interestingly, Chirico et al.’s (2016) mini-review makes no mention of what the viewer sees in the VR experiences. It is not until reading the individual articles that one gets anything about the multimodal content of the VR experience. The mini-review examined nineteen articles, but few of them thoughtfully examined what the user sees in VR.

Missing from this research is a critical evaluation of the patient’s source of distress as well as patient’s source of comfort and the metaphors they use to describe their experience with cancer as well as how that can inform the plot and entities of a serious VR game.

This Investigation

How can a patient’s source of distress, source of comfort, and the metaphors they use to describe their experience with cancer inform the design of a serious VR game aimed at reducing cancer-related psychological distress?

Figure 1. Map of cancer patients’ distress, comfort, and metaphors, connected to VR game concepts and interactions.

“Cancer in other words? The Role of Metaphor in Emotion Disclosure in Cancer Patients” is an article by Lanceley and Clark (2013) that analyses the metaphorical concepts patient’s use for cancer-related psychological distress. Based on the work of Lanceley and Clark, this investigation mapped cancer patients distress, comfort, and metaphors, and connected it with VR game concepts and interactions (Figure 1).

In VR, immersion is where the user psychologically feels as though they are somewhere else (Jerald, 2016). He defines immersion as comprised of six parts: extensiveness, matching, surroundness, vividness, interactability, and plot (p. 45).

Extensiveness refers to “the range of sensory modalities presented to the user (e.g., visuals, audio, and physical force)” (Jerald, 2016, p. 45). Matching is the congruency between the users real body and their virtual body. Surroundness “is the extent to which cues are panoramic” (Jerald, 2016, p. 45). Vividness refers to the quality of resolution. Interactability refers to the user’s ability to alter and influence their virtual world and other entities within it. And finally, plot refers to the story or narrative. While all the parts of immersion provide opportunities for metaphor, plot is especially ripe for metaphorical expression.

Concept One: Breaking Out of the Hospital and Into Nature

Figure 2. This is a video of the themes discussed in concept 1.

Helen expressed psychological distress when contemplating further treatment and hospitalization (Lanceley & Clark, 2013). She seems to connect the fear of being continually confined to the hospital with her “worst destiny,” of being disabled and confined to her apartment. In contrast to this theme of continued confinement, she finds comfort in the idea of controlling her destiny. The metaphor, treatment is jail, seems to fit well with her distress.

Helen’s distress and comfort call for a game plot in which she leaves a confined place that resembles the treatment facilities and enters an open-world of endless possibilities. This concept is reinforced by Forceville and Paling (2018) when they say “depression is a dark confining space” (p. 1) which the patient is leaving.

This gaming experience becomes immersive when the user’s body movements match their virtual movements naturally in space and the extensiveness of sensory modalities.

Concept One: Conclusion

In concept one, the patient is in a familiar hospital setting that is dark and depressing (Forceville and Paling, 2018). This idea of darkness is echoed by metaphors in Tanner’s (2017) Cancer Metaphor Test (CMT) like: cancer is a river of darkness, a haunting shadow, free fall through the black chasm, the dark secret, and thick black tar (Tanner, 1997). Additionally, Domino and Pathanapong (1992) confirm this idea of darkness in the Cancer Metaphor Test (CMT) with the metaphor: cancer is a dark cloud. Using physical force, the patient can break through the wall, thus embodying the experience of being a powerful entity that can move freely.

Concept Two and Three: Cancer as an Obstacle that the Patient Can Control, and Patient as Caregiver

Figure 3. This is a video of the themes discussed in concepts 2 and 3.

Concept Two: Cancer as an Obstacle the Patient Can Control

Mary, Helen, and Doris all expressed distress over their loss of control and found comfort in controlling their destiny. The distress and comfort surround the loss of control had multifaceted expressions.

Helen communicated her loss of control through her distress with waiting on test results. She metaphorically compared waiting for results to the suspenseful build-up rugby players feel before an important match. Helen becomes more immersed in this metaphor by describing the medical staff treating her as a strong rugby team. She finds comfort in thinking about the medical staff being tough, strong, and aggressive. Unfortunately, she does not see herself as a member of the team. Instead, she is powerless and can only watch from the sidelines.

Doris communicated her loss of control with her distress with playing “sick role.” She is struggling with the incongruence between her current illness and a lifetime of good health. Doris finds comfort in her toughness. She metaphorically describes herself as being “tough as old boots” and is troubled by being in the hospital, which is only for weak people.

Mary communicated her loss of control with her distress over not being able to get straight. She metaphorically connects her physiological problem of not being able to straighten her shoulders with her psychological problem, not being able to straighten out or make sense of her situation with cancer. The metaphor, cancer is crooked, seems to fit well with her distress. Doris also struggled to make sense of her situation with cancer. For her, telling a chronological story may indicate an attempt to bring some semblance of order and rationality to her illness. Metaphorically speaking, cancer is messy. Mary also struggles with the incongruence between the simple life she has led and the complexities of cancer.

These sources of distress and comfort call for a game plot in which the patient is powerful, in control of cancer, and bringing order to their world. This concept becomes VR specific through interactability by manipulating cancer with physical force.

Concept Three: Patient as Caregiver

While Helen was the only patient to express fear about being alone explicitly, both she and Mary expressed comfort with the idea of caring for others entities, like humans and animals (Lanceley & Clark, 2013). This CMT metaphor supports the concept of tending: “cancer is being alone in the forest” (Domino and Pathanapong, 1993).

This distress and comfort call for a game plot in which the patients takes on the role of a caregiver and has social opportunities. This concept becomes VR specific through proximity and interactability with other game entities. Interactability is another core element of immersion (Jerald, 2016).

Concept Two and Three: Conclusion

Together, concepts two and three explore the metaphor that cancer is an obstacle on life’s journey (Gibbs & Franks, 2002; Harrington, 2012). Here, the user finds a cancer-like obstacle blocking the flow of water, consequently making the river stagnant—stagnant water being another metaphor used to describe cancer (Tanner, 1997). The user can remove the obstacle, thus restoring order to their virtual world.

Conclusion

Laurence Kirmayer (1993) proposes that if every interpretation of distress is, at root, the invention of metaphors for experience, healing may occur not because a conflict is accurately represented, or even symbolically resolved, but because the metaphorization of distress gives the person room to maneuver, imaginative possibilities, behavioral options, and rhetorical supplies. (p. 165).

This investigation proposes concepts for metaphorically representing a cancer patient’s psychological distress and the VR elements that give them room to maneuver around said distress. These concepts, in part, present how the design of a serious VR game can transform a patient’s embodied metaphorical conceptualization of their cancer from a negative source of anxiety and depression to a positive opportunity for personal growth.

References

• Abrams, A. (2017). Neglecting mental health in cancer treatment. Retrieved from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/nurturing-self-compassion/201702/neglecting-mental-health-in-cancer-treatment-0
• Batty, G. D., Russ, T. C., Stamatakis, E., & Kivimäki, M. (2017). Psychological distress in relation to site specific cancer mortality: Pooling of unpublished data from 16 prospective cohort studies. Bmj, 356 doi:10.1136/bmj.j108
• Brower, V. (2014). Evidence accumulating that depression may hinder survival. Journal of the National Cancer Institute, 106(1), djt446. doi:10.1093/jnci/djt446
• Chirico, A., Lucidi, F., De Laurentiis, M., Milanese, C., Napoli, A., & Giordano, A. (2016). Virtual reality in health system: Beyond entertainment. A Mini‐Review on the efficacy of VR during cancer treatment. Journal of Cellular Physiology, 231(2), 275-287. doi:10.1002/jcp.25117
• Cordella, M., & Poiani, A. (2014). Behavioural oncology: Psychological, communicative, and social dimensions (2014th ed.). New York, NY: Springer New York. doi:10.1007/978-1-4614-9605-2 Retrieved from http://lib.myilibrary.com?ID=644511
• Davis, M. (2012). Graphic design theory Thames & Hudson; 1 edition.
• Fahlenbrach, K. (2016). Embodied metaphors in film, television, and video games. New York: Routledge.
• Forceville, C., & Paling, S. (2018). The metaphorical representation of depression in short, wordless animation films. Visual Communication, 147035721879799. doi:10.1177/1470357218797994
• Gundelach, A., & Henry, B. (2016). Cancer-related psychological distress: A concept analysis. Clinical Journal of Oncology Nursing, 20(6), 630-634. doi:10.1188/16.CJON.630-634
• Jerald, J. (2016). The VR book. San Rafael: ACM; M&C.
• Kirmayer, L. (1992). The body’s insistence on meaning: Metaphor as presentation and representation in illness experience. Medical Anthropology Quarterly, 6(4), 323-346. doi:10.1525/maq.1992.6.4.02a00020
• Lakoff, G., & Johnson, M. (2003). Metaphors we live by ([Nachdr.], [with a new afterword] ed.). Chicago [u.a.]: Univ. of Chicago Press.
• Lanceley, A., & Clark, J. M. (2013). Cancer in other words? the role of metaphor in emotion disclosure in cancer patients. British Journal of Psychotherapy, 29(2), 182-201. doi:10.1111/bjp.12023
• National Cancer Institute. (2012). Psychological stress and cancer. Retrieved from https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/coping/feelings/stress-fact-sheet
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• Ridner, S. H. (2004). Psychological distress: Concept analysis. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 45(5), 536-545. doi:10.1046/j.1365-2648.2003.02938.x
• Sadoski, M., & Paivio, A. (2013). Imagery and text (2. ed. ed.). New York [u.a.]: Routledge.
• Schneider, S., Prince-Paul, M., Allen, M.J., Silverman, P., & Talaba, D. (2004). Virtual reality as a distraction intervention for women receiving chemotherapy. Oncology Nursing Forum, 31(1), 81-88. doi:10.1188/04.ONF.81-88

By Ashamsa Mathew

For our Fall 2018 studio, we got the opportunity to explore the trends as mentioned in Designer 2025. Designer 2025 examines the changes in different areas such as technology, so it can address the possible trends that will change and affect the role of a designer. There are a total of 7 trends and we explored these trends as both a workshop leader and a participant. Both of the roles provided different insights.

Two workshops stood out to me in particular—‘Data portraits’ and ‘Data Economy.’ The workshops provided an authentic and insightful view of people, data and the design process. This also made me wonder how can designers grasp all this data? How can we use the data? Can we better the design process? Would we be taking away certain capabilities of a designer or empowering them? All these queries lead me to explore: ‘How can we as designers take advantage of the data economy to better inform and improve our design process?’

I started looking at different points in the design process where data can infuse useful insights into the design. This made me arrive at the initial process of design thinking. A lot of times we tend to assume certain characteristics to create our user persona and define their actions. However, if we built our initial user persona based on actual collected data instead of assumptions, we’d make more informed decisions and design choices. Rather than taking away a designer’s role, this instead aids the designer in what they are doing. Ultimately this would be a tool that assists designers in making well-informed choices at the beginning of their design process to generate more meaningful designs.

Personafy—A tool to assist designers

Mindy is a designer and is tasked with helping a local grocery store with promoting and encouraging people to eat healthily. To understand the user she is working with, she logs onto an interface which helps create a generic user profile based on collected data. The interface generates 3-4 data portraits of different kinds of users. She can then choose to isolate and look at the individual’s path through a store to gain insight into the user’s journey. Having acquired some quantitative data, Mindy can try to understand the qualitative aspects and the user experience of that journey. She can filter the conditions of the dataset such as only college kids, people who bought vegetables, people who did not buy fruits, and so on. She begins the first iteration of her design system, and after she has a method to test out, she applies her prototype to a sample area of the local story. Data is collected to that specifically designed area, and once she has enough data to reflect on, she can input the information into the interface, which then generates a user profile tailored to her intended user set. This helps her make informed design choices and understand how her users interact and experience her design, as well as if the design is accomplishing its intended goal.

The interface is dynamic and updates its database frequently to adapt to the ever-changing economy. The database does not record personal information unless uploaded by the designer and is kept private. If the system has the user’s permission to collect specific data such as profession and education level, it’s made available to the designer. The system gives the designer both a bird’s eye view as well as an in-depth view of the dataset.

Figure 1. Journey map. A designer can track the journey of a single random user to gain insight into an actual user. The journey map pins the various locations the user has stopped and records other information significant to the designer.

Figure 2. Data portrait. The data portrait paints a data-driven picture of a generic user of that particular grocery store based on the customizations initialized by the designer.

Figure 3. Customizing database. When we design a system, we tend to focus on certain aspects or elements of the system that would help us achieve our design goal. The designer can add relevant parameters.

Conclusion

We are always surrounded by and in interaction with technology in various forms; we ourselves become data points in the large data economy. With easy access to the internet and other resources, we as designers are accountable for an accurate representation of information and well-informed designs. Having access to a giant data pool also means newer innovations, smarter systems, and big data, so how does a designer make sense of this massive amount of data? Keeping these as motivators, Personafy is a tool that helps filter and synthesize data. Since the database is always being fed with input, it reflects the current standing in the economy so designers can make smarter and well-informed choices centered around their user. The system helps make the designer as well as the design adaptable, dynamic and reliable.

References

• AIGA Design Educators Community | AIGA Designer 2025. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://educators.aiga.org/aiga-designer-2025/

By Matt Norton

Designers constantly analyze current-day applications, tools, and experiences in an attempt to reapproach the concepts in new ways. With this, designers must think past current-day possibilities and social norms in order to create provocative ideas that can inspire the work we do in the present.

This work is the culmination of a studio involving a lot of making, thinking, writing, reflecting, making again, and a little bit speculating. The result is The Final Thing (a term used throughout our studio), which is a “finished concept” inspired by the seven workshops throughout the semester. Each workshop revolved around a trend from AIGA’s Designer 2025, along with supplementary material. While all the workshops affected my thought-process, two specifically informed my formal choices throughout my strategy and creation.

The core of the Final Thing derives ideas from the data portrait workshop. A data portrait is “a graphical representation of users based on their past interactions. Data portraits inform users about each other and their overall social environment” (Xiong, 1999). During the workshop, I collected “recently played” statistics of music and podcasts from my listening platforms and then organized that information into a handwritten collage within my portrait (Figure 1). During the process I enjoyed removing data from a digital interface and physically displaying it on a poster; I found myself reflecting on my listening habits. Furthermore, this data is never seen outside of the application, which made me want to see what it could look like outside of context.

Image 1. Data portrait created during Workshop 4 using my “recently played” statistics from my Spotify and Apple Podcasts applications. The bolder names are the artists and shows that were most frequent..

The Final Thing also pulls concepts from the workshop regarding bridging digital and physical experiences. We discussed how “people transition across devices, environments, and activities in continuous communication and service activities. Users expect technology to provide seamless, unified experiences” (AIGA, 2018). The workshop used a group chat interface to see how conversation differs between the digital and physical; and then created ideas to bridge those gaps. Reflecting on this workshop initiated an idea of interacting with a data portrait in a physical manner.

The Final Thing is a dynamic and interactive data visualization created with “recently played” statistics aggregated from audio applications, such as Spotify. The visualization continuously changes throughout time depending on the listening data at that current moment. These statistics are filtered to create a unique data visualization for each individual. The goal of this is to give people a deeper connection with their digital listening experience and impact their listening habits. Before digital music was the norm, a record or CD collection served as a physical manifestation of someone’s love for music; the user can see the collection grow and evolve. Similarly, purchasing songs on iTunes somewhat still enabled the idea of music collection. Spotify, and other platforms, are much different since the user pays a monthly service fee to instantly stream any song or album. These platforms completely abandoned the collection aspect of listening to music. This data visualization is an attempted substitute for the missing “collection” of music while using streaming platforms.

Image 2. When the visualization is displayed on a touchscreen device, users are able to drag their finger across the screen to browse the albums and artists. When the visualization is moving, the original position of the data determines what is displayed.

The visualization (Figure 2) is created by filtering listening statistics and assigning visual elements. First, each artist is assigned a hue. Next, albums, if multiple within an artist, are assigned a value within the given hue. Finally, that collection of data points organizes into a specific sequence—for example, most frequently played. Together, these data points are a collection of colored bars that serve as the foundation of visualization. When the visualization is displayed, the colored bars blend together. The visualization becomes dynamic when music plays through the native listening platform.

Touchscreen displays are an interactive platform for the data visualization, allowing people to browse their listening habits. Sliding a finger across the screen searches the albums and artists within the data set and displays the corresponding information. While in motion, it uses the foundation of colored bars as a reference for what album or artist to show. The interface displays information at an equal pace to the finger moving across the screen. Hovering and selecting an album allows the user to stream through the native platform. This experience is reminiscent of running one’s fingers across the spines of records or books, but immediately gaining knowledge through that physical interaction since the information can be displayed on the screen simultaneously.

Image 3. The interface of this data visualization allows for adaptability across a variety of platforms and devices that may or may not currently exist. For example, an iPad/Desktop application, a lava-lamp, and a display built-in to a media shelf are a range of speculative environments in which it could live.

While I focused on data visualization as an interface, it needs a place to live. Many types of screen-based devices could house this concept. I initially thought of an iPhone, iPad, or computer application, but it seems to be something that could be quickly forgotten. I then thought of the interface performing as a lava lamp; over time the user could watch how their listening habits affect what the visuals of the lamp. Finally, I could not help but think about how this would act in place of physical records on a shelf. It is unlikely that a touchscreen will live in shelves—but I think it would be quite the experience to browse a friends’ music in such a way.

References

• AIGA. (2018). Design Futures: Designer 2025. Bridging Digital and Physical Experiences.
• Xiong, R., & Donath, J. (1999). PeopleGarden: Creating Data Portraits for Users. ACM Symposium on User Interface Software and Technology.