tagged: technology

If this, then that

If this then that just arrived in my life. In its creators’ words:

“Think of all the things you could do if you were able to define any task as: when something happens (this) then do something else (that).”

For example: ‘If the weather drops below 2 degrees, email me the night before’. The options are fairly basic at the moment, but the potential is exciting. It reminded me of a blog post I ‘almost wrote’ (one of those) a few years ago. In it I was going to show this video:

Everything we sense comes from an interpretation of information. What happens is that we get used to certain ways of doing this. Specifically, our five senses divide the world up into five familiar methods of interpreting it. So when someone ‘sees’ with their tongue, it jars a little, even though a familiar thing is happening: the same information (visual in this case) is being interpreted, just by a different operating system.

If this, than that is a perfect articulation of the building blocks of technology. It describes the same laws that Arduino shares (e.g. if the volume/temperature does this, the motor/device does that). When you break things down like this, things are both incredibly simple and mind-blowingly complex at the same time. The principles are simple. The possibilities are increasingly endless.

Every day, new ways of translating information/data into actions/experiences emerge. But more often than not, our human nature (and our pattern-forming brains) gets in the way of our imagination. In the same way we’ve got used to our five senses (five clear ways of translating information), we get used to a handful of familiar formats. If you want to create interesting new experiences, you need to get better at imagining that a tongue might help someone see.

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Early (learning) adopters

Ben once told me that kids’ toys are a good place to look to get a sense of what emerging technologies are about to get commercially interesting. If it appears in kids’ toys, it’s getting cheap enough to mass produce. And toys are about (often silly) fun, so an idea is likely to be approved faster here than in an arena with more serious intentions. Sifteo is a good example.
Reading Bill Bryson’s At Home yesterday (at home) I discovered that this isn’t such a new thought after all:

“In Central America, the Maya also independently invented the wheel but couldn’t think of any practical applications for it and so reserved it exclusively for children’s toys.”

Who knows how accurate that is, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

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Books for dessert

Last night during dinner, my wife mentioned that when she was younger she automatically put salt and pepper on her food. (She no longer does) Three minutes later I owned a new book. Weird? Five years ago, yes. But not any more.

Her mentioning of salt and pepper reminded me of Bill Bryson’s new book At Home. I recalled a radio interview about the book, which looks to decode the meanings, designs, cultures and etiquette around details in the home. Like why, out of all the spices in the world, we have salt and pepper on the table?

“Why not pepper and cardamom, say, or salt and cinnamon?”

Good question, Bill.
To cut a long story short, I remembered that I wanted to read the book, reached over to my laptop (terrible manners, I know) and bought it for my Kindle. It was immediately sent to my device and the moment we finished dinner I read the first chapter.

It was one of those beautiful moments where I thought: I bloody love technology. I often have moments where the endless new possibilities frighten the hell out of me, but on this occasion, for all the complexity that lay behind the scenes, the experience I had was effortless and rewarding.

As technology seeps into the very smallest cracks between seemingly disconnected moments and actions, the more these moments become possible. Every mealtime conversation should result in owning a new book. Brilliant.

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Forced serendipity

I just downloaded Benrik‘s Situationist app, which “alerts members to each other’s proximity and gets them to interact in random situations.”

So I can create ‘situations’ like “wave to me” or “buy me a sandwich” and other members of Situationist who are nearby will be shown a picture of my face and asked to play along. Hence this.

Anyway, the app starts up with this opening sentence:

“Serendipity doesn’t happen by itself.”

I love this sentence. It sums up so much about our obsession with control, new tools and new social opportunities. Of course, serendipity does happen by itself – just not enough, apparently. We therefore want to engineer it, whilst clinging to the romanticism of what we’re leaving behind. Forced serendipity is an oxymoron. Maybe we need a new word for this kind of thing.

For associated reading, see Matt Jones’ words about “maximising serendipity” and “coincidences with fuzzy edges” in the design of the Dopplr ecosystem.

HT to Dom

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Avoiding software sins

I think we’re familiar with the idea that there’s an app for pretty much everything. So this Confessions app (“the perfect aid for every penitent”) isn’t that surprising. Nor is its endorsement by the Roman Catholic Church.

It is useful to make a more general point, though: It’s now very, very easy to translate ideas from channel to channel. We can re-imagine anything in new, multiple forms. (I almost said ‘transmedia’ then but I stopped myself)

But when the answer to “can we?” is almost always ‘yes’, the more important questions become “should we?” and “if so, how?”

I’m not going to debate the value of this app to a Catholic person. I’m not religious. But I am going to debate the translation of complex rituals from one format to another.

Logic tells you an app like this is makes perfect sense. Confession, when broken down mechanically, is the sharing of a sin that is in turn absolved by a priest. So, documenting one’s sins in an app – and perhaps sharing them with a priest digitally(?) could, in theory fulfill a similar objective.

The problem is, you can’t break this process down mechanically, because it’s not a mechanical experience. It’s a deeply human one.

The app provoked this response on engadget from a Roman Catholic:

“I find this app absolutely appalling! Where are we headed? Will our avatar take our place in hell? When Catholics get too lazy to reconcile with the Lord, the Sacrament loses its power. Will we next have an app for someone say our prayers for us, too?”

Human behaviour and experience is affected and shaped by myriad factors. If the environment, the tools, the interactions are changed, then the experience is different. And in some cases (above) can alienate/anger people.

This is an important point that anyone working in our field (marketing, not religion) should take note of. Channels are not empty vessels to fill with old meaning. They come with their own meanings – and these meanings skew anything that comes into contact with them. You have to respect both the rituals and connotations of the thing you’re translating and the ones associated with the new medium. This stuff is complex and no matter how many times you simplify it for ease of explanation, the development of these experiences is an art form to be taken seriously. You’re engineering new rituals not just new apps.

A thoughtful comment on the same engadget post reminds us of just some of these complexities:

“all the app actually does is enable a person to be fully prepared for the sacrament of confession. In order to make a good confession, one needs to bear in mind all their transgressions since their last confession. This is a way of keeping “inventory” of ones sins. It is not at all intended to replace a Priest/Confessor.”

And the same person notes that non-believers have their own rituals in their judgement of the app too:

“It is interesting to me that so many folks see this as a way of avoiding the confessional or even worse…a new way for the church to make money”

It comes down to respect. Respect the medium, respect the user, respect rituals and respect the possibility of change. Just don’t be a dick.

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Can you explain Internet?

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My word, Word Lens

I downloaded and tried it and was blown away. It has that tingly excitement of a Hollywood promise, realised. I don’t speak Spanish, so I can’t comment on how accurate the translations are, but the speed and presentation is a joy to behold.

The thing I like most about this (aside from the sheer emotive wonder of it) is that although it’s an entirely new experience, it requires no behaviour shift. The mechanic (raise phone, point) becomes instantly invisible, leaving only the magic. This, arguably is something one can’t claim with Qwiki.

Weirdly, the 90° tilt shown in the video isn’t working for me. Would also like a way to export the images. But then again, I should also shut up and marvel at it, because EVERYTHING IS AMAZING:

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All pubs should be computer pubs

Amazing. Spotted at Yeah Hackney

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Parallax iPhone Malarky

Nice bit of [cough] Post [cough] Digital. Or rather, just an interesting thing. Reminds me of that nice parallax scrolling from old video games ONLY HOVERING ABOVE YOUR FRIKKIN SCREEN.

Via Ben

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robots in togo


It’s really refreshing and exciting to see this: a student in Togo building robots out of TV sets. In part it’s exciting because I guess many of us in the West have an out-dated idea of what kind of developments are happening in Africa. Things like this should give us a good slap round the face and remind us that there are places outside Silicon Valley to be inspired by.

And partly I love that the drawings of the robot are on a blackboard. Excellent stuff all round.

Via Afrigadget

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