Sunday, December 1, 2019

T.rex, the Ultimate Information Designer



For my analysis of a public space, I went to the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, and attended the exhibition titled “T.rex — The Ultimate Predator”.

No shortage of fossilized T.rex skulls to look at here!
Overall, my impression of this exhibition is that it provides a textbook case of how to do things the right way when it comes to information design in a public space. I will touch on a few salient points explored by C. G. Screven in the article Information Design in Informal Settings: Museums and Other Public Spaces (Jacobson, pg. 131) but I must confess at the outset of my analysis that I am hard pressed to find ANY problems with this exhibition, or to suggest ways in which it could be improved.

To begin with, the exhibit itself is remarkably well documented from a wayfinding perspective. Romedi Passini, in Sign-Posting Information Design, notes the following of wayfinding:

“Wayfinding is distinguished from other types of problem solving by operating in an architectural, urban, or geographic space. It incorporates the mental representations of large-scale spaces (cognitive maps) that characterizes the older notion of spatial orientation. Cognitive maps, in this context, are part of information processing. They are, in addition to being records of direct environmental perception and cognition, possible sources of information for both making and executing decisions (Jacobson, pgs. 88–89).”

Large free-standing posters advertising the exhibit, and place-locating guides which highlight the exhibit, are located throughout the museum. 

Assistive signage is found throughout the museum.
There is something a little extra, though, that adds intrigue to wayfinding efficiency: large decals placed on the floor announcing the exhibit, and leading to it by way of a trail of T.rex tracks! I followed several of these trails and they invariably led me to the exhibit, even though I started as far from its location as I could managed — which resulted in a long and convoluted path that would have been very difficult to chart without the visual guide of the T.rex tracks.

Follow that dinosaur!
Finding my way to the exhibit was easily accomplished despite my efforts to make that task as difficult for myself as possible. Entry to the exhibit was timed, with tickets being sold for specific entry times (in order to control the number of people in the exhibit at any one point.

The exhibit itself was remarkably well designed, considering the basic issues that any such presentation must contend with; for as Screven notes:

“Visitors do not have to pay attention but are free to attend, ignore, or distort the messages being communicated. In such situations, it is immensely important to design information systems that not only reflect the needs and characteristics of audiences but also attract and hold their attention  (Jacobson, pg. 131).”

Interactive apps are available to visitors beyond the informative displays within the actual exhibition, and these are well advertised and available in different languages:

Online resources abound.
A pamphlet for the exhibit, with a map and learning exercises.
The exhibition itself is very well designed, from entrance to exit. As one enters, visitors are constricted to some extent by a relatively narrow section of the exhibit that outlines a basic theme of the exhibit — the life cycle of the T.rex — and presents the visitor with examples of the different kinds of display that will be encountered in the exhibition. Stationary displays of information are provided, but, a large shadow projection of an animated T.rex also draws each visitor’s attention as they make their way slowly into the main area of the exhibition. This entranceway section seems to serve several purposes; it acclimatizes the visitor’s eyes to lower light, modulates the rate of entry for visitors, and focuses visitors’ attention in the same way. As Screven again notes:

“One might argue that what an exhibition communicates has more to do with visitors’ entering attitudes, moods, and preconceptions than with its content and design…Ultimately, a display's ability to convey new knowledge and understanding is shaped by the interface between visitor dispositions and preconceptions and the exhibit’s content, delivery media, and format. If so, being informed about this interface is essential to designers hoping to communicate effectively with their publics (Jacobson, pg. 134).”

A taste of things to come: the entranceway.
An added feature of the entranceway area is the presence of a live attendant who actively engages with visitors, answering questions and pointing out aspects of the initial displays that will be further elucidated with information available in the main exhibition area. This addition of knowledgeable people as attendants to the exhibition addresses an otherwise problematic issue that Screven draws attention to:

“People can learn little, if anything, if they do not pay attention. Even when they do attend, most visitors view objects, paintings, texts, signs, animals, exotic plants, and computers without benefit of someone or something to direct their attention to the salient points and explain what they are seeing (Jacobson, pg. 139).”

As for myself, I must confess that I found the presence of the live attendant in the entrance area a little problematic, in that the ongoing question-and-answer session that resulted slowed entry into the main exhibition area to a crawl; but upon further reflection, I realize now that this did in fact have the added benefit of moderating the pace at which people passed through the exhibit, affording them the opportunity to slow down and take in more of what was being offered than they might have otherwise, had they rushed in and then rushed out again. Screven makes the point that:

“The exchange between viewer attention and observation and the exhibit’s content form a loop that ultimately determines what message, if any, the visitor receives. The message is embedded in the larger information field that — given planning, organization, and evaluation — should enable viewers to receive and process the elements and relationships that comprise the message (Jacobson, pg. 138).”

Information design at its best: something for everyone.
Inside the exhibition, a wide range of display types presented an abundance of information on the T.rex; but more importantly, this information was conveyed in ways that addressed the wide age range of visitors expected for such an exhibit. It is interesting that the initial theme of the exhibit presented in the entryway — that of the growth pattern for a T.rex — was in turn mirrored within a human context, by having information available in forms that would speak to different ages groups. Indeed, the few main themes covered by the exhibition were robustly addressed through a wide range of information design methodologies. Screven again addresses this issue as it confronts information design undertaken in such an environment: 

“Initially, many visitors without significant background in an exhibit’s subject find its visual, social, emotional, action, and sensory aspects (objects, colors, shapes, movement, buttons, touch, smell, texture) more interesting and more fun than abstract information in text form (Jacobson, pg. 141).”

Animated shadow of a T.rex walking; touch a T.rex leg bone!
And if, as Screven notes, the final arbitrator of an exhibition’s success is found as much in its economic as its educational outcome…

“Information designers will have to learn to link meaningful communication with entertainment and natural learning processes without sacrificing either gate receipts or educational outcomes. Over time, competition may advance the design of self-directed learning habitats until learning and cultural enlightenment — as well as fun — become by-products of all natural biological, cognitive, and social processes (Jacobson, pg. 184).”

…then it should be noted that visitors exiting this exhibition will find themselves surrounded by plush T.rex toys and other associated merchandise, as those leaving the T.rex exhibit immediately enter into a museum store dedicated to that exhibition.

Take a T.rex home with you. A little one.
Interestingly, if I were to identify two hallmarks for success that characterize this exhibition, I would find myself being drawn to two themes that merged from the other analysis undertaken for Module 6 in this course, the “case study”: that of using a small number of unifying themes to simplify yet diversify the content of the exhibition, and, that of a employing a wide array of information design methodologies to covey information to as many potentially divergent consumer groups as possible.

Adults assemble a T.rex skeleton within virtual reality; 
Children play in front of an animated wall with a life-size T.rex!

Works Cited:

Jacobson, Robert; 2000. Information Design. Cambridge: MIT.




Sunday, November 17, 2019

Accessibility In Web Design

Designing For Web Accessibility

Accessibility lies at the heart of what the internet has always been designed to do. From its inception, the idea behind the World Wide Web was simply to facilitate conveying information between those who could provide it, and those who needed access to it.
As Tim Berners-Lee has noted:
"The power of the Web is in its universality.
Access by everyone regardless of disability is an essential aspect.”
Tim Berners-Lee, W3C Director and inventor of the World Wide Web


Over time, a set of “best practices” for promoting digital accessibility has been proposed and refined. These include: providing text alternatives for images (so that screen readers can alter visually impaired users as to the content of the images); providing keyboard input capabilities (which can be accessed through voice-assisted control interfaces) for those who are not able to physically operate a mouse as a pointing device; and including transcripts for audio content, so that users who are hearing impaired can access that content.

Overall, four fundamental principles group user accessibility protocols:

1) That content be Perceivable;
2) That content be Operable;
3) That content be Understandable; and,
4) That content be Robust (in meeting the demands of future needs and technologies).


There are many considerations that should be addressed within each of these general categories for accessibility, but a few basic principles go a long way toward guiding designers in creating more accessible work:



(This infographic was created by Lindsay O’Neill, lindsay-oneill.com, CC BY SA 4.0.)

For further information on the principles and best practices that underlie web accessibility, you can consult these video presentations:

Introduction to Web Accessibility and W3C Standards



<  >

Web Accessibility Guidelines - How to make your code Web Accessible


Fullstack Academy:

“Web Accessibility refers to the inclusive practice of designing websites and applications that enable people with disabilities to participate equally on the World Wide Web and have equal access to information and functionality. In this video, we give an overview of the concept of Web Accessibility and the WCAG guidelines to how the web can be made more accessible to people with disabilities.

Sunday, November 3, 2019

Data Driven Rhizomes



In her text “Design for Information”, Isabel Meirelles begins her survey of design paradigms commonly used in the visual presentation of information with the arborescent model of hierarchical trees (Chapter 1; Hierarchical Structures: Trees). In relation to such structures, we are told, in the section titled “Representation”:

“Looking at hierarchical structures over time, it becomes apparent that ordered datasets are represented visually in two basic graphical forms, which sometimes are also combined: stacked and nested schemas [Meirelles, pg. 18].”

Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, in their critique of hierarchical structuralism, contrast the hierarchical structure of the arborescent model with a contrasting, non-hierarchical organizational principle: that of the rhizome.

Thus, the first question that comes to my mind at the very beginning of “Design for Information’ is: Does a rhizome-based model even have a place in information design? If so, what would this place be? The answers to these questions may come quickly, by following what Meirelles has next to say about visual representations:

“In visual representations, the use of space is always schematic, independent of whether depictions of elements are direct or metaphorical. Spatial encoding is central to how we construct visualization, in that the geometric properties and spatial relations in the representation — the topology — will stand for properties and relationships in the source domain [Meirelles, pg. 20].”

In relation to the hierarchical nature of arborescent structures, Deleuze and Guattari contend: 

“The tree and root inspire a sad image of thought that is forever imitating the multiple on the basis of a centered or segmented higher unity… Arborescent systems are hierarchical systems with centers of signifiance and subjectification, central automata like organized memories. In the corresponding models, an element only receives information from a higher unit, and only receives a subjective affection along preestablished paths. This is evident in current problems in information science and computer science, which still cling to the oldest modes of thought in that they grant all power to a memory or central organ. Pierre Rosenstiehl and Jean Petitot, in a fine article denouncing "the imagery of command trees" (centered systems or hierarchical structures), note that "accepting the primacy of hierarchical structures amounts to giving arborescent structures privileged status.... The arborescent form admits of topological explanation.... In a hierarchical system, an individual has only one active neighbor, his or her hierarchical superior....The channels of transmission are preestablished: the arborescent system preexists the individual, who is integrated into it at an allotted place" (signifiance and subjectification).”
“To these centered systems, the authors contrast acentered systems, finite networks of automata in which communication runs from any neighbor to any other, the stems or channels do not preexist, and all individuals are interchangeable, defined only by their state at a given moment — such that the local operations are coordinated and the final, global result synchronized without a central agency. Transduction of intensive states replaces topology, and "the graph regulating the circulation of information is in a way the opposite of the hierarchical graph....There is no reason for the graph to be a tree" (we have been calling this kind of graph a map) [Deleuze & Guattari, pgs. 15–16].”

Even in the 1960s, then, it appears that questions were being raised regarding the universal applicability of the arborescent model to computer-based organizational principles. Whether or not a rhizome-based model would have some form of applicability to information design, however, remains to be established. In contrast to the arborescent model of hierarchical tress, Deleuze and Guattari advance the model of the rhizome: 

“Unlike the tree, the rhizome is not the object of reproduction: neither external reproduction as image-tree nor internal reproduction as tree-structure. The rhizome is an antigenealogy. It is a short-term memory, or antimemory. The rhizome operates by variation, expansion, conquest, capture, offshoots. Unlike the graphic arts, drawing, or photography, unlike tracings, the rhizome pertains to a map that must be produced, constructed, a map that is always detachable, connectable, reversible, modifiable, and has multiple entryways and exits and its own lines of flight. It is tracings that must be put on the map, not the opposite. In contrast to centered (even polycentric) systems with hierarchical modes of communication and preestablished paths, the rhizome is an acentered, nonhierarchical, nonsignifying system without a General and without an organizing memory or central automaton, defined solely by a circulation of states [Deleuze & Guattari, pg. 20].”

Interestingly, Meirelles does note the exceptional nature of information design when maps are involved: 

“In cartography and geo-informatics, data are divided into spatial phenomena (geography) and nonspatial phenomena, called thematic data [Meirelles, pg. 124].”

Different from all other visualizations, thematic maps are not concerned with conceptualizing the topological structure, which is provided by the geographic information in the form of the base map. All other visualizations in this book require the crucial step of deciding on the most appropriate topological structure, especially with regard to visual representations of abstract data [Meirelles, pg. 128].”

As we shall see, the idea of thematic data will again gain prominence in Meirelles’ analysis — under the designation of “nominal data” — but for the moment let us again consider Meirelles’ reference to schemata, and do so within the context of space and time; for fully three chapters in “Design for Information” deal with such matters: Chapter 3 (Temporal Structures: Timelines and Flows), Chapter 4 (Spatial Structures: Maps), and Chapter 5 (Spatio-Temporal Structures).

Schema hold a very special place in the philosophy of Immanuel Kant:

The synthesis and the schema are always the forming of a correspondence between, on the one hand conceptual determinations, and on the other spatio-temporal determinations. What defines the synthesis as distinct from the schema? The synthesis is an act of the imagination which operates here and now; there is no synthesis if it is not an operation of your imagination that you do here and now. For example, here and now, you see a diversity; or else here and now you see an organization of space and time. You will recall that this space and this time are not yet determined: there is something in space and time. A synthesis must yet be effected which will give you a certain space and time, in such a way that you carry out a sort of isolation: if you say "that is a table", you have carried out a synthesis of space and time in conformity with a concept.
“So, in the synthesis, I have indeed effected a correspondence between a determination of space and time and a conceptual determination, the determination of space and time being carried out by the synthesis of apprehension and reproduction, and the conceptual determination referring to the form of the any-object-whatever in so far as this form of object will be determined by the diversity upon which I effect the synthesis. 
The schema. Put yourself in the reverse situation.
The schema: you have a concept, and the problem is to determine the spatio-temporal relation which corresponds to this concept. The synthesis is just the opposite, it's this: you carry out a spatio-temporal operation and you specify the concept according to this determination. So the operation of the synthesis, valid here and now, will correspond with, in the other direction, the determination of the schema, valid at all times. There you have a concept and you are looking for the spatio-temporal determination which is likely to correspond to it.
“Given a concept, how can I produce it in intuition? Which is to say in space and in time, an object conforming to the concept. Producing in space and time, that is the operation of the schema. In other words, the schema does not refer to a rule of recognition, but refers to a rule of production. The synthesis of a house is the rule of recognition according to which I say "it's a house". You say "it's a house" in front of very different things. You effect a synthesis of the given such that you relate them to the any-object-whatever "it's a house". The schema of the house is very different, it is not a rule of recognition over random diversities. The schema of the house is a rule of production, namely that you can give yourself a concept of house. For example I can take a functional definition: house = apparatus made for sheltering men, this doesn't yet give us a rule of production. The schema of the house is what allows you to produce it in experience, in space and in time, something, objects conforming to the concept. But that definition does not get out of the concept; you can turn the concept around all you like in all directions, apparatus made for sheltering men, you will not draw rules of production from it, the rules of construction of the house. If you have the rule of production you have a schema.
“Here you can see in what respect the productive imagination is more profound than the reproductive imagination. The reproductive imagination is when you can imagine circles, concrete circles; you can imagine a circle drawn on a blackboard with red chalk, you can imagine a plate... all that is the reproductive imagination. But the circumference that allows you to make rounds, which allows you to round things, which is to say to produce in experience something conforming to the concept of circle, that doesn't depend on the concept of circle, that doesn't flow from the concept of circle, it's a schema, and that is the act of productive imagination.
“You can see why Kant feels the need to discover a domain of the productive imagination distinct from the simply empirical or reproductive imagination. You can see the difference between a schema and a synthesis, if you have understood that I have finished with my first point: what the difference was between the two fundamental acts, within the context of knowledge: the schematism and the synthesis. 
The schematism is not a case of reflective judgement, it is a dimension of determining judgement [Deleuze, COURS VINCENNES, 04/04/1978].”

All of which is not to point out any contradiction with the information that Meirelles presents; but rather, to tease out some important correlations that might otherwise be glossed over: that schema are productive in nature (Meirelles: “In visual representations, the use of space is always schematic, independent of whether depictions of elements are direct or metaphorical. Spatial encoding is central to how we construct visualization, in that the geometric properties and spatial relations in the representation — the topology — will stand for properties and relationships in the source domain”); and that non-hierarchical approaches are not topological in nature but instead are more closely related to maps (Meirelles: “Different from all other visualizations, thematic maps are not concerned with conceptualizing the topological structure, which is provided by the geographic information in the form of the base map. All other visualizations in this book require the crucial step of deciding on the most appropriate topological structure, especially with regard to visual representations of abstract data.”). However, it must be noted that between these two positions lies an area of prominent concern which needs to be explored more fully: the temporal.

When we first encounter temporality in “Design for Information” it quite quickly reverts to the context of philosophy:

“Time is an abstract concept and, thus, not inherently visual. Much of the terminology we use for time is based on our concrete experience of space and of the physical environment [Meirelles, pg. 83].”

“And here, Augustine pulls off an audacious coup de théâtre: He locates his nonmetric measure in our memory. The true measure of time is an inner measure. Centuries later, Henri Bergson would also contrast metric time with the time of our consciousness or ‘inner durée.’ [Meirelles, pg. 85].”

I’m not going to say that Meirelles is wrong in this, only that some very important considerations are being left out of the conversation here. Yes, Henri Bergson (author of such texts as “Matter and Memory”) did indeed say that we apprehend the temporal through memory; but the point he was making wasn’t that time is a product of memory — as might be inferred from the position Meirelles appears to present — but rather that we can only distinguish between different kinds of things because, through memory, we have  access to the lived histories that distinguish each as different from any other. In this context, Bergson had some very insightful observations to make concerning the nature of the temporal:

"The important thing here is that the decomposition of the composite reveals to us two types of multiplicity. One is represented by space... It is a multiplicity of exteriority, of simultaneity, of juxtaposition, of order, of quantitative differentiation, of difference in degree; it is a numerical multiplicity, discontinuous and actual. The other type of multiplicity appears in pure duration: It is an internal multiplicity of succession, of fusion, of organization, of heterogeneity, of qualitative discrimination, or of difference in kind; it is a virtual and continuous multiplicity that cannot be reduced to numbers... Everything is actual in a numerical multiplicity; everything is not "realized," but everything there is actual. There are no relationships other than those between actuals, and no differences other than those in degree. On the other hand, a nonnumerical multiplicity by which duration or subjectivity is defined, plunges into another dimension, which is no longer spatial and is purely temporal: It moves from the virtual to its actualization, it actualizes itself by creating lines of differentiation that correspond to its differences in kind. A multiplicity of this kind has, essentially, the three properties of continuity, heterogeneity, and simplicity [Deleuze, "Bergsonism", pgs 38 - 43].” 

Whatever point I am trying to make here might at first seem very far away from the ideas presented by Isabel Meirelles in her text “Design for Information”; but in fact, by returning to Bergson we are picking up exactly where Meirelles leaves off in her final chapter, “Textual Structures”:

Objects, names, and concepts are examples of nominal data. We distinguish nominal datum on the basis of quality: A is different from B. The questions we ask about nominal data are what and where. Nominal data have no implicit quantitative relationship or inherent ordering, and questions such as how much don't apply.”
Nominal data are considered qualitative and are rarely visualized without correlating to other kinds of data.  [Meirelles, pg. 187].”

It is quite obvious that the distinct Meirelles makes between quantitative data and nominal data is in fact the distinction between spatial and temporal phenomena. Meirelles also makes a point of including concepts within the field of nominal data; and this is very interesting in that through Jean-Paul Sartre we find a direct connection between concepts and visual schema:

"It is characteristic of the schema that it is intermediate between the image and the sign. Its matter demands to be deciphered. It aims only to present relations. By itself it is nothing."
"Through these black lines we aim not just at a silhouette, we aim at a complete man, we concentrate in them all his qualities without differentiation: the schema is full to bursting. To tell the truth, these qualities are not represented; in the proper sense, the black features do not represent anything but some relations of structure and attitude. But it is enough of a rudiment of representation for all the knowledge to be weighted down there, thus giving a kind of depth to this flat figure."
"The majority of schematic drawings are read in a definite sense. Eye movements organize the perception, carve out the spatial environment, determine the fields of force, transform the lines into vectors [Sartre, pgs. 29–30]."

"But it is very evident that the comprehension is realized in and by the construction. The structure of the concept to be comprehended serves as a rule for the elaboration of the schema and one becomes conscious of this rule by the very fact of applying it. So that, once the schema is constructed, there remains nothing more to comprehend." 
“Comprehension is not pure reproduction of the signification. It is an act. This act aims at making present a certain object and this object is, in general, a truth of judgment or a conceptual structure.” 
"Next, and especially, it is enough to produce in oneself one of these schemas and as observer to note that they do not at all have this role of sign and representative.  Without doubt, there is in the schema a representative: it is the affective-motor analogon through which we apprehend the shape and its color.  But the schema itself is an analogon no more: it is itself an object having a sense... We reach here the true sense of the symbolic schema: this schema is the object of our thought giving itself to our consciousness.  Thus the function of the schema as such is not at all to aid comprehension; it functions neither as expression nor as support nor as exemplification.  I willingly say, using an indispensable neologism, that the role of the schema is as presentifier [Sartre, pgs. 103–105].”

Again, we are not at odds with the gist of the thesis that Meirelles presents to us, for throughout “Design for Information” we find an emphasis upon aligning design principles with what is known of the functional neurology which underlies vision. However, with Kant, and Sartre, and Deleuze, we find an emphasis placed upon the PRODUCTIVE nature nature of visual schema; and we see, through Bergson, that in this we are dealing with temporal differences-in-kind.

A rule of production is solely a determination of space or of time conforming to the concept. Take another case. You make yourself a concept of a lion; you can define it by genus and specific difference. You can define it in this way: big animal, mammal, with a mane, growling. You make a concept. You can also make yourself lion images: a small lion, a big lion, a desert lion, a mountain lion; you have your lion images. What would the schema of a lion be? I would say in this case, not in all cases, that the concept is the determination of the species, or its the determination by genus and specific differences. 
“We speak both of an animal's territory and an animal's domain, with its paths, with the traces that it leaves in its domain, with the times that it uses a particular path, all that is a spatio-temporal dynamism that you will not draw from the concept. I am not going to draw from the concept of a lion the way it inhabits space and time. From one tooth you can draw something of a mode of living: this is a carnivore. But really the spatio-temporal dynamism of an animal, that is really - I can't say its rule of production - but it's something productive, it's the way in which it produces a spatio-temporal domain in experience in conformity with its own concept.
“The lion is Kantian, all the animals are Kantian[Deleuze, COURS VINCENNES, 04/04/1978].”

We can arrive at concepts through schema, because schema are productive — schema make present for us things not otherwise there, rather than simply representing them: schema determine things, rather than represent them by way of reflection. In this, we find that schema present a functional aspect of information design — as with a mapping which reveals what exists (as the “what and where” of when lions roam, as nominal data), rather than a topology that assigns hierarchical meaning as relative height (or some other ordinal variation).

Where, then, does this leave us with the initial questions we framed concerning rhizomes? What aspects of information design might be considered rhizome-based?

In the real world, dealing with literally thousands of data points that needed to be compiled for their sales teams, the information design team at Conde Nast found themselves throwing out the structural hierarchy that came with the data sets they were given to compile; and instead, they created their own categorizations based upon “what” and “behavior”:


In this, they were searching for a way to make the data they had on hand sensible for their sales teams: they needed to give a functionality to that data, such that it could inform their sales teams in ways which would make them more productive. To achieve this, they needed to create schema for this data that would allow their sales teams to determine how best to proceed, rather than simply reflect upon situations already past. The iterative processes through which these productive schema were created were themselves rhizome-based; and it is here, I would suggest, that a rhizome inspired methodology would best be applied to information design — as a mechanism for moving from data-as-maps to thematic schema of qualitative, nominal categorizations that allow new concepts to present themselves — since we can get concepts from schema, but, schema do not come out of concepts. Keynote to this is determining HOW schema might be used to produce specific differences-in-kind from the data sets that might act as underlying maps that could show what is acting how, and where that happens as distinctly distinguishing from other behaviors.

In short, we find that rhizome-based information design appears integral to interactive technologies that are productive in nature, rather than simply being reproductions of things already recognized. In this, a more basic concept of what constitutes a schema is necessary — as is a distinction between the synthetic nature of concepts, and the productive nature of schema.

Below: schematic drawing for JavaScript expressions [Crockford, pg. 127].







References Cited:

Crockford, Douglas. JavaScript: The Good Parts. Sebastopol, Calif. USA, 2008.

Deleuze, Gilles, and Guattari Félix. A Thousand Plateaus. Univ. of Minnesota P., 1994.

Deleuze, Gilles. Bergsonism. New York, NY: Urzone Books, Inc., 1988.   

Deleuze, Gilles. Lectures on Kant; COURS VINCENNES, 04/04/1978. Translated by Melissa McMahon. IMHO, Editions. Webdeleuze, https://www.webdeleuze.com/sommaire.

Meirelles, Isabel. Design for Information : an Introduction to the Histories, Theories, and Best Practices Behind Effective Information Visualizations . Beverly, MA: Rockport Publishers, 2013. Print.

Sartre, Jean-Paul. The Imaginary: A phenomenological psychology of the imagination. Translated by Jonathan Webber; Translation copyright 2004 by Routledge; reprinted in 2006. Published by Routledge New York NY



Sunday, October 20, 2019

Photography as Information Design


Photography as Information Design
by John Barclay-Morton

On Thursday October 17, 2019, I attended Digital Transition's Annual East Coast Round Table on Cultural Heritage, held at the Morgan Library and Museum in New York City. Here, I learned quite a bit about current and emerging best practices in the field of image capture as it pertains to museums and other institution dedicated to preserving aspects of cultural heritage.

I was at first quite surprised when I realized that the “best practices” being outlined were very much in line with the approaches that Kim Baer promotes in the text “Information Design Workbook”. With this in mind, I would like to focus for the moment upon and explore a specific research context that I will call “photography as information design”.

One “best practice” that Baer promotes is using an alphanumeric system for tracking project components: “An alphanumeric system is a simple way to effectively communicate with the team about assorted pieces of content over the long course of a complicated project…Things like nomenclature changes or changes in content are much easier to track and are much less confusing with the numbering system in place (Baer, 39).”

Accurate documentation was a keynote point conveyed by Michael Overgard and Anna Levine from University of Pennsylvania Libraries, who presented an overview for "Bibliotheca Philadelphiensis: Digitization Medieval Manuscripts from Fifteen Philadelphia-area Institutions”. In addition to recording standard metadata (data of capture, author, equipment, lighting, etc.) for the imaging they undertook, they also meticulously recorded structural metadata, in the form of spreadsheets with metadata about the components of the pieces being imaged (to provide preliminary and ongoing identification of the objects); and collation metadata (dates, times, information about the assemblage of objects and their disassembly for imaging). All of this proved very useful for identifying and reuniting previously scattered fragments of manuscripts, and provided researchers with a wealth of information with which to study and compare the digitized manuscripts once they were placed online.

Compiling such accurate metadata during the project also allowed researchers to go back afterward and compare the originals with their captures. This quickly revealed any gaps in the captures, and allowed for missing materials to be quickly identified and reshot.

In a way, such collections of metadata served as a “design brief” for the project, but with one important difference: during this project, metadata was being actively acquired and compiled in an ongoing fashion, adding to the information that could be shared as the project neared completion. Baer notes that “(the design brief) outlines the pertinent information about the project so that the entire team has a clear sense of the project’s background and goals (Baer, 50).” When considering photography as a case study in information design, the possibility of adding to the basic design brief in an ongoing manner — in this case, adding to the metadata accumulating with reference to the objects being photographed — emerges as a powerful tool that generates information in the course of applying design best practices. This metadata proved to be extremely useful to later researchers who undertook to contrast and compare different manuscripts using the digitized versions that had been produced.

Charles Walbridge from the Minneapolis Institute of Art presented on the topic "Photogrammetry for ‘flat’ art objects”. This presentation examined how techniques used for imaging objects in three dimensional space (such as statues) could also be applied to flat, but highly textured surfaces (such as any painting by Vincent Van Gogh). The basic approach used here is to “visualize the underlying surface without the color information” — an approach similar in intent to the creation of a sitemap for an information design project:

“A sitemap or similar flowchart outlining all project components is one of the first documents you may need, and it should be created long before visual design begins.
“Basically, the sitemap (or a similar overview map if you’re working on something other than a website) should give a visual outline of all the components and informational elements of the project (Baer, 64)”.

Walbridge’s methodology is an interesting one, in that two degrees of image capture are utilized. A wide-angle survey of the object being imaged provides a record of the surface textures; and a close-field series of image captures from different angles (using variable lighting) provides information on the physical structure of the surface being photographed. By separating texture from structure, the topology of the surface becomes more readily apparent; and this yields a “depth map” of the surface, the end result of which is somewhat akin to the relationship holding between a sitemap and what is called a “wireframe”:

“While a sitemap or structural overview provides a birds-eye view, wireframes flesh out the finer details of a complex project (Baer, 71)”.

Baer goes on to examine and stress the vital importance of design testing, to determine user responses. Interestingly, with Walbridge’s work enough data is collected to facilitate digital programs that can “change simulated light sources using environmental maps” — such large amounts of information are captured that they can then be selectively utilized for specific purposes. This aspect of photography considered as information design presents an interesting possibility that seems to be more or less overlooked in established approaches — that of environmental variance influencing design functionality, over and above the differences presented through varying users during the testing of designs. 

Such a consideration might lead us to the last presentation of the conference: Tahnee Cracchiola from The Getty Museum and Kevin Candland from The Asian Art Museum speaking on ”The Fine Art of Documentation: Rethinking Object Photography of Cultural Heritage”.

In many ways, this presentation was closest in its considerations to those which weigh upon information design. A great deal of emphasis was placed upon consultation; in this case, with the curators who best knew the objects which were to be photographed. The presenters were of the opinion that, “Every object has a story, and we are the storytellers”; and to this end, they found themselves asking “What is the narrative of a three dimensional object — how can light and shadow be used to tell shape stories?”

The traditional approach in object photography for cultural heritage purposes has always been to evenly illuminate such objects, to give the most visually uniform presentation possible. However, Cracchiola and Candland have realized that the visual footprint of images is often the first exposure that audiences will have to the items being displayed in a museum — and that first impressions matter. From this realization, a “Fine Art” approach to photo documentation was developed, with photographs of cultural heritage objects being created in accordance with the creative vision of the cameraperson. This approach is at first glance the resolution of very similar issues raised by Baer in Chapter Four of the “Information Design Workbook” — the “Design Toolkit”; but, there is a very important and subtle point in this “Fine Art” approach that might easily be overlooked within Information Design: that photography as information design is always presenting something that exists tangibly, for which there is an expectation of accurate correspondence. 

With information design, there is always a possibility that the design will highlight the information to the detriment of attention more properly directed toward the situations from which the information has been derived. Were this to happen with photography as information design, that would very much constitute a failure of the design itself. In contrast, skilled photography of cultural artifacts artfully accomplished can actually be repurposed as lighting maps, and used by curators to guide their display set-ups; and such photography, done well, will often take on a life of its own in the form of event posters, banners, guide books and academic publications. In this way, photography as information design illustrates a principle we considered earlier, in the context of Charles Walbridge’s work: the possibility of design functionality traversing between multiple environmental contexts of occurrence.

One very important insight that photography as information design can provide us with, then, is an understanding of the role that design can play in guiding us toward whatever situation the information involved is meant to convey. Great design embodies a degree of transparency that never obscures that which it is meant to communicate; and this is why it is said that good design never goes out of style. 

Thus, photography as information design presents us with another important insight as to the pure utility of good information design: in leading us directly toward the situations from the information utilized was derived, such an approach to information design facilitates the collection of further information by those who are using the design work created in the course of making the initial information more accessible to others. As with “The Bibliotheca Philadelphiensis Project”, additional metadata could always be accumulated and added in by those who are party to an exemplary work of information design — if this possibility is first acknowledged and added into a project’s design, beyond what would otherwise be instituted through initial design strategies such as wire-framing and user testing.    


Works Cited:

Baer, Kim., and Vacarra, Jill. Information Design Workbook Graphic Approaches, Solutions, and Inspiration + 30 Case Studies . Beverly, Mass: Rockport, 2008.


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