My Cellular Unit

One time, Oliver was looking at my phone and he said, to me something along these lines:

"You would have a nokia, you designer."

Despite all the terrible things I think about my current phone, that was a huge compliment. I suppose this actually happened when I still had my previous phone...but they are very similar (except in the design details that are driving this new model into the ground).

Let's get out there to begin with that I own this phone because it is the cheapest one you can get, period. That is the number one reason. The number two reason is that it is not a flip phone, and I do not like flip phones.

But the design reason is because I do not want all those features and crap. If they're not going to work beautifully and elegantly (and really, the only one I've found that I find acceptable is the iPhone, sad to say), I'm not interested. Why would I want a crappy tiny camera? Or a web browser system for a screen that's as big as my thumb? Or any other additional buttons? Or whatever?

So my old phone fit my needs perfectly. It basically had 4 functions: call, text, calendar, alarm. You could change the sound on the alarm, it was easy to use, the buttons had a pleasing response, it didn't break easily but was easy to clean and small to carry around. I didn't have a headset for it but I also had a landline for most of that time, so it was not a serious concern. When that phone pooped out (bastards turned off its software!), I got it's older cousin, as pictured here.

And this phone is not all that I hope that it cracked up to be. The buttons do not have the responsiveness. In fact, it's a struggle to dial on them, even without gloves on (and on a bike with gloves on you might as well kiss your phone call goodbye). It spontaneously hangs up, has backwards features and does weird things like saving your text messages all the time (without you asking), and not allowing you to change the alarm tone. Overall, it's unsatisfactory for me. But, it is the cheapest phone, and it doesn't have all the features I don't want.

What I see as being unique about this particular design is the fact that the things that I don't want define the thing that I do want. I'm looking for simplicity and easy use, and not having features that don't function to their full ability. This is reflected in a lot of my design choices, when I have that opportunity (for example, the tool bar on my computers, which is minimized of clutter to the max for most efficient usage). But here, rather than saying I want this this and this, I say I don't want a camera, a computer or a gps device. It's almost a negative space approach to object programming!

The Long Haul (Trucker)

My bicycle is the single most important object in my life right now. A graduation present from my parents, this was the fourth or fifth bike that I test rode before deciding this was the one I wanted. I was expecting a greater struggle to find what I was looking for, but there was no question that this was exactly the bike I was looking for from the first time I rode it.

A brief history of this bike and me: I was convinced to get on it by a baby-faced employee at Big Shark (who questionably still works there), and rode one that was a little too big. I liked the color, the bar-end shifters, and the way that it rode, but was hesitant about the heavier steel frame and even about the drop handlebars in general. I had ridden my previous bike, a hybrid mountain bike, for nearly 9 years, and was used to being totally upright and not going very fast. This bike is not exactly built for speed, but is a big speed improvement on my previous ride. It is, however, built for moving stuff around, as it's generally recognized as a touring bike for longer rides. The steel frame means that it absorbs bumps better, and it's got nice little long distance features like a built-in rack for extra spokes on the frame.

After test riding it the first time, I went home to think about it. There was another bike I wanted to test ride, but they didn't have a single one even close to my size in the city, so I went back to Big Shark to order the bike in my size. A few weeks later, it arrived. I went down (in the middle of a chaotic day at work) and rode it, and then came back the next day to pick it up and have it fitted. From then on, I've been cruising all over the city (and to Belleville, although not back).

So when I rode over the glass yesterday morning and the hissing came screaming out of my back tire, I almost started crying. It was like dropping a baby. I didn't mean to hurt it, but I had. The sad noise it made all the way to the store in the afternoon was way painful, and I tried to carry it to stop it. When I flatted again in the evening, there was no way I could carry it all the way up Grand to the Metro, so I was stuck listening to the squishing noise all the way home.

The dependence that I feel on my bike was suddenly reversed by the dependence that it has on me. As an object, it is not useful or functional (although it is pretty) unless I'm riding it all the time. Yet, I depend on it so fully that when it flatted in the morning, it took me about 3 minutes to figure out how to get to work (I live 10 minutes walking from my office). I couldn't imagine transporting myself without it.

And this is where the paradigm of my bicycle is so different from that of our society. When so many Americans seem to be grappling with what to do now that their cars are unattainable, I'm back in some kind of "primitive world" where I wonder what to do without a bike. Without, I only have walking (which I hate), the bus (which is slow and doesn't go exactly where I want) or bumming rides (less than ideal). To continue my lifestyle, I rely on my two wheels.

So today, after getting it fixed and rolling again, I biked out to Whole Foods and Trader Joe's to pick some things up, and just to prove that in fact, I was OK and could go where I wanted to. I
don't have any desire to sever my connection to my bicycle, even if it is an unhealthy attachment. It's too useful to me to deny.

In terms of the design of my bike, there are a few features that define it for me. The steel frame, and the brand itself, although I don't like to admit it, are big selling points. I've randomly won all these cool points with real bikers for having this bike with a steel frame and a Surly tag. The frame does serve my purposes exactly—I'm not feeling shock up and down my arms from the relatively nasty roads I ride on. I love the bar-end shifters for the simplicity of their use, and how they make it possible for me to not worry about shifting while breaking (which on the other road bikes were driving me crazy). I love the size and feel of the handlebars in my hand, which fit me exactly (surprisingly since I'm probably one of the smallest riders of this bike). The geometry of the frame and the ability for so many racks both serve me very well.

So, what I get out of this is that one of the objects I'm best defined by is the one that is the most useful to me, and the one that I rely on the most. As a result, I've developed a deep attachment to it and a commitment to it's wellbeing. Hopefully we can avoid more glass in the future...

It's Never Over

Class may have ended, but my infatuation with objects seems to be just beginning.

Yesterday, I blew out the back tire on my bicycle twice on glass—once in the morning, and then again in the evening after I had had it fixed. All day, when I thought about my bike, I felt a physical pain, maybe a greater reaction than one should really feel within normal bounds when associating with an object. Although I don't believe that humans are defined by their objects, or that humanity is defined by objects, I do think they say a lot about us, and that is what I'm most interested in.

So, I've decided to rededicate this blog to a study of objects and how they define me, and how they define others around me. I'm not sure exactly how this will develop, but as I've found with my other blogging projects, I do better if I set tangible goals before I start.

I would like to look at the objects that are most important in my life, and the ones that define me in some way, especially in relationship to their design. I'm seeking to answer the question: what does the design of this object, and my expectations for the design, say about who I am as a person? How does the design affect the individual functionality of the object in terms of MY use as an individual user? I hope to also address these questions for others around me, so this isn't all my objects, all the time.

The goal is two objects a week, and maybe some in between things on the glory of objects. Maybe this will lead me to the direction that I'm looking for in this interest. Who knows?