Pulled into the orbit

The Future Is Like Pie #45

I joined

the blue, I was blue.
And when I looked
down, I shattered

and reformed
so many times, you know, I couldn’t catch
a clear look at myself.

—Leila Chatti, “Postcard from Gone

Recently I’ve been feeling disconnected from my work—or more specifically, disconnected from professional discourse and from my fellow design and content practitioners.

Some of that comes with being an independent consultant (*grizzled vigilante voice* I work alone); some of that is the result of a powerful need to distance myself from an increasingly self-destructive and dehumanizing tech industry.

But a lot of it is because I’ve lost many of the things that had previously kept me tethered to the practice. Twitter no longer exists, and professional conversations have only fractured across its replacements. The annual conferences I used to attend no longer exist, and even if they did, there’s still a pandemic on. And I no longer have my publishing work, which—here’s something I took for granted—used to function as an anchor, a consistent long-term goal to return to, while dipping in and out of short-term client projects.

It’s no wonder that I suddenly find myself reevaluating everything: how I approach my work, how I find clients, how I even fit anymore into a landscape obsessed with product optimization and corner- and cost-cutting. Being an independent information architect in 2024 has been frustrating, disheartening, alienating.

But it turns out the antidote to my malaise has been surprisingly easy to access. Do you want to know what it is? Are you ready? Buckle up for this one. It’s pretty nuts. Here we go. Look out. It’s:

Talking to people.

No, shut up, listen: If the problem is disconnection, the answer is to make deliberate connections. Wild, I know. So that’s what I’ve been doing: just talking. Having conversations. Asking friends to hop on a Zoom. Reaching out to colleagues I haven’t caught up with lately. Chitchatting! Connecting.

That’s hardly an earth-shattering notion, but it does require actual action—something more than sitting and waiting for others to do it first (or just scrolling LinkedIn). In fact, it’s so obvious, so simple, that it keeps repeatedly shocking me. Because the effects of these conversations on my brain have been anything but obvious and simple. I want to go around shaking people by the shoulders, yelling, “Did you know? Did you know you can just talk to people? On purpose? You can just ask them how they are and what they’re working on and they will tell you? And the conversations will be sweet and unpredictable and energizing and challenging and earnest and make you, just a little bit, fall in love with your work again?”

Because you can, and they will.

In related news: I’ve relaunched my website, and I’m looking for projects! If you’ve got a knot of complicated content—a messy website, a messy system, a messy product, a messy (*gestures at every team’s internal documentation*)—I’d love to help you untangle it. And/or: has it been a while since we’ve caught up? I’d love to hear about your work!

“Research as leisure activity”

I absolutely adored this piece from designer and writer Celine Nguyen, which has provided me (an ex-academic, poet, and tumblr enthusiast) with an articulation of why I rabbit-hole on the internet so much, and why that has value:

When research is your leisure activity, you’ll end up making connections between your existing interests and new ideas or topics. Everything gets pulled into the orbit of your intellectual curiosity. You can go deeper and deeper into a narrow topic, one that seems fascinatingly trivial and end up learning about the big topics: gender, culture, economics, nationalism, colonialism. It’s why fashion writers end up writing about the history of gender identity (through writing about masculine/feminine clothing) and cross-cultural exchange (through writing about cultural appropriation and styles borrowed from other times and places) and historical trade networks (through writing about where textiles come from).

“The motel room, or: on datedness”

Architecture critic Kate Wagner on the concept of “dated” spaces—which has something in common, I think, with my recent thoughts on texture:

The next language of datedness, like the all-white landlord-special interior, is the default, clean Squarespace restaurant page, a landing space that’s the digital equivalent of a flyer, rarely gleaned unless someone needs a menu, has a food allergy or if information about the place is not available immediately from Google Maps. I say this only to maintain that there is a continuity in practices between the on- and off-line world beyond what we would immediately assume, and that we cannot blame everything on algorithms.

“The limits of ‘data-driven’”

I love data, but my experience working with self-proclaimed “data-driven” cultures is that you can’t do anything—not change a color, not relabel a page, not edit a button—unless you can prove, with numbers, that it will increase conversion. That’s tedious, and also misleading, since numbers can lie (or at the very least, not tell the whole truth). So I enjoyed designer Pavel Samsonov’s look at a recent “data-driven” mistake from Nike:

With the benefit of time and distance, it’s easy to condemn Nike for making this mistake. It’s even easier to believe that we can avoid it — because we would simply pick the right data to follow, instead of the wrong data. The fact of the matter is that this mistake was made by experienced, intelligent professionals who also thought that they were doing the right thing. It’s not enough to identify that they were wrong; we need to understand why in that moment, the wrong thing seemed like the best way forward.

Lightning round

August’s causes

This month, let’s donate to Islamic Relief USA, providing relief and development to a whole range of projects in America and abroad, including emergency support for both Palestine and Sudan. I’m also donating to If Not Now, a Jewish-led organization working to divest the American government from Israeli military interests.

Buy my book

As I mentioned last month, my book sales now support me directly. Self-publishing huzzah! You can get your copy of Everyday Information Architecture from IngramSpark or your favorite independent bookseller.

The cover for Everyday Information Architecture