Interfaces
Everyone seems agreed that user-friendliness is a highly desirable quality, describing a computer whose hardware responds easily and simply to one's wishes and whose software does what one wants so readily, swiftly, and efficiently that the boundary--called "interface"--almost disappears. That's all well and good if you're doing spreadsheets or massive CAD projects or tracking your stock portfolio. Or playing games. But what if, what if you edge into outright creativity, in say an artwise direction? Is user-friendliness ultimately so desirable in such activity? Or does it reduce creativity to a paint-by-numbers level? Looking at past media, it's tempting to conclude that in fact user-unfriendliness may be the sine qua non for the highest levels of creativity. Take the piano for one example. What a daunting, obstinate, quirky, temperamental (in more senses than one) object. And what a long, massive, steep learning curve. Yet how we have gloried in the challenges of the instrument. Or how about a blank canvas, a box of paints, and a few brushes. Or a chunk of Carrera marble and some stone chisels. Or an empty stage and a few humans called actors, or dancers. Of course, already we can use the computer as a replacement or substitute tool in some of the traditional arts. The empty screen replaces the blank piece of paper, of the blank canvas, and so on. But where is the infinitely challenging, highly un-user-friendly computer interface that will lead us into a lifelong struggle to master it so that we can produce something brilliant, moving, provocative, timeless for all humanity? Already we have "computer art" (fractals are a good example) and "computer music" (techno and beyond). But one awaits true computerart, let's call it, and the
interface to goad us on to it.
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Among words which the
computer industry has given us--in addition to [expletive deleted] and [extreme expletive
deleted], not to mention giving new meaning to "crash", "boot", and
freeze--is the term "user-friendly."