Paper Prototyping

What is the quickest way to try out a complicated tech idea on real people? How do you get real, valuable feedback from users without going to the expense of writing code?

Paper prototyping is an idea I've recently been introduced to at ThoughtWorks. You draft up the interface on pieces of paper, and have a human act as the computer would, swapping out bits of paper in response to a real user.

Advantages and limitations
Ben O'Hear explains the concept in the above video. As he describes, the advantages are:

• It costs far less than developing even basic software
• You can get very early feedback, even before writing any code - and that feedback could have significant impact on what code you write (or don't write)
• If a user does something unexpected, you can respond ad-hoc and get feedback on your improvised response
• You can work collaboratively and iterate rapidly - i.e. a group of you can discuss the user's interactions and sketch out a whole new UI there and then, and test it out again on users

Some of the disadvantages are:

• It's easy to test out big ideas, but hard to zero in on small details
• You are constrained by location - you can't test remote responses to user actions. However, on this point, it seems to me that you could simulate some types of remote testing using Skype
• You are constrained by paper - you can't have detailed real-time responsiveness, e.g. Kinect interactions, or sound synthesis. However, again you could simulate this using human voice or recorded sound
• As in all usability testing, this can tell you whether users understand your app, and can use it - it doesn't tell you whether users want to use your app or are willing to pay for it

This is a very lean startup way of thinking, in which learning about your users is the preferred unit of measure - rather than completing features.

Git vs. Github?

I was trying to tell a friend the other day how Git and Github are related. Where does Git end and Github start? What do they each even do for you?

I realised that it's actually one of those fundamental things that is worth stepping through and getting a clear understanding. If you've been using the terms interchangeably, the distinction makes a good backdrop to learn more, and getting clarity will enable you to steer past a whole bunch of confusion later on.

What is Git?
Well, Git is not Github. Git is a piece of software that you install locally on your computer which handles 'version control' for you.

So to learn about Git, you have to learn about version control.

What is Version Control?
Let's say you have some new project, and you are planning to store all the files for that project in some new directory. You know that as time goes on, the files in this project will change - a lot. Things could get messy, and who knows when you might need to revert back to a previous working version of what you had?

So, you install Git on your computer. Then, you have Git create the new project directory for you. You also tell Git that you would like to keep a history of the changes you make within that directory.

Then, you add some files to kick off your project. The files you just added represent the first incremental step on the journey of your project. So you tell Git to take a snapshot.

Then you make a small change - your next incremental step. So you take another snapshot.

And that's about it for version control - make a small change, take a snapshot, make another small change, take a snapshot. You can then use Git to step back and forth whenever necessary through each snapshot (snapshot aka version) of your project directory. Hence, version control.

And Git is just one of the many version control systems out there, that you can download and install on your machine. Hence, Git.

Collaborating with Git
That's great for you as an individual. But what if you are working on a team, and you want to share your project directory? And you want to make changes on your machine, send those changes to your collaborators, and also have changes they make appear in your machine's project directory?

Git is a so called distributed version control system. All that means is that Git has commands that allow you to push and pull your changes to other people's machines:

Neither copy of the project directory is any better or 'greater' than any other - you are both collaborating on identical copies. This is a good thing, and Git gives you the power to work on your own copy as-is until you are ready to pull in your collaborator's changes, and push back your own changes.

But unless you are working right next to each other every day, you can't be sure exactly when your collaborator will have their machine on and plugged into a network. Wouldn't it be great if there were a third identical copy you could both push and pull from?

Collaborating with Git and GitHub
Well, that's what Github is! At it's core, it's just a place to store your identical working directories - aka repositories, or repo's for short. That's the service that Github provides - it's literally a hub for Git repositories.

Github gives you a bunch more features, like a nice website to allow you to compare changes and administrate user accounts. But it's raison d'être is to host your repos, and to make it easier for you to push and pull from your collaborators.

Since Git and Github aren't really linked - Github is just another place to store identical repos - you could use any Git hosting service. One alternative is Bitbucket. This service gives you free private repos (unlike Github), in case you aren't ready to share your work with the world.

However Github is the most widely used Git hosting service, and has a broad community of users sharing code and interacting.

How to Learn Git
So in any case, the real challenge when you are starting out isn't learning Github, which is just an interchangeable service which allows you to host the thing of real value - your Git repository. Your attention is better spent learning Git.

The best way to learn Git in my opinion is this free online book: git-scm.com/book. It walks you through step by step and assumes no particular knowledge. There is an online, PDF and mobi version available, and it uses Github for hosting when you get to that stage.

There are a lot of topics to cover but for most users interacting on a fairly small scale, the first two chapters should suffice. You can pick up the harder stuff as and when necessary.

Another good place to go if you want to try out a few commands without going through the hassle of installing Git, is Try Git. Expect some commercial ad tie-ins, and it won't answer your questions like the book does. But it does let you give things a try and learn by doing.

Good luck!

Counterpoint to the Remote

In my recent work, I have been exploring the creativity inherent in perception, and the sense of value we seamlessly inject into our everyday experience.

To do this, I have been looking, within an installation context, at the phenomenal experience of encounters that are both remote and somehow also close. The approach I have taken is to use light and sound to augment the surface of rocks.

Rock with white projected light #3

Soon I will upload video documentation of new installation work, but in this post I want to share some of the photographs that have been part of the outcome of this process.

The images shown here are all photographs of rock surfaces taken in the studio at CAC. The surfaces have been mapped with light from a projector. The photographs have not been edited or digitally processed.

Rock surface with white projected light #1

Two rocks with white projected light #1

The image below is one of a series of detail shots taken to capture the texture of the rock surface in incandescent lighting, for use in the developed installation work. The angled light creates a relief and a resulting contrast.

Rock texture photographed with incandescent relief lighting #1

Rock surface with white projected light #2

Rock texture photographed with incandescent relief lighting #3

Two rocks with white projected light #2

The projector's light texture is visible in shots at a distance from the light source, as above.

The Cascading Process

Over a three month period, with the support of two residency programs, I have completed one new installation work.

Interestingly, the final form of this work did not fully take it's current shape until the final week.

In another post I'll talk about the work itself.

Water cascading down a cliff face
by tillou79

But for now I want to offer some thoughts about the process I use to make installation work, how and why that process has changed, and to talk about the value I place in criticism.

Leaving the outcome open
One of the recurring themes in my practice, particularly since conversations with Tobias Rosenberger last year, has been openness to change.

As both an artist and software engineer I should point out that there is a trend in software engineering which promotes openness to change (agile). But this is more about being responsive to changes you can't predict, and managing and encouraging that change with project stakeholders.

To the engineer in me, change is something to be managed effectively; to the artist, change and experimentation are vital, and at the forefront of my process. Given that my installations generally require custom software, I'm pleased to say the two approaches can be complimentary.

Course changes
I tend to characterise the open-ended process as a cascade, like in the image. (Not to be confused with the Waterfall software design model.)

In a cascade, when you begin at the top, you have no idea which point at the end of the journey you will end up. Several times on the journey you will hit forks, and will choose (or be forced to choose) new directions. As you travel, your idea may become more or less clear about where you are headed, but is still open to dramatic change.

When the outcome of a project was left open, you can look back across it and see lots of not-taken routes. These routes, although not present in the final work, played a very important role in leading to the final outcome. I won't say that they necessarily 'add layers' to the final work, but they do add layers to the journey which produced it, in whatever form it finally takes.

Criticism
How do you know when you've hit a fork, and which route to take?

It's hard to see something with fresh eyes when you are working on it every day, and you need fresh eyes to get a sense of the alignment between your intentions and what you have created.

This is where a trusted group of critics comes in. Other artists, friends, people at institutions and organisations you are related to - and genuine audiences, for example in open studios.

Crits at CAC
The crits at CAC take the form of group studio visits. They are weekly, all resident artists take part, and they are timed to about 10-15 minutes per artist.

Each artist is invited to present his or her work, and to opt for just 'eyes and ears' or for a bounds-free, open ended discussion. The former is useful if you are at a certain stage of your process and aren't ready for a full crit yet, but most weeks many artists opt for the latter.

Studios at CAC

I found the most useful way to take advantage of this process was to set up a 'sketch' installation each week, representing the direction I was going at that moment (ready or not, mature or not). I would organise the space in a way similar to how I would present the work in a gallery, because installation is very experiential, and the space around the piece is just as important.

Not adding layers
I would then let the group walk into the space in front of me, and then wait and not say anything. In any group, even shy ones, there are opinions bubbling under the surface and it doesn't make sense to pre-shape or pre-censor those opinions by 'framing' your work verbally.

I've heard that crits can be impassioned affairs, although I've never experienced this personally. Most artists seem to recognise that it is important in crits for the group to be able to talk openly and critically about the work they see.

Points of change
The cascading effect, aided by criticism, provides you as an artist with a approach in which you can explore openly - intellectually, visually, experientially and so on.

You can 'feel out' literally any direction, knowing that critical feedback will aid you. It may augment the direction by adding previously unconsidered layers. It may deaden the direction by pointing out potential flaws. It may highlight potential forks in the road, or it may confirm a direction by demonstrating that your critical audience is thinking about the subjects, questions and ideas you intended.

Each of these are valuable and allow you to bounce from one direction to another, and to zero in on a landing spot as you get closer to it.

Criticism and Approval
One final note - it's important to bear in mind that asking for criticism is not the same as asking for approval. Asking for approval leaves you in a weak position, and it is far better to ask for criticism and be supplied with a compliment than vice-versa.

By contrast, when asking for criticism you need to be prepared to accept that criticism on it's own terms. You may not agree with the criticism, but that doesn't mean it isn't valid. I find it helpful to try to understand the critique within the contextual framework from which it came. This often means asking questions back and trying to flesh out the context.

But, finally it will always be down to you which feedback to respond to, if at all. And ultimately it's an approach that helps you learn to trust your intuition.

Working with Total Space

Last night I cleared (almost) everything out of my studio - so that I could focus on the installation in terms of it's 'total space':

Rocks in Studio 1 at CAC

By 'total space' I mean the space around the work, which viewers experience just as much as the work itself - in installations this space is part of the work and cannot be separated.

In this post I'll describe some of the dimensions I am considering when looking at this space, in the context of the work I'm currently developing.

The original 'installations'
Installation art got it's name because curators used to have to decide how to hang paintings and place sculptures. This was termed 'installation', and photographs for publication of several works together were called 'installation shots'.

An installation shot, at the Smithsonian
Photo by Smithsonian

For installation artists much, if not all, of that process of arrangement of objects in space has become an essential aspect of the artwork itself. Each work cannot exist in isolation but has to be considered in terms of it's relationship to the space in which it is installed.

So in practice, the work must be 'site-specific', or somehow transposable to more than one location.

Using the architecture
An interesting antecedent for 'transposable' work is Sol Lewitt. A few weeks ago at Mass MOCA I saw the work 'Wall Drawing 51: All architectural points connected by straight lines'.

As the title suggests, this work can be recreated in any location (as long as it has some architectural points).

Wall Drawing 51: All architectural points connected by straight lines
Photo by br_5530

As with much of LeWitt's work, the art is in the crafting of sets of repeatable instructions. Those instructions can then be carried out again and again to produce physical instantiations of the work.

This is one way of making the work mutable, but it also carries a rigid inflexibility that constrains the piece and prevents it seeping beyond a defined boundary; the work cannot 'mutate' beyond the prescription of the instructions.

Much more common is the approach that the artist must be physically present to carry out or oversee the instantiation of the installation. The consideration then is how the work can mutate to converse with new surroundings in a way that compliments, augments or challenges it's origin.

Navigating the space
There are a number of transposable elements I am currently considering in how I present my work. Each will have to be reconsidered in each location it is installed, and it is worth noting a few of them here.

Firstly, what is the viewer's initial experience on entering the space?

Beyond that, what path(s) can viewers walk through to enter the space and approach the work? Which are more traveled, and why? What aspects of the work are accentuated by particular routes? Which routes encourage temporal or physical interaction with the piece, and which don't?

The routes viewers can take will have a big impact on how people respond to the installation. A 'throwaway comment' type of an installation might call for fast and casual footfall, but for my work which requires some time I am experimenting with ways of allowing passage through, while also creating a pool of space which is separate from the traffic, in which time can be spent and immersion can occur, without prescription that it must occur.

Divisions within the space
What distance do you want viewers to have from the work? Do you want people to walk through and explore, or is the work to be physically cut off, distant, or somehow different from the viewing space they occupy?

There is a work by Jospeh Beuys on permanent installation at Centre Pompidou in Paris, "Plight", which was very influential on me. One of the key aspects of the room, when we step back and stop thinking about the silence, the felt, and the presence of the room, is that you can't enter the space.

Plight, Joseph Beuys
Photo by Gastev

A rail prevents your entry, and also delineates a small viewing platform. This gives the space a sense of otherness, and timelessness. In this context, the rail is part of what gives the installation it's gravity, it's immanence, it's sense of potential.

The frame
And for all the talk about the democratization of space, about how installation takes away the centred viewer, there is always still a frame within which your work will be considered.

This might be an institutional frame, and therefore conceptual. But even physically, there is a frame provided by the walls, by markings on the floor, by the use of light, by ropes, gates or rails. And if there isn't a frame already, you have the option of introducing one. As in "Plight" this frame can serve as a boundary, or the frame can be just a suggestion.

In many room-sized installations there is no physical frame - this means that the work is fully immersive and is a deliberate move on the artist's part to obscure the frame so that viewers are not aware it. In these cases the work can still be framed by the physical features of the room, and particularly by the transitional nature of the entranceway provided to enter the space.

In any case, the concept of a frame is something which you can work with or against.

Emphasis and de-emphasis
What elements of the space are the ones that viewers can't see?

In the work I am creating at the moment, I want to draw back the sense that technology is central in the work. So I am experimenting with techniques for placing the projector I am using to craft the light out of view. This is not to attempt to obscure the fact that a projector is the medium by whch the light is being crafted, but rather to de-emphasise the role the projector plays and emphasise instead the light on it's own terms.

Indoor not outdoor
Since arriving here at CAC I have been increasingly focused on the installation potential for this project rather than outdoor. It's odd, because the project began with such an outdoor focus.

Outdoor shot at I-Park

There were a whole set of issues related to working outdoors; technology, projectors, and sound equipment, and it was forcing me down a road of 'one-off' performances or interventions. Those elements are not crucial for this particular work at it's current stage, and so they have been sidelined.

There is still strong outdoor potential for this work, more so than my previous projects. However at this stage, quickfire experimentation took priority, and indoor rocks became both a pragmatic reality and a potent ground for exploration.

Packing up gear to take on the land at I-Park

The conceptual grounding which was so engaging at the start, could be brought indoors and more easily experimented with. The oldness and brutality embedded in the broken-open shape and texture of rocks. The internal, perceptive world that we conjure up and it's relationship to the alien and disembodied.

These are ideas that I want to exploit in the studio, and if and when the time is right, to explore in an outdoor arena. Outdoors brings it's own set of potentials and challenges, but which I think need to be prepared for in the studio, and should be respected for inherent caveats.

Residency Begins at CAC Troy

I've arrived at my residency at Contemporary Artist Center (CAC) in Troy, New York. In this post I'll show some images of this beautiful location, and talk about the direction I want to take with my work from here.

The residency program is now run inside the historic Woodside Church, having moved from it's previous home in North Adams, Massachusetts.

Woodside Church, Troy, NY

The night I arrived I was treated with all the other residents to the regular Sunday meal. The next night I took part in the weekly crit.

It was refreshing as it's been a while since I've been in a crit and I was able to put together a 'sketch' installation and have my work critiqued too.

Inside, the new CAC studios

I showed a quickly-assembled installation and some media from my time at I-Park, and the conversation got quite in-depth.

This provided some context and the views of a set of fresh eyes, and made me think some more about the installation potential the work has, aside from the portable / outdoor aspect.

After the crit, I put together the short video below from I-Park, and together the crit and video formed an interesting retrospective. This set a context for the work I'll be developing in the coming weeks.

Video showing the results of the work at I-Park in 'installation sketch' form

The initial work developed at I-Park is a good starting point - it shows that the concept works but leaves open the direction.

At the moment, there is something open-ended about where the installation sketch takes you once you approach it as a viewer on it's own terms. The journey feels tied to the machine, the coating on the object's surface feels artificial. But what I am looking for is a human connection, one that works with the perceptual process, rather than trying to negate it.

It has a minimalist feeling - which I actually appreciate because of the way it allows the underlying textures to make a statement. But I feel like with some more experimental work there are ways I can express more, playing on the inherent darkness and light, and by finding a more human pace, rhythm, and timbre.

Stained-glass window at the front of the church

The new studio is a good size and I have had to spend time light-proofing it and setting it up. This is an interesting space to be working and feel this is the best place for the piece to develop right now.

I will look at some of the outdoor locations later as the residency progresses and judge whether there is an outdoor component at a later date. But for now, the work is studio-bound.

Stained-glass window (detail)

Installation Sketch at Open Studios

This video is of an installation 'sketch' representing the in-progress piece I worked on during the I-Park Residency program.

Installation sketch at Open Studios

The shots in this video represent what visitors to I-Park Open Studios September saw on the day. It is the same work discussed in my previous post 'Perception as a Creative Process'.

The installation is an attempt to create a space which is immediately unfamiliar - purely because of the controlled light and acoustics - but which with time gains a new type of familiarity. The flat blades of colour penetrate the darkness to slowly reveal the objects texture in new ways.

At the end of the residency program I was at this fairly initial stage. I will be further developing the work during my residency at Contemporary Artist Center, in Troy New York.