Tags: principles




Contrary to popular belief, web standards aren’t created by a shadowy cabal and then handed down to browser makers to implement. Quite the opposite. Browser makers come together in standards bodies and try to come to an agreement about how to collectively create and implement standards. That keeps them very busy. They don’t tend to get out very often, but when they do, the browser/standards makers have one message for developers: “We want to make your life better, so tell us what you want and that’s what we’ll work on!”

In practice, this turns out not to be the case.

Case in point: responsive images. For years, this was the number one feature that developers were crying out for. And yet, the standards bodies—and, therefore, browser makers—dragged their heels. First they denied that it was even a problem worth solving. Then they said it was simply too hard. Eventually, thanks to the herculean efforts of the Responsive Images Community Group, the browser makers finally began to work on what developers had been begging for.

Now that same community group is representing the majority of developers once again. Element queries—or container queries—have been top of the wish list of working devs for quite a while now. The response from browser makers is the same as it was for responsive images. They say it’s simply too hard.

Here’s a third example: web components. There are many moving parts to web components, but one of the most exciting to developers who care about accessibility and backwards-compatibility is the idea of extending existing elements:

It’s my opinion that, for as long as there is a dependence on JS for custom elements, we should extend existing elements when writing custom elements. It makes sense for developers, because new elements have access to properties and methods that have been defined and tested for many years; and it makes sense for users, as they have fallback in case of JS failure, and baked-in accessibility fundamentals.

So instead of having to create a whole new element from scratch like this:

<taco-button>Click me!</taco-button>

…you could piggy-back on an existing element like this:

<button is="taco-button">Click me!</button>

That way, you get the best of both worlds: the native semantics of button topped with all the enhancements you want to add with your taco-button custom element. Brilliant! Github is using this to extend the time element, for example.

I’m not wedded to the is syntax, but I do think it’s vital that there is some declarative mechanism to extend existing elements instead of creating every custom element from scratch each time.

Now it looks like that’s the bit of web components that isn’t going to make the cut. Why? Because browser makers say it’s simply too hard.

As Bruce points out, this is in direct conflict with the design principles that are supposed to be driving the creation and implementation of web standards.

It probably wouldn’t bother me so much except that browser makers still trot out the party line, “We want to hear what developers want!” Their actions demonstrate that this claim is somewhat hollow.

I don’t hold out much hope that we’ll get the ability to extend existing elements for web components. I think we can still find ways to piggy-back on existing semantics, but it’s going to take more work:

<taco-button><button>Click me!</button></taco-button>

That isn’t very elegant and I can foresee a lot of trickiness trying to sift the fallback content (the button tags) from the actual content (the “Click me!” text).

But I guess that’s what we’ll be stuck with. The alternative is simply too hard.

Angular momentum

I was chatting with some people recently about “enterprise software”, trying to figure out exactly what that phrase means (assuming it isn’t referring to the LCARS operating system favoured by the United Federation of Planets). I always thought of enterprise software as “big, bloated and buggy,” but those are properties of the software rather than a definition.

The more we discussed it, the clearer it became that the defining attribute of enterprise software is that it’s software you never chose to use: someone else in your organisation chose it for you. So the people choosing the software and the people using the software could be entirely different groups.

That old adage “No one ever got fired for buying IBM” is the epitome of the world of enterprise software: it’s about risk-aversion, and it doesn’t necessarily prioritise the interests of the end user (although it doesn’t have to be that way).

In his critique of AngularJS PPK points to an article discussing the framework’s suitability for enterprise software and says:

Angular is aimed at large enterprise IT back-enders and managers who are confused by JavaScript’s insane proliferation of tools.

My own anecdotal experience suggests that Angular is not only suitable for enterprise software, but—assuming the definition provided above—Angular is enterprise software. In other words, the people deciding that something should be built in Angular are not necessarily the same people who will be doing the actual building.

Like I said, this is just anecdotal, but it’s happened more than once that a potential client has approached Clearleft about a project, and made it clear that they’re going to be building it in Angular. Now, to me, that seems weird: making a technical decision about what front-end technologies you’ll be using before even figuring out what your website needs to do.

Ah, but there’s the rub! It’s only weird if you think of Angular as a front-end technology. The idea of choosing a back-end technology (PHP, Ruby, Python, whatever) before knowing what your website needs to do doesn’t seem nearly as weird to me—it shouldn’t matter in the least what programming language is running on the server. But Angular is a front-end technology, right? I mean, it’s written in JavaScript and it’s executed inside web browsers. (By the way, when I say “Angular”, I’m using it as shorthand for “Angular and its ilk”—this applies to pretty much all the monolithic JavaScript MVC frameworks out there.)

Well, yes, technically Angular is a front-end framework, but conceptually and philosophically it’s much more like a back-end framework (actually, I think it’s conceptually closest to a native SDK; something more akin to writing iOS or Android apps, while others compare it to ASP.NET). That’s what PPK is getting at in his follow-up post, Front end and back end. In fact, one of the rebuttals to PPKs original post basically makes the exactly same point as PPK was making: Angular is for making (possibly enterprise) applications that happen to be on the web, but are not of the web.

On the web, but not of the web. I’m well aware of how vague and hand-wavey that sounds so I’d better explain what I mean by that.

The way I see it, the web is more than just a set of protocols and agreements—HTTP, URLs, HTML. It’s also built with a set of principles that—much like the principles underlying the internet itself—are founded on ideas of universality and accessibility. “Universal access” is a pretty good rallying cry for the web. Now, the great thing about the technologies we use to build websites—HTML, CSS, and JavaScript—is that universal access doesn’t have to mean that everyone gets the same experience.

Yes, like a broken record, I am once again talking about progressive enhancement. But honestly, that’s because it maps so closely to the strengths of the web: you start off by providing a service, using the simplest of technologies, that’s available to anyone capable of accessing the internet. Then you layer on all the latest and greatest browser technologies to make the best possible experience for the most number of people. But crucially, if any of those enhancements aren’t available to someone, that’s okay; they can still accomplish the core tasks.

So that’s one view of the web. It’s a view of the web that I share with other front-end developers with a background in web standards.

There’s another way of viewing the web. You can treat the web as a delivery mechanism. It is a very, very powerful delivery mechanism, especially if you compare it to alternatives like CD-ROMs, USB sticks, and app stores. As long as someone has the URL of your product, and they have a browser that matches the minimum requirements, they can have instant access to the latest version of your software.

That’s pretty amazing, but the snag for me is that bit about having a browser that matches the minimum requirements. For me, that clashes with the universality that lies at the heart of the World Wide Web. Sites built in this way are on the web, but are not of the web.

This isn’t anything new. If you think about it, sites that used the Flash plug-in to deliver their experience were on the web, but not of the web. They were using the web as a delivery mechanism, but they weren’t making use of the capabilities of the web for universal access. As long as you have the Flash plug-in, you get 100% of the intended experience. If you don’t have the plug-in, you get 0% of the intended experience. The modern equivalent is using a monolithic JavaScript library like Angular. As longer as your browser (and network) fulfils the minimum requirements, you should get 100% of the experience. But if your browser falls short, you get nothing. In other words, Angular and its ilk treat the web as a platform, not a continuum.

If you’re coming from a programming environment where you have a very good idea of what the runtime environment will be (e.g. a native app, a server-side script) then this idea of having minimum requirements for the runtime environment makes total sense. But, for me, it doesn’t match up well with the web, because the web is accessed by web browsers. Plural.

It’s telling that we’ve fallen into the trap of talking about what “the browser” is capable of, as though it were indeed a single runtime environment. There is no single “browser”, there are multiple, varied, hostile browsers, with differing degrees of support for front-end technologies …and that’s okay. The web was ever thus, and despite the wishes of some people that we only code for a single rendering engine, the web will—I hope—always have this level of diversity and competition when it comes to web browsers (call it fragmentation if you like). I not only accept that the web is this messy, chaotic place that will be accessed by a multitude of devices, I positively welcome it!

The alternative is to play a game of “let’s pretend”: Let’s pretend that web browsers can be treated like a single runtime environment; Let’s pretend that everyone is using a capable browser on a powerful device.

The problem with playing this game of “let’s pretend” is that we’ve played it before and it never works out well: Let’s pretend that everyone has a broadband connection; Let’s pretend that everyone has a screen that’s at least 960 pixels wide.

I refused to play that game in the past and I still refuse to play it today. I’d much rather live with the uncomfortable truth of a fragmented, diverse landscape of web browsers than live with a comfortable delusion.

The alternative—to treat “the browser” as though it were a known quantity—reminds of the punchline to all those physics jokes that go “Assume a perfectly spherical cow…”

Monolithic JavaScript frameworks like Angular assume a perfectly spherical browser.

If you’re willing to accept that assumption—and say to hell with the 250,000,000 people using Opera Mini (to pick just one example)—then Angular is a very powerful tool for helping you build something that is on the web, but not of the web.

Now I’m not saying that this way of building is wrong, just that it is at odds with my own principles. That’s why Angular isn’t necessarily a bad tool, but it’s a bad tool for me.

We often talk about opinionated software, but the truth is that all software is opinionated, because all software is built by humans, and humans can’t help but imbue their beliefs and biases into what they build (Tim Berners-Lee’s World Wide Web being a good example of that).

Software, like all technologies, is inherently political. … Code inevitably reflects the choices, biases and desires of its creators.

—Jamais Cascio

When it comes to choosing software that’s supposed to help you work faster—a JavaScript framework, for example—there are many questions you can ask: Is the code well-written? How big is the file size? What’s the browser support? Is there an active community maintaining it? But all of those questions are secondary to the most important question of all, which is “Do the beliefs and assumptions of this software match my own beliefs and assumptions?”

If the answer to that question is “yes”, then the software will help you. But if the answer is “no”, then you will be constantly butting heads with the software. At that point it’s no longer a useful tool for you. That doesn’t mean it’s a bad tool, just that it’s not a good fit for your needs.

That’s the reason why you can have one group of developers loudly proclaiming that a particular framework “rocks!” and another group proclaiming equally loudly that it “sucks!”. Neither group is right …and neither group is wrong. It comes down to how well the assumptions of that framework match your own worldview.

Now when it comes to a big MVC JavaScript framework like Angular, this issue is hugely magnified because the software is based on such a huge assumption: a perfectly spherical browser. This is exemplified by the architectural decision to do client-side rendering with client-side templates (as opposed to doing server-side rendering with server-side templates, also known as serving websites). You could try to debate the finer points of which is faster or more efficient, but it’s kind of like trying to have a debate between an atheist and a creationist about the finer points of biology—the fundamental assumptions of both parties are so far apart that it makes a rational discussion nigh-on impossible.

(Incidentally, Brett Slatkin ran the numbers to compare the speed of client-side vs. server-side rendering. His methodology is very telling: he tested in Chrome and …another Chrome. “The browser” indeed.)

So …depending on the way you view the web—“universal access” or “delivery mechanism”—Angular is either of no use to you, or is an immensely powerful tool. It’s entirely subjective.

But the problem is that if Angular is indeed enterprise software—i.e. somebody else is making the decision about whether or not you will be using it—then you could end up in a situation where you are forced to use a tool that not only doesn’t align with your principles, but is completely opposed to them. That’s a nightmare scenario.

Celebrating CSS

Cascading Style Sheets turned 20 years old this week. Happy birthtime, CeeSusS!

Bruce interviewed Håkon about the creation of CSS, and it makes for fascinating reading. If you want to dig even deeper, here’s Håkon’s 1994 thesis comparing competing approaches to style sheets.

CSS gets a tough rap. I remember talking to Douglas Crockford about CSS. I’ll paraphrase his stance as “Kill it with fire!” To be fair, he was mostly talking about the lack of a decent layout system in CSS—something that’s only really getting remedied now.

Most of the flak directed at CSS comes from smart programmers, decrying its lack of power. As a declarative language, it lacks even the most basic features of even the simplest procedural language. How are serious programmers supposed to write their serious programmes with such a primitive feature set?

But I think this mindset misses out a crucial facet of understanding CSS: it’s not about us. By us, I mean professional web developers. And when I say it’s not about us, I mean it’s not only about us.

The web is for everyone. That doesn’t just mean that it’s for everyone to use—the web is for everyone to create. That means that the core building blocks of the web need to be learnable by everyone, not just programmers.

I get nervous when I see web browsers gaining powerful features that can only be accessed via a JavaScript API. Geolocation is one example: it doesn’t have any declarative equivalent to its JavaScript implementation. Counter-examples would be video and audio: you can use the JavaScript API to get exactly the behaviour you want, if you’ve got that level of knowledge …or you can use the video and audio elements if you’re okay with letting web browsers handle the complexity of display and playback.

I think that CSS hits a nice sweet spot, balancing learnability and power. I love the fact that every bit of CSS ever written comes down to the same basic pattern:

selector {
    property: value;

That’s it!

How amazing is it that one simple pattern can scale to encompass a whole wide world of visual design variety?

Think about the revolution that CSS has gone through in recent years: OOCSS, SMACSS, BEM …these are fundamentally new ways of approaching front-end development, and yet none of these approaches required any changes to be made to the CSS specification. The power and flexibility was already available within its simple selector-property-value pattern.

Mind you, that modularity was compromised when we got things like named animations; a pattern that breaks out of the encapsulation model of CSS. Variables in CSS also break out of the modularity pattern.

Personally, I don’t think there’s any reason to have variables in the CSS language; it’s enough to have them in pre-processing tools. Variables add enormous value for developers, and no value at all for end users. As long as developers can use variables—and they can, with Sass and LESS—I don’t think we need to further complicate CSS.

Bert Bos wrote an exhaustive list of design principles for web standards. There’s some crossover with Tim Berners-Lee’s principles of design, with ideas such as modularity and robustness. Personally, I think that Bert and Håkon did a pretty damn good job of balancing principles like learnability, extensibility, longevity, interoperability and a host of other factors while still producing something powerful enough to scale for the whole web.

There’s one important phrase I want to highlight in the abstract of the 20 year old CSS proposal:

The proposed scheme provides a simple mapping between HTML elements and presentation hints.


Every line of CSS you write is a suggestion. You are not dictating how the HTML should be rendered; you are suggesting how the HTML should be rendered. I find that to be a very liberating and empowering idea.

My only regret is that—twenty years on from the birth of CSS—web browsers are killing the very idea of user stylesheets. Along with “view source”, this feature really drove home the idea that professional web developers are not the only ones who have a say in what gets rendered in web browsers …and that the web truly is for everyone.


Emil has been playing around with CSS variables (or “custom properties” as they should more correctly be known), which have started landing in some browsers. It’s well worth a read. He does a great job of explaining the potential of this new CSS feature.

For now though, most of us will be using preprocessors like Sass to do our variabling for us. Sass was the subject of Chris’s talk at An Event Apart in San Francisco last week—an excellent event as always.

At one point, Chris briefly mentioned that he’s quite happy for variables (or constants, really) to remain in Sass and not to be part of the CSS spec. Alas, I didn’t get a chance to chat with Chris about that some more, but I wonder if his thinking aligns with mine. Because I too believe that CSS variables should remain firmly in the realm of preprocessers rather than browsers.

Hear me out…

There are a lot of really powerful programmatic concepts that we could add to CSS, all of which would certainly make it a more powerful language. But I think that power would come at an expense.

Right now, CSS is a relatively-straightforward language:

CSS isn’t voodoo, it’s a simple and straightforward language where you declare an element has a style and it happens.

That’s a somewhat-simplistic summation, and there’s definitely some complexity to certain aspects of CSS—like specificity or margin collapsing—but on the whole, it has a straightforward declarative syntax:

selector {
    property: value;

That’s it. I think that this simplicity is quite beautiful and surprisingly powerful.

Over at my collection of design principles, I’ve got a section on Bert Bos’s essay What is a good standard? In theory, it’s about designing standards in general, but it matches very closely to CSS in particular. Some of the watchwords are maintainability, modularity, extensibility, simplicity, and learnability. A lot of those principles are clearly connected. I think CSS does a pretty good job of balancing all of those principles, while still providing authors with quite a bit of power.

Going back to that fundamental pattern of CSS, you’ll notice that is completely modular:

selector {
    property: value;

None of those pieces (selector, property, value) reference anything elsewhere in the style sheet. But as soon as you introduce variables, that modularity is snapped apart. Now you’ve got a value that refers to something defined elsewhere in the style sheet (or even in a completely different style sheet).

But variables aren’t the first addition to CSS that sacrifices modularity. CSS animations already do that. If you want to invoke a keyframe animation, you have to define it. The declaration and the invocation happen in separate blocks:

selector {
    animation-name: myanimation;
@keyframes myanimation {
    from {
        property: value;
    to {
        property: value;

I’m not sure that there’s any better way to provide powerful animations in CSS, but this feature does sacrifice modularity …and I believe that has a knock-on effect for learnability and readability.

So CSS variables (or custom properties) aren’t the first crack in the wall of the design principles behind CSS. To mix my metaphors, the slippery slope began with @keyframes (and maybe @font-face too).

But there’s no denying that having variables/constants in CSS provide a lot of power. There’s plenty of programming ideas (like loops and functions) that would provide lots of power to CSS. I still don’t think it’s a good idea to mix up the declarative and the programmatic. That way lies XSLT—a strange hybrid beast that’s sort of a markup language and sort of a programming language.

I feel very strongly that HTML and CSS should remain learnable languages. I don’t just mean for professionals. I believe it’s really important that anybody should be able to write and style a web page.

Now does that mean that CSS must therefore remain hobbled? No, I don’t think so. Thanks to preprocessors like Sass, we can have our cake and eat it too. As professionals, we can use tools like Sass to wield the power of variables, functions (mixins) and other powerful concepts from the programming world.

Preprocessors cut the Gordian knot that’s formed from the tension in CSS between providing powerful features and remaining relatively easy to learn. That’s why I’m quite happy for variables, mixins, nesting and the like to remain firmly in the realm of Sass.

Incidentally, at An Event Apart, Chris was making the case that Sass’s power comes from the fact that it’s an abstraction. I don’t think that’s necessarily true—I think the fact that it provides a layer of abstraction might be a red herring.

Chris made the case for abstractions being inherently A Good Thing. Certainly if you go far enough down the stack (to Assembly Language), that’s true. But not all abstractions are good abstractions, and I’m not just talking about Spolky’s law of leaky abstractions.

Let’s take two different abstractions that share a common origin story:

  • Sass is an abstraction layer for CSS.
  • Haml is an abstraction layer for HTML.

If abstractions were inherently A Good Thing, then they would both provide value to some extent. But whereas Sass is a well-designed tool that allows CSS-savvy authors to write their CSS more easily, Haml is a steaming pile of poo.

Here’s the crucial difference: Sass doesn’t force you to write all your CSS in a completely new way. In fact, every .css file is automatically a valid .scss file. You are then free to use—or ignore—the features of Sass at your own pace.

Haml, on the other hand, forces you to use a completely new whitespace-significant syntax that maps on to HTML. There are no half-measures. It is an abstraction that is not only opinionated, it refuses to be reasoned with.

So I don’t think that Sass is good because it’s an abstraction; I think that Sass is good because it’s a well-designed abstraction. Crucially, it’s also easy to learn …just like CSS.

A question of style

I’ve just a written a post over on the Clearleft blog about the way we’re currently nailing down some front-end design principles.

Front-end development principles Gathering principles

I’m a big fan of design principles for many reasons, not least of which is they way they can help to quickly resolve debates and arguments. They become a kind of higher authority to appeal to, taking opinion and ego out of the equation.

They can also lead to specific design patterns. This is something I’ve talked about in the past: the goals of a project inform its principles, which in turn inform the patterns that are used.

In the case of front-end design principles, they are informed by some higher-level goals. As I wrote on the Clearleft blog, some of those goals are user-centric, and some are developer-centric:

The user-centric goals include:

  • performance,
  • accessibility, and
  • device-agnosticism.

While the developer-centric goals include:

  • maintainability,
  • readability, and
  • modularity.

In turn, the final patterns produced—the actual markup and CSS and JavaScript—should be influenced by the resulting principles: the code should be maintainable, readable, and modular. So at the same time as we were figuring out high-level principles, we are also defining an in-house coding style.

In-house code style

Now here’s the thing about coding style: while it should ideally be informed by your design principles, there’s another factor that overrides everything else—what coding style is preferred by the developers who will be inheriting your code?

When it comes to things like tabs vs. spaces, or indentation, or naming variables, what matters is not which style you use, but that everyone is using the same style.

So, for example, I favour tabs over spaces. And I don’t tend to camelCase variable names in JavaScript. And I don’t like indenting my markup (I make judicious use of new lines instead). But I’m in the minority. I could try to force my style on everyone else at work but that wouldn’t be very productive. It’s far more important that everyone settles on the same style—any style—than it is for a coding style to be “correct.” The only “correct” coding style is the one that everyone is agreeing to use.

Mind you, people who write JavaScript functions with the opening curly brace on a new line are just plain wrong.

Whitney Hess: Design Principles — The Philosophy of UX

The second speaker at this mornings An Event Apart in Boston is Whitney Hess. Here goes with the liveblogging…

Whitney’s talk is about design principles. As a consultant, she spends a lot of time talking about UX and inevitably, the talk turns to deliverables and process but really we should be establishing a philosophy about how to treat people, in the same way that visual design is about establishing a philosophy about how make an impact. Visual design has principles to achieve that: contrast, emphasis, balance, proportion, rhythm, movement, texture, harmony and unity.

Why have these principles? It’s about establishing a basis for your design decisions, leading to consistency. It’s about having a shared vision and they allow for an objective evaluation of the outcome.

But good design doesn’t necessarily equate to a good experience. The Apple G4 Cube was beautifully designed but it was limited in where and how it could be used.

Good design can equal good experience. That’s why Whitney does what she does. But she needs our help. She’s going to propose a set of design principles that she feels are universally applicable.

  1. Stay out of people’s way. The Tumblr homepage does this. You can find out more about Tumblr further down the page, but it doesn’t assume that’s what you want to have thrust in your face. Instead the primary content is all about getting started with Tumblr straight away.
  2. Create a hierarchy that matches people’s needs. This is about prioritisation. Mint.com uses different font sizes to match the hierarchy of importance on its “ways to save” page. Give the most crucial elements the greatest prominence. Use hierarchy to help people process information.
  3. Limit distractions. Don’t put pregnancy test kits next to condoms. On the web, Wanderfly does this right: one single path, completely self-contained. Multi-tasking is a myth. Let people focus on one task. Design for consecutive tasks, not concurrent.
  4. Provide strong information scent. Quora does a great job at this with its suggested search options. It’s actively helping you choose the right one. People don’t like to guess haphazardly, they like to follow their nose.
  5. Provide signposts and cues. Labelling is important. The Neiman Marcus e-commerce site does this right. It’s always clear where you are: the navigation is highlighted. You’d think that in 2011 this would be standard but you’d be surprised. Never let people get lost, especially on the web where there’s a limitless number of paths. Show people where they came from and where they’re going.
  6. Provide context. A sign that says “Back in 30 minutes” isn’t helpful if you’re in a hurry—you don’t know when the sign was put up. On the web, AirBnB provides everything you need to know on a listing page, all in one place. It’s self-contained and everything is communicated up-front.
  7. Use constraints appropriately. Preventing error is a lot better than recovering from it. If you know there are restrictions ahead of time, stop people from going down that route in the first place.
  8. Make actions reversible. (illustrated with a misspelled Glee tattoo) Remember The Milk provides an “undo?” link with almost every action. There’s no such thing as perfect design; people will make errors, so you should have a contingency plan. Undo is probably the most powerful control you can provide to people.
  9. Provide feedback. How do you know when you’re asthma inhaler is empty? You don’t. You won’t find out until the worst moment. On the web, loading indicators provide useful feedback. Tell people that a task is underway. Design is a conversation, not a monologue.
  10. Make a good first impression. Vimeo has one of the best first-time user experiences: “Welcome. You’re new, aren’t you?” Establish the rules, set expectations about the relationship you’re about to initiate on your site.

The basis for all of these principles are Aristotle’s modes of persuasion: logos, ethos and pathos—the rhetorical triangle.

Are universal principles enough? Probably not. Every company is different. Some companies publicly share their principles. Take Google’s “Ten Principles That Contribute to a Googley User Experience” as an example, or Facebook’s design principle …or Windows design principles for a good laugh. Look beyond the tech world too, like Charles and Ray Eames or Burning Man’s design principles.

So what are your company’s principles? Without principles, we don’t know what we’re trying to achieve. Here are some guiding ideas:

  1. Research available principles from elsewhere.
  2. Gather, list and print out the business goals and user needs.
  3. Brainstorm with key collaborators.
  4. Narrow down to no more than 10, preferably 7.
  5. Make sure they don’t overlap.
  6. Make them peppy.

Use the design principles at kickoff meetings, when your prioritising features, brainstorming sessions, design critiques, stakeholder presentations, resolving conflict, postmortems and web metric analysis: evaluating the success of the feature or product.

Remember, user experience is the establishment of a philosophy of how to treat people. Help people make their lives better.

Principles Apart

I was nervous as hell before my talk at An Event Apart Seattle. I don’t normally get quite so nervous but it was a new talk and also …it’s An Event Apart! They set a very, very high bar.

Once I got on stage though, I just started geeking out. I was talking about design principles, a subject I find fascinating. I’m hoping that some of my enthusiasm for the subject helped make for a compelling presentation.

It was a whirlwind tour, starting with a long-zoom look at design principles in history before moving on to the web, where I took an up-close-and-personal look at CSS and quite a bit of HTML, before pulling back again to talk about our planet, our solar system and our galaxy. Yes, there was a space elevator.

I mentioned a range of people, organisations and projects that have documented their design principles, but rather than fill up the slides with lots of URLs, I gave just one URL at the start (and end) of the talk:


That’s where I gathering today examples of documented design principles. By “documented” I mean “published on the web.” There are some really interesting principles from disciplines like urban design but as long as they are locked up in books that aren’t addressable on the network, I can’t link to them.

This is a fairly small-scale project so I figured a wiki might be overkill but if you know of any good documented design principles that should be added to the list, let me know

Jeremy Keith, Design Principles, Day II, #aea Jeremy Keith, Design Principles, Day II, #aea