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It's interesting...
May. 29th, 2002 03:09 pmWhile trying to edit my Bio for this egocentric form of communication, I scanned the interests of icebluenothing looking for hints into my own psyche. Six and I have known each other for... well... jesus h. christ on a flaming pogo stick Six, it'll be 17 years this fall. *boggle*
You'd never know it by looking at us, but Six and I share many interests... including ones I've had to shelve due to lack of time, recently. So, peering into his interests is a good way to remind myself of me at times.
One popped out: Scott McCloud. For those of you not in the know, shame on you. Scott McCloud is a comics creator, and general philosopher. One of his books, _Understanding Comics_, is considered a landmark treatise on the evolution of linear graphic art, starting with neolithic cave painting, traversing through various cultural communication forms over the years, and finally landing in an amazing look at how geography and culture shaped the current world crop of 'comics'. From that point alone, it's a serious academic work.
But McCloud went further, and investigated the process of creation itself, and resulted in several key insights that apply not only to the more obvious creative arts, but apply to *any* act of creation in my experience... including the process of software design and creation.
Software is an odd alchemy of technical and artistic. The base electronics are grounded in physical law, immutable and concrete. The core language theories are similarly encoded in a syntax and semantics hierarchy that is considered hard and fast[1].
At the same time, however, software design is an artform - ask any good designer what process they go through to create a large, intricate yet elegant design, and moreso, how they know when it's right, and 99% of the time they can't tell you. The 1% are either exceptionally self-aware (1% of that 1%, I'd say), or blowing steam.
I've been asked that question, and I can't tell you, really. The closest I can come is to describe what goes on in my head - the design shifts, and shapes, and morphs itself of its own accord. 'Objects' and 'classes' have shape, color, smell, taste, sound, and texture. Poor designs are 'jarring'. Good designs are 'pleasing'. I can't describe what my deeper mind does to come to the designs it does, only what it looks like to my conscious mind. I'm just an observer into my own thought processes. [2]
McCloud postulated that the path of gaining experience in an artform has seven steps. Unfortunately, my copy of the text is packed away at the moment, but I do recall the last two stages. It's a choice.
Once one has mastered an artform, one has to decide where to go from there, what to investigate as the critical expression of the art. Is it the outer form, in all its varied modes of expression? Or is it the underlying core, pushing the basic tenets of the art in new directions?
I chose the core.
My dissertation research is something that will never result in my being a household name, even with the technical cognoscenti. I'll never be a Linus, or a Stallman, or a Kay, or a Brooks. I can live with that.
But it's important. It's something that could, if I'm right, fundamentally change how we approach and perceive software design. This is exciting... to me, at least.[3]
And, to get back to the topic, I have Scott McCloud to thank for it. I was stuck in a job I didn't particularly care for, looking for the next step in my own path of advancement, when I read Understanding Comics for the first time. McCloud's bifurcation of the end of the path was an enlightenment to me, and it crystallized my thoughts into a form where I could think about taking that next step, from practitioner to researcher. It is difficult to convey how important this was to me.
It was even more difficult to convey to Scott directly, when I was fortunate enough to meet him in person at HyperText 2000, a conference for hypermedia in San Antonio, Texas. McCloud was the keynote speaker, expousing his ideas that were coming out that month in his second text Beyond Comics. Excellent talk, but sheer chance gave me the opportunity to invite him to dinner with my advisor that evening, and he accepted.
We completely and utterly geeked out. Who would have known he was such a movie buff? My advisor and his college buddy were in one conversation, and Scott and I discussed everything from Alexander's Notes on the Synthesis of Form, to Tarentino films, to how Iron Giant was one of the best films of the year. Three hours later, I finally had the courage to just thank him, and he seemed genuinely touched. It appeared that he hadn't realized that his work could actually affect and change lives... but what good art doesn't?
So to all who are on a path of artistic expression and experimentation, no matter what form or medium, I recommend Scott McCloud's writings as an excellent insight into the creative process. He expresses things that most people, artist or not, will never even realize exist, and does so in a way that is easily digestible and just plain fun.
[1] This is under serious attack as of late, and I am just now getting myself into the battle. 'Turing machine' is a gross injustice to Alan Turing, and only describes the most basic and simplistic of his creations, the a-machine. Others of his design correspond almost *exactly* to models of computation that are only now becoming mainstream, despite their being implemented in the late 60's by Kay et al in the Smalltalk system.
[2] More common than you might realize... think closely about how often you've felt a discontinuity in your perceptions, and if you catch it just right, you can watch your own thoughts form. An inner satori, the first step towards hacking yourself.
[3] I know that sounds pompous and all, but deal with it. It's a dissertation. If it isn't 'important', it's not worth of a dissertation, right? (Well, that's how it *should* be...)
You'd never know it by looking at us, but Six and I share many interests... including ones I've had to shelve due to lack of time, recently. So, peering into his interests is a good way to remind myself of me at times.
One popped out: Scott McCloud. For those of you not in the know, shame on you. Scott McCloud is a comics creator, and general philosopher. One of his books, _Understanding Comics_, is considered a landmark treatise on the evolution of linear graphic art, starting with neolithic cave painting, traversing through various cultural communication forms over the years, and finally landing in an amazing look at how geography and culture shaped the current world crop of 'comics'. From that point alone, it's a serious academic work.
But McCloud went further, and investigated the process of creation itself, and resulted in several key insights that apply not only to the more obvious creative arts, but apply to *any* act of creation in my experience... including the process of software design and creation.
Software is an odd alchemy of technical and artistic. The base electronics are grounded in physical law, immutable and concrete. The core language theories are similarly encoded in a syntax and semantics hierarchy that is considered hard and fast[1].
At the same time, however, software design is an artform - ask any good designer what process they go through to create a large, intricate yet elegant design, and moreso, how they know when it's right, and 99% of the time they can't tell you. The 1% are either exceptionally self-aware (1% of that 1%, I'd say), or blowing steam.
I've been asked that question, and I can't tell you, really. The closest I can come is to describe what goes on in my head - the design shifts, and shapes, and morphs itself of its own accord. 'Objects' and 'classes' have shape, color, smell, taste, sound, and texture. Poor designs are 'jarring'. Good designs are 'pleasing'. I can't describe what my deeper mind does to come to the designs it does, only what it looks like to my conscious mind. I'm just an observer into my own thought processes. [2]
McCloud postulated that the path of gaining experience in an artform has seven steps. Unfortunately, my copy of the text is packed away at the moment, but I do recall the last two stages. It's a choice.
Once one has mastered an artform, one has to decide where to go from there, what to investigate as the critical expression of the art. Is it the outer form, in all its varied modes of expression? Or is it the underlying core, pushing the basic tenets of the art in new directions?
I chose the core.
My dissertation research is something that will never result in my being a household name, even with the technical cognoscenti. I'll never be a Linus, or a Stallman, or a Kay, or a Brooks. I can live with that.
But it's important. It's something that could, if I'm right, fundamentally change how we approach and perceive software design. This is exciting... to me, at least.[3]
And, to get back to the topic, I have Scott McCloud to thank for it. I was stuck in a job I didn't particularly care for, looking for the next step in my own path of advancement, when I read Understanding Comics for the first time. McCloud's bifurcation of the end of the path was an enlightenment to me, and it crystallized my thoughts into a form where I could think about taking that next step, from practitioner to researcher. It is difficult to convey how important this was to me.
It was even more difficult to convey to Scott directly, when I was fortunate enough to meet him in person at HyperText 2000, a conference for hypermedia in San Antonio, Texas. McCloud was the keynote speaker, expousing his ideas that were coming out that month in his second text Beyond Comics. Excellent talk, but sheer chance gave me the opportunity to invite him to dinner with my advisor that evening, and he accepted.
We completely and utterly geeked out. Who would have known he was such a movie buff? My advisor and his college buddy were in one conversation, and Scott and I discussed everything from Alexander's Notes on the Synthesis of Form, to Tarentino films, to how Iron Giant was one of the best films of the year. Three hours later, I finally had the courage to just thank him, and he seemed genuinely touched. It appeared that he hadn't realized that his work could actually affect and change lives... but what good art doesn't?
So to all who are on a path of artistic expression and experimentation, no matter what form or medium, I recommend Scott McCloud's writings as an excellent insight into the creative process. He expresses things that most people, artist or not, will never even realize exist, and does so in a way that is easily digestible and just plain fun.
[1] This is under serious attack as of late, and I am just now getting myself into the battle. 'Turing machine' is a gross injustice to Alan Turing, and only describes the most basic and simplistic of his creations, the a-machine. Others of his design correspond almost *exactly* to models of computation that are only now becoming mainstream, despite their being implemented in the late 60's by Kay et al in the Smalltalk system.
[2] More common than you might realize... think closely about how often you've felt a discontinuity in your perceptions, and if you catch it just right, you can watch your own thoughts form. An inner satori, the first step towards hacking yourself.
[3] I know that sounds pompous and all, but deal with it. It's a dissertation. If it isn't 'important', it's not worth of a dissertation, right? (Well, that's how it *should* be...)
