“We’re building edgeless environments of divergency. Things are added in chaos, then if successful, they expanded further and further out until they collapse and rearrange. This is probably why responsive design feels so relevant, maddening, and divisive: its patterns mimic the larger patterns of technology itself.”
I remember a time when technology wasn’t as accessible as it is now. I may not be in the dial-up, AOL generation, but my siblings were. With almost a decade between us, I got to experience the joys of the early stages of the internet from the second desk chair we had in the basement. A good majority of people born in 2005 and earlier remember their first experience with a computer whether it was at your elementary school’s computer lab or the heavy desktop with the warm, always humming CPU box next to it (and always in the basement).
Being true to youngest sibling fashion, I would sit next to my siblings and watch them play on girlsgogames or log onto their Myspace pages. Some days, if I were especially lucky (or just beat them to the computer first), I would play on Webkinz with all of my toys with names that were riddled with typos (like “Amila” when I meant to call her “Amelia”). But as Frank Chimero explained, the joy and wonder you get when you first access technology fades over time. The basement family computer eventually becomes an iPhone that travels with you in your pocket. Technology is everywhere; you can even order food on an iPad at a restaurant and never have to interact with another person there.
Is this accessibility really worth it though?
“Up to a point, swapping autonomy for ease is a pretty good trade: who wants to run the math on their accounting books or call the restaurant to place a delivery order? But if taken too far, convenience becomes a Trojan Horse. We cede too much control and become dependent on something we can no longer steer.”
I loved the mention of David Hockney, especially his photo joiners because he has been one of my favorite artists since high school. Viewing his work in comparison to a website, both edgeless and made up of smaller pieces that create the final image, gives a site new meaning.
This is similar to what I said in a previous exercise: a website is a live extension of its creator, and a responsive website is even more so. Where a piece of art like a painting is stationary, a website exists everywhere on every device and screen. So maybe this new level of accessibility isn't such a bad thing after all.