Analytics apps don't tell you much about usage behavior. You might be able to see how many users performed an event, or how many times they did it. But none of the analytics packages out there are good at showing you how often people do things. Are they using to-dos once a week? Every day? Only signing into the app once a month but happily paying for years?
Time matters. You can't understand usage without time.
Here I describe an approach for defining new information architectures for large organizational websites managed by many stakeholder groups.
Broadly speaking, there are four general phases to the approach:
Auditing. Begin by immersing yourself in existing content and encourage stakeholders to adopt a critical, audience-minded perspective of their content.
Diagramming. Work with stakeholders to develop new conceptual categories that better serve audiences and organizational direction.
Elaborating. Think through content in detail and test new categories against specific instances and edge cases.
Producing. Prepare content teams for production using a shared database of new sitemap pages and editorial considerations that you’ve developed incrementally.
Abandoned by the world, no longer of use, but still carefully repaired and preserved, these were no ordinary objects. The reasons for their maintenance remain a mystery. At this point, they could only be described as "art". No—not so much "art" as something that exceeds art...
This was 1982, the year that Gary Thomasson was batting cleanup for the Yomiuri Giants. Thomasson had the unfortunate nickname of "The Electric Fan", which, if you think about it, was exactly what he was. Night after night, he stood in the batter's box, whiffing mightily at the ball, down on three strikes every time. He had a fully-formed body and yet served no purpose to the world. And the Giants were still paying a mint to keep him there. It was a beautiful thing. I'm not being ironic here either. Seriously, I can't think of any way to describe Gary Thomasson but as "living hyperart".