The cubicle had the effect of putting people close enough to each other to create serious social annoyances, but dividing them so that they didn’t actually feel that they were working together. It had all the hazards of privacy and sociability but the benefits of neither. It got so bad that nobody wanted them taken away; even those three walls offered some kind of psychological home, a place one could call one’s own. All these factors could deepen the frenzied solitude of an office worker.
We're very good at talking about immersive experiences, personalized content, growth hacking, responsive strategy, user centered design, social media activation, retargeting, CMS and user experience. But behind all this jargon lurks the uncomfortable idea that we might be accomplices in the destruction of a platform that was meant to empower and bring people together; the possibility that we are instead building a machine that surveils, subverts, manipulates, overwhelms and exploits people.
It all comes down a simple but very dangerous shift: the major websites of today's web are not built for the visitor, but as means of using her. Our visitor has become a data point, a customer profile, a potential lead — a proverbial fly in the spider's web. In the guise of user-centered design, we're building an increasingly user-hostile web.
What I'm against is the centralization of services; Facebook and Google are virtually everywhere today. Through share buttons, free services, mobile applications, login gateways and analytics, they are able to be present on virtually every website you visit. This gives them immense power and control. They get to unilaterally make decisions that affect our collective behavior, our expectations and our well-being. You're either with them or out. Well, I chose out.
You see, the web wasn't meant to be a gated community.
Take the use of enormous plate windows...they deprive our buildings of intimacy, the effect of shadow and atmosphere. Architects all over the world have been mistaken in the proportions which they have assigned to large plate windows or spaces opening to the outside. We have lost our sense of intimate life, and have become forced to live public lives, essentially away from home.
In the field, there is a continuous flow of information that consists of daily observations, insights, and data. How can I capture these data and thoughts in notes, maps, and images so that they will be of value both to me and to future generations of scientists?
The myriad tools of the digital age that provide quick ways to capture words, images, and data have added to the perception that handwritten field notebooks are passé. As someone who routinely encounters objects that can speak to us over millions of years, I may have a bias towards things that have stood the test of time. That said, it is clear that there is still much to recommend preserving records and information in traditional paper field notes.
Over the course of my career, I have developed a habitual field note protocol in which a paper notebook is used both to record information and to integrate records made on standardized data sheets, in computer files, and in photographs.
(1) Record your work as notes to your future self and colleagues.
Write notes so that someone fifty years from now (or more) will understand and be able to use the factual information you collected, perhaps for purposes quite different from the original reasons.
Clearly separate facts from interpretations so these are not confusing to a future reader.
(2) Establish a clear and consistent notebook format and process.
I always include the data, place, main activities or events, weather conditions, and other people involves. The day, month, and year is the most important link between that particular point in time and other people’s records, separate data sheets that I filled out myself, photos, and most important, collected specimens.
Documenting collecting strategies and protocols receives special attention. In the moment, these may seem like common knowledge for the field team, so sometimes no one bothers to write them out.
(3) Don’t lose your field records!
(4) Pack a camera, create a visual record.
No matter how many words you write to describe a fossil locality, you can’t beat an actual photo, taken on the spot, annotated in pen, and pasted into your notebook.
There is no substitute for a photograph you actually mark in “real time” in the field as the best way to preserve a lasting, accurate record for yourself, or for someone who has never seen the site or object in question.
(5) Learning through sketches and diagrams.
Photographs are great, but drawn what you see is a more powerful way to learn about spatial patterns and relationships.
Even if you are not an expert at drawing, you can make sketches that are much more informative than words would be.
Always include a scale, an orientation, and labels in your diagrams.