Apparently some are getting our message that a simple design benefits all.
kelly
from the new York Times
December 13, 1998
Click Here for Less Confusion
By J.D. BIERSDORFER
In the beginning, there was darkness. O.K., maybe not complete
darkness -- just black text on a grim, gray background. Even in its
infancy, the World Wide Web offered a lot of information, but the
presentation was relentlessly dull. No flashy graphics, no video,
no audio clips. No photo-filled shrines to the cast of "Buffy the
Vampire Slayer," no animated Naked Dancing Llama Home Page. Yawn.
Created roughly a decade ago by scientists in Geneva wishing to
exchange data electronically, the Web quickly transcended its
laboratory origins. As millions of outsiders discovered the art of
browsing, pictures and graphics started studding Web pages,
creating a new kind of illuminated manuscript -- and feeding the
human hunger for cool-looking stuff.
Yet this hunger has not always inspired good design. Indeed, a love
of electronic embellishment has led to a proliferation of Web sites
that are trendy showcases, full of razzle-dazzle but lacking all
sense of placement and clarity. Befuddled users often find
themselves staring at the screen, wondering, "Where do I go from
here?"
As a result, the top Web designers today are trying to pare down
their pages, creating sites that are logical as well as luscious.
"Web design is the perfect battle of form versus function,"
observes Karen Kane, a freelance designer who has worked in both
the print and Web worlds.
"Web surfers have a very short attention span, and considering how
slow modems are today, it's a challenge to attract someone
quickly," says Jeffrey Veen, the executive director of Interface
for Wired Digital, and the man responsible for the streamlined
looks of the Hotbot search engine and the Wired News page. "We try
to grab someone's attention in less than 10 seconds. That means
using almost no complex images -- just text and simple colors for
visual cues." The Hotbot site gets most of its visual zip from the
juxtaposition of neon green and fire-engine red. These bright color
blocks signpost key functional features, from "Find People" to
"Help." Says Veen: "What many designers forget is they need to
explain to their audience how to use a page, as well as how to read
it."
Other Web sites aren't quite so supple. The home page for the Sony
Corporation displays links to various parts of its empire in a
relatively forthright manner. But the page has an Achilles' heel: a
row of small images, right below the main links, are constantly
changing and flashing at you, pulling your eye from the minimal
amounts of text. It's like trying to read by strobe light.
It could be worse. Take, for example, the former ICQ home page.
This company offers free Web-chat software, and it was a feat to
peruse its site without melting your eyeballs from the brassy
rainbow of colored buttons all over the page. It was the "Jeopardy"
board reincarnated as a navigational device. After months of
withering criticism of its site, the ICQ designers threw up the
white flag, redesigning the site as an all-text page.
Time Warner's Pathfinder site similarly stuffs its page with
information, including headlines from its various magazines, a
scrolling news wire, an online shopping area, a link to free e-mail
and a few ads thrown in for good measure. While each individual
link leads to something interesting, the layout is simply too
dense. Imagine trying to find that one copy of "Fountain Pen
Monthly" on an overstuffed (and un-alphabetized) magazine rack, and
you'll get the idea.
Fortunately, not all corporate Web pages have become noisy,
animated, "interactive" affairs. With a minimalist dab of animation
and headings that respond to the user's mouse movements, the
official site for Ikea, the home-furnishings chain, conveys a
laid-back, easy-browsing atmosphere, much like the real-life store.
The contents page doesn't spill over with excess text; there's just
enough to guide you along. Another retail stalwart, the Gap has a
site that also captures the essence of the in-store experience: no
muss, no fuss, and they just wanna sell you some pants. The clean
Helvetica typography evokes the Gap's print ads, and the product
categories are up there in big links, just waiting to be clicked
on. Curiously, though, the only two buttons on the page read
SHOPPING BAG and SUBMIT. Perhaps it's a subliminal message from the
designers.
Another widely admired site is the home page for Volvo. Min Kyung
Chang, a Web designer in New York, lauds it for its savvy mix of
animation, content and layout, saying: "Car sites have to be
intriguing, with a touch of drama." The page loads a quick
animation of type fading in and out next to a shimmery picture of a
Volvo. After this brief show, the site automatically transports you
to the main page of links. Guessing that you probably came there to
look at the cars, the first link on the page is "Showroom," which
logically leads to another page where you can check out the recent
models, find a dealer and even read about Volvo's financing plan.
Even better is the official "X-Files" site. With its moody
black-and-white images and just a hint of color, the site
consistently evokes the noirish atmosphere of its TV parent.
Detectives Scully and Mulder stand together in ghostly chiaroscuro
on the opening page next to a stripped-down menu of options. The
accompanying pages, from a chat room to an episode guide, employ a
sexy silvery type that's easy to read. It's not a cutting-edge bit
of technology, but in terms of design, the site merits the highest
praise this Web surfer can give: a bookmark on my browser.
Copyright 1998 The New York Times Company
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