I have a new mobile phone. The old one started developing the unmistakable signs of phone Alzheimer's, and had to be institutionalised for its own good. Its replacement is the finest model Samsung could provide for five pounds. That's right, five hundred pee. Initially, I could scarcely bring myself to look at the wretch, so cheap-looking was it in comparison with the one it replaced. However, one day in its presence changed all that.
I've always been someone who champions simplicity. It's usually the most subtle and elegant solution to a problem that proves also to be the most robust. Complication adds links to the chain, weak ones. Actually, that's quite a potent analogy I've happened across there. When constructing a chain, one wouldn't make it any longer than the task at hand demands it be. Additional links would simply inhibit its ability to do its job properly. So why would you bother? That's right - you wouldn't. *But* this problem-solving Occam's razor approach to design seems to have gone the way of the Bakelite Dodo in our digital age.
It seems the more complicated and diverse the applications to which an electronic device can turn its hand, the better. And we all just take this change as shorthand for progress. No-one steps backs from the crash site for a moment to ask: is this device a better solution to the problem than its predecessor? With phones, the answer is a resounding no.
Take my wife's phone for example. It's an all-singing all-dancing smart phone. It does a number of things quickly and well. The only fly in the chowder, in fact, is that you can't really make phone calls on it. If the manufacturer had a shred of self-knowledge and/or decency, service-pack 2 would be a loudhailer; it's that bad. My new phone, on the other hand, excels in this regard. It's battery lasts for months on a single charge. And should I lose it or drop it down the karzey by accident, I won't need a bank loan to replace it.
Occam's razor...tell your friends.
I've always been someone who champions simplicity. It's usually the most subtle and elegant solution to a problem that proves also to be the most robust. Complication adds links to the chain, weak ones. Actually, that's quite a potent analogy I've happened across there. When constructing a chain, one wouldn't make it any longer than the task at hand demands it be. Additional links would simply inhibit its ability to do its job properly. So why would you bother? That's right - you wouldn't. *But* this problem-solving Occam's razor approach to design seems to have gone the way of the Bakelite Dodo in our digital age.
It seems the more complicated and diverse the applications to which an electronic device can turn its hand, the better. And we all just take this change as shorthand for progress. No-one steps backs from the crash site for a moment to ask: is this device a better solution to the problem than its predecessor? With phones, the answer is a resounding no.
Take my wife's phone for example. It's an all-singing all-dancing smart phone. It does a number of things quickly and well. The only fly in the chowder, in fact, is that you can't really make phone calls on it. If the manufacturer had a shred of self-knowledge and/or decency, service-pack 2 would be a loudhailer; it's that bad. My new phone, on the other hand, excels in this regard. It's battery lasts for months on a single charge. And should I lose it or drop it down the karzey by accident, I won't need a bank loan to replace it.
Occam's razor...tell your friends.
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