rowid,title,contents,year,author,author_slug,published,url,topic 275,Context First: Web Strategy in Four Handy Ws,"Many, many years ago, before web design became my proper job, I trained and worked as a journalist. I studied publishing in London and spent three fun years learning how to take a few little nuggets of information and turn them into a story. I learned a bunch of stuff that has all been a huge help to my design career. Flatplanning, layout, typographic theory. All of these disciplines have since translated really well to web design, but without doubt the most useful thing I learned was how to ask difficult questions. Pretty much from day one of journalism school they hammer into you the importance of the Five Ws. Five disarmingly simple lines of enquiry that eloquently manage to provide the meat of any decent story. And with alliteration thrown in too. For a young journo, it’s almost too good to be true. Who? What? Where? When? Why? It seems so obvious to almost be trite but, fundamentally, any story that manages to answer those questions for the reader is doing a pretty good job. You’ll probably have noticed feeling underwhelmed by certain news pieces in the past – disappointed, like something was missing. Some irritating oversight that really lets the story down. No doubt it was one of the Ws – those innocuous little suckers are generally only noticeable by their absence, but they sure get missed when they’re not there. Question everything I’ve always been curious. An inveterate tinkerer with things and asker of dopey questions, often to the point of abject annoyance for anyone unfortunate enough to have ended up in my line of fire. So, naturally, the Five Ws started drifting into other areas of my life. I’d scrutinize everything, trying to justify or explain my rationale using these Ws, but I’d also find myself ripping apart the stuff that clearly couldn’t justify itself against the same criteria. So when I started working as a designer I applied the same logic and, sure enough, the Ws pretty much mapped to the exact same needs we had for gathering requirements at the start of a project. It seemed so obvious, such a simple way to establish the purpose of a product. What was it for? Why we were making it? And, of course, who were we making it for? It forced clients to stop and think, when really what they wanted was to get going and see something shiny. Sometimes that was a tricky conversation to have, but it’s no coincidence that those who got it also understood the value of strategy and went on to have good solid products, while those that didn’t often ended up with arrogantly insular and very shiny but ultimately unsatisfying and expendable products. Empty vessels make the most noise and all that… Content first I was both surprised and pleased when the whole content first idea started to rear its head a couple of years back. Pleased, because without doubt it’s absolutely the right way to work. And surprised, because personally it’s always been the way I’ve done it – I wasn’t aware there was even an alternative way. Content in some form or another is the whole reason we were making the things we were making. I can’t even imagine how you’d start figuring out what a site needs to do, how it should be structured, or how it should look without a really good idea of what that content might be. It baffles me still that this was somehow news to a lot of people. What on earth were they doing? Design without purpose is just folly, surely? It’s great to see the idea gaining momentum but, having watched it unfold, it occurred to me recently that although it’s fantastic to see a tangible shift in thinking – away from those bleak times, where making things up was somehow deemed an appropriate way to do things – there’s now a new bad guy in town. With any buzzword solution of the moment, there’s always a catch, and it seems like some have taken the content first approach a little too literally. By which I mean, it’s literally the first thing they do. The project starts, there’s a very cursory nod towards gathering requirements, and off they go, cranking content. Writing copy, making video, commissioning illustrations. All that’s happened is that the ‘making stuff up’ part has shifted along the line, away from layout and UI, back to the content. Starting is too easy I can’t remember where I first heard that phrase, but it’s a great sentiment which applies to so much of what we do on the web. The medium is so accessible and to an extent disposable; throwing things together quickly carries far less burden than in any other industry. We’re used to tweaking as we go, changing bits, iterating things into shape. The ubiquitous beta tag has become the ultimate caveat, and has made the unfinished and unpolished acceptable. Of course, that can work brilliantly in some circumstances. Occasionally, a product offers such a paradigm shift it’s beyond the level of deep planning and prelaunch finessing we’d ideally like. But, in the main, for most client sites we work on, there really is no excuse not to do things properly. To ask the tricky questions, to challenge preconceptions and really understand the Ws behind the products we’re making before we even start. The four Ws For product definition, only four of the five Ws really apply, although there’s a lot of discussion around the idea of when being an influencing factor. For example, the context of a user’s engagement with your product is something you can make a call on depending on the specifics of the project. So, here’s my take on the four essential Ws. I’ll point out here that, of course, these are not intended to be autocratic dictums. Your needs may differ, your clients’ needs may differ, but these four starting points will get you pretty close to where you need to be. Who It’s surprising just how many projects start without a real understanding of the intended audience. Many clients think they have an idea, but without really knowing – it’s presumptive at best, and we all know what presumption is the mother of, right? Of course, we can’t know our audiences in the same way a small shop owner might know their customers. But we can at least strive to find out what type of people are likely to be using the product. I’m not talking about deep user research. That should come later. These are the absolute basics. What’s the context for their visit? How informed are they? What’s their level of comprehension? Are they able to self-identify and relate to categories you have created? I could go on, and it changes on a per-project basis. You’ll only find this out by speaking to them, if not in person, then indirectly through surveys, questionnaires or polls. The mechanism is less important than actually reaching out and engaging with them, because without that understanding it’s impossible to start to design with any empathy. What Once you become deeply involved directly with a product or service, it’s notoriously difficult to see things as an outsider would. You learn the thing inside and out, you develop shortcuts and internal phraseology. Colloquialisms creep in. You become too close. So it’s no surprise when clients sometimes struggle to explain what it is their product actually does in a way that others can understand. Often products are complex but, really, the core reasons behind someone wanting to use that product are very simple. There’s a value proposition for the customer and, if they choose to engage with it, there’s a value exchange. If that proposition or exchange isn’t transparent, then people become confused and will likely go elsewhere. Make sure both your client and you really understand what that proposition is and, in turn, what the expected exchange should be. In a nutshell: what is the intended outcome of that engagement? Often the best way to do this is strip everything back to nothing. Verbosity is rife on the web. Just because it’s easy to create content, that shouldn’t be a reason to do so. Figure out what the value proposition is and then reintroduce content elements that genuinely help explain or present that to a level that is appropriate for the audience. Why In advertising, they talk about the truths behind a product or service. Truths can be both tangible or abstract, but the most important part is the resonance those truths hit with a customer. In a digital product or service those truths are often exposed as benefits. Why is this what I need? Why will it work for me? Why should I trust you? The why is one of the more fluffy Ws, yet it’s such an important one to nail. Clients can get prickly when you ask them to justify the why behind their product, but it’s a fantastic way to make sure the value proposition is clear, realistic and meets with the expectations of both client and customer. It’s our job as designers to question things: we’re not just a pair of hands for clients. Just recently I spoke to a potential client about a site for his business. I asked him why people would use his product and also why his product seemed so fractured in its direction. He couldnt answer that question so, instead of ploughing on regardless, he went back to his directors and is now re-evaluating that business. It was awkward but he thanked me and hopefully he’ll have a better product as a result. Where In this instance, where is not so much a geographical thing, although in some cases that level of context may indeed become a influencing factor… The where we’re talking about here is the position of the product in relation to others around it. By looking at competitors or similar services around the one you are designing, you can start to get a sense for many of the things that are otherwise hard to pin down or have yet to be defined. For example, in a collection of sites all selling cars, where does yours fit most closely? Where are the overlaps? How are they communicating to their customers? How is the product range presented or categorized? It’s good to look around and see how others are doing it. Not in a quest for homogeneity but more to reference or to avoid certain patterns that may or may not make sense for your own particular product. Clients often strive to be different for the sake of it. They feel they need to provide distinction by going against the flow a bit. We know different. We know users love convention. They embrace familiar mental models. They’re comfortable with things that they’ve experienced elsewhere. By showing your client that position is a vital part of their strategy, you can help shape their product into something great. To conclude So there we have it – the four Ws. Each part tells a different and vital part of the story you need to be able to make a really good product. It might sound like a lot of work, particularly when the client is breathing down your neck expecting to see things, but without those pieces in place, the story you’re building your product on, and the content that you’re creating to form that product can only ever fit into one genre. Fiction.",2011,Alex Morris,alexmorris,2011-12-10T00:00:00+00:00,https://24ways.org/2011/context-first/,content 273,There’s No Formula for Great Designs,"Before he combined them with fluid images and CSS3 media queries to coin responsive design, Ethan Marcotte described fluid grids — one of the most enjoyable parts of responsive design. Enjoyable that is, if you like working with math(s). But fluid grids aren’t perfect and, unless we’re careful when applying them, they can sometimes result in a design that feels disconnected. Recapping fluid grids If you haven’t read Ethan’s Fluid Grids, now would be a good time to do that. It centres around a simple formula for converting pixel widths to percentages: (target ÷ context) × 100 = result How does that work in practice? Well, take that Fireworks or Photoshop comp you’re working on (I call them static design visuals, or just visuals.) Of course, everything on that visual — column divisions, inline images, navigation elements, everything — is measured in pixels. Now: Pick something in the visual and measure its width. That’s our target. Take that target measurement and divide it by the width of its parent (context). Multiply what you’ve got by 100 (shift two decimal places). What you’re left with is a percentage width to drop into your style sheets. For example, divide this 300px wide sidebar division by its 948px parent and then multiply by 100: your original 300px is neatly converted to 31.646%. .content-sub { width : 31.646%; /* 300px ÷ 948px = .31646 */ } That formula makes it surprisingly simple for even die-hard fixed width aficionados to convert their visuals to percentage-based, fluid layouts. It’s a handy formula for those who still design using static visuals, and downright essential for those situations where one person in an organization designs in Fireworks or Photoshop and another develops with CSS. Why? Well, although I think that designing in a browser makes the best sense — particularly when designing for multiple devices — I’ll wager most designers still make visuals in Fireworks or Photoshop and use them for demonstrations and get feedback and sign-off. That’s OK. If you haven’t made the transition to content-out designing in a browser yet, the fluid grids formula helps you carry on pushing pixels a while longer. You can carry on moving pixel width measurements from your visuals to your style sheets, too, in the same way you always have. You can be precise to the pixel and even apply a grid image as a CSS background to help you keep everything lined up perfectly. Once you’re done, and the fixed width layout in the browser matches your visual, loop back through your style sheets and convert those pixels to percentages using the fluid grids formula. With very little extra work, you’ll have a fluid implementation of your fixed width layout. The fluid grids formula is simple and incredibly effective, but not long after I started working responsively I realized that the formula shouldn’t (always) be a one-fix, set-and-forget calculation. I noticed that unless we compensate for problems it sometimes creates, the result can be a disconnected design. Staying connected Good design relies on connectedness, a feeling of natural balance between elements and the grid they’re placed on. Give an element greater prominence or position in a visual hierarchy and you can fundamentally alter the balance and sometimes the meaning of a design. Different from a browser’s page zooming feature — where images, text and overall layout change size by the same ratio — fluid grids flex a layout in response to a window or device width. Columns expand and contract, and within them fluid media (images and videos) can also change size. This can be one of the most impressive demonstrations of responsive design. But not every element within a fluid grid can change size along with the window or device width. For example, type size and leading won’t change along with a column’s width. When columns and elements within them change width, all too easily a visual hierarchy can be broken and along with it the relationship between element sizes and the outer window or viewport. This can happen quickly if you make just one set of fluid grid calculations and use those percentages across every screen width, from smartphones through tablets and up to large desktops. The answer? Make several sets of fluid grids calculations, each one at a significant window or device width breakpoint. Then apply those new percentages, when needed, to help keep elements in proportion and maintain balance and connectedness. Here’s how I work. Avoiding disconnection I’ve never been entirely happy with grid frameworks such as the 960 Grid System, so I start almost every project by creating a custom grid to inform my layout decisions. Here’s a plain version of a grid from a recent project that I’ll use as an illustration. This project’s grid comprises 84px columns and 24px gutters. This creates an odd number of columns at common tablet and desktop widths, and allows for 300px fixed width assets — useful when I need to fit advertising into a desktop layout’s sidebar. Showing common advertising sizes (Larger image) For this project I chose three 320 and Up breakpoints above 320px and, after placing as many columns as would fit those breakpoint widths, I derived three content widths: Breakpoint Columns Content width 768px 7 732px 992px 9 948px 1,382px 13 1,380px Here’s my grid again, this time with pixel measurements and breakpoints overlaid. Showing pixel measurements and breakpoints (Larger image) Now cast your mind back to the fluid grids calculation I made earlier. I divided a 300px element by 948px and arrived at 31.646%. For some elements it’s possible to use that percentage across all screen widths, but others will feel too small in relation to a narrower 768px and too large inside 1,380px. To help maintain connectedness, I make a set of fluid grids calculations based on each of the content widths I established earlier. Now I can shift an element’s percentage width up or down when I switch to a new breakpoint and content width. For example: 300px is 40.984% of 732px 300px is 31.646% of 948px 300px is 21.739% of 1,380px I’ll add all those fluid grid percentages to my grid image and save it for quick reference. Showing percentages at all breakpoints (Larger image) Then I can apply those different percentage widths to elements at each breakpoint using CSS3 media queries. For example, that sidebar division again: /* 732px, 7-column width */ @media only screen and (min-width: 768px) { .content-sub { width : 40.983%; /* 300px ÷ 732px = .40983 */ } } /* 948px, 9-column width */ @media only screen and (min-width: 992px) { .content-sub { width : 31.645%; /* 300px ÷ 948px = .31645 */ } } /* 1380px, 13-column width */ @media only screen and (min-width: 1382px) { .content-sub { width : 21.739%; /* 300px ÷ 1380px = .21739 */ } } The number of changes you make to a layout at different breakpoints will, of course, depend on the specifics of the design you’re working on. Yes, this is additional work, but the result will be a layout that feels better balanced and within which elements remain in harmony with each other while they respond to new screen or device widths. Putting the design in responsive web design Until now, many of the conversations around responsive web design have been about aspects of technical implementation, rather than design. I believe we’re only beginning to understand what’s involved in designing responsively. In future, we’ll likely be making design decisions not just about proportions but also about responsive typography. We’ll also need to learn how to adapt our designs to device characteristics such as touch targets and more. Sometimes we’ll make decisions to improve function, other times because they make a design ‘feel’ right. You’ll know when you’ve made a right decision. You’ll feel it. After all, there really is no formula for making great designs.",2011,Andy Clarke,andyclarke,2011-12-23T00:00:00+00:00,https://24ways.org/2011/theres-no-formula-for-great-designs/,ux 282,Front-end Style Guides,"We all know that feeling: some time after we launch a site, new designers and developers come in and make adjustments. They add styles that don’t fit with the content, use typefaces that make us cringe, or chuck in bloated code. But if we didn’t leave behind any documentation, we can’t really blame them for messing up our hard work. To counter this problem, graphic designers are often commissioned to produce style guides as part of a rebranding project. A style guide provides details such as how much white space should surround a logo, which typefaces and colours a brand uses, along with when and where it is appropriate to use them. Design guidelines Some design guidelines focus on visual branding and identity. The UK National Health Service (NHS) refer to theirs as “brand guidelines”. They help any designer create something such as a trustworthy leaflet for an NHS doctor’s surgery. Similarly, Transport for London’s “design standards” ensure the correct logos and typefaces are used in communications, and that they comply with the Disability Discrimination Act. Some guidelines go further, encompassing a whole experience, from the visual branding to the messaging, and the icon sets used. The BBC calls its guidelines a “Global Experience Language” or GEL. It’s essential for maintaining coherence across multiple sites under the same BBC brand. The BBC’s Global Experience Language. Design guidelines may be brief and loose to promote creativity, like Mozilla’s “brand toolkit”, or be precise and run to many pages to encourage greater conformity, such as Apple’s “Human Interface Guidelines”. Whatever name or form they’re given, documenting reusable styles is invaluable when maintaining a brand identity over time, particularly when more than one person (who may not be a designer) is producing material. Code standards documents We can make a similar argument for code. For example, in open source projects, where hundreds of developers are submitting code, it makes sense to set some standards. Drupal and Wordpress have written standards that make editing code less confusing for users, and more maintainable for contributors. Each community has nuances: Drupal requests that developers indent with two spaces, while Wordpress stipulates a tab. Whatever the rules, good code standards documents also explain why they make their recommendations. The front-end developer’s style guide Design style guides and code standards documents have been a successful way of ensuring brand and code consistency, but in between the code and the design examples, web-based style guides are emerging. These are maintained by front-end developers, and are more dynamic than visual design guidelines, documenting every component and its code on the site in one place. Here are a few examples I’ve seen in the wild: Natalie Downe’s pattern portfolio Natalie created the pattern portfolio system while working at Clearleft. The phrase describes a single HTML page containing all the site’s components and styles that can act as a deliverable. Pattern portfolio by Natalie Downe for St Paul’s School, kept up to date when new components are added. The entire page is about four times the length shown. Each different item within a pattern portfolio is a building block or module. The components are decoupled from the layout, and linearized so they can slot into anywhere on a page. The pattern portfolio expresses every component and layout structure in the smallest number of documents. It sets out how the markup and CSS should be, and is used to illustrate the project’s shared vocabulary. Natalie Downe By developing a system, rather than individual pages, the result is flexible when the client wants to add more pages later on. Paul Lloyd’s style guide Paul Lloyd has written an extremely comprehensive style guide for his site. Not only does it feature every plausible element, but it also explains in detail when it’s appropriate to use each one. Paul’s style guide is also great educational material for people learning to write code. Oli Studholme’s style guide Even though Oli’s style guide is specific to his site, he’s written it as though it’s for someone else. It’s exhaustive and gives justifications for all his decisions. In some places, he links to browser bug tickets and makes recommendations for cross-browser compatibility. Oli has released his style guide under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-alike license, and encourages others to create their own versions. Jeremy Keith’s pattern primer Front-end style guides may have comments written in the code, annotations that appear on the page, or they may list components alongside their code, like Jeremy’s pattern primer. You can watch or fork Jeremy’s pattern primer on Github. Linearizing components like this resembles a kind of mobile first approach to development, which Jeremy talks about on the 5by5 podcast: The Web Ahead 3. The benefits of maintaining a front-end style guide If you still need convincing that producing documentation like this for every project is worth the effort, here are a few nice side-effects to working this way: Easier to test A unified style guide makes it easier to spot where your design breaks. It’s simple to check how components adapt to different screen widths, test for browser bugs and develop print style sheets when everything is on the same page. When I worked with Natalie, she’d resize the browser window and bump the text size up and down during development to see if anything would break. Better workflow The approach also forces you to think how something works in relation to the whole site, rather than just a specific page, making it easier to add more pages later on. Starting development by creating a style guide makes a lot more sense than developing on a page-by-page basis. Shared vocabulary Natalie’s pattern portfolio in particular creates a shared vocabulary of names for components (teaser, global navigation, carousel…), so a team can refer to different regions of the site and have a shared understanding of its meaning. Useful reference A combined style guide also helps designers and writers to see the elements that will be incorporated in the site and, therefore, which need to be designed or populated. A boilerplate list of components for every project can act as a reminder of things that may get missed in the design, such as button states or error messages. Creating your front-end style guide As you’ve seen, there are plenty of variations on the web style guide. Which method is best depends on your project and workflow. Let’s say you want to show your content team how blockquotes and asides look, when it’s appropriate to use them, and how to create them within the CMS. In this case, a combination of Jeremy’s pattern primer and Paul’s descriptive style guide – with the styled component alongside a code snippet and a description of when to use it – may be ideal. Start work on your style guide as soon as you can, preferably during the design stage: Simply presenting flat image comps is by no means enough - it’s only the start… As layouts become more adaptable, flexible and context-specific, so individual components will become the focus of our design. It is therefore essential to get the foundational aspects of our designs right, and style guides allow us to do that. Paul Lloyd on Style guides for the Web Print out the designs and label the unique elements and components you’ll need to add to your style guide. Make a note of the purpose of each component. While you’re doing this, identify the main colours used for things like links, headings and buttons. I draw over the print-outs on to tracing paper so I can make more annotations. Here, I’ve started annotating the widths from the designer’s mockup so I can translate these into percentages. Start developing your style guide with base styles that target core elements: headings, links, tables, blockquotes, ordered lists, unordered lists and forms. For these elements, you could maintain a standard document to reuse for every project. Next, add the components that override the base styles, like search boxes, breadcrumbs, feedback messages and blog comments. Include interaction styles, such as hover, focus and visited state on links, and hover, focus and active states on buttons. Now start adding layout and begin slotting the components into place. You may want to present each layout as a separate document, or you could have them all on the same page stacked beneath one another. Document code practices Code can look messy when people use different conventions, so note down a standard approach alongside your style guide. For example, Paul Stanton has documented how he writes CSS. The gift wrapping Presenting this documentation to your client may be a little overwhelming so, to be really helpful, create a simple page that links together all your files and explains what each of them do. This is an example of a contents page that Clearleft produce for their clients. They’ve added date stamps, subversion revision numbers and written notes for each file. Encourage participation There’s always a risk that the person you’re writing the style guide for will ignore it completely, so make your documentation as user-friendly as possible. Justify why you do things a certain way to make it more approachable and encourage similar behaviour. As always, good communication helps. Working with the designer to put together this document will improve the site. It’s often not practical for designers to provide a style for everything, so drafting a web style guide and asking for feedback gives designers a chance to make sure any default styles fit in. If you work in a team with other developers, documenting your code and development decisions will not only be useful as a deliverable, but will also force you to think about why you do things a certain way. Future-friendly The roles of designer and developer are increasingly blurred, yet all too often we work in isolation. Working side-by-side with designers on web style guides can vastly improve the quality of our work, and the collaborative approach can spark discussions like “how would this work on a smaller screen?” Sometimes we can be so focused on getting the site ready and live, that we lose sight of what happens after it’s launched, and how it’s going to be maintained. A simple web style guide can make all the difference. If you make your own style guide, I’d love to add it to my stash of examples so please share a link to it in the comments.",2011,Anna Debenham,annadebenham,2011-12-07T00:00:00+00:00,https://24ways.org/2011/front-end-style-guides/,process 272,Crafting the Front-end,"Much has been spoken and written recently about the virtues of craftsmanship in the context of web design and development. It seems that we as fabricators of the web are finally tiring of seeking out parallels between ourselves and architects, and are turning instead to the fabled specialist artisans. Identifying oneself as a craftsman or craftswoman (let’s just say craftsperson from here onward) will likely be a trend of early 2012. In this pre-emptive strike, I’d like to expound on this movement as I feel it pertains to front-end development, and encourage care and understanding of the true qualities of craftsmanship (craftspersonship). The core values I’ll begin by defining craftspersonship. What distinguishes a craftsperson from a technician? Dictionaries tend to define a craftsperson as one who possesses great skill in a chosen field. The badge of a craftsperson for me, though, is a very special label that should be revered and used sparingly, only where it is truly deserved. A genuine craftsperson encompasses a few other key traits, far beyond raw skill, each of which must be learned and mastered. A craftsperson has: An appreciation of good work, in both the work of others and their own. And not just good as in ‘hey, that’s pretty neat’, I mean a goodness like a shining purity – the kind of good that feels right when you see it. A belief in quality at every level: every facet of the craftsperson’s product is as crucial as any other, without exception, even those normally hidden from view. Vision: an ability to visualize their path ahead, pre-empting the obstacles that may be encountered to plan a route around them. A preference for simplicity: an almost Bauhausesque devotion to undecorated functionality, with no unjustifiable parts included. Sincerity: producing work that speaks directly to its purpose with flawless clarity. Only when you become a custodian of such values in your work can you consider calling yourself a craftsperson. Now let’s take a look at some steps we front-end developers can take on our journey of enlightenment toward craftspersonhood. Speaking of the craftsman’s journey, be sure to watch out for the video of The Standardistas’ stellar talk at the Build 2011 conference titled The Journey, which should be online sometime soon. Building your own toolbox My grandfather was a carpenter and trained as a young apprentice under a master. After observing and practising the many foundation theories, principles and techniques of carpentry, he was tasked with creating his own set of woodworking tools, which he would use and maintain throughout his career. By going through the process of having to create his own tools, he would be connected at the most direct level with every piece of wood he touched, his tools being his own creations and extensions of his own skilled hands. The depth of his knowledge of these tools must have surpassed the intricate as he fathered, used, cleaned and repaired them, day in and day out over many years. And so it should be, ideally, with all crafts. We must understand our tools right down to the most fundamental level. I firmly believe that a level of true craftsmanship cannot be reached while there exists a layer that remains not wholly understood between a creator and his canvas. Of course, our tools as front-end developers are somewhat more complex than those of other crafts – it may seem reasonable to require that a carpenter create his or her own set of chisels, but somewhat less so to ask a front-end developer to code their own CSS preprocessor, or design their own computer. However, it is still vitally important that you understand how your tools work. This is particularly critical when it comes to things like preprocessors, libraries and frameworks which aim to save you time by automating common processes and functions. For the most part, anything that saves you time is a Good Thing™ but it cannot be stressed enough that using tools like these in earnest should be avoided until you understand exactly what they are doing for you (and, to an extent, how they are doing it). In particular, you must understand any drawbacks to using your tools, and any shortcuts they may be taking on your behalf. I’m not suggesting that you steer clear of paid work until you’ve studied each of jQuery’s 9,266 lines of JavaScript source code but, all levity aside, it will further you on your journey to look at interesting or relevant bits of jQuery, and any other libraries you might want to use. Such libraries often directly link to corresponding sections of their source code on sites like GitHub from their official documentation. Better yet, they’re almost always written in high level languages (easy to read), so there’s no excuse not to don your pith helmet and go on something of an exploration. Any kind of tangential learning like this will drive you further toward becoming a true craftsperson, so keep an open mind and always be ready to step out of your comfort zone. Downtime and tool honing With any craft, it is essential to keep your tools in good condition, and a good idea to stay up-to-date with the latest equipment. This is especially true on the web, which, as we like to tell anyone who is still awake more than a minute after asking what it is that we do, advances at a phenomenal pace. A tool or technique that could be considered best practice this week might be the subject of haughty derision in a comment thread within six months. I have little doubt that you already spend a chunk of time each day keeping up with the latest material from our industry’s finest Interblogs and Twittertubes, but do you honestly put aside time to collect bookmarks and code snippets from things you read into a slowly evolving toolbox? At @media in 2009, Simon Collison delivered a candid talk on his ‘Ultimate Package’. Those of us who didn’t flee the room anticipating a newfound and unwelcome intimacy with the contents of his trousers were shown how he maintained his own toolkit – a collection of files and folders all set up and ready to go for a new project. By maintaining a toolkit in this way, he has consistency across projects and a dependable base upon which to learn and improve. The assembly and maintenance of such a personalized and familiar toolkit is probably as close as we will get to emulating the tool making stage of more traditional craft trades. Keep a master copy of your toolkit somewhere safe, making copies of it for new projects. When you learn of a way in which part of it can be improved, make changes to the master copy. Simplicity through modularity I believe that the user interfaces of all web applications should be thought of as being made up primarily of modular components. Modules in this context are patterns in design that appear repeatedly throughout the app. These can be small collections of elements, like a user profile summary box (profile picture, username, meta data), as well as atomic elements such as headings and list items. Well-crafted front-end architectures have the ability to support this kind of repeating pattern as modules, with as close to no repetition of CSS (or JavaScript) as possible, and as close to no variations in HTML between instances as possible. One of the most fundamental and well known tenets of software engineering is the DRY rule – don’t repeat yourself. It requires that “every piece of knowledge must have a single, unambiguous, authoritative representation within a system.” As craftspeople, we must hold this rule dear and apply it to the modules we have identified in our site designs. The moment you commit a second style definition for a module, the quality of your output (the front-end code) takes a huge hit. There should only ever be one base style definition for each distinct module or component. Keep these in a separate, sacred place in your CSS. I use a _modules.scss Sass include file, imported near the top of my main CSS files. Be sure, of course, to avoid making changes to this file lightly, as the smallest adjustment can affect multiple pages (hint: keep a structure list of which modules are used on which pages). Avoid the inevitable temptation to duplicate code late in the project. Sticking to this rule becomes more important the more complex the codebase becomes. If you can stick to this rule, using sensible class names and consistent HTML, you can reach a joyous, self-fulfilling plateau stage in each project where you are assembling each interface from your own set of carefully crafted building blocks. Old school markup Let’s take a step back. Before we fret about creating a divinely pure modular CSS framework, we need to know the site’s design and what it is made of. The best way to gain this knowledge is to go old school. Print out every comp, mockup, wireframe, sketch or whatever you have. If there are sections of pages that are hidden until some user action takes place, or if the page has multiple states, be sure that you have everything that could become visible to the user on paper. Once you have your wedge of paper designs, lay out all the pages on the floor, or stick them to the wall if you can, arranging them logically according to the site hierarchy, by user journey, or whatever guidelines make most sense to you. Once you have the site laid out before you, study it for a while, familiarizing yourself with every part of every interface. This will eliminate nasty surprises late in the project when you realize you’ve duplicated something, or left an interface on the drawing board altogether. Now that you know the site like it’s your best friend, get out your pens or pencils of choice and attack it. Mark it up like there’s no tomorrow. Pretend you’re a spy trying to identify communications from an enemy network hiding their messages in newspapers. Look for patterns and similarities, drawing circles around them. These are your modules. Start also highlighting the differences between each instance of these modules, working out which is the most basic or common type that will become the base definition from which all other representations are extended. This simple but empowering exercise will equip you for your task of actually crafting, instead of just building, the front-end. Without the knowledge gained from this kind of research phase, you will be blundering forward, improvising as best you can, but ultimately making quality-compromising mistakes that could have been avoided. For more on this theme, read Anna Debenham’s Front-end Style Guides which recommends a similar process, and the sublime idea of extending this into a guide to refer to during development and beyond. Design homogeneity Moving forward again, you now have your modules defined and things are looking good. I mentioned that many instances of these modules will carry minor differences. These differences must be given significant thinking time, and discussion time with your designer(s). It should be common knowledge by now that successful software projects are not the product of distinct design and build phases with little or no bidirectional feedback. The crucial nature of the designer-developer relationship has been covered in depth this year by Paul Robert Lloyd, and a joint effort from both teams throughout the project lifecycle is pivotal to your ability to craft and ship successful products. This relationship comes into play when you’re well into the development of the site, and you start noticing these differences between instances of modules (they’ll start to stand out very clearly to you and your carefully regimented modular CSS system). Before you start overriding your base styles, question the differences with the designer to work out why they exist. Perhaps they are required and are important to their context, but perhaps they were oversights from earlier design revisions, or simple mistakes. The craftsperson’s gland As you grow towards the levels of expertise and experience where you can proudly and honestly consider yourself a craftsperson, you will find that you steadily develop what initially feels like a kind of sixth sense. I think of it more as a new hormonal gland, secreting into your bloodstream a powerful messenger chemical that can either reward or punish your brain. This gland is connected directly to your core understanding of what good quality work looks and feels like, an understanding that itself improves with experience. This gland will make itself known to you in two ways. First, when you solve a problem in a beautifully elegant way with clean and unobtrusive code that looks good and just feels right, your craftsperson’s gland will ooze something delicious that makes your brain and soul glow from the inside out. You will beam triumphantly at the succinct lines of code on your computer display before bounding outside with a spring in your step to swim up glittering rainbows and kiss soft fluffy puppies. The second way that you may become aware of your craftsperson’s gland, though, is somewhat less pleasurable. In an alternate reality, your parallel self is faced with the same problem, but decides to take a shortcut and get around it by some dubious means – the kind of technical method that the words hack, kludge and bodge are reserved for. As soon as you have done this, or even as you are doing it, your craftsperson’s gland will damn well let you know that you took the wrong fork in the road. As your craftsperson’s gland begins to secrete a toxic pus, you will at first become entranced into a vacant stare at the monstrous mess you are considering unleashing upon your site’s visitors, before writhing in the horrible agony of an itch that can never be scratched, and a feeling of being coated with the devil’s own deep and penetrating filth that no shower will ever cleanse. Perhaps I exaggerate slightly, but it is no overstatement to suggest that you will find yourself being guided by proverbial angels and demons perched on opposite shoulders, or a whispering voice inside your head. If you harness this sense, sharpening it as if it were another tool in your kit and letting it guide or at least advise your decision making, you will transcend the rocky realm of random trial and error when faced with problems, and tend toward the right answers instinctively. This gland can also empower your ability to assess your own work, becoming a judge before whom all your work is cross-examined. A good craftsperson regularly takes a step back from their work, and questions every facet of their product for its precise alignment with their core values of quality and sincerity, and even the very necessity of each component. The wrapping By now, you may be thinking that I take this kind of thing far too seriously, but to terrify you further, I haven’t even shared the half of it. Hopefully, though, this gives you an idea of the kind of levels of professionalism and dedication that it should take to get you on your way to becoming a craftsperson. It’s a level of accomplishment and ability toward which we all should strive, both for our personal fulfilment and the betterment of the products we use daily. I look forward to seeing your finely crafted work throughout 2012.",2011,Ben Bodien,benbodien,2011-12-24T00:00:00+00:00,https://24ways.org/2011/crafting-the-front-end/,process 284,Subliminal User Experience,"The term ‘user experience’ is often used vaguely to quantify common elements of the interaction design process: wireframing, sitemapping and so on. UX undoubtedly involves all of these principles to some degree, but there really is a lot more to it than that. Good UX is characterized by providing the user with constant feedback as they step through your interface. It means thinking about and providing fallbacks and error resolutions in even the rarest of scenarios. It’s about omitting clutter to make way for the necessary, and using the most fundamental of design tools to influence a user’s path. It means making no assumptions, designing right down to the most distinct details and going one step further every single time. In many cases, good UX is completely subliminal. There are simple tools and subtleties we can build into our products to enhance the overall experience but, in order to do so, we really have to step beyond where we usually draw the line on what to design. The purpose of this article is not to provide technical how-tos, as the functionality is, in most cases, quite simple and could be implemented in a myriad of ways. Rather, it will present a handful of ideas for enhancing the experience of an interface at a deeper level of design without relying on the container. We’ll cover three elements that should get you thinking in the right mindset: progress activity and post-active states pseudo-class preloading buttons and their (mis)behaviour Progress activity and the post-active state We’ve long established that we can’t control the devices our products are viewed on, which browser they’ll run in or what connection speed will be used to access them. We accept this all as factual, so why is it so often left to the browser to provide feedback to the user when an event is triggered or an error encountered? The browser isn’t part of the interface — it’s merely a container. A simple, visual recognition of your users’ activity may be all it takes to make or break the product. Let’s begin with a commonly overlooked case: progress activity. A user moves their cursor over a hyperlink or button, which is clearly defined as one by the visual language of your content. Upon doing so, they trigger the :hover state to confirm this element is indeed interactive. So far, so good. What happens next is where it starts to fall apart: the user hits this link, presumably triggering an :active state, which is then returned to the normal state upon release. And then what? From this point on, your user is in limbo. The link has fallen back to either its regular or :visited state. You’ve effectively abandoned them and are relying entirely on the browser they’re using to communicate that something is happening. This poses quite a few problems: The user may lose focus of what they were doing. There is little consistency between progress indication in browsers. The user may not even notice that their action has been acknowledged. How many times have one or more of these events happened to you due to a lack of communication from the interface? Think about the differences between Safari and Chrome in this area — two browsers that, when compared to each other, are relatively similar in nature, though this basic feature differs in execution. Like all aspects of designing the user experience, there is no one true way to fix this problem, but we can introduce details that many users will unconsciously appreciate. Consider the basic loading indicator. It’s nothing new — in fact, some would argue it’s quite a cliché. However, whether using a spinning wheel or a progress bar, a gif or JavaScript, or something more sophisticated, these simple tools create an illusion of movement, progress and activity. Depending on the implementation, progress indication graphics can significantly increase a user’s perception of the speed in which an event is taking place. Combine this with a cursor change and a lock over the element to prevent double-clicking or reloading, and your chances of keeping your user’s valuable attention have significantly increased. Demo: Progress activity and the post-active state This same logic applies to all aspects of defaulting in a browser, from micro-elements like this up to something as simple as a 404 page. The difference in a user’s reaction to hitting the default Apache 404 and a hand-crafted, branded page are phenomenal and there are no prizes for guessing which one they’re more likely to exit from. Pseudo-class preloading Another detail that it pays well to look after is the use and abuse of the :hover element and, more importantly, the content revealed by it. Chances are you’re using the :hover pseudo-class somewhere in almost every screen you create. If content is being revealed on :hover and that content takes some time to load, there will inevitably be a delay the first time it is initiated. It appears tacky and half-finished when a tooltip or drop-down loads instantly, only to have its background or supporting elements follow through a second or two later. So, let’s preload the elements we know we’ll need. A very simple application of this would be to load each file into the default state of a visible element and offset them by a large number. This ensures our elements have loaded and are ready if and when they need to be displayed. element { background: url(path/to/image.jpg) -9999em -9999em no-repeat; } element .tooltip { display: none; } element:hover .tooltip { display: block; background: url(path/to/image.jpg) 0 0; } Background images are just one example. Of course, the same logic can apply to any form of revealed content. Using a sprite graphic can also be a clever — albeit tedious — method for achieving the same goal, so if you’re using a sprite, preloading in this way may not be necessary The differences between preloading and not can only be visualized properly with an actual demonstration. Demo: Preloading revealed content Buttons and their (mis)behaviour Almost all of the time, a button serves just one purpose: to be clicked (or tapped). When a button’s pressed, therefore, if anything other than triggering the desired event occurs, a user naturally becomes frustrated. I often get funny looks when talking about this, but designing the details of a button is something I consider essential. It goes without saying that a button should always visually recognise :hover and :active states. We can take that one step further and disable some actions that get in the way of pressing the button. It’s rare that a user would ever want to select and use the text on a button, so let’s cleanly disable it: element { -moz-user-select: -moz-none; -webkit-user-select: none; user-select: none; } If the button is image-based or contains an image, we could also disable user dragging to make sure the image element stays locked to the button: element { -moz-user-drag: -moz-none; -webkit-user-drag: none; user-drag: none; } Demo: A more usable button Disabling global features like this should be done with utmost caution as it’s very easy to cross the line between enhancement and friction. Cases where this is acceptable are very rare, but it’s a good trick to keep in mind nevertheless. Both Apple’s iCloud and Metalab’s Flow applications use these tools appropriately and to great extent. You could argue that the visual feedback of having the text selected or image dragged when a user mis-hits the button is actually a positive effect, informing the user that their desired action did not work. However, covering for human error should be a designer’s job, not that of our users. We can (almost) ensure it does work for them by accommodating for errors like this in most cases. Final thoughts Designing to this level of detail can seem obsessive, but as a designer and user of many interfaces and applications, I believe it can be the difference between a good user experience and a great one. The samples you’ve just seen are only a fraction of the detail we can design for. Keep in mind that the demonstrations, code and methods above outline just one way to do this. You may not agree with all of these processes or have the time and desire to consider them, but one fact remains: it’s not the technology, or the way it’s done that’s important — it’s the logic and the concept of designing everything.",2011,Chris Sealey,chrissealey,2011-12-03T00:00:00+00:00,https://24ways.org/2011/subliminal-user-experience/,ux 271,Creating Custom Font Stacks with Unicode-Range,"Any web designer or front-end developer worth their salt will be familiar with the CSS @font-face rule used for embedding fonts in a web page. We’ve all used it — either directly in our code ourselves, or via one of the web font services like Fontdeck, Typekit or Google Fonts. If you’re like me, however, you’ll be used to just copying and pasting in a specific incantation of lines designed to get different formats of fonts working in different browsers, and may not have really explored all the capabilities of @font-face properties as defined by the spec. One such property — the unicode-range descriptor — sounds pretty dull and is easily overlooked. It does, however, have some fairly interesting possibilities when put to use in creative ways. Unicode-range The unicode-range descriptor is designed to help when using fonts that don’t have full coverage of the characters used in a page. By adding a unicode-range property to a @font-face rule it is possible to specify the range of characters the font covers. @font-face { font-family: BBCBengali; src: url(fonts/BBCBengali.ttf) format(""opentype""); unicode-range: U+00-FF; } In this example, the font is to be used for characters in the range of U+00 to U+FF which runs from the unexciting control characters at the start of the Unicode table (symbols like the exclamation mark start at U+21) right through to ÿ at U+FF – the extent of the Basic Latin character range. By adding multiple @font-face rules for the same family but with different ranges, you can build up complete coverage of the characters your page uses by using different fonts. When I say that it’s possible to specify the range of characters the font covers, that’s true, but what you’re really doing with the unicode-range property is declaring which characters the font should be used for. This becomes interesting, because instead of merely working with the technical constraints of available characters in a given font, we can start picking and choosing characters to use and selectively mix fonts together. The best available ampersand A few years back, Dan Cederholm wrote a post encouraging designers to use the best available ampersand. Dan went on to outline how this can be achieved by wrapping our ampersands in a element with a class applied: & A CSS rule can then be written to select the and apply a different font: span.amp { font-family: Baskerville, Palatino, ""Book Antiqua"", serif; } That’s a perfectly serviceable technique, but the drawbacks are clear — you have to add extra markup which is borderline presentational, and you also have to be able to add that markup, which isn’t always possible when working with a CMS. Perhaps we could do this with unicode-range. A better best available ampersand The Unicode code point for an ampersand is U+26, so the ampersand font stack above can be created like so: @font-face { font-family: 'Ampersand'; src: local('Baskerville'), local('Palatino'), local('Book Antiqua'); unicode-range: U+26; } What we’ve done here is specify a new family called Ampersand and created a font stack for it with the user’s locally installed copies of Baskerville, Palatino or Book Antiqua. We’ve then limited it to a single character range — the ampersand. Of course, those don’t need to be local fonts — they could be web font files, too. If you have a font with a really snazzy ampersand, go for your life. We can then use that new family in a regular font stack. h1 { font-family: Ampersand, Arial, sans-serif; } With this in place, any

elements in our page will use the Ampersand family (Baskerville, Palatino or Book Antiqua) for ampersands, and Arial for all other characters. If the user doesn’t have any of the Ampersand family fonts available, the ampersand will fall back to the next item in the font stack, Arial. You didn’t think it was that easy, did you? Oh, if only it were so. The problem comes, as ever, with the issue of browser support. The unicode-range property has good support in WebKit browsers (like Safari and Chrome, and the browsers on most popular smartphone platforms) and in recent versions of Internet Explorer. The big stumbling block comes in the form of Firefox, which has no support at all. If you’re familiar with how CSS works when it comes to unsupported properties, you’ll know that if a browser encounters a property it doesn’t implement, it just skips that declaration and moves on to the next. That works perfectly for things like border-radius — if the browser can’t round off the corners, the declaration is skipped and the user sees square corners instead. Perfect. Less perfect when it comes to unicode-range, because if no range is specified then the default is that the font is applied for all characters — the whole range. If you’re using a fancy font for flamboyant ampersands, you probably don’t want that applied to all your text if unicode-range isn’t supported. That would be bad. Really bad. Ensuring good fallbacks As ever, the trick is to make sure that there’s a sensible fallback in place if a browser doesn’t have support for whatever technology you’re trying to use. This is where being a super nerd about understanding the spec you’re working with really pays off. We can make use of the rules of the CSS cascade to make sure that if unicode-range isn’t supported we get a sensible fallback font. What would be ideal is if we were able to follow up the @font-face rule with a second rule to override it if Unicode ranges aren’t implemented. @font-face { font-family: 'Ampersand'; src: local('Baskerville'), local('Palatino'), local('Book Antiqua'); unicode-range: U+26; } @font-face { font-family: 'Ampersand'; src: local('Arial'); } In theory, this code should make sense for all browsers. For those that support unicode-range the two rules become cumulative. They specify different ranges for the same family, and in WebKit browsers this has the expected result of using Arial for most characters, but Baskerville and friends for the ampersand. For browsers that don’t have support, the second rule should just supersede the first, setting the font to Arial. Unfortunately, this code causes current versions of Firefox to freak out and use the first rule, applying Baskerville to the entire range. That’s both unexpected and unfortunate. Bad Firefox. On your rug. If that doesn’t work, what can we do? Well, we know that if given a unicode-range Firefox will ignore the range and apply the font to all characters. That’s really what we’re trying to achieve. So what if we specified a range for the fallback font, but made sure it only covers some obscure high-value Unicode character we’re never going to use in our page? Then it wouldn’t affect the outcome for browsers that do support ranges. @font-face { font-family: 'Ampersand'; src: local('Baskerville'), local('Palatino'), local('Book Antiqua'); unicode-range: U+26; } @font-face { /* Ampersand fallback font */ font-family: 'Ampersand'; src: local('Arial'); unicode-range: U+270C; } By specifying a range on the fallback font, Firefox appears to correctly override the first based on the cascade sort order. Browsers that do support ranges take the second rule in addition, and apply Arial for that obscure character we’re not using in any of our pages — U+270C. So we get our nice ampersands in browsers that support unicode-range and, thanks to our styling of an obscure Unicode character, the font falls back to a perfectly acceptable Arial in browsers that do not offer support. Perfect! That obscure character, my friends, is what Unicode defines as the VICTORY HAND. ✌ So, how can we use this? Ampersands are a neat trick, and it works well in browsers that support ranges, but that’s not really the point of all this. Styling ampersands is fun, but they’re only really scratching the surface. Consider more involved examples, such as substituting a different font for numerals, or symbols, or even caps. Things certainly begin to get a bit more interesting. How do you know what the codes are for different characters? Richard Ishida has a handy online conversion tool available where you can type in the characters and get the Unicode code points out the other end. Of course, the fact remains that browser support for unicode-range is currently limited, so any application needs to have fallbacks that you’re still happy for a significant proportion of your visitors to see. In some cases, such as dedicated pages for mobile devices in an HTML-based phone app, this is immediately useful as support in WebKit browsers is already very good. In other cases, you’ll have to use your own best judgement based on your needs and audience. One thing to keep in mind is that if you’re using web fonts, the entire font will be downloaded even if only one character is used. That said, the font shouldn’t be downloaded if none of the characters within the Unicode range are present in a given page. As ever, there are pros and cons to using unicode-range as well as varied but increasing support in browsers. It remains a useful tool to understand and have in your toolkit for when the right moment comes along.",2011,Drew McLellan,drewmclellan,2011-12-01T00:00:00+00:00,https://24ways.org/2011/creating-custom-font-stacks-with-unicode-range/,code 270,From Side Project to Not So Side Project,"In the last article I wrote for 24 ways, back in 2009, I enthused about the benefits of having a pet project, suggesting that we should all have at least one so that we could collaborate with our friends, escape our day jobs, fulfil our own needs, help others out, raise our profiles, make money, and — most importantly — have fun. I don’t think I need to offer any further persuasions: it seems that designers and developers are launching their own pet projects left, right and centre. This makes me very happy. However, there still seems to be something of a disconnect between having a side project and turning it into something that is moderately successful; in particular, the challenge of making enough money to sustain the project and perhaps even elevating it from the sidelines so that it becomes something not so on the side at all. Before we even begin this, let’s spend a moment talking about money, also known as… Evil, nasty, filthy money Over the last couple of years, I’ve started referring to myself as an accidental businessman. I say accidental because my view of the typical businessman is someone who is driven by money, and I usually can’t stand such people. Those who are motivated by profit, obsessed with growth, and take an active interest in the world’s financial systems don’t tend to be folks with whom I share a beer, unless it’s to pour it over them. Especially if they’re wearing pinstriped suits. That said, we all want to make money, don’t we? And most of us want to make a relatively decent amount, too. I don’t think there’s any harm in admitting that, is there? Hello, I’m Elliot and I’m a capitalist. The key is making money from doing what we love. For most people I know in our community, we’ve already achieved that — I’m hard-pressed to think of anyone who isn’t extremely passionate about working in our industry and I think it’s one of the most positive, unifying benefits we enjoy as a group of like-minded people — but side projects usually arise from another kind of passion: a passion for something other than what we do as our day jobs. Perhaps it’s because your clients are driving you mental and you need a break; perhaps it’s because you want to create something that is truly your own; perhaps it’s because you’re sick of seeing your online work disappear so fast and you want to try your hand at print in order to make a more permanent mark. The three factors I listed there led me to create 8 Faces, a printed magazine about typography that started as a side project and is now a very significant part of my yearly output and income. Like many things that prove fruitful, 8 Faces’ success was something of an accident, too. For a start, the magazine was never meant to be profitable; its only purpose at all was to scratch my own itch. Then, after the first issue took off and I realized how much time I needed to spend in order to make the next one decent, it became clear that I would have to cover more than just the production costs: I’d have to take time out from client work as well. Doing this meant I’d have to earn some money. Probably not enough to equate to the exact amount of time lost when I could be doing client work (not that you could ever describe time as being lost when you work on something you love), but enough to survive; for me to feel that I was getting paid while doing all of the work that 8 Faces entailed. The answer was to raise money through partnerships with some cool companies who were happy to be associated with my little project. A sustainable business model Business model! I can’t believe I just wrote those words! But a business model is really just a loose plan for how not to screw up. And all that stuff I wrote in the paragraph above about partnering with companies so I could get some money in while I put the magazine together? Well, that’s my business model. If you’re making any product that has some sort of production cost, whether that’s physical print run expenses or up-front dev work to get an app built, covering those costs before you even release your product means that you’ll be in profit from the first copy you sell. This is no small point: production expenses are pretty much the only cost you’ll ever need to recoup, so having them covered before you launch anything is pretty much the best possible position in which you could place yourself. Happy days, as Jamie Oliver would say. Obtaining these initial funds through partnerships has another benefit. Sure, it’s a form of advertising but, done right, your partners can potentially provide you with great content, too. In the case of 8 Faces, the ads look as nice as the rest of the magazine, and a couple of our partners also provide proper articles: genuinely meaningful, relevant, reader-pleasing articles at that. You’d be amazed at how many companies are willing to become partners and, as the old adage goes, if you don’t ask, you don’t get. With profit comes responsibility Don’t forget about the responsibility you have to your audience if you engage in a relationship with a partner or any type of advertiser: although I may have freely admitted my capitalist leanings, I’m still essentially a hairy hippy, and I feel that any partnership should be good for me as a publisher, good for the partner and — most importantly — good for the reader. Really, the key word here is relevance, and that’s where 99.9% of advertising fails abysmally. (99.9% is not a scientific figure, but you know what I’m on about.) The main grey area when a side project becomes profitable is how you share that profit, partly because — in my opinion, at least — the transition from non-profitable side project to relatively successful source of income can be a little blurred. Asking for help for nothing when there’s no money to be had is pretty normal, but sometimes it’s easy to get used to that free help even once you start making money. I believe the best approach is to ask for help with the promise that it will always be rewarded as soon as there’s money available. (Oh, god: this sounds like one of those nightmarish client proposals. It’s not, honest.) If you’re making something cool, people won’t mind helping out while you find your feet. Events often think that they’re exempt from sharing profit. Perhaps that’s because many event organizers think they’re doing the speakers a favour rather than the other way around (that’s a whole separate article), but it’s shocking to see how many people seem to think they can profit from content-makers — speakers, for example — and yet not pay for that content. It was for this reason that Keir and I paid all of our speakers for our Insites: The Tour side project, which we ran back in July. We probably could’ve got away without paying them, especially as the gig was so informal, but it was the right thing to do. In conclusion: money as a by-product Let’s conclude by returning to the slightly problematic nature of money, because it’s the pivot on which your side project’s success can swing, regardless of whether you measure success by monetary gain. I would argue that success has nothing to do with profit — it’s about you being able to spend the time you want on the project. Unfortunately, that is almost always linked to money: money to pay yourself while you work on your dream idea; money to pay for more servers when your web app hits the big time; money to pay for efforts to get the word out there. The key, then, is to judge success on your own terms, and seek to generate as much money as you see fit, whether it’s purely to cover your running costs, or enough to buy a small country. There’s nothing wrong with profit, as long as you’re ethical about it. (Pro tip: if you’ve earned enough to buy a small country, you’ve probably been unethical along the way.) The point at which individuals and companies fail — in the moral sense, for sure, but often in the competitive sense, too — is when money is the primary motivation. It should never be the primary motivation. If you’re not passionate enough about something to do it as an unprofitable side project, you shouldn’t be doing it all. Earning money should be a by-product of doing what you love. And who doesn’t want to spend their life doing what they love?",2011,Elliot Jay Stocks,elliotjaystocks,2011-12-22T00:00:00+00:00,https://24ways.org/2011/from-side-project-to-not-so-side-project/,business 265,Designing for Perfection,"Hello, 24 ways readers. I hope you’re having a nice run up to Christmas. This holiday season I thought I’d share a few things with you that have been particularly meaningful in my work over the last year or so. They may not make you wet your santa pants with new-idea-excitement, but in the context of 24 ways I think they may serve as a nice lesson and a useful seasonal reminder going into the New Year. Enjoy! Story Despite being a largely scruffy individual for most of my life, I had some interesting experiences regarding kitchen tidiness during my third year at university. As a kid, my room had always been pretty tidy, and as a teenager I used to enjoy reordering my CDs regularly (by artist, label, colour of spine – you get the picture); but by the time I was twenty I’d left most of these traits behind me, mainly due to a fear that I was turning into my mother. The one remaining anally retentive part of me that remained however, lived in the kitchen. For some reason, I couldn’t let all the pots and crockery be strewn across the surfaces after cooking. I didn’t care if they were washed up or not, I just needed them tidied. The surfaces needed to be continually free of grated cheese, breadcrumbs and ketchup spills. Also, the sink always needed to be clear. Always. Even a lone teabag, discarded casually into the sink hours previously, would give me what I used to refer to as “kitchen rage”. Whilst this behaviour didn’t cause any direct conflicts, it did often create weirdness. We would be happily enjoying a few pre-night out beverages (Jack Daniels and Red Bull – nice) when I’d notice the state of the kitchen following our round of customized 49p Tesco pizzas. Kitchen rage would ensue, and I’d have to blitz the kitchen, which usually resulted in me having to catch everyone up at the bar afterwards. One evening as we were just about to go out, I was stood there, in front of the shithole that was our kitchen with the intention of cleaning it all up, when a realization popped into my head. In hindsight, it was a pretty obvious one, but it went along the lines of “What the fuck are you doing? Sort your life out”. I sodded the washing up, rolled out with my friends, and had a badass evening of partying. After this point, whenever I got the urge to clean the kitchen, I repeated that same realization in my head. My tidy kitchen obsession strived for a level of perfection that my housemates just didn’t share, so it was ultimately pointless. It didn’t make me feel that good, either; it was like having a cigarette after months of restraint – initially joyous but soon slightly shameful. Lesson Now, around seven years later, I’m a designer on the web and my life is chaotic. It features no planning for significant events, no day-to-day routine or structure, no thought about anything remotely long-term, and I like to think I do precisely what I want. It seems my days at striving for something ordered and tidy, in most parts of my life, are long gone. For much of my time as a designer, though, it’s been a different story. I relished industry-standard terms such as ‘pixel perfection’ and ‘polished PSDs’, taking them into my stride as I strove to design everything that was put on my plate perfectly. Even down to grids and guidelines, all design elements would be painstakingly aligned to a five-pixel grid. There were no seven-pixel margins or gutters to be found in my design work, that’s for sure. I put too much pride and, inadvertently, too much ego into my work. Things took too long to create, and because of the amount of effort put into the work, significant changes, based on client feedback for example, were more difficult to stomach. Over the last eighteen months I’ve made a conscious effort to change the way I approach designing for the web. Working on applications has probably helped with this; they seem to have a more organic development than rigid content-based websites. Mostly though, a realization similar to my kitchen rage one came about when I had to make significant changes to a painstakingly crafted Photoshop document I had created. The changes shouldn’t have been difficult or time-consuming to implement, but they were turning out to be. One day, frustrated with how long it was taking, the refrain “What the fuck are you doing? Sort your life out” again entered my head. I blazed the rest of the work, not rushing or doing scruffy work, but just not adhering to the insane levels of perfection I had previously set for myself. When the changes were presented, everything went down swimmingly. The client in this case (and I’d argue most cases) cared more about the ideas than the perfect way in which they had been implemented. I had taken myself and my ego out of the creative side of the work, and it had been easier to succeed. Argument I know many other designers who work on the web share such aspirations to perfection. I think it’s a common part of the designer DNA, but I’m not sure it really has a place when designing for the web. First, there’s the environment. The landscape in which we work is continually shifting and evolving. The inherent imperfection of the medium itself makes attempts to create perfect work for it redundant. Whether you consider it a positive or negative point, the products we make are never complete. They’re always scaling and changing. Like many aspects of web design, this striving for perfection in our design work is a way of thinking borrowed from other design industries where it’s more suited. A physical product cannot be as easily altered or developed after it has been manufactured, so the need to achieve perfection when designing is more apt. Designers who can relate to anything I’ve talked about can easily let go of that anal retentiveness if given the right reasons to do so. Striving for perfection isn’t a bad thing, but I simply don’t think it can be achieved in such a fast-moving, unique industry. I think design for the web works better when it begins with quick and simple, followed by iteration and polish over time. To let go of ego and to publish something that you’re not completely happy with is perhaps the most difficult part of the job for designers like us, but it’s followed by a satisfaction of knowing your product is alive and breathing, whereas others (possibly even competitors) may still be sitting in Photoshop, agonizing over whether a margin should be twenty or forty pixels. I keep telling myself to stop sitting on those two hundred ideas that are all half-finished. Publish them, clean them up and iterate over time. I’ve been telling myself this for months and, hopefully, writing this article will give me the kick in the arse I need. Hopefully, it will also give someone else the same kick.",2011,Greg Wood,gregwood,2011-12-17T00:00:00+00:00,https://24ways.org/2011/designing-for-perfection/,process 269,Adaptive Images for Responsive Designs… Again,"When I was asked to write an article for 24 ways I jumped at the chance, as I’d been wanting to write about some fun hacks for responsive images and related parsing behaviours. My heart sank a little when Matt Wilcox beat me to the subject, but it floated back up when I realized I disagreed with his method and still had something to write about. So, Matt Wilcox, if that is your real name (and I’m pretty sure it is), I disagree. I see your dirty server-based hack and raise you an even dirtier client-side hack. Evil laugh, etc., etc. You guys can stomach yet another article about responsive design, right? Right? Half the room gets up to leave Whoa, whoa… OK, I’ll cut to the chase… TL;DR In a previous episode, we were introduced to Debbie and her responsive cat poetry page. Well, now she’s added some reviews of cat videos and some images of cats. Check out her new page and have a play around with the browser window. At smaller widths, the images change and the design responds. The benefits of this method are: it’s entirely client-side images are still shown to users without JavaScript your media queries stay in your CSS file no repetition of image URLs no extra downloads per image it’s fast enough to work on resize it’s pure filth What’s wrong with the server-side solution? Responsive design is a client-side issue; involving the server creates a boatload of problems. It sets a cookie at the top of the page which is read in subsequent requests. However, the cookie is not guaranteed to be set in time for requests on the same page, so the server may see an old value or no value at all. Serving images via server scripts is much slower than plain old static hosting. The URL can only cache with vary: cookie, so the cache breaks when the cookie changes, even if the change is unrelated. Also, far-future caching is out for devices that can change width. It depends on detecting screen width, which is rather messy on mobile devices. Responding to things other than screen width (such as DPI) means packing more information into the cookie, and a more complicated script at the top of each page. So, why isn’t this straightforward on the client? Client-side solutions to the problem involve JavaScript testing user agent properties (such as screen width), looping through some images and setting their URLs accordingly. However, by the time JavaScript has sprung into action, the original image source has already started downloading. If you change the source of an image via JavaScript, you’re setting off yet another request. Images are downloaded as soon as their DOM node is created. They don’t need to be visible, they don’t need to be in the document. new Image().src = url The above will start an HTTP request for url. This is a handy trick for quick requests and preloading, but also shows the browser’s eagerness to download images. Here’s an example of that in action. Check out the network tab in Web Inspector (other non-WebKit development aids are available) to see the image requests. Because of this, some client-side solutions look like this: where t.gif is a 1×1px tiny transparent GIF. This results in no images if JavaScript isn’t available. Dealing with the absence of JavaScript is still important, even on mobile. I was recently asked to make a website work on an old Blackberry 9000. I was able to get most of the way there by preventing that OS parsing any JavaScript, and that was only possible because the site didn’t depend on it. We need to delay loading images for JavaScript users, but ensure they load for users without JavaScript. How can we conditionally parse markup depending on JavaScript support? Oh yeah!