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Completing this exercise proved harder than I had originally anticipated, which seems to be a common theme so far in this course! I had assumed that my familiarity with web design and user interfaces would benefit me in navigating the “User Inyerface” game. The converse though proved to be true, and my web browsing experience actually made the challenge more difficult, as my gaze naturally, or I suppose unnaturally, was turned towards the various portions of the screen that the designers had intended to emphasize. 

For example, in the screenshot below, I was first drawn to the large green “No” button, as I fooled by its size, central placement, and the common association of the colour green with affirmative commands. The word “click” is also underlined, which made me assume that it was a clickable hyperlink. Reading the text closer, however, reveals that the word “HERE” is the real link on this page. These elements exploit human psychology, as noted by Steve Krug (referenced in Brignull, 2011), who emphasizes that “We don’t read pages. We scan them.” By leveraging this behaviour, the designers of “User Inyerface” intentionally subverted usability principles to create so-called “dark patterns.” These deceptive interface elements are designed to manipulate users into making unintended choices, often by misdirecting their focus or exploiting their expectations. 

Another example can be seen below, where a negative prompt (as opposed to the usual affirmative) is used for the checkbox, which states “I do not accept the Terms and Conditions.” This formatting runs counter to the usual expectation of the user, which is an empty checkbox where they are asked to accept the terms and conditions of the website. Additionally, the flashing numbers at the top also drew my attention, distracting me from where the important information was on the screen. 

This caused me to take longer than usual to fill in the appropriate boxes, leading to the next window unexpectedly appearing. Initially, I assumed there was a time limit to the game, which created a sense of urgency and pressure to proceed quickly. This design choice could potentially mislead users into hastily making a purchase or entering sensitive information. Additionally, I clicked the expansion button in the top right corner, expecting it to function as a close button since that’s is where its typically placed. However, it performed the opposite action, which left me confused. The green “Lock” button also tricked me into selecting it, which then did what it stated and locked the window until I clicked on the “Unlock” button. The actual close button was hidden in the bottom left, a placement that deviates from standard user interface design. 

Eventually, after working through several other difficult and frustrating windows (one of which included a series of seemingly never ending ‘are you human’ boxes), I managed to make my way to the final screen. The time it displays is inaccurate, as reaching it actually took several attempts after I closed the tab out of frustration! 

This exercise revealed how much I rely on standard design conventions without realizing it, thereby creating an exceptionally frustrating experience. At the same time, it made me think about how easily interfaces can trick us by playing on our habits and assumptions. “User Inyerface” broke the conventions I’m used to, and it forced me to slow down and actually pay closer attention to what I was doing. While it was annoying to navigate, it also demonstrated how important ethical design is in making things clear and user-friendly. Unfortunately, this is not incentivized in our current market economy. As described by Harris (2017), “The internet is not evolving randomly. The race for attention drives everything. Every platform competes for one thing: our attention.” 

References

Bagaar. (2019). User Inyerface. [web game].

Brignull, H. (2011). Dark patterns: Deception vs. honesty in UI design. A List Apart, 338.

Harris, T. (2017). How a handful of tech companies control billions of minds every day. [Video]. TED.

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When I first examined the visualization of our song choices, I noticed how difficult it was to interpret and understand what I was looking at. In particular, the most challenging part of this task was trying to identify where the lines intersected, and what their meaning was. (And to be honest, I am not entirely sure that I elicited the true meaning all of the patterns that were shown)

After taking time to study the mess of lines and dots, I could see some parallels to the multi-graphs that were referred to in the videos from this week. For example,  the graphs mapped out our musical selections as “nodes,” where the connected points revealed the shared choices that we made (Systems Innovation, 2015). I found that inferences could also potentially be made about how someone’s song criteria influenced their choices, as the visualizations grouped together those with similar responses. This can be seen in the image below, where those who chose to preserve Johnny B Goode were also likely to preserve the Fifth Symphony or Brandenburg Concerto.

In addition, based on the size of the nodes and frequency of edges, it appeared that among the most common song choices were:

1. Brandenburg Concerto
2. Johnny B Goode
3. Fifth Symphony
4. Crane’s Nest

On the other hand, some of the least common song choices were:

1. String Quartet No. 13
2. Gavotte en rondeaux
3.  Pygmy Girl Initiation Song

Interestingly, several songs were unrepresented* in the visualization, such as:

1. Bach’s Glenn Gould
2. Georgia
3. Malanesian Panpipes
4.  Iziel je Delyo Hagdutin
5. Beethoven’s 5th, part 1, Otto Klemperer

*To find which ones were not included I actually had to go into the notepad version of the .json file, as I found trying to sift through the visualization to be too difficult (although there is probably an easier way that I didn’t know about).

However, while these images visually represented the frequency and pattern of selections that were made, it made me wonder about what was left out. That is, what about the reasons behind the songs I didn’t choose, as well as the ones that my classmates did not select? And how might the weighted connections used in the graphs oversimplify our preferences? For example, the data being shown does not reveal my own rationale for choosing Cranes in Their Nest, which centered on the emotions that it evoked and its cultural connections. It only reveals that by choosing it, I was more likely to also select Flowing Streams.

To further examine what information was left out, I went to visit the blog posts from others in the course, in an attempt to discover the reasons they gave for their song selections. Three examples of reasoning that are left out of the visualization can be seen in the quotations below:

1. “I curated the list of musical content down to these ten picks in order to create a narrative for both the record and our human society. I tried to mix as many different cultures while keeping the narrative, but I worry that my own inclination with western media may have come through with the majority of selections being from the northern hemisphere.” (Navid Panah)
2. “I wanted to choose a variety of songs to preserve the original intent of the golden record. Some major considerations I had when determining my opinion of “variety” were: country of origin, length, genre, and if the song was instrumental or vocal. This list contains both short and long songs (in fact, it keeps both the shortest and longest track on the record!), represents each continent of the world, and has a mix of vocal and instrumental tracks. Overall, I also tried to include songs that differed from each other tonally, as I felt that would have the strongest impact.” (Tristan Wong)
3. “For instance, I chose Johnny B. Goode because it’s meant purely for listening and entertainment while Azerbaijan bagpipes seems more ritualistic and cultural (though it’s not a guarantee aliens would interpret that way). I also ignored lyrics, except to include tracks with vocals, because aliens would be unlikely to be able to interpret spoken words.”  (Evan Daigle)

After reading through these blog posts, I could see that it’s important to understand what these data networks represent: not just what’s visible, but also what’s missing. The gaps in data can shape narratives just as much as the information that is included. While I could find information from the visualizations about frequency and patterns of selections, I could not fully discern the meaning behind the choices (and thus the data) itself. Consequently, data visualizations can only tell part of the story; if we want to understand their real meanings we have to dig deeper and look beyond just the graphs and numbers.

 

References

Systems Innovation. (2015, April 19). Network connections.[Video]. YouTube.

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This task reminded me of activities I’ve done in the classroom when teaching about historical significance, such as asking students to create a timeline of the five most important moments in their lives. Just as my students often struggle to narrow down their choices, I too found this exercise surprisingly difficult. Part of the difficulty came from my limited knowledge on musical theory and history. To account for this, I approached the task of curating the Golden Record’s tracks from a layman’s perspective, and sought to create a time capsule around the following criteria to determine which works to preserve:

Does it elicit emotional depth?
Is it representative of our diverse cultures and regions?

In making these selections, I also saw parallels to challenges associated with the digitization of cultural artifacts. As Dr. Smith Rumsey (2017) observes, our decisions raise critical questions, such as what might be lost when choosing what to keep and what to discard? And who should be the ones to decide? Similarly, the process of curating tracks also made me consider Rumsey’s (2017) warning about “intellectual monoculture.” This led to my decision to incorporate tracks from a range of cultures. Ultimately, this task required me to think critically about what I value most in human expression, eventually landing on emotional resonance and cultural diversity.

1. Greetings from Earth: Although this isn’t technically a musical score, I chose to include this track due to its incorporation of various languages expressing ‘greetings’ and well wishes from earth. I also found it interesting how the direct translations for each greeting was slightly different, giving insight into the cultural values of the nation that produced it. Consequently, this addressed the second criterion I had set, namely it being representative of our diverse cultures and regions.
2. Bach, Brandenburg no 2, part 1: While listening to this composition, it evoked feelings of optimism and happiness and inspired a sense of resilience. Additionally, I appreciated its upbeat rhythm and the lightness of the instruments used. It also happened to be one of the few pieces of classical music that I recognized, which also factored into my decision.
3. Cranes in their nest-Japan (Shakuhachi): I decided to include this song because it struck a completely different chord compared to the previous piece I chose. There’s something about the flute’s melody, calm yet quietly sad, that really stayed with me. It also has an unmistakable tone that immediately took me back to my travels in Japan. It felt like the perfect choice to be a representative for East Asia, not just for its beauty but for the personal memories and emotions it stirred.
4. Jaat Kahan Ho – India – Surshri: I chose this track due to its unique tone and use of instrumentals and vocals. It also left an impression after I was finished listening to it; a haunting feeling that I couldn’t quite put my finger on as to why. As well, much like the previous recording, its style was also reflective of the nation that produced it, leading me to select it as representative of South Asia.
5. Men’s house song – Papua New Guinea: The introduction of this track drew me in immediately, and I couldn’t think of any other comparable series of sounds that I had heard before that was quite like it. This is particularly true when compared to contemporary music (at least that which you would typically hear on the radio or, more likely, on a streaming platform like Spotify). Its country of origin also meant that it could be one of the tracks representing the Oceanic region. For these reasons I included it in my list of songs to preserve.
6. Navajo Night Chant – America: Part of the reason that I included this song was due to the way its melody and vocals created feelings of hope and happiness, as the combination of percussion and singing intertwined together. I also found it interesting that it created similar emotions to Bach’s Brandenburg composition, but did so in a completely different way. Furthermore, this was one of my selections for the Americas, and also represented an Indigenous voice in the songs that were preserved.
7. Johnny B Goode – Chuck Berry: To be honest, this track is actually one of my favourite songs and so I found it hard to leave it off the list of preserved recordings. Its upbeat rhythm and catchy melody sticks with you long after listening to it, and it immediately evokes images of the time period that it was created in. For these reasons, as well as its American origin, I chose to include Johnny B. Goode.
8. Flowing Streams – China: As someone with Chinese heritage, this song connected to my own personal culture and background, and that is what first drew me to it. I also found its title, ‘Flowing Streams,’ to be appropriate, as it is a very calming track that soothes the listener. Furthermore, like many of the other tracks that I chose to preserve, it has a unique tone and use of instruments, leading me to choose it as one of my selections.
9. Panpipes and drum song – Peru: In contrast to the previous track, this song made me want to dance rather than meditate. Its use of flutes and percussion created feelings of happiness in me, and I’m of the opinion that you can’t have too many songs that elicit that emotion. As well, being a Peruvian song, I chose to include it to represent South America.
10. Morning Star and Devil Bird- Australia: This final track that I chose to preserve stands out for the emotional response I felt while listening to it. In particular, its haunting melodies and rhythms pulled me into an intimate, almost spiritual experience. Although I’m unfamiliar with its historical background or the specific context of the song, it seemed to carry stories and connections that transcended the music itself.

References

Brown University. (2017, July 11). Abby Smith Rumsey: “Digital memory: What can we afford to lose?” [Video]. YouTube.

Music from Earth. (n.d.). NASA.

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This week, I transformed the “What’s in Your Bag” task from a visual mode to an auditory one, and took inspiration from the New London Group’s (NLG) concept of multiliteracies as well as old radio competitions that had listeners guess what an object was based on the sound. By removing the visual component, I explored how sounds could convey meaning and identity, reimagining literacy as something that extends beyond reading and writing. As such, the exercise broadened my understanding of literacy and challenged me to rethink how I represent and interpret objects. In doing so, it helped me to make connections to the NLG’s concept of transformative design, which “involves making new use of old materials” (NLG, 1996).

In my redesign, I considered the sound each item in my bag produces and what it reveals about its purpose and significance. For example, the tapping of my laptop’s keyboard symbolizes the text that I can create to communicate my ideas, while the jingle of keys represents physical mobility. By combining narration with these auditory cues, I created an experience where listeners could make an inference about the objects’ identities and their connection to my life in a way that might differ from a viewing of a photograph. Consequently, parallels can be seen to New London Group’s assertion that literacy should extend beyond traditional language-based approaches to include diverse communication forms (1996, p. 60-61).

One of the key benefits of this activity was broadening the definition of what it means to be “literate.” In particular, shifting to an auditory mode created an accessible medium for individuals who might struggle with traditional visual literacy. It also prompted a deeper reflection on how objects are tied to identity and cultural context. For instance, the sound of keys might represent something entirely different in a community where driving is less common or where doors are left unlocked. However, at the same time this auditory mode presented new challenges. In particular, speech and sound is inherently linear, whereby the listener must access the medium in the order that the noise is made or words are spoken (unlike a photograph where an observer can begin by focusing on any part or parts of the picture). Furthermore, it was also difficult to translate every object from my visual image to an auditory one, which meant that some items were left out of this version (e.g. my remote clicker). This highlighted the limitations of relying solely on audio and the importance of multimodal literacy.

References

The New London Group. (1996). A pedagogy of multiliteracies: Designing social futures. Harvard Educational Review 66(1), 60-92.

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Despite the simplicity of emojis, the task of using these images to represent long form media (i.e. a TV show) proved to be quite challenging. While I could use emojis to capture key ideas like money, betrayal, death, and competition, expressing its deeper themes such as inequality, morality, and survival proved more difficult. This highlighted the strengths and limitations of emojis as a semiotic tool: they’re highly accessible and immediate but often struggle to convey abstract or nuanced concepts (which makes sense given their pictograph form).

What stood out to me is how emojis function as a hybrid between traditional text and visual representation. For instance, they are often arranged in a left-to-right sequence, encouraging a linear reading path similar to text. At the same time, they possess the flexibility of images, allowing readers to interpret or reorder symbols in different ways depending on their perspective. While I arranged the emojis in a particular order to suggest the plot of the story, others could approach them from different angles, focusing on specific elements or rearranging the sequence, and still extract meaning. This hybrid nature reflects Kress’ (2005) discussion of how reading and writing practices are changing in the digital age. In traditional text, authors hold significant control over meaning, as readers rely on the sequential order to uncover ideas. By contrast, visual modes like images give viewers the freedom to interpret spatially. Emojis combine both dynamics: they invite linear reading while also allowing for nonlinear, reader-driven interpretation (Kress, 2005, p. 13). As said by Kress (2005):

“Where with traditional pages, in the former semiotic landscape, it was the power of the author that ruled, here, it is the interest of the reader, derived from the contingencies and needs of their life-worlds.” (p. 18)

This shift from author-driven to reader-driven meaning-making also reflects broader social changes. Kress observes that digital communication gives readers greater agency to navigate and interpret multimodal texts according to their own contexts and needs. Parallels can also be made to Bolter’s (2001) assertion that this development (i.e. the growing primacy of the visual) is leading to “a readjustment of the ratio between text and image in the various forms of print (books, magazines, newspapers, billboards), and the refashioning of prose itself in an attempt both to rival and to incorporate the visual image.” Accordingly, emojis exemplify this trend, blending the structure of text with the openness of visuals to create a flexible form of communication (albeit with the aforementioned limitations).

References

Chapter 4. Bolter, J. D. (2001). Writing space: Computers, hypertext, and the remediation of print (2nd ed.). Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Kress, G. (2005), Gains and losses: New forms of texts, knowledge, and learning. Computers and Composition, 2(1), 5-22.

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Part 1: My Journal Entry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I decided to handwrite a journal entry where I reflected on my daily life since the birth of my daughter. I normally type in these situations because my handwriting is messy, and I can type much faster. In comparison, writing by hand feels slower and more cumbersome, especially when I’m trying to capture my thoughts quickly. However, there’s something satisfying about putting pen to paper, as I enjoy the tactile sensation of feeling the pen scrape the paper, particularly with a ‘good’ quality pen. Furthermore, thinking of what to say for this task came relatively easily, as reflecting on how my life has changed since Emma was born was natural since it’s something I think about often. However, revising what I wrote was more challenging. When I type, I can delete and rearrange words effortlessly, but with handwriting, I had to cross off parts I wanted to change. That felt a bit clunky, and at times it disrupted the flow of my writing.

When I made a mistake or wanted to adjust my wording, I had to cross out the part I wanted to revise and write the new version next to it. It wasn’t as clean or seamless as editing on a computer, where quick adjustments can be made. After finishing, I read over what I had written and tried to see if any changes were necessary. For example, I noticed I hadn’t initially clarified that Emma is my daughter, so I squeezed that in the space between the lines. Furthermore, the choice of media influenced how I approached the task. Knowing this was handwritten and informal, I felt less pressure to make it perfect. If I’d been typing, I probably would’ve edited more thoroughly or structured it differently.

Part 2: Potato Stamps

I entered into this task with a little bit of trepidation, as arts and crafts are typically not one of my stronger suits. One of the most challenging aspects was realizing how precise and intentional I needed to be. I was eventually able to carve out what resembled letters in my potatoes through trial and (lots of) error, but when I began stamping, I quickly discovered how tricky it was to get a clean print. The paint often smudged, and I realized that brushing the paint onto the potato instead of dipping it was more effective. This helped, but I also learned (unfortunately, too late) that non-symmetrical letters like “S” needed to be reversed to print correctly. That’s why my “S” ended up backward, which was a frustrating but valuable lesson in planning ahead. Creating the stamps and stamping the word took about an hour in total. While it seemed like a short word, the process was surprisingly time-consuming, especially when I factored in experimenting to get each letter just right, such as trying different colour paints to see which would produce the clearest print. Simpler letters like “T” and “M” came out clearer, while the more intricate shapes of “A” and “R” required careful carving and handling to avoid smudging or uneven prints.

This activity also made me reflect further on the evolution of writing and printing as described by Lamb & McCormic’s podcast episode (2020). The amount of time and effort it took to (re)produce just a five-letter word gave me a newfound appreciation for the convenience of digital tools and mechanized printing. Typing a word on a keyboard or even handwriting feels effortless compared to this manual process. It also reminded me of how revolutionary inventions like the printing press were by making mass communication faster and more efficient. Overall, the experience demonstrated how much we take modern writing tools for granted.

References

Lamb, R., & McCormick, J. (Hosts). (2020, May 26). From the vault: Invention of the book, part 1 Links to an external site. [Audio podcast episode]. In Stuff to blow your mind. iHeart Radio

 

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