Expressions: Embodiment in the experience of design

EXPRESSIONS

ISBN 90-9019316-2

© Thomas J. L. van Rompay, 2005

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronical or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission from the author.

EXPRESSIONS

EMBODIMENT IN THE EXPERIENCE OF DESIGN

PROEFSCHRIFT

ter verkrijging van de graad van doctor aan de Technische Universiteit Delft,

op gezag van de Rector Magnificus prof. dr. ir. J. T. Fokkema, voorzitter van het College voor Promoties,

in het openbaar te verdedigen op dinsdag 3 mei 2005 om 15:30 uur

door

Thomas Johannes Lucas VAN ROMPAY

Dit proefschrift is goedgekeurd door de promotoren:

Prof. dr. P. P. M. Hekkert Prof. ir. J. J. Jacobs

Samenstelling promotiecommissie:

Rector Magnificus, voorzitter

Prof. dr. P. P. M. Hekkert, Technische Universiteit Delft, promotor Prof. ir. J. J. Jacobs, Technische Universiteit Delft, promotor

Prof. dr. P. Badke-Schaub, Technische Universiteit Delft Prof. dr. ir. P. A. Kroes, Technische Universiteit Delft

Prof. dr. G. C. Cupchik, University of Toronto, Canada Dr. C. J. Forceville, Universiteit van Amsterdam

A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

9

PROLOGUE

13

INTRODUCTION

15

1

PERSPECTIVES ON EXPRESSION

25

1.1 The expressive object 27

1.2 The constructive individual 38

1.3 The interactional stance 48

1.4 Conclusion 57

2

EXPLORATIONS

61

2.1 The bodily basis of product experience 62

3

STUDIES IN FORM EXPRESSION

81

3.1 Bus shelters and experienced closure 82 3.2 Grounding abstract object characteristics in 86 embodied interactions

4

DESIGNING EMBODIED EXPRESSIONS

125

4.1 Pilot studies 126

4.2 Design of an involved ‘smoking pillar’ 130

4.3 Discussion 141

5

FINDINGS AND IMPLICATIONS

147

5.1 On the nature of expression 149

5.2 Expression, metaphor, and embodiment 151

5.3 Concluding remarks 159

EPILOGUE

163

SUMMARY

171

SAMENVATTING

175

REFERENCES

179

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

___________________________________________________________

Writing a PhD thesis is not possible without a great deal of guidance and support. Supervisors, colleagues, friends, and family have contributed to this dissertation in various ways. For this, I would like to thank them.

First of all, I would like to thank Paul Hekkert for his guidance and sense of direction, so necessary at times when I was off-track. You made sure the last word connects to the first and to all the words in between. We started out slow, but as time went by our cooperation felt more and more like a thrilling ride on the left side of the freeway. Thanks for granting me the opportunity to explore my talents and limitations.

I am also indebted to Jan Jacobs. Being a designer yourself, you regularly pointed out flaws in my reasoning about what design is and what designers do. Thanks to you this thesis is what any book originating from within a design-research institute should be about: design.

Another contribution to this thesis consisted in the cooperation of Wim Muller. Thanks for your support in getting this project started. Not only were your ideas at the basis of our first experiment, you were also a creating force behind the designs that made our second study such a success.

I owe a special debt to Daniel Saakes for his support and enduring patience in getting the studies reported in chapter three off the ground. Thanks for launching Maya time after time after time. You made sure those jugs turned out just fine, even on that gigantic, slick poster.

Our cooperation got a chance to flourish within an inspiring, multidisciplinary environment known as the ID-Studiolab. Working between the once pink- and green colored walls of the Studiolab was in one word terrific. I remember making my entrance in the Studiolab in our former building, fresh from college, finding it difficult to work for eight hours (or more) a day. But as time passed by and we moved to a new place, the Studiolab turned out to be the ideal place to work individually, take pleasure in interacting with others, and download lots of great stuff. Marco, Marijke, Gert, Marieke, Pieter, Daniel, Ronald, Froukje, Martijn, Valentijn, Rob, Rick, Elif, Onno, Corrie, Carlita, Ianus, Aadjan, Geke, Julie, Caroline, Els, Tom, Stefan, Joep, Aernout, Aldo, Jacco, Miguel, and all others involved; it was so much more than a pleasure.

I am also more than grateful for the graphic design support of Corrie van der Lelie and Marijke Melles. Thank you both for your time and patience. I never knew that two lines meeting at a distant point or a counterbalancing of equally sized plains could trigger such sublime sensations. Further thanks to Gert Pasman for his piercing comments and participation in all pilot studies conducted throughout the years.

In addition, many students of Industrial Design helped in various ways. Thanks to Bram Joosen, Anna Witteman, Jesse Captijn, Ralph Steenbergen, Leonoor Beukers, Dirk Vis, Thomas Bijen, and Femke Braaksma for their great works and ideas. Further thanks to Patricia Cocco & Chee Koon, and to Diane Fossen & Hanneke van der Zwaag whose designs lighten up this thesis (section 4.1.1 and section 4.1.2 respectively), and to all 22 designers participating in our ‘smoking’ study (section 4.2). And many thanks to Sietske Klooster for her support in turning this study into a real ‘moving’ experience.

I would not have written this thesis were it not for Freija van Duijne who brought this PhD position under my attention, thanks for doing that. Further thanks to my dear friend Fedor Baart for his thoughtful comments on the statistical analyses of all those highly significant data we gathered throughout the years, and to Aadjan van der Helm for developing the software used in administering the experiments reported in chapter three.

A big thank you to Beatriz Russo and to my brother Jan and sister in law Ingrid for making things happen in Brazil, and to Henri Christiaans, Norbert Roozenburg, Charles Forceville, Ed Tan, William Domhoff, Rene van Egmond, and Johan Wagemans for their thoughtful

comments on earlier drafts of the manuscripts that form the experimental core of this thesis.

I also would like to thank my father and mother for their enduring support. It felt really good to discuss my thoughts and writings at our place, via E-mail, and over the phone near the end of the ride.

Finally, I would like to thank my girlfriend Suzanne Innemee who supported me in so many ways over the years. Thanks for your patience and confidence. You never showed a trace of doubt (even at times when I had many), and constantly reminded me that there is more to life than PhD research.

PROLOGUE

___________________________________________________________

What is product experience? At first glance the answer to this question may seem straightforward and easy. After all, is it not obvious that product experience involves two clearly distinguishable constituents: a product and someone experiencing that product? And is it not therefore plain simple that the nature of any experience is determined by the identity of both product and perceiver? Just think of a walk downtown. You will pass by lampposts, parked cars, a mailbox, a bus shelter, and so on. The moment you perceive any of these objects, you will have some kind of experience of them; a parked car may strike you as resolute, a mailbox as trustworthy or a bus shelter as inviting.

Of course, the product does not tell the whole story. Whether you will like or dislike a product, feel safe or insecure inside a bus shelter, desire or detest a certain product also depends on your personal taste, life experiences, and interests. In short, in that whole we refer to as ‘product experience’ it seems as if we can distinguish between contributions that have to do with you, i.e., the perceiver, and those that originate from, i.e., have to do with, the object.

But now, ask yourself a question: is this really an accurate description of product experience? Is it really the case that you can say of any experience what role the product plays in it and what role you play? It does not take too much effort to realize that almost everything you say about a product is relative to you; a product or building is not spacious or immense in an absolute sense; it is only so in relation to your bodily measurements. Imagine yourself being a floating unbounded mass, like the dew covering the meadows in the early morning; certainly things would look quite different. Nothing would be near or far, small or wide. In that sense, everything you say

about your world depends on you, and only makes sense to you (and to billions of other people with similar bodies).

On the other hand, it is equally clear that experience is not something that happens exclusively inside our head, i.e., something divorced from the world we live in. Certainly, there would be nothing to experience without a world in the first place. But the world is not a big ‘input device’, accidentally being there, either. So experience may not just be a simple coming together of the world and you, but rather something more complicated which deserves further study.

INTRODUCTION

___________________________________________________________

Product experience is more than perception of form, materials, and related functionalities. The human potential to perceive essentially lifeless forms as dynamic, breathing objects opens up and enriches our experience of products in many fascinating ways. Take for instance Lord Yo (see Fig. 1). My fondness for this particular chair not only relates to its practical functioning as an object I can sit in. For one thing, I admire Yo’s compelling shape; I like its articulation of elegance and dignity. And seen from the side, I cannot help but marvel at its dynamic, vigorous outlook. In that sense, Lord Yo is not a dead, artificial form, but an object infused with life.

But Starck’s chair is also more than just an object I happen to enjoy for its compelling shape; it is at the same time a materialized expression of values or characteristics I consider important or worth striving for. For instance, I like to think of Lord Yo as embodying harmony and spontaneity, characteristics I value in others and strive for in my own life as well. And because of its expressive, intriguing form, Lord Yo has also proven to be an excellent sparring partner in my attempts to get a grip on the notions discussed in this thesis.

Although this is just one example taken from my private life, it nicely illustrates that products are not just ‘practical’ or ‘convenient’ objects, but also a source of pleasurable or meaningful experiences. In scholarly literature this ‘trend’ is often traced to the ever-increasing number of products which appear on the market that are very similar in function and price, making it hard or simply irrelevant for people to differentiate products on these primary criteria (Postrel, 2003; Veryzer, 1995). As a result, people have become more attuned to aspects of product experience they once ignored. These days ‘consumers don’t just buy a product; they buy value in the form of entertainment, experience, and identity’ (Esslinger, 1999). A product’s success or failure, therefore, largely depends on such formerly ignored aspects of a product’s function (Margolin, 2002).

The current focus on user experience has considerable implications for designers, marketeers, and researchers. First of all, designers face the task of not only designing products that work well, something that is often taken for granted by most people these days, but also of designing products that provide people with pleasurable experiences or the needed support in their quest for a meaningful life. Second, marketeers, well aware of the fact that utilitarian aspects of products are no longer the number one factor influencing purchase decisions, need to be aware of such needs in order to know what aspects of products to promote. The Loewe advertisement (Fig. 2, left), for instance, proclaims ‘just experience’, further stressing ‘inspiration’, ‘communication’, ‘information’, ‘joy’, and ‘pleasure’; experiences all brought to you by Loewe. Likewise, the Sheaffer advertisement (Fig. 2, right) addresses the consumer’s presumed need for self-expression: ‘buy a Sheaffer and show the world who you really are’.

Fig 2. Ads for Loewe and Sheaffer

And last, but certainly not least, researchers face the task of inquiring into the nature of human experience, for if design is largely a matter of ‘experience design’, this is where to start. As witnessed by the many books and conferences (e.g., McDonagh, Hekkert, Van Erp, & Gyi, 2004), the experience of products is steadily gaining ground as a topic in design research. Notwithstanding, ‘experience’ may well be the most elusive concept to catch in scientific discourse, prone to misinterpretation, and in danger of being divorced from those who do the experiencing. Therefore, the object of this study is to enquire into one aspect of human experience deemed relevant for designers. Before elaborating on our intention, first some lines should be drawn.

WHAT IS PRODUCT EXPERIENCE?

Product experiences arise in interactions between people and products; driving a car may give rise to a sense of excitement and adventure, the sight of Lord Yo (Fig. 1) pleases me, and owning an Apple G5 PowerBook makes some of us feel proud or self-assured. As suggested by these examples, one may distinguish between different aspects that give each and every experience its unique character: emotional aspects, aesthetic aspects, and aspects related to our understanding of products (Hekkert, in press). The desire I feel for Lord Yo (Fig. 1) is an emotional aspect of my experience of Starck’s chair. The sensual pleasure Yo grants me is an aesthetic aspect of that

same experience, whereas the self-assurance that ownership of particular products may bring along relates to one’s understanding of products as an affirmation or proliferation of one’s values or identity. Motivating my purchase of an Apple computer, for instance, is the conviction that Apple computers embody values such as perfection and harmony, values that I consider important.

Product experience and expression

Research in product experience usually centers on one of the three aspects, i.e., emotional, aesthetic, and understanding-related aspects, discussed. Desmet (2002), for instance, explored the processes underlying the emotions (i.e., emotional aspects of product experience) products give rise to. These he considers to be dependent on the interaction between the product, on the one hand, and the user’s concerns and appraisal of the situation (i.e., context) in which the product is encountered, on the other. Someone valuing modesty as a desirable social standard, for instance, will generally display a likeness or desire for products expressing modesty and related characteristics through their visual appearance. These very same products (i.e., products expressing modesty) may strike another person (e.g., someone who rather values contrasting characteristics such as brutality or bluntness) as anything but desirable, for to this person modesty is a sign of weakness or inferiority. As such, Desmet argues, it is rather the personal significance of the product than the product itself that determines the nature of the emotions elicited (Desmet, 2002).

Although the response of a particular individual to a specific product can, ‘fortunately’, not be predicted, in our example both the desire of the ‘modesty-valuing’ person, and the aversion of the ‘bluntness-valuing’ person relate to their (similar) understanding of the same products as connoting modesty. In other words, although people’s emotional responses to one and the same product may vary widely, the meanings in terms of which it is perceived may show less variation. Product characteristics that are not literally part of a product’s appearance (e.g., products are not literally modest or blunt) are referred to as expressive, figurative or abstract characteristics (see for instance Blank, Massey, Gardner, & Winner, 1984).

Expressive characteristics also play part in aesthetic aspects of product experience. For although people may differ in the degree to which they think of a product as beautiful or ugly, repellent or

pleasing, they frequently refer to expressive characteristics when asked to explain why they think of a product as beautiful or ugly (Creusen, 1998; Snelders, 1995). When you ask me what I like about my Ipod (Fig. 3), for instance, I will point out its feminine yet robust expression.

Fig. 3. Ad for Apple’s Ipod

Finally, my understanding of a product as, for instance, similar to me in particular aspects is (also) grounded in the perception of products as expressive. Starting from the finding that people talk about products in terms of expressive characteristics reflecting personality traits such as modesty and pride, Govers (2004) demonstrated that people prefer products perceived as congruent with their own personality or self-concept. People who consider seriousness an essential aspect of their self-concept, for instance, are generally drawn to products expressing seriousness and related characteristics through their visual appearance.

In short, the different aspects of product experience are to a considerable degree grounded in products’ expressive characteristics. As such, it is through a product’s expression that a designer has the means to mediate the experiences his or her products give rise to. Especially in times when products are no longer judged solely by their utilitarian aspects ‘(empathic) expression is the most fundamental and predictable determinant of a product’s appeal’ (Coates, 2003, p. 111). It is for this reason that this thesis will centre on product expression. In what is to follow we will primarily focus on the relations between product form and product expression. For although products are not only expressive through their visual appearance, but also through, for

instance, their behavior or functioning, it is obvious that a product’s form often determines one’s first impression, and is a critical determinant of a product’s success (Bloch, 1995; Postrel, 2003).

Product form expression

As suggested in the preceding discussion, a product’s expression is an important aspect underlying the experience of products. In discussing product expression one may distinguish between personal, culturally defined, and cross-cultural or universal aspects (Hekkert, in press). On the personal level, products may be perceived as, for instance, nostalgic or precious because they have been with us for a long time, or remind us of specific events or episodes in our lives. The Renault 4 (Fig. 4, left), for instance, has special, personal significance for me since it is the first car I can remember driving in as a child.

At the cultural level, perceiving a product as, for instance, modern or outdated in part depends on comparison with forms in fashion within a specific culture or region at a certain time. The Chrysler Cruiser PT (Fig. 4, right), for instance, may be perceived as old fashioned or characterized as retro because its form brings back memories of objects dominating our culture in the 1950’s.

Fig 4. Renault 4 (left) and Chrysler Cruiser PT (right)

Although such personal and culturally defined aspects certainly influence the way people perceive forms of all kind, form expression is to a large degree agreed upon by individuals suggesting an inter-personal, cross-cultural basis of product expression. As a matter of fact, Scheerer and Lyons (1957) demonstrated that ‘upward-directed’, ‘open’, and ‘curved’ forms, for instance, are generally associated with happiness, whereas ‘straight’, ‘heavy’, ‘regular’, and ‘upward’ lines are generally associated with pride. In a similar vein, Osgood (1960)

revealed a general tendency for people across cultures to perceive, for instance, ‘crooked’ lines as bad or noisy, ‘bright’, ‘thin’, and ‘diffuse’ forms as fast, and ‘hazy’, ‘rounded’, and ‘blunt’ forms as loose or calm. In sum, people agree to a considerable degree on what forms express, suggesting relatively stable relations between form and expression.

The problem with expression

Although we all perceive objects as expressive, and to a considerable degree agree on what they express, it does not follow that we understand what it is that makes us, for instance, experience a certain product as adventurous, modest or trustworthy. As discussed, people frequently mention expressive characteristics when asked to explain what it is they like about a particular product. However when asked to relate such characteristics to formal product features (i.e., form, materials, texture, and color) people often find they cannot do it (Snelders, 1995). A similar difficulty plagues researchers whose attempts to relate product expression to product appearance usually reach no further than the product’s global appearance, in some cases referring to characteristics like overall shape, size or color (Creusen, 1998; Govers, 2004). And even with regard to stereotypical relations between form and expression, relations that at first sight may seem so self-evident that they need no further explanation, one may find it is not that easy to explain why, for instance, organic, rounded form features are generally perceived as secure or emotional. In other words, although perceiving what products express comes most natural, accounting for a product’s expression is quite another thing.

On the other hand, when we do understand the relations between product appearance and product expression, opportunities for creating successful products that address people’s needs are enormous. Jonathan Ive, for instance, describes his intention underlying his design for the iMac (Fig. 5) as follows:

One primary objective for the design of the iMac was to create something accessible, understandable, almost familiar (Ive, 1999, p. 15).

The tremendous success of the iMac is history. Part of its success without doubt relates to the successful transition of verbal concepts such as accessible and familiar to the visual appearance of the iMac, among other things realized through the use of translucent materials:

Fig. 5. Ad for Apple’s iMac

The properties of the translucent material, shifting the emphasis from surface to light, helped define a fluid object

(Ive, 1999, p.15).

In short, Ive ‘knew’ something about the conditions under which people come to understand an object as accessible or familiar.

THIS THESIS

Product expression is an important determinant of product experience. In the foregoing we showed how different aspects of people’s everyday experiences of products relate to products’ expressive characteristics. On the other hand we noted that researchers often find themselves incapable of accounting for such characteristics. The result of this unfortunate situation is that discussions on product expression are often limited to a few casual remarks or absent altogether in writings on product experience. Notwithstanding, in discussing directions for further research, it is often pointed out that the relations between product appearance and product expression should be ‘systematically’ addressed (e.g., Govers, 2004). In other words, although the subject receives little attention, its crucial importance is generally agreed upon.

Prompted by the current state of affairs, in this thesis we will attempt to construct a framework that allows us to account for people’s understanding of product expression. Once we know why it is that people understand products’ expressive characteristics the way they do, we have the means to support designers in the transition from verbal concepts reflecting these characteristics (e.g., humble, lively, and secure) to product form. All that is to follow was written with this intention in mind.

In the first chapter we will take the first step towards realizing our intention by bringing together the most important publications on expression. Although the studies to be discussed differ in many ways, they can be roughly classified according to the relative emphasis they place on the contributions of object and perceiver in the coming about of an object’s expressiveness. In closing this chapter we will make the case for an approach in which the contributions of both object and perceiver are explicitly and simultaneously taken into account.

Following this first theoretical chapter are two chapters comprising experimental studies. In the second chapter we will test whether the approach opted for, hitherto almost exclusively explored in the field of cognitive linguistics, is feasible for the study of product expression. Hereto we will test whether ratings of chairs on a wide variety of expressive characteristics are in line with predictions derived from this approach. Supported by the results from this study, in the third chapter we will test whether we can predict the effects of controlled form changes on a product’s perceived expression.

Based on the insights acquired in chapters two and three, in the fourth chapter we will explore the practical relevance of our findings for designers. To that end, 22 designers participated in a design study centered on the design of a product with a particular expression. We will close this thesis by summarizing the most interesting findings, discussing their implications, and suggesting directions for further research.

1

___________________________________________________________

PERSPECTIVES ON

EXPRESSION

Studies in expression are obviously not restricted to products. Over the years, numerous publications addressing expressive features of phenomena as diverse as works of art, dance, music, architectural spaces, language, facial expressions, movies, colour, bodily postures, and advertisements have seen the light of day. Ekman (1992), for instance, interested in people’s abilities to recognize facial expressions, demonstrated that people easily recognize faces expressing ecstasy or pain, regardless of their cultural background. In a similar vein, Osgood (1960) showed that people across cultures also agree on the expressive characteristics of colours. He revealed, among other things, that people generally consider saturated colours to be stronger and angrier in comparison to less saturated colours, ‘red’ to be the most active, and ‘purple’ the most passive colour. And even when ignorant of scientific research, all it takes is a night out in the city to realize that people generally agree on whether a pop song ‘sounds’ joyful or sad, melancholic or yearning.

Notwithstanding the ease and agreement people display in ascribing expressive characteristics to phenomena of different kind, when asked to point out what it is that makes a face yearning, a dance melancholic or a product dignified, one soon realizes that those things that are seemingly most natural in our experience of the world are not always easiest to account for. Upon reflecting on a particular expression it is easy to see that when, for instance, characterizing a face as sad, both the face perceived and its perceiver are involved in

the process of characterization. That is, features of the face unmistakably underlie its perceived expression; otherwise one would never be able to distinguish between different facial expressions. On the other hand, one would probably not recognize a face as sad were it not for the fact that we ourselves have gone through moments of great sadness reflected in facial expressions so readily recognized as sad or sorrowful.

Apart from the role of the perceiver and object perceived, the meanings attributed to objects are also contingent on the situation or context in which they are perceived. In a narrative, for instance, a character’s actions are interpreted in the light of what we know about the character’s previous actions from reading the story (Cupchik, 1993). And whether a soundtrack sounds scary or mysterious, suspenseful or calm often depends on the events portrayed. An illustrative example in this context is the soundtrack of Hitchcock’s ‘Psycho’ that acquires a sinister (expressive) quality in the context of the film it does not have by itself (Cook, 1998). Remember, for instance, the repetitions of the orchestration, which become almost frightening in the sequence that revolves around Marion, the highly suspicious protagonist, who comes to a stop in front of the Bates motel after having been on the run all night with a large sum of stolen money.

Although acknowledging the interrelated contributions of object or phenomenon, perceiver, and context, researchers usually stress the role of either the perceiver or the object perceived (Crozier, 1994; Crozier & Chapman, 1984; Dewey, 1934). In the discussion to follow, we will present relevant studies on expression along these lines. The main reason for doing so, it should be stressed, is not to attest to the absolute merits of one perspective over another, but to clarify the rationale underlying a ‘third’ approach, discussed consecutively. This approach underlines the necessity to take into account the mutual contributions of both the perceiver and object or phenomenon perceived. This interactional approach will form the basis for the studies discussed in chapters two to four. Along the way we will show how this perspective may also guide us in understanding the role of contextual factors in the experience of objects.

1.1 THE EXPRESSIVE OBJECT

1.1.1 Kandinsky and Klee on expression

At the far end of the spectrum, theories stressing the object perceived in order to account for its expression depart from the assumption that our world and its objects are intrinsically meaningful. As such, expression resides in the object and can be described without taking into account the role of the perceiver, except to say that he or she can be more or less receptive or equipped to perceive an object’s expression. The artist Wassily Kandinsky, for instance, considered visual elements such as point, line, and plane (the basic elements of abstract painting) to be fully ‘alive’, and therefore expressive in and of themselves. In discussing the expressive characteristics of the basic plane (Fig. 1.1), Kandinsky (1926) demonstrates how its four lines, i.e., the two verticals and the two horizontals, are bound up with different ‘sounds’.

Fig. 1.1. Kandinsky’s basic plane and related sounds

Whereas the ‘above’ and, although to a lesser extent, the ‘left’ are expressive of lightness, emancipation, and freedom, the ‘below’ and the ‘right’ express condensation, heaviness, and constraint (Kandinsky, 1926). In line with his claim that the basic elements of painting are ‘alive’ in and of themselves, Kandinsky motivates his assertions in terms of the presumed ability of every great artist to ‘feel the breathing of the still untouched plane’ (Kandinsky, 1926, p.116).

Discussing the works of Kandinsky immediately brings to mind the name of Paul Klee; artist, visionary, and, like Kandinsky, teacher at the Bauhaus, the famous school of design in Weimar. Klee considered communication with nature as the most essential condition for the

lightness emancipation freedom condensation heaviness constraint

artist. Forms, Klee argued, are important in so far as they symbolize man’s relation to the cosmos (Klee, 1953). In symbolizing this relationship, Klee considered line, tone value (the degrees of shading between white and black), and colour as the basic formal elements an artist has at his disposal:

Certain proportions of line, the combination of certain tones from the scale of tone values, certain harmonies of colour carry with them at the time (i.e., dependent on the context in which they figure1_{) quite distinctive and outstanding modes of}

expressions (Klee, 1948, p. 37).

Dependent on the combination of these factors ‘the objects in pictures look out at us serene or severe, tense or relaxed, comforting or forbidding, suffering or smiling’ (Klee, 1948, p. 33).

In many of Klee’s sketches his attempts to create what he refers to as ‘expressive contrasts’ can be witnessed (Klee, 1948). Straight rigid lines, for instance, may be combined with curved smooth lines (Fig. 1.2). The use of medium shades of grey, implying weakness, may be alternated with the wide use of all tones from black to white, implying full bodied strength, and with regard to color; ‘what tremendous possibilities for the variation of meaning are offered by the combination of colours’ (Klee, 1948, p.39).

Although Klee regarded the origin of artistic expression as intrinsically linked to human life and the relation of man to the cosmos, Klee, in his role as teacher, discussed the expressive characteristics of his sketches primarily in terms of their formal properties. Likewise, the perspectives to follow, although acknowledging the role of the perceiver, primarily stress the object perceived in order to account for its expression.

Fig. 1.2. Paul Klee, Botanical garden section of ray-leaved plants, 1926

1.1.2 Bodily expression

The most universal form of expression, ‘employed’ by all people at all times, is bodily expression. Varying from facial expressions to bodily postures, the ways in which people express themselves through their ‘body language’ are numerous. The posture of an old man, for instance, may express defeat and resignation, the movements of a child playfully walking over a thin line victory and temptation, and the facial expression of an abandoned lover despair and sorrow. But apart from bodily states or activities in relation to which expression is not an end in itself, but a natural autonomic reflection of one’s state of mind, at other times people deliberately engage in bodily activities to express themselves. The type of bodily expression that comes most readily to mind in this context is ‘dance’ (Fig. 1.3). At all times and at all places people dance in order to express their emotions and ‘celebrate’ their relations to others and the world they live in.

Fig. 1.3. ‘Something in the way she moves…’

In general terms, form (i.e., bodily shapes or postures) and motion (i.e., bodily movements) are the main carriers of meaning in dance (Kreitler & Kreitler, 1972). Kandinsky (1926), for instance, regarded a dance as an uninterrupted composition of lines and shapes, and, therefore, subject to the same ‘rules’ applying to formal elements of works of art. But what distinguishes a dance most clearly from, for instance, a painting is its dynamic character: the interaction of form and movement. Most researchers have, for that reason, studied the ways in which dancers express meanings through bodily movement. Oskar Schlemmer, Kandinsky’s colleague and director of the Bauhaus stage in Dessau (1925-1929), for instance, is particularly known for his stage plays and workshops in which the relations between stage, body, and space were explored (Fig. 1.4):

We shall observe the appearance of the human figure as an event and recognize that at the very moment it has become a part of the stage, it is a ‘space-bewitched’ creature, so to speak. With a certainty that is automatic, each gesture and each movement is drawn into the sphere of significance (Schlemmer, 1927. Cited in Wingler, 1974, p. 474).

Fig. 1.4. Oskar Schlemmer: ‘Dance of Slats’ (Performed by Manda von Kreibig, Bauhaus stage, 1927)

More recently, Sawada, Suda, and Ishii (2003) looked into the relations between arm-movement characteristics (i.e., speed, force, and directness) and emotional expression, based on Laban’s classification of movement in terms of time, weight, space, and flow (Laban, 1988). They showed that dancers’ expressions of anger, for instance, are reflected in arm movements fast in velocity and strong in force, as opposed to slower and weaker arm movements indicative of sadness and joy. Expressions of joy differ from those of sadness in that the former are characterized by a longer traveled distance with the arms (i.e., more ‘expansiveness’) and a more varied trajectory (i.e., more ‘indirectness’).

In a similar study, De Meijer (1989) demonstrated that expressions of positive emotions, e.g., joy, are characterized by upward directed movements (i.e., stretching trunk movement), whereas downward directed movements (i.e., bowing trunk movement) are characteristic of negative emotions. These results are in line with Osgood’s finding that people across the world perceive downward-directed curves as sad and upward-directed curves as merry or joyful (Osgood, 1960). Earlier on, we noted that Kandinsky proposed a similar structuring when relating the ‘above’ to positive connotations like lightness and freedom, and the ‘below’ to negative connotations such as heaviness and constraint (Kandinsky, 1926). Interestingly, in the course of time currents in dance have emphasized the ‘above’ and ‘below’ in different ways. In ballet, for instance, emphasis is generally on ‘upward’ movements, airy and light in quality,

making it seem like the dancers float and may rise up at any time. In the early phase of modern dance, on the other hand, emphasis was on heavy motions and falls, thereby accepting gravity rather than fighting it (Kreitler & Kreitler, 1972).

Although the studies discussed in the remainder of this chapter all center on static, non-moving objects such as products and works of art, aforementioned studies are of relevance in so far as both moving and static objects are perceived as infused with dynamic qualities, as will be shown next. A second distinction concerns the difference between two-dimensional and thee-dimensional forms, discussed alternately in the remainder of this chapter. Human bodies, products, and sculptures, that is, may literally enclose space or convey depth. Two-dimensional forms such as paintings, on the other hand, are never literally ‘open’ or ‘closed’, ‘near’ or ‘distant’. It should be kept in mind, however, that our interest is not in what products literally convey, but in their figurative or expressive meaning. In that regard, products and two-dimensional objects are alike; they are both perceived as expressive of figurative meanings through their visual appearance.

1.1.3 Arnheim and the Gestalt school

In the early 20th _{century, Gestalt psychology developed as a response}

to the traditional method of scientific analysis advocating the analysis of complex phenomena in terms of their separate parts. According to the Gestalt psychologists ‘the whole is more than the sum of its parts’. A triangle, for instance, is perceived as an independent entity (i.e., a whole), and not just as a collection of three lines plus three angles (Fig 1.5). Similarly, a pattern of distinct lines tracing the shape of a circle is perceived as a unity, not as a series of separate, disconnected elements (Fig 1.5).

In order to account for such primary perceptual phenomena, the Gestalt psychologists proposed a number of innate tendencies, i.e., ‘gestalt principles’, guiding our perception of the world and its objects (e.g., Koffka, 1935; Wertheimer, 1938).

The ‘similarity principle’, for instance, predicts that things that share visual characteristics (e.g., shape, size, colour, and orientation) are perceived as belonging together (i.e., forming one whole). The ‘continuity principle’ reflects the finding that perceptual organization favors continuity over abruptness. The barbed wire (Fig 1.6), for instance, is readily perceived as a continuous line, even though parts are obscured from view.

Fig. 1.6. Logo Amnesty International

Next to proposing ‘gestalt principles’, the Gestalt psychologists also assumed a preference for good or ‘prägnant’ gestalts, a term used to designate those gestalts which are the best organizations of stimuli in a given situation. In general terms, good gestalts are characterized by regularity, symmetry, inclusiveness, unity, harmony, maximal simplicity, and conciseness.

Perhaps the most famous proponent of the Gestalt school is Rudolf Arnheim, best known for his enlightening discussions of works of art. He demonstrated, among other things, that works of art are perceived as gestalts that can be more or less ‘balanced’ dependent on a wide variety of factors (Arnheim, 1954). Paintings, for instance, may express a sense of stillness or striving dependent on the placement of their constitutive elements within the frame (i.e., dependent on their composition). Whereas compositions properly balanced are generally perceived as still, compositions lacking balance are perceived as restless or as striving towards equilibrium.

Arnheim’s conception of figurative or expressive qualities (i.e., characteristics) motivates this brief discussion of his writings under an object-centered perspective:

Expressive qualities are authentic and objective qualities conveyed by perceptual shape, size, movement, intensity, rhythm, and so on (Arnheim, 1992, p. 205).

In discussing the logo (Fig 1.7) of the Chase Manhattan Bank, for instance, Arnheim (1969) relates its overall centrical, symmetrical shape (formed by the inner square and outer octagon) to dynamic, i.e., expressive, qualities like repose, compactness, and solidity. At the same time, Arnheim continues, the pointed units convey a sense of vitality and goal-directedness. For although the four units point in different directions, their antagonistic movements compensate each other, thereby conveying an overall sense of enlivened stillness (Arnheim, 1969, p. 146).

Fig 1.7. Logo Chase Manhattan Bank (from Arnheim, 1969)

The ability to directly perceive expressive characteristics is explained in terms of the organization of the nervous system, a notion referred to as ‘isomorphism’:

If gestalt processes are observed in perceptual experience, analogous processes are likely to account for them in the brain (Arnheim, 1992, p. 201).

It is this claim, however, that has been subject to criticism for lack of empirical support (e.g., Berlyne, 1974; Crozier & Chapman, 1984). Nonetheless, many of Arnheim’s predictions on the perception of form, and in particular on the role of perceived balance and movement

herein, have been supported by controlled studies (e.g., Locher, Gray, & Nodine, 1996; Locher & Stappers, 2002).

In his more recent works ‘The dynamics of architectural form’ (1977) and ‘The power of the centre’ (1988) Arnheim also explicitly acknowledges the role of the perceiver in the experience of objects and architectural spaces. In the former, he introduces the concept of anisotropy to explain that different directions in space are perceived unequally (Arnheim, 1977). This perceived inequality presumably relates to experiences that arise from moving through space; going up, for instance, takes more effort than going down since we have to overcome the forces of gravity, or in Arnheim’s words:

The symbolic endowment of architectural shape is compelling only because the humble daily experience of climbing stairs reverberates with the connotations of overcoming the weight of gravity and rising victoriously toward the heights (Arnheim, 1977, p. 210).

As a result of this anisotropy, directions in architecture and works of art are also perceived ‘unequally’; an extension in the vertical dimension, for instance, is perceived as more pronounced in comparison to an equal extension in the horizontal dimension. It is for this reason that a tree or skyscraper standing up straight ‘looks’ more impressive than the same one brought down. Locher and Stappers demonstrated that anisotropy also influences the perception of visual displays; designs with greater ‘weight’ above the horizontal were rated as significantly more dynamic than designs with greater ‘weight’ below the horizontal (Locher & Stappers, 2002).

1.1.4 The ecological approach

The ecological approach to perception originates in the writings of J. J. Gibson (1979). According to Gibson, perception of the environment is direct and unmediated. In this regard, the ecological approach can be seen as congruent with the notions put forward by the Gestalt school. But whereas the Gestalt psychologists explained this capability in terms of the functioning of the nervous system, Gibson assumed meanings are conveyed through information in the light, reflecting textures in the optic array. He considered this hypothesis radical ‘for it implies that the values and meanings of things in the environment can be directly perceived’ (Gibson, 1979, p. 127).

Central to the theory of direct perception is the concept of an ‘affordance’, defined as a specific combination of invariant properties of an environment relative to a particular organism (Gibson, 1979). Gibson argued that people perceive things in terms of what actions they afford, i.e. in terms of what we can do with them. A chair, for instance, affords ‘sitting’, a cup affords ‘holding’, and a tree affords ‘climbing’. Naturally, for a bird or elephant none of these affordances holds; it is in this sense that affordances are relative to a particular organism. The notion that objects are perceived in terms of what they afford is reminiscent of the Gestalt school (Bruce, Green, & Georgeson, 1996), and in particular of Koffka’s concept of ‘demand characteristics’:

To primitive man each thing says what it is and what he ought to do with it: a fruit says ‘Eat me’; water says ‘Drink me’; thunder says ‘Fear me’, and woman says ‘Love me’ (Koffka, 1935, p. 7).

Although Gibson was not primarily interested in objects’ figurative or expressive characteristics, his suggestion that expressive features of objects are not tied to a specific perceptual system inspired Smets and Overbeeke (1994, 1995) to explore the transfer of expressive meanings from one sense modality to another. In one of their experiments, for instance, participants had to express the taste of various deserts in their respective packages. A consecutively conducted study revealed that design students judged the tastes and the designs on the same two dimensions (i.e., playful, modern versus serious, traditional, and natural, warm versus artificial, cool). Matching the deserts’ tastes and packages, however, turned out to be foremost based on color information, e.g., a strawberry desert matching a pink package. No clear relations were revealed between taste and form characteristics, leaving us in the dark as to how, and based on what information, expressive or figurative characteristics such as playful and serious find expression in form (Smets & Overbeeke, 1995).

Gibson’s notions also lie at the basis of theories, discussed in chapter three, stressing the interaction between perceiver and environment as the focal point of language comprehension, memory, and cognition. What distinguishes these studies from the ones discussed in this chapter, however, is that in the former emphasis is on spatial-functional or literal meaning, i.e., on objects’ affordances. Scissors, for instance, may literally convey efficiency or destructiveness

through their visuo-spatial appearance. Our interest, however, is not in what objects literally convey but in their figurative or expressive meaning (e.g., scissors do not literally convey dominance or distance through their visuo-spatial appearance; these characteristics are, therefore, referred to as expressive or figurative). In chapter three, we will further discuss the difference between literal or spatial-functional meaning on the one hand, and figurative or expressive meaning on the other.

1.1.5 Discussion

The studies on expression reviewed in this section place primary emphasis on the object perceived. Although at times certainly successful in relating figurative or expressive characteristics to the visual appearance of objects, a difficulty of studies originating in this approach is that they often fall short in motivating the relations uncovered. Arnheim’s assertion, for instance, that the proposed relations can be accounted for in terms of the workings of the nervous system is hard to sustain in the absence of empirical data. It is only in his more recent writings, in which he explicitly acknowledges the role of the perceiver in the experience of space and objects, that one ‘understands’ why, for instance, the vertical connotes qualitatively different meanings than the horizontal.

From a philosophical point of view object-centered theories on expression are problematic in another regard. That is, underlying these theories hides the assumption, albeit in some cases much more apparent than in others, that the world ‘possesses’ fixed properties that can be ‘picked up’. Characteristics of those who inhabit the world are deemed irrelevant in so far as knowledge of these properties is concerned. In its strong form, the ‘objectivistic’ approach holds that the world is as it is and so are the meanings it ‘contains’. As a matter of fact, when looking at our own experience it may indeed seem natural to consider objects, for instance, impressive, natural or playful in and of themselves. But as it turns out, attempts to account for such expressive or figurative characteristics are frustrated as long as one concentrates exclusively or primarily on the object of perception. To address the difficulties encountered by an object-centered approach, both practical and philosophical, researchers increasingly shifted the emphasis of their projects from stimulus properties of objects to the processes underlying their perception and understanding.

1.2 THE CONSTRUCTIVE INDIVIDUAL

Paralleling the rise of cognitive science, researchers became increasingly interested in the ways in which processes related to the workings of body and mind partake in the establishment of meaning. Whereas in object-centered studies expressive characteristics were primarily studied in terms of objects’ formal properties, in the perspective discussed next emphasis is on the individual and all that influences his or her experience of the world. Of course, long before the rise of cognitive science perspectives stressing the role of the individual in perceiving expressions of all kind were conceived of.

Perhaps the most influential perspective in this regard is the psychoanalytic perspective developed by Freud in the early 20th

century (see Berlyne, 1971; Wollheim, 1973). According to Freud, products of the human mind (e.g., dreams, fantasies, and paintings) are primarily vehicles for the fulfillment of largely unconscious, repressed wishes. As for the experience of works of art, Freud claimed the pleasures derived from them are grounded in the exposure to material under normal circumstances threatening to the ‘ego’ (e.g., material of a highly sexual nature), expressed ‘through’ paintings, for instance, in disguised form through symbolism.

Clearly, Freud’s influence on Western thinking about the human mind is tremendous as witnessed by the many references to the ‘unconscious’ in daily language use. In discussing works of art, however, Freud largely ignored their formal properties (e.g., colour and form in painting) and their presumed influence on the meanings in terms of which they are perceived; precisely the relations of importance to our undertaking. In that regard the studies to follow, although primarily concerned with the role of the individual in the experience of objects, are of more relevance.

1.2.1 Arousal and the aesthetic experience

By far the most influential biologically centered theory on the aesthetic experience of visual stimuli is Berlyne’s psychobiological approach (Berlyne, 1971). Assuming people prefer an optimal level of arousal engaging the nervous system to the right extent, Berlyne considered the potential to introduce a rise in this arousal level the most characteristic feature of works of art. This potential, Berlyne argued, is contingent on stimulus properties such as ‘perceived novelty’, ‘surprisingness’, and ‘complexity’, properties he refers to as ‘collative’.

Asymmetrical and irregular forms, for instance, are more ‘complex’ in comparison to symmetrical and regular forms and, therefore, have greater arousal potential (Fig. 1.8).

Fig. 1.8. Symmetrical, non-complex figure (left), and asymmetrical, complex figure (right) (From Berlyne, 1971)

Berlyne was primarily interested in stimulus qualities capturing attention, increasing arousal, and affording exploration, and not so much in figurative or expressive meanings of stimuli. Berlyne’s findings, however, are of relevance for our project in so far they suggest a relation between the arousal potential of stimuli and their expressiveness. Underscoring this relation, Berlyne argues:

Art biased towards heightening arousal is called dramatic, dynamic or stirring. If the arousal-moderating devices have the upper hand, art is said to be static, harmonious or serene (Berlyne, 1971, p. 254).

Naturally, people may prefer different levels of arousal, and dependent on the context in which the stimulus is perceived its arousal potential will vary. In paintings, for instance, a visual element is always embedded within a complex structure comprising both stylistic and semantic layers that codetermine its arousal potential, and hence to some degree its figurative meaning or expressiveness (Cupchik, 1994).

1.2.2 Dynamization and empathy

Another biologically anchored phenomenon relevant to our discussion is the ‘dynamic’ or ‘dynamizing’ mode of response (Werner & Kaplan, 1963). Dynamization originates in enhanced kinesthetic or motoric

reactivity, and relates to the fact that people, when asked to explain why they relate a certain form to a particular feeling or concept, often refer to a hypothetical quality of motion along its lines. One may, for instance, relate a circle to the concept of infinity because movement along its contour is endless and repetitive. Likewise, a sharp angle may be referred to as shocking or thrilling for its acute and sudden change in direction of motion. And long curves may be said to express calm because their ‘motion’ is slow (Kreitler & Kreitler, 1972).

Lipps (1897) discusses dynamization in relation to ‘empathy’ or ‘einfühlung’. According to Lipps, people show a tendency to imitate perceived movements or dynamic postures of people and objects. Since specific motoric movements automatically give rise to their emotional counterparts, Lipps argued, we come to feel or experience the emotion of another person (i.e., empathize with another person) or experience an object as expressing a particular figurative concept. Sadness, for instance, is commonly reflected in curved, earth-bound bodily postures. Upon observing a like-formed object, Lipps claimed, we ‘unknowingly’ imitate its posture. And since a curved, earth bound posture gives rise to the emotion it corresponds with, i.e., sadness, we come to feel the emotion and locate its origin in the object perceived whereby it becomes expressive (Lipps, 1897).

Although several researchers have demonstrated that people indeed tend to imitate behaviors, e.g., movements and emotional expressive behaviors of others (Bandura, 1969), Lipps’ claim that the emotional experience ‘automatically’ follows from such simulations has not withstood the test of time. The works of Schachter and Singer (1962), for instance, clearly show that physiological changes alone do not suffice to evoke a full blown emotional experience; of equal importance are the ways in which these sensations are interpreted. In a similar vein, Kreitler and Kreitler (1972) postulate, in addition to a physiological or biological component, a cognitive component, referred to as the perceiver’s ‘cognitive orientation’. According to Kreitler and Kreitler, the main weakness of theories solely stressing a biologically anchored component or assuming some form of homeostasis (i.e., biologically motivated optimal levels of arousal or tension) is their inability to ‘account for the specific nature and direction of behaviors on any level in any given situation’ (Kreitler & Kreitler, 1972, p. 22/23). Instead, they argue, the kinesthetic sensations or feelings of tension introduced by an object are undoubtedly followed by the question ‘what is it?’ triggering the search for the object’s meaning.

1.2.3 Prototypes, novelty, and expression

We do not perceive our world and its objects with an empty mind, i.e., a ‘tabula rasa’. Prior to any expected encounter with an object, whether it is a chair, a watch or a house, you are likely to have an ‘image’ in mind that is your best prediction of what the object will look like. Images of this kind are referred to as prototypes (Johnson, 1987; Lakoff, 1987; Rosch & Mervin, 1975). The prototypical chair, for instance, represents the conventionally established form elements constant across chairs, suggesting the familiar usage associated with the category (Muller, 2001). The prototype, in other words, is the resultant of all previous experiences with the category members and allows one to draw inferences about an object in the absence of any specific, contextual information.

Products encountered may resemble or differ from the prototype we have in mind to varying degrees. Whereas most products we perceive on a day-to-day basis are highly similar to the prototype, some may differ substantially. Most chairs we perceive in public spaces, for instance, escape our conscious attention; the ones that do attract your attention are, most likely, those that differ substantially from the prototype. One way to account for this phenomenon is to understand products as presenting more or less ‘information’ (Coates, 2003). Products closely matching the prototype present little new information or ‘novelty’, and therefore fail to arouse or attract us. Products strongly diverging from the prototype, on the other hand, are of interest since they ‘tell’ us something we do not already know.

Coates (2003) explicitly relates perceived ‘novelty’ to product expression based on Osgood’s finding that people assess objects on three dimensions: an ‘evaluation’ dimension, a ‘potency’ dimension, and an ‘activity’ dimension (Osgood, 1957). Whereas ‘evaluation’ reflects the human tendency to assess the potential benefit or harm of any stimulus in any given situation, ‘potency’ relates to whether a stimulus is perceived as weak or powerful, fragile or tough. The ‘activity’ dimension reflects our intuitive sensing of stimuli as slow or fast, static or dynamic. According to Coates (2003), products presenting high levels of ‘information’ or ‘novelty’ (e.g., by diverging from the prototype) are generally perceived as more ‘potent’ and ‘active’ than products presenting less ‘information’ or ‘novelty’. Hence, they are perceived as expressing higher degrees of related characteristics such as excitement and emotionality (‘activity’), or dominance and toughness (‘potency’).

With regard to aesthetic preference, people seem to prefer objects that are both ‘novel’ (i.e., diverging from the prototype) and ‘typical’ (i.e., similar to the prototype) at the same time (Hekkert, Snelders, & Van Wieringen, 2003), suggesting the optimum degree of ‘typicality’ or ‘novelty’ (i.e., prototype resemblance) is nicely captured by the MAYA principle: ‘most advanced, yet acceptable’ (Loewy, 1951). Studies by Purcell (1984), interested in people’s aesthetic liking of houses, revealed a similar principle, i.e., an optimal degree of ‘unexpectedness’.

Prototypes bear on the understanding of product expression in another regard as well. That is, prototypes (and the categories they represent) arise from interactions with the environment and may be more or less refined or elaborated dependent on one’s level of expertise in a certain area. Designers, for instance, generally have more knowledge about products than ‘ordinary’ people do; they distinguish between many more form types, materials, manufacturing processes, and so on. Likewise, they may pay attention to details hardly noticeable for the average user. The meanings designers and consumers give to products, therefore, may differ considerably. Hsu, Chuang, and Chang (2000), for instance, showed designers to differ from consumers in the extent to which they perceive products as expressing elegance. These findings indicate that the meanings people give to products are also dependent on the intricacies of the categories and prototypes one ‘has in mind’.

1.2.4 Metaphor and analogy

Not only do we compare products with the prototype of the class, people also tend to draw implicit comparisons between products belonging to different categories, or between products and other phenomena (e.g., objects of nature, people or animals). The reason for doing so is that one may learn about a particular object by relating it to another. This ability is referred to as metaphorizing, defined as mapping the meaning, emotions, and/ or associated skills or attitudes associated with one, more or less familiar, conceptual domain (the source) onto another, more or less unfamiliar, conceptual domain (the target) (Forceville, Hekkert, & Tan, in press).

The most popular computer interface, for instance, is the ‘desktop’, on which the computer user drags items into folders, moves these to a desired location, or drops them in the trashcan (just to name a few of the actions the ‘desktop’ affords). The ‘desktop’ is that successful because virtually everyone knows how to operate it by

‘relying on’ existing knowledge from daily office work involving real desktops. One easily understands the purpose of placing related Word files in one folder, for instance, since placing notes or piles of paper in maps is a common, familiar activity typical for office work. It is in this sense that designers can allow their users to understand a relatively new or complex domain, i.e., the target, more easily by presenting it in terms of a domain they are familiar with, i.e., the source.

Next to using metaphor foremost as a means to render a new or complex product intelligible, i.e., to reduce the cognitive workload, designers may also employ a metaphor in order to promote other kinds of user experiences. At Delft University, for instance, a project was initiated addressing the design of a copier (Fig. 1.9) departing from the metaphor ‘Interacting with a machine is a dance’ (Hekkert, Mostert, & Stompff, 2003).

Fig. 1.9. Copier (from Hekkert et al., 2003)

One aspect of a ‘dance for two’ is that the participants feel and respond to each other’s moves, an aspect labeled ‘resonance’. The designers mapped this aspect onto the copier by reconsidering the (traditional) ways in which copiers react to user behavior. Agitated movements, for instance, cause this copier to offer more resistance in handling its different parts, whereas smooth movements evoke less resistance. In resonating with its user, the product breaks free from inflexible interaction patterns that so often make traditional copiers a burden to deal with. Hence, the copier is no longer a frustrating machine but more like a dance partner and, therefore, experienced in terms of those characteristics people commonly ascribe to dancers (e.g., supportiveness, flexibility, and sensitivity).

Whereas metaphor involves the transfer of meaning from one domain to another, a product analogy typically involves a functional similarity between an object and another object or phenomenon. In contrast to metaphor, the transfer of meaning is usually not considered a defining characteristic of a product analogy. IDEO’s CD player may serve as an example (see Fig. 1.10).

Fig. 1.10. IDEO CD player

The analogy with a traditional light operating system is clear; pulling the chord will either turn on or off the CD player similar to how a light may be switched on or off. But this is where the similarity stops; it is, supposedly, not the designer’s intention to map meanings from the domain of lights and/ or their operating systems onto his product.

One could argue, however, that the difference between metaphor and analogy is not as straightforward, or generally agreed upon, as perhaps suggested in this brief discussion. The designer of IDEO’s CD player, for instance, might object that his design was in fact centered on the transfer of meaning, grounded in the metaphor ‘Music is light’ (i.e., ‘music’ is a source of ‘light’ in the lives of people)2_{. Based}

on such considerations, several authors have pointed out that our understanding of a figurative expression rests on the intention we ascribe to its creator, i.e., on our figuring out what it is the designer tries to communicate (Cupchik, 2003; Forceville, 1996; Gibbs, 1999; Sperber & Wilson, 1995). In case we assume, for the moment, the designer of IDEO’s CD player did in fact have the metaphor ‘Music is light’ in mind (and not just a functional analogy), his product may very well acquire a different, perhaps ‘deeper’, meaning, changing the

2 _{Conversely, should the ‘famous’ desktop metaphor perhaps be considered an}

experience of the product as a whole. Of particular interest in this regard are Cupchik’s writings on metaphor:

Metaphors are generated through intentional acts and presume a point of view on the part of their creators, prompting readers to adopt a perspective in their ‘effort after meaning’ (Cupchik, 2003, p. 19).

Readers adopting an appropriate perspective, Cupchik argues, ‘spontaneously experience the unity of the metaphor’, brought about by a merging of source domain and target domain (Cupchik, 2003). Arguably, this ‘merging’ takes on special significance in relation to product design where source and target literally merge, i.e., they literally occupy the same space (Forceville et al., in press).

Another issue that deserves further attention concerns the experienced ‘unity’ of the metaphor (Cupchik, 2003). In our experience of products, that is, we usually do not distinguish between source and target; what is experienced is an integrated, seemingly novel phenomenon. Elaborating on the aforementioned ‘desktop metaphor’, Fauconnier and Turner (2002) point out:

The user manipulates this computer interface not by means of an elaborate conscious analogy but, rather, as an integrated form with its own coherent structure and properties. From an “objective” point of view, this activity is totally novel- it shares very few physical characteristics with moving real folders… Yet the whole point of the desktop interface is that the integrated activity is immediately accessible and congenial (Fauconnier and Turner, 2002, p. 24).

Fauconnier and Turner (2002) refer to integrated forms of the kind discussed, i.e., novel structures that arise from the merging of two or more domains, as ‘blends’.

Although this brief discussion might suggest metaphors are special, stylistic devices a designer has at her disposal, in the next section we will discuss a more fundamental way in which metaphor partakes in our experience of the world.

1.2.5 Learned meanings

Naturally, our experience of objects is also influenced by conventions specific to a particular group of people, culture or geographical region; conventions that we learn and familiarize with through interacting with our environment and others within our culture. The role of conventions is particularly stressed in ‘semiotics’, the theory of signs. A sign is:

Everything that, on the grounds of a previously established social convention, can be taken as something standing for something else (Eco, 1976, p. 16).

I have learned, for instance, that red flashing lights and high beeping sounds stand for, i.e., signal, danger. Likewise, specific gestures stand for anger or contempt (I gave him the finger), and specific kinds of clothes or haircuts for membership of, or adherence to, a specific social class or ideology. As indicated by these examples, semiotics is basically concerned with communication between people living within a society by means of some system of shared conventions (Smythe, 1984).

As for industrial design, the theory of signs gave rise to a discipline called product semantics, defined by Krippendorff and Butter (1984) as:

An effort to understand and to take full responsibility for the symbolic environment into which industrial products are placed and where they should function by virtue of their own

communicative qualities (Krippendorff and Butter, 1984, p. 4). For the study of these communicative qualities, it is constructive to distinguish between ‘denotation’ and ‘connotation’. Whereas the former refers to the communication of a product’s primary function, the latter reflects the communication of socio-cultural values and behavioral standards (Muller, 2001). A chair’s primary function, for instance, is ‘sitting’; the communication of this function by means of the conventionalized form elements laid down in the prototype of the category is what we refer to as ‘denotation’ (see also section 1.2.3).

Next to communicating its primary function, a chair also communicates, i.e., connotes, supplementary or secondary meanings. Dependent on features of its design, for instance, a chair may be typified as an everyday office chair or a majestic throne. Conventions