But that's not the sort of site that concerns us
this time. True, there's something in those sites that attracts us (or
me, at least). Perhaps it's the feeling of innocence that they emit. There's
something quaint about them. It's almost touching to come across "first
generation” sites and to realize that we once dreamt of everyone being
able to have his/her own home page, and even that this page might somehow
attract random surfers. It's clear now that those days are well behind
us. Today it's hard to think of a random surfer who might be attracted
to such a site. The tables have been turned and now the source of our suffering,
rather than being under-construction, is instead over-construction.
Surfing the web becomes an experience similar to
reading a menu on an airplane. The description of what you're about to
get is wonderfully mouth watering, but when it finally arrives you realize
that it's still only tasteless airplane food. The pyrotechnics of web sites
raise our expectations sky-high, yet their content returns us to an earthly
reality. (Pooh, by the way, had something to say
about this.)
I'm not really concerned here with loading time, though I suppose that
that's always a factor. A long wait for a page to show up on the screen
can curtail the enthusiasm of even the most gung-ho web-surfer. What concerns
me here is the ratio of content to glitz, or what might even be called
the unconditional surrender of content to glitz.There are web pages that
take an inordinately long time to load, but that in the end prove worth
the wait. All too often, however, the return on our wait is negligible.
What's really at issue here, however, is the intent
of web pages, their raison d'etre. Once upon a time web pages actually
existed in order to make information available to people who might want,
or have a need for, it. People who prepared web pages didn't really design
them. Instead, they used the capabilities of HTML to make information readily
accessible to the public. It was a rather simple process, the end result
of which was access. The capabilities of HTML, however, demanded to be
put to use, and ultimately we started getting not only web sites which
were nothing more than advertisements (though that can, of course, also
be considered information), and also coffee table
web sites - sites whose purpose in cyberspace is to be perused superficially,
be oohed and aahed over, and then quickly forgotten. It's as though our
continual seeking out of new web capabilities confines us to casual web
surfing because in an environment where packaging is everything content
loses its value, and there's always new packaging that makes yesterday's
glitz today's dross.
There is good web design
out there. There are pages that it's a pleasure to view regardless of content
or lack of it (though a healthy dose of "form follows function" certainly
can't hurt in most cases). And seeing HTML done well can be a pleasure
unto itself. Still, there are times when, after seeing so many state of
the art web sites that seem to have nothing to say, you find that you can
really appreciate a "lame" web site that keeps its pyrotechnics to a minimum
yet has real and valuable content.
That's it for this edition. Reactions and suggestions
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In Education - Main Page
From the Boidem -
an occasional column on computers and information technologies in everyday
life
August 25, 1998*:
Though of late it's become rather passe, there was
a time not too long ago when you couldn't surf for more than half an hour
before finding a site with a stick-person on a yellow background bent over
with a shovel, and the words "Under Construction" above or below him. Back
then the internet ethos was "the web is a continually evolving media" and
thus there could never be such a thing as a "completed" web page – only
one that had fallen into neglect.
Text may be a very rich medium, but it looks boring on
the screen. It doesn't flash and hop about, so it had to give way to things
that did.
And give way it did. I have to admit that having a
plethora of things that flash and hop about on the screen make the surfing
experience an enjoyable one. When I go to a museum of science and industry
I always press the buttons first, before reading
the explanations. And if that's the case there, why shouldn't I prefer
to see flashing and hopping about before reading the content of a web page?
But maybe the problem is with the word before. All too often, rather
than looking at the flashing and hopping about before reading the
content of a page, we do so instead of reading the content. And
all too often, that's not really our fault, because other than the flashing
and hopping about there is no content.