About my blog

I am multithreaded, and sometimes the threads get tangled.


a Studiolab production.


food design course at TUDelft
I blog in Italian
I have a LinkedIn profile
my lab is Studiolab!
I love Jasper van Kuijk's product usability weblog

the wind I am enjoying


De meningen ge-uit door medewerkers en studenten van de TU Delft en de commentaren die zijn gegeven reflecteren niet perse de mening(en) van de TU Delft. De TU Delft is dan ook niet verantwoordelijk voor de inhoud van hetgeen op de TU Delft weblogs zichtbaar is. Wel vindt de TU Delft het belangrijk - en ook waarde toevoegend - dat medewerkers en studenten op deze, door de TU Delft gefaciliteerde, omgeving hun mening kunnen geven.

the magic fallacy (#4)

In the vein of the abstract fallacy, today I point out the magic fallacy. The most typical case is when a project is described in terms similar to these:

the user opens the box, a green light inside it starts pulsating and the user feels a magical feeling

How exactly does this happen? Of course the user does not know why e.g. opening a box and seeing something gives him a magical feeling, but the designer should know. To put it more formally, a designer is not allowed to suppose psychological changes in the user without indicating the psychological means that produce these changes. Of course it is possible to surprise users, to delight them and even to make them feel like magic, but how do you do that? The project description should indicate what psychological mechanism happens. Is it a visual reference to something well-known? Is it a perceptual trick? Is it culture specific?

If you state that Canon’s installation at Salone del Mobile, the enormous NEOREAL piece installed in Triennale, creates a magic feeling through large scale complex geometries in a dimmed room


and the illusion of being in an underwater world where you can interact with glowing jellyfishes



then I believe you. There is no theoretical reason, it is just that, in my model of human behavior and reaction, large scale immersive spaces where a touch of sensorial deprivation is combined with big, sharp biological images in soothing blue DO indeed produce a magical, far-out, slightly hallucinatory feeling. Just like a desser composed of a kiwi, a tangerine and some peanuts produces a vaguely unsatisfying bizarre feeling at the end of lunch. 


To fall back on the well known, let ne quote the usual Proust: we are not just told "I ate a little sweet dipped in tea, and I felt incredibly happy." The narrator lets us know exactly what connects the happiness to the food (and also the process by which he finds out the connection). His question

D’où avait pu me venir cette puissante joie? Je sentais q’elle était
liée au goût du thé et du gâteau, mais qu’elle le dépassait infiniment,
ne devait pas être de même nature. D’où venait-elle? Que
signifiait-elle? Où l’appréhender?

in the English translation by C. K. Scott Moncrieff:

Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I was conscious
that it was connected with the taste of tea and cake, but that it
infinitely transcended those savours, could not, indeed, be of the same
nature as theirs. Whence did it come? What did it signify? How could I
seize upon and define it?

should also be the designer’s question. I do not deny that a green light pulsating in a box can be a source of magical feelings, but whence the connection? What does this feeling mean? How can we grab it and define it?


(the Canon NEOREAL photographs are taken from the project site: the kiwi picture is unfortunately mine)



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