The Times (London, not New York) has recently opened its entire archives from 1785-1985 to the public, an incredible trove of history. So naturally, I search for “push-button”, since “button” returns too many bits about clothing.

The first mention of “push-button” in The Times is from March 9, 1887 on page 5. The title is “A New Telephone,” but upon reading it, what is this thing?

A NEW TELEPHONE
PARIS, March 8

I was invited to be present to-day at some telephone experiments between Paris and Brussels with a new apparatus known as the “micro-telephone push-button.” These experiments, which were made on behalf of the two telegraphic administrative departments of France and Belgium, produced a very lively impression on those present, and I believe the new apparatus to be the most perfect yet produced.

Is this type of an event a lost art? The inventor toils away in their laboratory, achieves some success, and invites a select group of colleagues to witness this success. Or is this event what we now call a “public beta”? Let’s invite all our colleagues to see this thing we have made.

As its name indicates, it has the form of an ordinary electric push-button.

This phrase stopped me cold. An “ordinary electric push-button.” First of all, calling it “ordinary” means that the device has been around for a while, people take it for granted, it’s just a part of everyday life. But this is 1887! What was an ordinary push-button in 1887? Notice also the name of this device: micro-telephone push-button. The noun, the essence, the identity of this device is a push-button. A button to us in 2008 is just a component of another product, which could be a radio, an alarm clock, or a telephone, but here the 1887 device itself is a “push-button.” A button on its own doesn’t do anything. It only acts as a trigger to make something else happen. But in 1887 this concept must have been so novel that the push-button itself became the identity of the device. Yet, it was also “ordinary.” Odd.

When the button has been pushed in, and has made a sound at the other extremity, it is taken out, and is found to be attached to a long electric wire. There is thus exposed the telephonic plate, which is extremely sensitive, so that where it is necessary to speak at short distances it is not necessary to come close to the instrument. For communications in the same street, or the same house, the operator places the upper part near himself, and without changing his position he can speak with the correspondent at the opposite extremity. He is not obliged to put his ear to the part which contains the button and brings back the reply. Thus for short distances those who make use of this apparatus speak in their ordinary tone, without changing their customary attitudes. They may sit or walk about, and speak just as if those they are addressing were present. When great distances intervene, as in the experiments performed to-day, in which the speakers and hearers were separated by 200 miles, it is necessary to come nearer to the apparatus, but without being obliged to speak quite close to it.

This isn’t quite a telephone. Sounds more like an intercom or walkie-talkie. Or, speakerphone.

Notice also: “without changing their customary attitudes,” an early shout-out to the notion that new technology is better when adapting or enhancing existing patterns of behavior, rather than forcing changes in behavior.

But what makes this apparatus the most successful of telephonic instruments is, that it can be made for half-a-crown, that is to say, for not more than the price of the ordinary push-button. Now, as it can be fitted to the electric wire of the ordinary ringing apparatus, it follows that it introduces a complete change in our ordinary modes of intercourse.

Lots of “ordinary”s. Oh, but now it’s about to change our ordinary modes of intercourse. I assume this refers to how we communicate with each other, rather than other forms of intercourse.

At front doors, in the interior rooms of houses, everywhere in short, where the ordinary electric buttons are used, the telephonic button may be introduced.

Sounds more like an intercom or speakerphone.

It will by this means be possible to give or receive instructions, to know who is knocking at the door, to communicate in short, by speaking as well as by ringing. On the advantage of this in everyday life it is unnecessary to dwell. The railway companies are making experiments with this apparatus as a means of communication between compartments of carriages. It is being fitted up on trial in hotels. I have seen it at work at the door of a private house, where I was replied to by those within without their having stirred from their places, and without the door being opened. Between Paris and Brussels, this instrument, costing half-a-crown, worked with admirable precision, and it was not altogether without an eerie feeling that I listened to a voice with a slight Belgian accent coming to me from a distance of more than 200 miles.

It’s incredible how many of our technological inventions are based on the human need to connect with each other, from the telephonic button down to Twitter. The forms change, the methods change, even the synchronous nature of conversation changes, but it all boils down to communication and connection.

On the advantage of this in everyday life it is unnecessary to dwell.

This may possibly be the most amazing control in the history of controls. Found by a friend on a hotel air conditioner.

There are clearly only two options, blow hard or blow harder. Otherwise, just stop.

Of course, the usual method for designing an air speed control is a range from Low to High, communicated either with words or a graphic spectrum, plus Off. Also, “more” is typically clockwise to the right and “less” is ccw to the left.

But this control shows the danger when you try to use colloquial English terms for interface controls. Great theory, but proceed with caution.

WebVisions wrapped up a week ago and I’m still feeling it. I love this event every year. One, because it’s in Portland so attending it is easy. But really, two, because it attracts great topics and people to spend time with, exactly what you want in a conference. I will always have a soft spot for WebVisions because its founder Brad Smith took a chance on my weird topic History of the Button two years ago, which kicked off the blog, etc. So Brad, thanks for letting me talk again.

On the second day, I spoke on the Language of Interaction, a topic that I’ve been evolving over the last three presentations. As usual, I tweaked the presentation up until the final morning, but overall I believe it went well. Talked for an hour and questions for 15 minutes. Dang that’s a long time. When the audio podcast becomes available, I’ll splice it together with the slides.

You can view the slides after the jump.

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For my talk at Interaction08, I published a paper to accompany the talk, and then hosted it at a separate site. I’d like to bring it into here, continuing the theme of bringing everything under one roof. Inside are the video and slides of the talk. Enjoy!

Abstract

We are interaction designers during a time of rapid technological change, placing us in the incredible position of collectively creating and curating a new language, the language of interaction. The explosion of products with interfaces means that people have to continually adapt and learn new things. They will have to read each interface and look for clues, common visual elements that they’ve seen before. They’ll subconsciously look for a language that comprises words, sounds, colors, shapes, icons, motion, gestures, priorities, hierarchies and more. We are the custodians of this language, creating and curating it organically. We need to start seeing it everywhere and learn from each other as we define the future relationship between people and technology.
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Surprise! After a month of deliberating and a weekend of tweaking WordPress, I’ve changed History of the Button to a new blog name, “Push. Click. Touch.” New name, new server, new layout, expanded focus. It’s “fun” to tweak WordPress, but now it’s time to get back to writing.

So why would I do this? What compelled me to change the name of a blog that people surprisingly paid attention to? After all, switching is a branding nightmare. The “History of the Button” name is out there, just odd enough to throw people off guard and remember it. I see the danger. I’ve been around the tech block long enough to know that brand is a dangerous thing to toss aside.

But it felt like I painted myself into a corner. The hyperfocus of History of the Button was both boon and bane. The tight lens allowed for some really interesting exploration. However, I never felt as if I could veer away from it. I couldn’t comment on experience design in general, react to the writing of others, because it didn’t fall under the scope of History of the Button. It’s the name of a project, not a platform.

Of course, this is only my perception. If I wanted to comment on Andrew Hinton’s closing talk at the IA Summit, would anybody blink if it was published under the banner of History of the Button? I really doubt it, but it was still getting in my way. Time to rethink my mission here!

Welcome to Push. Click. Touch.

My goal here is to expand upon and evolve the focus of History of the Button, to think broader than how we got to where we are as a profession, but to also explore its context and think about its future. Interaction design and experience design in general are fascinating fields to work in right now, and will be for some time. I look forward to contributing to that.

I’ve also collected here writings from my previous blog Fluxion, which was active from 2001-2004. For the first time, all my writings are under one roof, which feels good.

Enjoy. Comment away. Let me know what you think, or if you spot any problems.

Interaction08 ended a few days ago and I’m still recovering from the firehose of information, inspiration, community and general yay, not to mention the excess of fried food and meats and the dearth of sleep.

This was no question the best professional conference I have ever attended.

Seriously. The conference committee just simply nailed it, in their very first conference. And why? Because they designed a conference. They paid attention. They didn’t hold it in a hotel. Instead they chose Savannah College of Art and Design, a design school with a minor in interaction design. They actually served good food with a sense of presentation. They didn’t hand out a binder full of printed Powerpoints. They made people enjoy being there.
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You can find the slides of my Interaction08 presentation at my new side site, The Language of Interaction. When I get my hands on the audio, I’ll stitch them together for a slidecast. Also there is the text (and PDF) of the handout that I distributed with the talk.

In all, it was an overwhelming experience. I had some serious nervous energy going right beforehand, but thanks to Chris Baum for small talking me beyond it. The previous presenter ran a little late, I had things to plug in and papers to hand out, and the room was absolutely packed. But it all came together, and people seemed to really enjoy it, so yay!

(UPDATED: All the content is now hosted here at Push. Click. Touch.)

Finally, after months of waiting, Interaction08 begins tomorrow. The first conference focusing strictly on interaction design and put together by the Interaction Design Association (IxDA).

The lineup looks great, a lot of friends are attending, and the weather looks beautiful. All set for a wonderful weekend. And I’m proud to be speaking on Saturday.

If you’ll be at the event, please stop to say hello if you can. If you can’t attend, consider attending next year if you practice interaction design. This first year looks awesome. Just imagine what a second year will be like!

I’ll report back later…

Lately I’ve been thinking about a topic closely related to the history of the button, the language of interaction. The history of the button itself is the story of how our standard interaction lexicon came to be, the back story behind the words and icons and colors that we take for granted when we use objects. The language of interaction is that lexicon.

In preparation for my talk at Interaction08 next week, I’ve been working on an article that states this idea. I will publish it then on this site, but for now, here’s the abstract.

As interaction designers during a time of rapid technological change, we are in the incredible position of collectively creating and curating a new language, the language of interaction. The building explosion of products with interfaces means that people have to continually adapt and learn new things. They will have to read each interface and look for clues, common visual elements that they’ve seen before. They’ll subconsciously look for a language that comprises words, sounds, colors, icons, motion, gestures, priorities, hierarchies and more. We are the custodians of this language, creating and curating it organically. We need to start seeing it everywhere and learn from each other as we define the future relationship between people and technology.

As I publish more on this, I’ll be interested to hear what you think about it.

Yet more clues of seeing how the button was incorporated into the culture.

Check out these lyrics from “Push de Button” from the Broadway musical “Jamaica,” by Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg. 1957. Sung by Lena Horne.

Push de button,
Up de elevator,
Push de button,
Out de orange juice.
Push de button,
From refrigerator
Come banana shortcake and frozen goose.

…Push de button,
Out come Pagliacci,
Push de button,
Also Liberace.
Push de button!
Wanna rock n’ roll?
Push de button!
Pay de toll?

Push de button, push de button!

What an isle! What an isle!
Squeeze de tube and get Pepsodent smile!
Crack de bank, rob de mail,
Turn de knob and get Muzak in jail!

Push de button,
Don’t be antiquated,
Get de baby
All pre-fabricated.
Push –
Apply de little finger
And push de button!

Now this isn’t very different from 1891’s You Press the Button, We Do the Rest. They are both songs about simultaneously marveling and lamenting the automation of daily life. But 66 years apart? Wouldn’t the button have been absorbed enough into the culture to not have to remark on it like this?

Then again, if I saw a Frozen Goose button, I’d remark on that.