Phones I Like #1: Samsung Memoir

I decided this will be a regular segment. Obviously I am beyond being able to purchase each phone, but this should be a pure, simple critique of visual aesthetics. Not a week goes by without new models of phones are released, so this should be a small, smooth, cool glass of water.







Samsung Memoir
8 megapixel touchscreen

Most US cellphones have, for a long time, a paltry 1.3mp image sensor, effectively downplaying the importance of that aspect, despite the reality of user's behavior. In the past several years, since the first phones with cameras started showing up, image sending became a massive, significantly important part of communication. 1.3mp sensors, however, being cheap, ubiquitous, but with awful image quality, are still with us. A lot of people have cheap, pocket-size digital cameras with very good quality and high MP count, but I think most people would go without their camera long, long before they went without their phone. Thus, the importance of combining the two adequately. (I'm going to call this the "everything box" theory. More on this later.)

Samsung, (and a number of other handset manufacturers, to be fair) are supplanting higher mp sensors into new phones, and while the optics are obviously not the same as in a dedicated camera, are a vast improvement. And one of the reasons I like the Memoir is that Samsung has taken a few impressive moves towards distinguishing this brick as something different.

I'm mostly enamored of the outward styling. The matte soft-touch back finish is restrained, and the leather "camera-grip" material on the base is a much needed distinction. It's interesting how that alone is enough to symbolize something more than just "phone", which is what the (mostly) standardized material usage in most low to medium end cellphones (hell, even high end phones, new iphones, blackberries, etc fall in the range of black or off-black or faux-silver plastic shells.)

It's this tiny little material detail that would make me want to pay significantly more for this than a standard plastic phone with the same features. It would pay for cell manufacturers to realize that materials and construction sometimes trumps cheapness, especially in a recession when consumers typically look for products that will last longer. Even if the Memoir has the same lifecycle as any other phone, the material language still suggests durability, strength, and class.

Good job, Samsung.

I always have a pretty hard time explaining to most people what I do ("So, you design factories? Right? Architecture?)
Hopefully when this movie comes out it'll be a little bit simpler.

New Pepsi Logo: Good, But A Failure

Pepsi recently rebranded slightly (okay, maybe it's fairly major), changing a logo which has been around since what is essentially the beginning of time (Pepsi was trademarked in 1903).



Now, I understand fully the need for a company to change, evolve, rebrand, etc. It is not uncommon for newer companies to shed logos, typefaces, and what have you every few years. It's a natural part of the business.

I can appreciate the new Pepsi logo, however. Shedding the symmetry of the old wavy line gives the it a much needed energy and dynamism, something the old coke "swoosh" thing has had, also since the dawn of time. I also applaud the flat blue background, and the round, lowercase type. Looking at this can is like sitting in a quiet, darkened room with a bottle of valium. Especially compared to this nausea-inducing crime against all that is good and holy:



But unfortunately, this doesn't solve the underlying problem. Pepsi just spent several million dollars on superbowl advertising, north of $1 million on the logo redesign itself, and estimated several hundreds of thousands of dollars replacing the old logo with the new one (think about it: trucks, billboards, packaging, vending machines - it's a lot of stuff to rebrand).

The problem is, pepsi is 106 years old, coke is even older, being trademarked around 1888. Conceivably, my great grandparents could have had an opinion about whether they liked Coke or Pepsi better. And that's the real issue, is that people don't drink Coke over Pepsi or vice versa because of the branding, or the package, or any other nonsense. People tend to like the taste of one over the other, and once that decision is made they cannot be convinced, and take that preference to the grave. People are much more prone to switch political parties, countries, ideologies before they'd ever switch from Coke to Pepsi. I know I wouldn't.




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Addendum: It occurs to me, on further examination, that the new Pepsi logo is, in fact, different for each "version" of Pepsi:



Diet Pepsi has a smaller swoosh, and "Pepsi Max" has a more pronounced swoosh.

I feel that this differentiation somehow undermines the logo as a whole. If a logo is meant to be instantly recognizable worldwide, as an iconic image, doesn't it simply confuse the brand image to make minor changes across your product line that aren't even immediately apparent?

Kindling

As a kickoff post, and since I feel compelled to jump on the bandwagon, today we'll look at the Amazon Kindle 2 e-book reader.



Amazon, the online retail giant, has taken it upon themselves to jump off of the cliff of product design. This is the second iteration, and the result is somewhat confusing.

The two versions of Kindle are polarizing, restrained, and memorable for very little.

Brief background: the Kindle's main differentiation from other similar devices (cellphones, smartphones, PDA's, etc) is in it's display: E-ink, or electronic ink, which uses microscopic spheres which are suspended in a clear liquid, and change from black to white when an electric charge. The result is a monochrome display which is thinner, flexible, and uses less electricity than commonplace display technologies. This is a relatively new concept, and it's ultimate goal (using cheap, plentiful e-ink displays to completely replace newspapers or books) is far away, and it remains a novelty.

Unfortunately, the outside form elements of the Kindle mostly serve to actively undermine the qualities that make e-ink attractive in the first place. Kindle's designers, no doubt sweating through their shirts, ties loosened, empty coffee cups strewn on the cubicle floor, seemed to have turned, in desperation, to the iPod, a design which represents the design zeitgeist for this decade, for inspiration. The large, radiused corners, the white finish, even the ratio of screen to display is reminiscent of early genetation iPods. But there are pitfalls to this. The screen border is large and flat, giving one a sense that the case is too big for the screen. The tiny round buttons seem old fashioned, reminiscent of typewriter keys, and take up an astonishing amount of real-estate. How much of a keyboard do you need to read a book, after all?

On the sides, navigation buttons exist but are only differentiated by part lines. Traditional interface design wisdom tells us that we need some kind of material, color, or other change to tell us where controls are without us having to waste valuable mental capacity finding and memorizing the location and function of every control.

Kindle 2 is a response, or redesign, of Kindle 1. For comparison:



This was wildly unpopular when first released, and while it has it's own set of problems, I feel somehow by comparison this one to be the better shape. Sure, it's a little more radical, it has more dangerous design choices, but this one elicits emotion. One thinks of origami, or woodcarving, or god forbid, that Kindle 1 is merely several generations removed from the sharp, dangerous chamfers of a BMW.



Perhaps, though, that's being generous. The important thing about Apple's design is not the rounded edges, or the simple design, or the color or ratio or really, any one single tanglible element that you can simply grab and magically imbue your own product with. Apple's real magic comes from the intangible feeling you get from their products; the soothing, reassuring voice in your head that says; "This is the future now. Everything is okay."

Because that's the real underlying influence behind both the kindle and the ipod: the future. Not our actual future, of course, but the visionary, limitless, maybe even naïve future of decades past.