Twitter hasn’t really changed for me

September 9, 2014
by Riccardo Mori
Handpicked

Frank Chimero, on how Twitter has changed over time:

Here’s the frustration: if you’ve been on Twitter a while, it’s changed out from under you. Christopher Alexander made a great diagram, a spectrum of privacy: street to sidewalk to porch to living room to bedroom. I think for many of us Twitter started as the porch — our space, our friends, with the occasional neighborhood passer-by. As the service grew and we gained followers, we slid across the spectrum of privacy into the street.

Of course, the things you say on your porch are much different than what you’d say on the street. But if the porch turned into the street without you noticing, there’d be a few painful months before you realized you needed to change how you spoke. I remember the first few times I was talking to friends (forgetting the conversation could be viewed by those who followed both of us), only to have strangers piggy-back on our grousing. It felt like a violation. But that’s on me for participating in a kinda-private, kinda-public conversation.

For the better part of a year, I’ve been trying to make Twitter feel like talking on the porch again, but it just can’t happen. Twitter isn’t talking for anyone with more than 500 followers — it’s publishing or advertising. We’re all on the street, and it’s noisy.

My experience is rather different. Perhaps I’m one of the lucky ones, but I must say that, as far as relationships and social interactions go, very little has changed for me since I joined Twitter in early 2008. The way I speak and communicate over Twitter hasn’t changed. For me — to use Chimero’s image — it’s always been a ‘talking on the porch’ kind of thing.

I won’t deny that Twitter has got noisier these past five years, and that ‘conversations’ now have a greater tendency to quickly become ‘quip matches,’ but it’s always nice for me to see that there’s a group of people with whom I can start a conversation any time and such conversation would actually feel like a quiet chat among friends despite all the current Twitter-noise. Perhaps it’s because this group of people and I all have a similar attitude towards Twitter: we’re not interested in anything Twitter throws at us to ‘keep us engaged’ — we’re still treating Twitter as the means of communication it was back then.

Another, more practical thing I’ve always done from the start to keep the noise at bay on Twitter has been to carefully select the people I follow (and not obsess over how many followers I have) (and always choose third-party clients). I’ve added roughly 40 people per year, from 40 people I followed in 2008 to 200 now. Very few of the Twitter accounts I follow are of brands, or apps, etc. I’ve always been on Twitter for the people. If I want news or RSS-like features, I use a RSS reader. And I’ve always spoken over Twitter with the same tone, the tone of someone who welcomes conversations and constructive exchanges. I’ve never used Twitter as a means of simply broadcasting my opinions with a megaphone. What I have got in return has been, so far, a rather rewarding experience: I’ve met truly interesting people and kindred spirits. People I know I can count on for meaningful exchanges no matter how Twitter tries to ‘reinvent’ itself.

Again, maybe I’ve just been lucky. I don’t have thousands of followers always ready to challenge every tweet I post, nor have I really experienced unwanted interferences from strangers while having a conversation with friends — things that would certainly turn Twitter into a sour experience and end up pushing me away from it.

Mind you, I’m an App.Net advocate, and I still think App.Net is a better environment for the kind of ‘porch talk’ Chimero mentions, despite the now common opinion that “App.Net is doooomed.” I joined App.Net in November 2012 mainly because I didn’t like the direction Twitter was taking with regard to third-party clients and such. I do think that, generally speaking, Twitter has got much worse lately than it was when I joined five years ago. Yet, when it comes to personal interactions and the way I use Twitter, I can’t say the experience has really changed over time. Neither the more commercial and Facebookey direction Twitter has been taking lately, nor the great increase in popularity (together with the added weight now tweets seem to have with regard to public discourse), have made me change the way I speak on Twitter.

Smartwatches and notifications

September 6, 2014
by Riccardo Mori
Briefly

A well-designed smartwatch or wearable doesn’t really need notifications.

The thought just struck me yesterday as I was putting on my Swatch wristwatch. Think about it. I’m obviously talking about a wearable which, a) has some kind of screen, and b) is worn on the wrist or another place within the wearer’s field of vision. But yes, on the wrist in particular.

If you usually wear a traditional watch, stop for a moment and think about all the times you see the time even without actively checking the watch itself. That’s because the wristwatch is there, in plain sight, and not in your pocket. I often see the time with the corner of my eye. Just to name a few random activities: when I’m having a coffee or while eating, when I’m withdrawing money at an ATM, when I’m writing (especially using pen and paper: the watch is on my left wrist, and I place my left hand over the notebook as I write, to keep it still, so the watch is practically in my face as I write), on the bus as I cling to the various supports, and basically every time I happen to glance at my hand or arm. 

True, a traditional timepiece does not have a complex interface. It presents basic information with great immediacy. But checking it is also a truly effortless action. Therefore, I think it’s quite easy to catch new information as it is displayed on the smartwatch or wearable, and that’s why I believe (again, assuming it’s a well-designed device) notifications to be redundant — you’re probably glancing at the device with enough frequency as to not miss anything, really; especially because, in the back of your mind, you know there may be new information to check every now and then. There’s no actual need to draw attention to the device with something so noisy and annoying as a notification.

Subtle interferences

September 5, 2014
by Riccardo Mori
Tech Life

In the last three years I’ve paid particular attention to how I handled my usual disconnection period of the year, the summer holidays. August 2012 was a refreshing time in this regard, because I was coming from a terrible year (no holidays in 2011 whatsoever — and no offline periods), and I was able to go on holiday bringing just the iPad with me, leaving my main laptop at home. That, combined with a very limited connectivity, resulted in a peaceful, productive time. Both from a creative standpoint (I wrote more; I jotted down a lot of ideas for short stories; I drew and painted using different iPad apps for this task, like Paper by Fifty-Three or Procreate), and because I managed to read more books in those 22 days of holiday than in the seven preceding months. 

August 2013 led to a similar experience, but the subtle differences were even more interesting. For starters, I didn’t feel any of the typical withdrawal symptoms from being disconnected from the Web, my email, social networks and so forth. I was so engrossed by the books I was reading, that such activity was being more meaningful than the so-called ‘fear of missing out.’ (I talked about this experience at length in I was going nowhere fast — Vantage Point Magazine, Issue 2). Last summer I still had just my iPad with me, but thanks to a new SIM card with a great data plan my wife and I purchased for our iOS devices, connecting to the Internet was easier, and I didn’t have to go to a local café to check email and the news. Still, for the reasons stated above, I wasn’t that interested in spending my holidays online and checking stuff every five minutes. It felt great, it felt balanced: I could have spent more time online more easily, but I didn’t feel like it. I was engaged in more rewarding ‘offline’ activities.

August 2014 was, once again, different. This time I had to bring my MacBook Pro with me because, among other things, I needed to prepare Issue 5 of Vantage Point Magazine, and the iPad alone wouldn’t have been enough. The presence of my laptop (and the 350 GB of personal materials it contains) and the same, easier way to access the Internet I had the previous year, resulted in more or less the same level of distraction and mild disorganisation I have at home. Fortunately, I didn’t also spend the same amount of time sitting before my Mac as I spend when not on holiday. Still, looking back at the few past weeks, I can’t say I’ve been as productive as I had been in August 2012 and August 2013, or as productive as I wanted to be at the beginning of my summer holiday. My to-do list included reading three books and drawing, both on my notebook and using the iPad. I ended up reading one book and a half, and drawing very little. 

Sure, there were other things to do this time, like preparing my magazine, which demanded more time spent online. Reading more stuff online led to less reading books on the iPad (my eyes were tired enough); and instead of drawing, I ended up entertaining myself watching series and films or playing games on my MacBook Pro. That’s okay, it’s always leisure — but, as I was musing on the plane back home, ultimately not the kind of leisure I had sought. 

The RTWA Syndrome

I’m sharing all this for two reasons. First, it’s yet another example of how easy Internet connectivity can interfere with someone’s plans in subtle ways and despite all the organisation and discipline one may have when it comes to this matter (and I believe I have pretty much of both). The second reason is to mention a phenomenon I’ve recently noticed with myself, and perhaps it’s happened to you as well — especially if you, like me, are curious people, always hungry for knowledge, write on your blog and maybe even write your own magazine. I’ve called this phenomenon the RTWA Syndrome, where RTWA stands for “Read To Write About.” It happens like this: I’m reading a book, or an article, or something I’ve found on the Web, and while reading it I can’t help thinking “I have to write about this. I have to save this stuff, take notes, because I have to write about this later. It’s good material for an article on my blog or for my magazine, etc.”

It’s not entirely and inherently a bad thing — one accumulates knowledge to share it and spread it. But this underlying urge, this continuous buzz, is beginning to annoy me because it’s increasingly looking like the written equivalent of what had become my Instagram experience before I stopped posting photos there. I wasn’t shooting snaps for myself anymore. I wasn’t shooting snaps for the pleasure of shooting snaps anymore. I was looking for the ‘Instagram moment.’ I was shooting thinking how perfect for Instagram that snap would be. Similarly, the experience of reading something new, of assimilating new information, is starting to feel (in part) like ‘accumulation of useful stuff to write about,’ in a way or another, on my blog or elsewhere. 

Again, it’s difficult to explain exactly why I’m not liking this phenomenon very much. I’m sure someone will read this and think “What’s wrong with that?” Let’s say it makes me feel like I’m just some sort of sieve, filtering all the inputted information to create an output. Or some sort of processing system or apparatus, looking for stuff to process, transform, and then provide. This has nothing to do with the quality of the product. It’s something subtle that happens in the back of my mind. Looking at everything I find, read, study, as nothing else but ‘stuff to then write about.’ All the time perfectly knowing that it’s so much more, that it should be so much more. Another side effect of the online sphere and online writing, I guess, and something I’m not entirely comfortable with. I’ll have to work on this, to figure out how I can defuse this mechanism and get rid of the interference.

Prose — a new App.net client for iOS

August 24, 2014
by Riccardo Mori
Briefly

A few days ago, a new App.net client for iOS debuted on the App Store: Prose, developed by Shawn Throop. Judging from the available screenshots, Prose’s UI looks nice and clean, and as soon as I’m back from my holidays and my access to the Internet isn’t limited as it is now, I intend to purchase it. I think developing a new App.net client now is a bold move, considering the uncertain future of the platform, and if you’re on App.net and love it like I do, you should support any fresh effort such as this.

For those who wonder why write an App.net client now, Throop responds on Prose’s blog:

There are two important facts that allowed Prose to be finished: I have a stable “day job” and Prose is my first app. […] Prose is a passion project and regardless of sales, I have already profited from it: I know Objective‑C, I know how to make an iOS app, and I am confident that my current knowledge will help me adapt as a developer (switching to Swift, for example).

I really like Shawn’s approach and I’ll soon add Prose to my iPhone’s App.net folder. 

Prose is $2.99/€2.69 on the App Store.

“Shoot because you love what you're shooting”

August 20, 2014
by Riccardo Mori
Handpicked

John Carey has written an excellent article on the current state of photography, titled Don’t Forget to Remember This. It is difficult to quote bits of it, because one is easily tempted to quote everything. The following is what especially resonated with me:

The challenges present in photography today are not in the devices we use to capture, it’s not in our approach, skill level, or what we think we need to create good photos; the problem today is in social pressure. Photography has quickly evolved in its short lifespan from revolutionary, to useful, to ubiquitous and full of expectation.

Like the clothes we wear, the cars we drive, or the houses we live in, our photographs are another vehicle to which the world judges us because the world expects to see proof of our beautiful, happy lives and we have grown to crave that attention. In this light, photography has grown vain in its old age.

We shoot, we shoot, and we shoot… and then we share. Sometimes to prove our good taste or creative ability, but also, in many cases, as a means to feel alive because we have generated this need to prove something to others and to ourselves.

When I left Instagram in early 2013, the reasons behind my choice were essentially two; the first was ‘political’: Instagram had been recently acquired by Facebook, and I didn’t (and don’t) want anything to do with Facebook. The second reason was tied to that ‘social pressure’ Carey mentions. As I wrote in Life after Instagram about my Instagram photography and experience, I realised that it had become more of an Instagram dependence than a form of expression. I realised how mechanical a habit it had been. I realised the cheapening effect it had on my photography in general. Posting to Instagram had turned into a meaningless daily hunt for the cool ‘Instagram moment’. Later in the article, Carey’s advice is don’t shoot to share, shoot because you love what you’re shooting and I realised I was doing exactly the opposite — at least on Instagram.

Another great piece of advice from Carey:

Your tool of choice is your choice. Spend money on a camera, or not, but don’t do it to feel more confident or to fit in. Buy a camera that suits your lifestyle.

These past years I’ve considered the purchase of a DSLR more than once, because I was feeling I had hit the limits of my ageing Nikon Coolpix 8800, an 8‑megapixel bridge camera from 2004. Then my interest was piqued by more compact, mirrorless cameras with interchangeable lenses. But one day I just realised I didn’t really need a new, cool, expensive digital camera with 14 or more megapixels. On one side, I have a few film SLRs with very nice lenses that still give me great pleasure when shooting and great results at the end of the process. On the other, my digital, instant-gratification needs are certainly met by my iPhone. And the Coolpix 8800 may feature 10-year-old technology, but it’s still capable of delivering satisfactory results. My wanting a new photographic toy, it turns out, has little to do with actual photographic needs. It’s a passing fancy I can do without — upgrading my iPhone will probably be enough. 

The format and approach I have taken through the years has varied a fair amount but has always been a big part of defining the feelings I carried while shooting. I shoot film when I feel a deeper connection to what I am shooting, I shoot digital when I simply want to remember. My compositions and developing have similar fingerprints in that they tell me a lot about how I felt when I made the photographs. Every click of the shutter for me is a moment worth remembering and it’s the memories that make photography so gratifying for me.

I, too, shoot both film and digital, with more or less the same intent as Carey. Shooting film has taught me to be more restrained and to really look for the scene or subject to shoot, not just be trigger-happy at the first hint of ‘something interesting to capture.’ It’s been such a significant change that I maintain the same behaviour when I’m using a digital camera. (I know, digital is more forgiving and one can be more wasteful, and that’s a great thing when one is learning; but I’ve come to a point in my photography in which I want to waste much fewer shots to catch what I’m trying to catch — the ideal being capturing the scene or subject I want with just the one perfect shot.) My iPhone remains, in a way, a sort of photographic sketchbook, where photos with an artistic flair are interspersed with snapshots of fleeting moments or experiments taken with a particular app.

Whether you’re serious about photography or just take snaps to share a moment and quickly forget about it, read John Carey’s piece in its entirety. Let it sink in. Think about it the next time you take out your DSLR, compact camera or smartphone. Don’t simply focus on what you’re shooting — focus on why you’re shooting.