-
RFID packaging as a real-life eco platform
Wired have an interesting post about researchers in South Korea experimenting with semiconducting ink that would allow manufacturers to replace bar codes in supermarkets with RFID signals. As the article points out though, it’s a proof-of-concept but the technology has tonnes of benefits, not only for consumers but for shipping and logistics.
The benefit for consumers seems to be around reducing the size of queues. However, I’m far more interested in how it might be used once we’ve actually finished with the product itself. Imagine an infrastructure where a container of washing powder could be made of a much more robust material which could be reused time and time again. Like glass, for example. The container could be placed in the same place you put your recycling when you’ve finished with it. Only, instead of being broken down and re-made as another material, the package itself could simply be cleaned out and used again. At the recycle centre, the manufacturer and the type of container could be identified through a central database. Packages could then be grouped together and shipped back to the manufacturer en masse. The manufacturer then repackages their product into the clean packaging instead of making new packaging. Depending on how robust it is, it could be used indefinitely. Of course the packaging, in particular the semiconductor ink, might begin to perish over time but a system could track how many times the packaging has been used and could replace the ink regularly.
If you’ve ever had milk delivered to your door, this model will be familiar. I remember the pride my mum used to take in sending back sparkling clean milk bottles. She would fill them with scolding hot soapy water and let them stand for a few minutes before going at them with her pink Marigolds and The Milk Bottle Brush. Scenes used to run through my mind where some guy on a production line would be washing up milk bottles and along would come one of mum’s bottles and it would totally make his day.
I don’t see why it wouldn’t be possible for people to be rewarded for their efforts too. I remember being given 10p for returning pop bottles, which of course I would immediately give back to the shopkeeper in exchange for a sherbet dibdab, which also happened to cost 10p, coincidence?
Of course, this would equate to some kind of Tesco Rewards scheme and there could be an API and mashups galore etc. Mike’s Family Liked Cherios this week.
What’s more, you could have predictive shopping lists based on what you’ve actually consumed, rather than what you want to consume next week.
The packaging might have card inserts that show the product inside, nutritional information, offers etc.
It just strikes me that many of the problems we have with dwindling resources could be addressed somehow with some of the incredible advances we’re making with nanotechnology and the creation of open real-world local platforms.
As a side note, brands such as Coca-Cola and Gap have tried inserting RFID tags into packaging many times before. There’s usually lots of privacy concerns, which is justified, however it’s really a question of agenda.
-
We might be living in the wrong experiment
One of the many very enjoyable and inspiring talks I attended at SXSWi was on Design Fiction.
Here’s how it was billed.
Design fiction is an approach to design that speculates about new ideas through prototyping and storytelling. The goal is to move away from the routine of lifeless scenarios-based thinking. We will share design fiction projects and discuss related techniques for design thinking, communication and exploration of near future concepts.
-
Gnawing on the bones of Hendrix

Jimi Hendrix has a ‘new album’ out. I hate it and I haven’t even heard it yet.
I’m a lifelong Hendrix fan. Ever since I heard his interpretation of The Star-Spangled Banner I was hooked. My initial response upon hearing it was “I didn’t realise that was allowed”. I had a tape of his performance at the Isle of White Festival in 1970 and the entire performance re-engineered what little I understood of music. I put Hendrix on a par with Aphex Twin or Squarepusher for experimentation. There are just some sounds which nobody else has ever made before that just leap out at you and remind you that you’re alive and that life is actually very interesting. The distorted screams and moans he would make with his strat echoed the pubescent confusion I was feeling at the time. And even now they still root out emotions that don’t often see the light of day.
That aside, this ‘new album’ is a collection of studio outtakes, jams and cover versions that has been chucked together by Jimi’s step-sister Janie. Janie was adopted by Jimi’s father Al, who died in 2002. Jimi’s brother Leon was written out of the will by Al shortly before his death. It seems that this kind of in-fighting and wrangling goes hand-in-hand with the legacy of dead rock stars. Especially those, such as Jimi, who died tragically early and unexpectedly, without the foresight to create their own will.
Hendrix only actually completed 3 studio albums in his short career (he died at 28). But each one is crafted into a complete body of work which tells a unique and original story. This ‘new album’, titled ‘Valleys of Neptune’ tells a story, but it’s a story based on lies. It’s a mishmash of stuff that I can’t believe Hendix or anyone else in the Jimi Hendrix Experience would have blessed, if they were alive.
I’m not against these type of collections at all. The lie is in the marketing. The title track suggests it’s from some tape that Eddie Kramer found down the back of the sofa in the reception at Electric Ladyland studios, but which they were just too stoned to release. And just for you it’s been remasted into a deluxe package with horrifying digital clarity. Bullshit. Why not simply call it Scraps of Hendrix’ or ‘The Stuff Hendrix Wouldn’t Dream of Releasing’. I thought the same thing about Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk, a collection of crap that Jeff Buckley wouldn’t have released if you’d paid him millions but which got chucked out by his estate once he’s brown bread.
Don’t get me wrong, there are some really good deep-dives into aspects of Hendrix that are worth a listen – Blues is exactly that. It was another posthumous release but simply collates many of the very bluesy recordings, jams and live performances he did. It tells a story, an honest story. And if you want to experience his live work, try Live at Monterey and Live at Berkeley. And if you want to hear the Hendrix BBC Sessions, well, listen to that, there’s a bum note on Manic Depression that has to be the most glorious and beautiful bum note I’ve ever heard.
This isn’t the first of these cheesy-titled anathemas, avoid First of the The New Rising Sun (much of which isn’t even in tune) and South Saturn Delta. There’s a reason why these things weren’t released when Hendrix was alive. Elbow call it demo-itis. It’s when you demo a song, send it to your friends, family and A&R people, they love it, then you develop it more. The problem is, nobody likes any other version than the one you sent them in the first place, even if you recorded it in your bedroom on a TASCAM 4-track. Most bands are pretty careful about what they put out. It’s only in death that they begin to lose control. They stop being able to tell their own story.
If you want to get into Hendrix, listen to Are You Experienced, Axis: Bold as Love and then Electric Ladyland, in that order. Ovoid anything that has the name of a planet in its title, it is probably shit.
Image credit: designerfake
-
Lurpak’s Bake Club
I’m really enjoying the various incarnations of Weiden + Kennedy’s Lurpak campaign recently.
As well as a few nice TVCs, billboards and some recipe cards, they have created a nice little social thing called Bake Club.

The idea being that you sign up, invite some friends and schedule a time where you can have a bit of a bake-off. Pictures are then uploaded to Flickr. It’s all very nice and simple.
The only thing I wonder about is why they didn’t make it as a Facebook application. I’m sure it would get considerably more attention and may have grown much faster. They could also have targeted ads based on food-related keywords in their profile. Any suggestions on this?

The best thing about the campaign is that they enlisted the help of some food bloggers to create the food used in the photography. They had one of my favourite bloggers (and fellow Peckham-ite) Helen Graves cook up a giant angry-looking chicken & leek pie. No doubt they were inspired by this beautiful and gargantuan pork pie she did at Christmas.
-
Why the Secret London Facebook group is so successful
Tim recently pointed me in the direction of a Facebook group called Secret London. It currently has 188k members. This isn’t entirely surprising until you realise that it was only created 2 weeks ago. The grou is for “… Londoners to inspire Londoners by sharing the secrets of the city”. There’s a very nice London-for-Londoners feel to it. Of course there’s a load of spam but the group’s creator Tiffany Philippou is working hard to keep it clean. Tiffany is now crowdsourcing the development and design of a new site from a temporary blog.
I’ve been thinking about why it has become so successful so quickly, especially considering the enormous glut of travel-related sites that exist. For me there are four things that make it work.
The proposition
Secrets want to be shared, by virtue of the fact that they are not supposed to be. People love to share secrets. We all love to tell others about a great pub with a huge log fire and the best Toad in the Hole in London, the best ice-cream, the best spot in Greenwich park for a drunken lazy Sunday. And even more, we love to share things that say something about who we are.
The convenience of Facebook
People are spending more and more time simply staying within Facebook. And it’s just too easy to share and join groups. It’s becoming a little world of content, like a vortex.
Inspiration
At first thought you assume that Facebook isn’t the ideal platform for Secret London. It would be difficult to archive the secrets and you have to scroll through a lot of crap to find the good stuff. But perhaps that is its charm. When you scroll through the comments and the responses, there’s is a lot of dross but you do come across stuff that inspires you. Most travel sites assume that you have the first clue what you want to do. You have to initiate your discovery by clicking on a primary navigation item or think of a search terms to enter. It’s a tiny but onerous little chore and you don’t know how the site is going to react, it might disappoint. But with a stream of random secrets, it’s like poring through an vintage shop and finding a little gem that you love, but nobody else cares about.
Simply put, it’s not about discovery, it’s about inspiration.
Shared ownership
Finally, Tiffany is crowdsourcing the design and development of a new site as well as a logo. She is also releasing the content under a Creative Commons license. It feels as close as we can currently get to a shared ownership of something.
I’d be fascinated to see what else you think might have contributed to the success of Secret London.
-
Wizards and haptic gestures
One response among designers and UX folk to Apple’s new iPad has been to criticise the effort required of users to command the haptic interface. Microsoft’s Surface had the same response, as did the interface that Tom Cruise used in Mission Impossible.

‘Ergonomically speaking, it’s just too much hard work’ is the usual response. There’s a lot of supposition and conjecture there though, mostly based on the received wisdom that less work is better. It seems obvious that they require more work to control, but I’m not aware of any long-term study into the ergonomic effects of haptic interfaces in everyday use or indeed that they are even hard work to use on a daily basis. I’m certainly one of those people that look at this kind of interface and thinks “It just looks like a lot of hard work”.

In recent years, the coal-face of sedentary computer terminal work has been reduced to mere mouse clicks scattered with a few little rapid tapperings on a keyboard. Our heads don’t move, only our eyes dart from pixel to pixel. Lots of typing and lots of clicking. Maybe even a little bit of dribble. I can imagine one day that our muscles might atrophy completely and leave us existing in a jellied heap still clicking our only STRONG FINGER, eyeballs recessed, still darting.
Yesterday, I was lucky enough to attend The Guardian’s 