Objects, Part 1: Serena

Object I Love: Easy-Macro lens

If you’re thinking that this object just looks like a piece of plastic embedded in a rubber band, well, yeah. That’s essentially what it is. Unlike the fancier macro lenses for mobile phones (lenses that clip on and have interchangeable pieces), my Easy-Macro lens is a single piece with no moving parts and zero customization options. I’ve bought a few of the expensive clip-on lenses and they all ended up at the bottom of a drawer. So what makes this one special?

The simplicity of this macro lens is its greatest strength.

Since it stretches to fit, it’s adjustable to any phone size and any lens location, fits over most phone cases, and only takes a couple of seconds to position. It’s also really strong; pretty much as durable as a sturdy rubber band. And the most important aspect for me–it’s extremely portable. I put it on a business card and keep it in my wallet. It’s tiny, it weighs almost nothing, and fits inside an item I always have with me. It’s also inexpensive enough that if I lose it, it’s easy to replace.

Constraints are paramount in this design. There is only one way it can be put onto a phone. Users are already familiar with how rubber bands function, and that they wrap around objects. The item has two parts–rubber and plastic–and neither of them move. It’s also reversible, making it impossible to put on inside-out. Mapping is simple; you position the plastic lens directly on your phone’s camera lens. Finally, there is immediate visual feedback when it is correctly or incorrectly positioned; you can tell simply by looking through your phone’s camera.

I love my dumb rubber band lens so much, in fact, that I regularly recommend it to friends. There’s something really wonderful about being able to instantly capture these hidden secrets and beautiful details in the world around me.

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Object I Hate: IKEA PS 2002 watering can

Sometimes you run across an object and you think, hey, didn’t we figure this out centuries ago? Watering cans are not exactly revolutionary items. This was my perspective when I bought a watering can from IKEA. In fact, I was so confident in its design that I bought two. I assumed that all watering cans were more or less the same, functionally speaking, so I felt empowered to opt for a very svelte looking one.

This watering can has a beautiful, sleek, and open design. The spout is a trough rather than a tube, and the body of the can is uncovered. Unfortunately, this means that it’s nearly impossible to control the flow of water. Water gushes out of this thing and all you can do is panic and slosh the can around as a puddle forms on your toes. It’s also got a cute handle, which means absolutely nothing when the can is full, since it’s completely off-balance as you carry it– even more water spilling on your feet. The handle is just a tricky affordance that lulls you into a false sense of security.

Many design principles are in use here, yet the execution is poor. Visibility is pretty clear; you can see where to fill the can and how the water pours out. The can has a lot of physical constraints. You can’t mistakenly fill it anywhere but into the body, and the spout is clearly designed to funnel water out, opposite the handle. It’s a design and action that most people are accustomed to, which makes it all the more jarring when it functions poorly.

Perhaps they should have thought less about constraining the user and more about constraining the water.