Intentional friction in design: how the cult of seamless hurts us

I’m designing to make things harder. An introduction

I never call myself an aspiring anything on account of this tweet:

But in this case, it may be correct to say I am an aspiring Master of Interaction Design. My journey at the Estonian Academy of Arts is almost at an end (74 days until MA defence!), which feels bittersweet; although a new life awaits, I will miss going to school very much. It’d been my lifelong dream to go to the Academy of Arts, something I’d romanticised heavily, and of course, it was not like I had imagined, but it was great in other ways. I think now that all my curriculum-related courses are over (and only fun electives and thesis writing remain), a little reflection is called for — and it is scheduled. But first, this.

I’m a huge fan of writing to learn, as I think it’s the best way to deeply understand. I am facing a problem with my thesis: it is growing longer and longer, and my head is getting messier and messier. So here I am, shouting into the void, hoping for-what? I don’t know yet. Surely, I could just write this all into a document on my laptop and that would work just as well. But there is something else, something that makes me want to put this into the world.

This pub is a record of my MA writing process, and after that, I hope to continue exploring the topic of design friction, in whatever way. The following is an introduction and explanation of what and why I am writing.

The cult of seamless design

I’m in bed, on my phone, my wrist is cramping up. The clock turns 22:13. OK, I will scroll until 22:30. Whoops, it’s 22:31. I’ll do until 23:00. Damn, missed it. Okay, I have until midnight. Oh no, it’s…