Perspectives, methods, case studies, and interviews about information architecture and content operations for the modern web.
Not every project needs a dedicated information architect, but things can go woefully sideways if you need one and don't have one. Here are a few clues that you should include an information architect, or at least a practitioner with strong IA skills, on your design team.
Information Architecture is the process and the product of designing shared information environments. In the same way that building architects collaborate in the creation of physical environments for shared human use, information architects collaborate in the creation of information environments for shared human use. The architect may not know in detail how each wall or widget gets built, but they know enough about how all the pieces fit together as a whole to ensure that the final result effectively meets the human needs.
Voice user interfaces, smart software agents, and AI-powered search are changing the way users—and computers—interact with content. Whether or not you’re building services for these emerging technologies, structured content is now necessary to ensure the accuracy and integrity of your content across the evolving digital landscape.
Over the last several years I’ve become an ardent advocate of “structured content design.” This is the process of designing digital resources (like websites and apps) from the content out, as opposed to creating interaction and visual design first, then shoehorning the content into it right before (or right after) launch. A structured content approach to digital work has a number of advantages over typical “interface first” processes.
As the systems of information for which we design get more complex and more fluid (hospitals, government, and higher education are all good examples), it is increasingly important that we explicitly express the rules that underly the visible structures we deliver. So where does this leave us with site maps? They’re still effective communication tools (and clients do love them), but I think we’ve moved beyond the point where they’re a foundation of information architecture.
I helped Seattle Children's redesign their website's global navigation and home page to better meet the needs of their users, the requirements of their content, and the goals of their business. Now, their site more usable, more welcoming, and more clearly aligned with user and organizational priorities.
I helped Shoreline College understand the journey users take through their Academic Programs offerings, and designed a taxonomy and navigation model that supports that journey from the user's perspective. Now, site visitors can browse programs by the topics that interest them—without having to negotiate the department, division, and degree hierarchies in which those programs are situated.
If you’ve ever done any contextual inquiry or usability testing, you’ve probably observed first hand the difference between what people say they will do and what they actually end up doing. Overlooked calls to action, bizarre navigation paths, mind-bogglingly irrational decisions — even the most sensible seeming users occasionally (or often) do things that “rationally” make little sense. Which is to say that we all, on occasion (or often) do things that seem to make little rational sense.
In order to effectively communicate across contexts in digital information spaces, we need to understand the way we make meaning as thinking animals. We also need to dig in to the details of the language and models we use to make them intelligible, both so that we can use them more effectively and so that we can leave them behind when they are hindering communication. In the same way that we construct our built environments in response to the physical mechanics of our bodies, we can construct our information environments in response to the conceptual mechanics of our minds.
With the growing need of responsive web solutions and adaptive, flexible content, there are new reasons for designers to roll up their sleeves and get into “code.” Since HTML is, at its core, a layer of description wrapped around content, working at this level helps designers think more critically about their content and about the architectural implications of that content. While considering markup won’t replace our content audit, user research, or taxonomy work any time soon, it can increasingly function as an important part of the design process.