4.txt

The magazine represents a pretty uncomplex (and utterly uncomplicated) interface: just a stack of glossy printed paper glued together. It has a protective cover made of slightly harder paper with a surface that aids in grasping the item. The pages inside have administrative information, content, and advertisements printed on them, along with page numbers to aid in navigating through the issue. Many of these pages also feature images related to the content on that page, either to help clarify the information or to draw in the reader's attention.

From this simple (uncomplex) interface comes a clear conceptual model. Thanks to the form that the magazine takes from its glued pages, a user can only open it on one of its four sides without tearing the bindings. Put another way, that edge affords opening. Nearly anyone picking up the magazine will understand that its usage involves opening by the edge opposite the binding. One need only watch a baby playing with a magazine (or a book) to see that confirmed. Specifically, this affordance arises from the physical constraints involved of the magazine because attempting to open it another way would be much more difficult. As with the scissors that Norman discusses, "even if you have never seen or used [one] before, you can see that the number of possible uses is limited" (Norman 12). It opens and closes along that one edge, and that is it. Thus, physically, the conceptual model of how to interact with the magazine is easily grasped by any user.

On the other hand, interacting with the magazine as an object that contains information is more difficult. For one, while it is easy to see how to open a magazine, that is possible whether holding the magazine forwards or backwards, upside-down or right-side-up. The images on its covers offer some indication of the up aspect of that issue, but they leave open the question of the front and the back. For that, one has to be able to read the language or at least understand how the printed word works. Think of the baby again: it can open the magazine just fine, while holding it in the correct manner is another story altogether. Once inside, the situation does not necessarily become clearer, as the advertisements attempt to resemble content and the content seeks to hold your attention in light of the advertisements. Especially in a magazine such as Wired, which heavily features consumer products and services in its content, it can be hard to tell content and ads apart. Assuming that one has proper background knowledge, though, one will understand the magazine.

An aspect of magazines (and printed materials in general) that I had never considered before is the effect of one's native language. For me, as a native English speaker and writer, the idea that a magazine would have its binding on the left edge, and that I will interact with it by turning pages to the left, seems obvious. It seems as though it could not be any other way, but clearly this is not true. Many languages are written right-to-left, and still others flow from top-to-bottom. I can imagine myself picking up a magazine printed in such a language, turning it to its wrong side (the back cover, say), and attempting to interact with it that way. Why would the same not be true for someone coming to a left-to-right magazine from a right-to-left background? It seems obvious that it would be. In reality, then, the naturalness of the magazine's affordance may not be quite so universal.

Works Cited
Norman, Donald A. Design of Everyday Things. 1980: Currency Doubleday. New York.