Week 3: Affordances

Aadya Krishnaprasad
Sep 9, 2018 · 3 min read

James Gibson, an American psychologist stated that the verb “to afford” is found in the dictionary while the term “affordance” is not. He uses it to describe the complementarity of the animal and the environment. The way I interpret this is, affordance is what dictates the interaction between the subject and the context. Every object we come across in our daily life talks to us. Some have low voices, while others are very loud and you can’t help but listen to them. Some speak very clearly while others mumble away inaudibly. Some are engaging and you can’t help going back to them over and over while others fail to be engaging. They comprise of a set of verbs, the object uses to talk to us, that frame the adjective of the experience.

Don Norman, in his book, The Design of Everyday Things introduces two more terminologies, constraints and mappings. Objects have certain formal limitations which allow only a fixed set of possible interactions with an object. This removes much of the dilemma surrounding the interactions with new or unfamiliar objects and contributes to the ease of use. He illustrates this with an example of a pair of scissors. The size of the holes n the scissors restrict the possible fingers and acts as a constraint. The larger hole implies several fingers while the smaller one implies just one. And this mapping between the holes and fingers dictate the set of possible interactions.

Don Norman’s book made me more sensitive and eventually appreciate the importance of what and how an object or an artifact communicates with us. It made me question, as to how as designers we can bridge the gap between what the object actually does and what the user wants from it. Every morning as I get dressed to go to college I am constantly reminded of how not designing keeping the user in mind leads to reduced interaction in the future. I am talking about the door of my bedroom closet. On the surface, it’s a simple folding door, but if you’re not careful enough, you risk getting a nasty pinch. To me, it’s almost as if the door yells back at you for not using it correctly.

When the door is shut, there’s an obvious brown wooded knob that stands out against the white door. This knob is well made, no splinters and no sharp edges and unlike a metal knob, not cold to the touch. It feels comfortable in my hand. This knob affords pulling. On pulling it, the seemingly single door folds at the hinges running through the middle and the closet door opens.

Opening the door.

This seems pretty obvious, right? But wait, what about the process of closing the door? Firstly that friendly knob which helped me open the door is not of much help now as it is very close to the hinges. I reach out for the edge of the closet door, clasp it with my hand and pull it towards me. As I pull the door, it starts moving to the right and starts closing the closet. The door reaches the end and my hand gets in the way of shutting the door all the way. So I let go and now the door is partially open. I place my hand along the middle of the door where it hinges, as it affords pushing in order to be straightened back out. And, ouch! A nasty pinch! my finger gets caught in the middle where the door hinges. Pushing the door shut is normally done in one swift motion which means there’s lesser control and it is harder to prevent that nasty pinch. Soon I figured, placing my hand slightly off-centered, on one of doors would prevent this pinch. If only there was a friendly plate or a little palm-sized depression on one of the doors, the door would be much less intimidating to shut.

That nasty pinch while closing the door.
Aadya Krishnaprasad

Graduate student at the School of Design at CMU | Interaction designer

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