But this year – and I suppose this is my 2011 retrospective – I’ve visited five continents and spent a quarter of the year overseas. I’ve visited places I always dreamed of and perfected my security choreography: belt, laptop, liquids in under ten seconds.

The disorientation of travel is humbling. I have to learn the customs, the new machines, and the subway maps. I queue in the wrong places, and walk down the wrong roads. I learn to say sorry in a dozen languages. It’s a valuable lesson that mental models are created the hard way.

It’s also fascinating to see how other cultures interact with each other and with technology. Johannesburg’s barbed wire and Tokyo’s vending machines left a particular impression. Travel reminds me that not everyone has a MacBook and fast WiFi. This year I saw some amazing applications of mobile technology: people making do with the tools they have, routing around infrastructure problems rather than blaming them.

Travel also gives me space to think. For all their bustle, airports and hotels are also places of disconnection. However much I try, I can’t work or sleep on planes, so I take the opportunity to read, or squint at forgettable films. And although a hotel bar and a late night can be fun, I’m often at my most productive after I’ve exhausted the local TV channels and set about something that’s been on my list for weeks.

But perhaps the happiest aspect of travel is that it helps us appreciate what we have. The delicious Heathrow relief of finally being able to express myself with a full vocabulary. The coolness of my pillow on my jetlagged, unshaved face. The more I travel, the more I love this petty, depressed country.

I’d hate to become weary of travel, or so privileged that I see it as a burden. Nor do I want to become one of those terrible bores who travels a lot and wants you to know it. So next year I want to travel less but better. I want to learn the character of the places I visit, not just collect the sights and the hurried snapshots.

I no longer see sufficient distance between what’s labelled “visual design” and what’s labelled “UX design” to limit my specialism. The rhetoric of designing experiences no longer works for me. For now, this new label encapsulates my desire to work on things that people find valuable (as opposed to things that advertise value elsewhere), whatever the channel.

But no big manifesto; it’s a personal choice. They’re just words. Let’s see where they take me.

My first major project is fascinating, working alongside smart, experienced people on a cross-device curation service that offers real potential. I’m learning a great deal and hopefully offering a lot too. But the book is still the thing. Client work now is a means of avoiding client work later, so I can dedicate myself to the role of full-time writer.

To that end, it’s great to announce that Designing the Wider Web will be published this winter by the good-looking folk at Five Simple Steps. Their previous releases are already staples of the digital design canon, and it’s marvellous to be working with a UK-based team so committed to quality.

I’m itching to get started full-time, but right now I’m having so much fun that a few more weeks is worth the wait.

After three terrific years, I’m leaving Clearleft next month.

A couple of reasons, the most significant being that I’m about to embark on my second book. More on that soon. I’ve already endured the stress of writing while holding down a full-time role, and it’s not something I wish to repeat. Nor is it fair to ask an employer to tolerate my resultant irritability and wavering focus. And while Clearleft is a truly exceptional company, its size and flat hierarchy understandably doesn’t scale to my more grandiose ambitions. So I’m hitting the road of self-employment, in search of the freedom and flexibility that accompanies minor terror. I’m sad at the thought of leaving such a great team, but the time is right. “L’audace, l’audace, toujours l’audace” and all that.

Although it’s tempting to don the disguise of lonely, starving writer for a few months, I’m too pampered. So I’ll be looking for a few choice freelance projects to pay the rent and preserve my modest savings. After the book, I have no plans. Maybe self-employment will suit me, or I may choose to look for the right permanent role. Somehow, the fluidity’s comforting.

I’d be grateful if you could spread the word of my freelance availability from 31 May. Ideally, I’m after short (1–4 weeks) interaction / UX design projects that pay respectable senior-level day rates. See LinkedIn for my up-to-date CV. If you have a project that may suit, please let me know at email@cennydd.co.uk. Similarly, if you have an interesting long-term prospect, including permanent roles this winter, do get in touch. My options are open.

Finally, keep an eye out for the book. With any luck, it’ll be worth all the effort.

Image by Chris Summerlin, from Undercover User Experience Design.

The differences are of course what hit first. Excess everywhere: vehicles, meals, distances, welcomes. Entire lakes and governments frozen solid. March Madness and marching protesters. Water towers emblazoned with logos – small towns as mock corporations.

But the differences soon fade, and this time I finally understood some of the majesty of the USA. The way the shadowy yellows and greens meet the blue on the interstates. The deep greys, reds and sirens of the cities. Washington DC a nuclear lab, clinical, glimmering, and armed to the teeth. New York City all contrast and emphasis. The Chrysler Building, chubby around the hips and ever demure in the presence of its broad-shouldered cousin. Madison the desperate fighter, knowing that one more defeat could spell the end. Chicago with its perpendicular cold and rattling metal backbone. Denver’s thin air and stadium lights stretching to sawtooth horizon.

Galleries, museums, monuments, and a blur of local beers: Fat Tire, Spotted Cow, Daisy Cutter, 312. Inexpressible hops and malts and sweetness and sweat. I lurk in the hotel bars and Starbucks porches, dipping into the digital water before climbing back onto dry shores. My habit of using the iPhone weather app as an anchor to home is barely needed. I know that the UK is creeping toward double figures while the US careers between sunburn and hailstones.

The longest and shortest month of my life. Some day I’ll stay longer; perhaps even for good.

UX London 2010

First, we’ve announced our programme for UX London 2010, which features (amongst others) Jesse James Garrett, Scott McCloud, Whitney Hess and Bill Moggridge.

Once again we were delighted with how much of our Christmas wishlist came true. The north wall of the office has been awash with post-its of names and topics for several weeks now, and there’s a certain Machiavellian joy in seeing it come together into a coherent programme. I’m particularly happy to see some names I pressed especially strongly for.

Bands always say their difficult second album will surpass their first, but I think it’s true this time. Not a prog-rock bass solo in sight. It’s happening 19–21 May 2010, and tickets are on sale on 1 December.

Spring internship

We’re taking on a User Experience intern early next year. It’s the first time this is a dedicated UX position – our previous interns have come from across the whole web spectrum. It’s a paid position lasting ten weeks, and would suit anyone with a talent and love for good user experience design. More details are on the Clearleft site – drop us a line or talk to me if you’re interested.

The book

Finally, my big news is that I’m writing a book with James. Several daunting but hopefully inspiring months lie ahead. More details will follow when we confirm them.

One

The devil is in the details. With such a discerning audience, we had to offer something well run and as seamless as possible. We succeeded, thanks to accurate estimation of various factors including no shows, time between sessions, budgets, and the apparently inevitable delay caused by a GPS-less taxi driver. This attention to detail was entirely down to the commitment of our wonderful volunteers, upon whom I relied to orchestrate the minutiae. Delegation was my preferred tactic, as noted by Johanna in her closing notes.

Two

You can’t live blog a conference you’re running.

Three

There’s something about user experience designers. We took an early decision that UXCampLondon would be a one-dayer since the field is generally slightly older, more interested in spending a Sunday with their family than slumming it on an office floor. This upset a few purists (“It’s not a BarCamp if you don’t stay over!”) but was indisputably the right choice.

Many people commented that UXCampLondon had a unique atmosphere: enthusiastic, yet mature and urbane compared with the (admittedly enjoyable) rough bluster of most BarCamps. It further convinced me that user experience folk are my people: highly likeable but intelligent and well balanced; opinionated yet open to alternative views.

Four

Free alcohol cures all ills.

Five

The best lessons are often hidden. In some ways, I didn’t get that much from UXCampLondon because my mind was always elsewhere and I attended few sessions. But that overlooks the other benefits I took from the day. In particularly, I got further proof of the growing strength of our community (look at the quality of some of these sessions!), and further experience in handling difficult situations (we had plenty).

A couple of people have asked if I’m planning a sequel. It’s possible, but not for a while. I’m taking some time off, and I’m sure there are many other people well suited to running UXCampLondon2.

Thanks to our volunteers, our supporters and of course all the attendees for making UXCampLondon a success.

Photos: Rob Enslin and Adam Charnock.

South By Southwest voting.

I’m sure it’s a system that works excellently for the organisers. The pleas for votes market the conference, and those who plead well are likely to fill a room easily. Most importantly, it reduces the numbers from 2,000 to something considerably more manageable.

On one hand, I’m unsure how a conference with such sprawling breadth can be relevant to many professionals. I’m also not convinced a global desert get-together at which the alcohol takes centre stage is a Good Thing during a recession.

On the other hand, like Glastonbury, perhaps everyone should go once. So let’s make this quick. I’d appreciate your backing for my two proposals:

• Beauty In Web Design (solo)
• Design Perfect Site Navigation (panel member)

While you’re at it, feel free to have a poke around at The .net Awards. Clearleft have been nominated for Agency Of The Year, and our work for the WWF has been put forward for Redesign Of The Year.

Please start from the beginning… with Cennydd Bowles from Ryan Taylor on Vimeo.

The synopsis of my session isn’t on the EuroIA site yet, but you can read it on the Reboot website (sadly I was unable to make arrangements to present it there). As you’d expect, I’m currently deep in research. Happily, wayfinding is a fascinating topic; part architecture, part psychology, part semiotics. The timing is also fortuitous, given the growing interest in wayfinding and augmented reality on mobiles. Plenty of case studies and conjecture to examine. It also ties in with this year’s dConstruct theme, so I’m hoping to pick up a few nuances. The main challenge will be doing justice to such an engrossing field.