Have you ever noticed that the save icon is a floppy disk, even though they became obsolete twenty years ago?
That's called a "skeuomorph" - when something new takes on the appearance of what it replaced.
And once you start to look, they're everywhere...
Another example is phone cameras. Even though they don't have mechanical shutters, they make a clicking sound like physical cameras do.
And the phone icon itself looks like an old corded telephone:
Or the various logos for email providers, like that of Gmail, which imitates the appearance of an envelope despite there being no paper or postage involved:
The word skeuomorph was coined by the archaeologist H. Colley March in 1889, when he noticed that some ancient artefacts retained the design features of older objects, even when they were no longer necessary.
Here is how he described it; expectancy might be the key word.
Perhaps the best ancient example is classical architecture itself.
Greek temples were once made out of wood, but even when built from stone the masons continued to adopt the forms of the old buildings.
Triglyphs represent the ends of wooden beams.
And there are plenty more recent examples.
Cooling vents are needed for cars with combustion engines, but not for electric cars.
Yet a car without a grill can look odd, so many designers have retained them for electric cars, despite being functionally unnecessary.
What's the point of a skeuomorph?
Well, even though some are purely aesthetic, others can be incredibly useful.
An aesthetic example might be hubcaps. Though they do offer protection from rust, their decorative appearance evokes the spokes of old wheels.
Or, say, the Instagram logo.
Over the years it has been gradually simplified, but still directly recalls the appearance of an old-fashioned film camera.
And so with the rise of the digital age skeuomorphs have become a central - and controversial - element of design.
Using a floppy disk to symbolise saving is only one example - there's also the desktop recycle bin and clock icon, two physical objects with digitised appearances.
And what about the Kindle, which is full of skeuomorphic features inherited directly from books?
As H. Colley March said back in 1889, it seems to be about expectancy. We are used to books being a certain way and that's how we want them to look.
Many skeuomorphs were originally about making new technology familiar and easy to understand.
There's no need for the camera icon to *look* like an old-fashioned, physical camera. But when it does look that way, we intuitively understand what it is.
Or the battery icon on phones, which could just be a number - or any other comprehensible symbol, for that matter - but instead imitates physical batteries.
Not functionally required, but encouraged by familiarity and expectancy - we understand without needing to be told.
The same might be said of online shopping carts, represented by real trollies.
In all of these examples digital things are being given the illusion of physicality; they are represented as things they are not.
There's no reason why digital keyboards need to make sounds, but in so doing they take on the characteristics of physical keyboards.
There's no reason why digital notes need to look like bound paper, or the flashlight icon like a real flashlight, the lock screen like a real padlock, and so on and so forth.
Perhaps it does work, but with such reference to the past there also comes a great deal of restriction.
And so the recent trend has been to move away from skeuomorphism and toward more minimalist, simplified, purely digital design.
The older iPhone operating systems were rather more skeuomorphic than they are now.
While Gmail has gone from the obvious image of an envelope to something slightly more abstract.
And the aforementioned Instagram logo has, similarly, changed from something wholly literal to a cleaner, simpler design.
The list of recent design declutters, of course, could go on and on.
Most interesting is that many people have never even used the objects imitated by these skeuomorphs.
Corded telephones, floppy disks, film cameras, even envelopes - these are things from the past shaping the appearance of the present and the future.
And so skeuomorphs divide opinion.
Are they an effective model and a natural progression from the physical to the digital?
Or should digital design be unshackled from past expectations and more free to innovate?
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This is Grauman's Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood, built in the 1920s.
Why so grand? Because Hollywood was making 800 films per year and 75% of the American population went to the movies weekly.
What were they watching? Well, 1920s cinema was much stranger than you realise...
Movies had been around since the late 1880s, first as short reels and then as increasingly impressive feature films in the 1910s.
Like Cabiria, an Italian film from 1914, which is sometimes called the first historical epic, with thousands of extras and colossal sets.
But Europe was devastated by WWI and film production essentially ceased.
That gave America a chance to catch up.
By the close of the 1920s about 800 films were being produced every year in Hollywood and weekly cinema attendance was 90 million — American movies were on top.
Four young painters at the French Academy of Fine Arts — Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Alfred Sisley, and Frédéric Bazille — realise they have something in common.
See, Academic painting took place in studios, with models, much like this:
To these four artists the Academic way seemed artificial, what with its carefully orchestrated lighting.
They also thought it was lifeless, given how it imitated the Renaissance.
And they believed art could be about more than the usual themes of Biblical or Classical history.
This is Borgund Church in Norway, made entirely out of wood and built over 800 years ago.
It is a "stave church", an incredibly unusual type of Medieval building.
What makes them so special? Well, there are only 30 original stave churches in the world...
Norway officially adopted Christianity in the 11th century.
And they started building churches, entirely of wood, often on sites once used for pagan worship.
This boom in church construction continued for three hundred years and culminated in wonders like Heddal Stave Church.
More than 1,000 stave churches were built in Norway alone, with others in Denmark, Sweden, and Britain.
Though some stone churches were built, it was simply the practice in Medieval Norway to make them with wood, seemingly more so than anywhere else in northern Europe.
It sounds like a boring topic, but air conditioning is more important than you realise.
First: there are 2 billion air con units in the world and they account for 10% of all electricity we use.
Second: it has revolutionised architecture and totally reshaped global politics...
In 1901 a New York publishing company had a problem: inconsistent humidity in their factory made it difficult to print in colour.
An engineer called Willis Carrier solved this problem for them by inventing a machine which regulated both humidity and temperature.
Carrier realised the broader potential of his invention and founded a company to mass-produce these climate control machines for domestic and commercial use.
So begins the first part of this story — how air conditioning changed the way our world both looks and works.
The history of skyscrapers can be divided into five ages.
First is historical buildings which were tall — though not necessarily what we think of when we hear the word "skyscraper".
Like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, a belltower, completed in 1372 after two centuries' work:
These ancient or Medieval towers were inevitably made from solid stone and wooden timbers — without the aid of modern materials like reinforced concrete.
Among the tallest pre-modern structures was Rouen Cathedral, whose 19th century spire reaches 151 metres tall.