Die Grenzen meiner Sprache bedeuten die Grenzen meiner Welt.
Or in English, thus spoke Wittgenstein:
The limits of my language mean the limits of my world.
Language and thinking are intertwined. I’m not saying there’s anything to the strong form of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis but I think George Lakoff is onto something when he talks about political language.
There’s literal political language like saying “tax relief”—framing taxation as something burdensome that needs to be relieved. But our everyday language has plenty of framing devices that might subconsciously influence our thinking.
When it comes to technology, our framing of new technologies often comes from previous technologies. As a listener to a show, you might find yourself being encouraged to “tune in again next week” when you may never have turned a radio dial in your entire life.
In the early days of the web we used a lot of language from print. John Allsopp wrote about this in his classic article A Dao Of Web Design:
The web is a new medium, although it has emerged from the medium of printing, whose skills, design language and conventions strongly influence it. Yet it is often *too* shaped by that from which it sprang.
One outdated piece of language on the web is a framing device in two senses: “above the fold”. It’s a conceptual framing device that comes straight from print where newspapers were literally folded in half. It’s a literal framing device that puts the important content at the top of the page.
But there is no fold. We pretended that everyone’s screens were 640 by 480 pixels. Then we pretended that everyone’s screens were 800 by 600 pixels. But we never really knew. It was all a consensual hallucination. Even before mobile devices showed up there was never a single fold.
Even if you know that there’s no literal page fold on the web, using the phrase “above the fold” is still insidiously unhelpful.
So what’s the alternative? Well, James has what I think is an excellent framing:
The landing zone.
It’s the bit of the page where people first show up. It doesn’t have a defined boundary. The landing zone isn’t something separate to the rest of the page; the content landing zone merges into the rest of the content.
You don’t know where the landing zone ends, and that’s okay. It’s better than okay. It encourages you design in a way that still prioritises the most important content but without fooling yourself into thinking there’s some invisible boundary line.
Next time you’re discussing the design of a web page—whether it’s with a colleague or a client—try talking about the landing zone.
This was originally published on my own site.
