Every interface changes the cost of a verb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This is not a finished publication. It is a hypothesis. I write it because I first observed it in a body that loses and regains capacity every day: my own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don't know yet what whatever is in front of you will end up being, and I don't want to decide too soon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For quite some time we have learned to think that an idea must first find its category in order to be taken seriously. That before being read, it must know whether it belongs to science, design, philosophy, medicine, or any other room of knowledge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am not sure that it has to work like this. This hypothesis was born before its name. It was born within me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mine. Early-onset Parkinson's. It didn't take away my verbs: it changed the price of conjugating them. Walking. Starting. Turning around. Speaking. Getting up. Things I used to do without noticing became decisions\u2014and as they became more costly, for the first time I saw them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For a long time I thought the only thing changing was my body. Afterward, I began to look at objects. A cup stopped being a cup. A bed stopped being a bed. A door stopped being a door. An interface stopped being simply an interface.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I began to see something that perhaps had always been there: everything we design establishes a relationship with the capacity of the person who uses it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Some objects return capacity to me. Others ask for it. Some help me today and leave me more capable tomorrow. Others do the exact opposite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then the question arose: what happens to us while we live among what we have designed? It was not a question about objects. It was a question about what remains in us after using them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I do not pretend to claim that I have the answer. I intend to do something prior: to formulate the question in a way that can be discussed, put to the test, and, if necessary, destroyed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A hypothesis has a condition that I consider non-negotiable: it must be capable of being wrong. If it is false, I want to know. If someone finds a better explanation, I want to hear it. If research shows that I am wrong, the research will have done exactly what it was supposed to do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am not looking to confirm an intuition. I am trying to find out how far it goes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I do not come from a specific discipline. I come from a question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The form may change. The question remains.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The question is this: what human capacity does a person gain, lose, preserve, or transform when living among the objects, systems, and interfaces we have designed?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Beneath all its forms beats a single question: what changed in the human?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My body is the seismograph. Parkinson's is the lens. Human Notes stems from the attempt to interpret what that instrument began to record.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When a movement disappears and returns a few hours later, you discover the movement. When the voice fails and returns, you discover the voice. When getting up from a chair is difficult, you discover the chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is not that the instrument tuned itself: it is that the tremor no longer fit inside the silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And from there a suspicion arose: perhaps design not only determines what we can do with objects. Perhaps it also determines, in part, what we can continue to do after living with them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That is what I want to investigate. I am not claiming it is proven. I am putting it on the table so it can be attacked. Because an idea that cannot be contradicted is merely a belief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don't want to build a border around the idea before I've discovered its territory. It can travel from a body to a neurology consultation, from a consultation to a laboratory, from a laboratory to an interface, from an interface to a residence, from a residence to a university. Or in the opposite direction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It can become an investigation, a practice, a method, an instrument, a book, or something we do not yet know how to name. It can also disappear if it is not sustained.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
All those possibilities are compatible with the same identity. Because the identity is not in the format. It is in the question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The hypothesis can change direction without ceasing to be the same question. So can I.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Human Notes doesn't start with an answer. It starts with an anomaly. Something that doesn't fit. A verb whose price changes. An ability that appears, disappears, or returns.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My body was the first place where I saw it. What follows is figuring out how far it goes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Body. Observation. After.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don't know yet what Human Notes will be. And I'd rather not know. I want to keep observing it. For far too long, we've been asking what objects could do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Perhaps the time has come to ask something else: what people can continue to do after living among what we have designed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This is the hypothesis. It is still open. And precisely for that reason, I want it to be read.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Manu Bueno Toda interfaz cambia el coste de un verbo. Esto no es una publicaci\u00f3n finalizada. Es una hip\u00f3tesis. La escribo porque la observ\u00e9 primero en un cuerpo que pierde y recupera capacidad cada d\u00eda: el m\u00edo. No s\u00e9 todav\u00eda qu\u00e9 terminar\u00e1 siendo lo que tienes delante, y no quiero decidirlo demasiado pronto. Durante bastante tiempo hemos […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1677","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/humannotes.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1677","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/humannotes.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/humannotes.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humannotes.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humannotes.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1677"}],"version-history":[{"count":19,"href":"https:\/\/humannotes.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1677\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2403,"href":"https:\/\/humannotes.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1677\/revisions\/2403"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/humannotes.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1677"}],"curies":[{"name":"well played","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Human Notes<\/strong><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"