. . . this historian of information and disinformation has for more than 25 years been advocating a return to clear, legible graphics that intimately associate numbers, letters, diagrams and drawings in order to inform, instruct and inspire. His system is based on the sound management of complexity. The eye, he says, is an instrument eager for minutiae: sometimes, adding compact details suffices to shed light on what would otherwise be misleading information or statistics. . . .
View the complete textWith data visualization now the latest fad, are Edward Tufte’s books losing their relevance? Compared to the jaw-dropping work of computer scientists and Web designers like John Maeda, Yugo Nakamura, or Jonathan Harris, his approach to envisioning information could feel a little dated. But Tufte would probably argue that the stunning interactive infographics that are recently the object of our wonder—and deservingly so—are just eye-and-brain candies, as deceptive as the PowerPoint charts and graphs he so despises. In his books and conferences, Tufte blames the poor quality of the NASA data analysis and PowerPoint graphics for the successive disasters of the Challenger and Columbia space shuttles.
Under close inspection, the graphic pyrotechnics now available online function as art installations, scientific curiosities, or sales tools but they do little to help viewers understand problems and issues. Using graphics to embellish information instead of analyzing it is the kind of thing that makes Edward Tufte livid. Professor emeritus of political science, statistics, and computer science at Yale University, author of many best-sellers (all self-published), and a tireless public speaker, this historian of information and disinformation has for more than 25 years been advocating a return to clear, legible graphics that intimately associate numbers, letters, diagrams and drawings in order to inform, instruct and inspire. His system is based on the sound management of complexity. The eye, he says, is an instrument eager for minutiae: sometimes, adding compact details suffices to shed light on what would otherwise be misleading information or statistics.
One important caveat of his theories, often overlooked, is that these all-important details, easily spotted on paper, are hard to read on the screen. Indeed, one of the distinctive characteristics of his books is the quality of their paper and of their printing that allow him to demonstrate what a fine instrument the eye can be. In his chapter on “ChartJunk” in The Visual Display of Quantitative Information, he shows that a black speck, the size of a dot on the “i” in six-point Garamond Light, is perfectly visible when extraneous graphic clutter is removed.
This apostle of complexity still has his fans. Among nerds, geeks, mathematicians of every ilk, web designers, programmer-analysts, graph-worshippers, cartographers, statisticians, and contemporary artists, his aphorisms are as cherished as those of Albert Einstein or the Dalai Lama.
Web users share his adages. Various lists of his practical tips circulate on the Net. They include: Do not exaggerate vertical scale . . . on the contrary, emphasize horizontal scale; collect words, numbers and illustrations in one space, as small as possible; avoid grids, or replace them with light grey lines; use an array of very fine lines; avoid thick lines, moiré effects, stripes and bright colors.
But my favorite tip, that applies to more than just charts, could serve as a warning label when dealing with difficult life situations: beware, the desire for conclusion is always suspect.
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