We've had many incarnations and firsts since we launched in 1907. Yet here we are — undaunted by the prevailing chaos and dying of the light — returning to our self-indulgent webdesign roots where our dastardly crime of unconventional over-design has always been far more fulfilling than following all the latest trends and conventions.
Apparently, spacetime is also called the space-time continuum. Physicists like Albert Einstein see it as a mathematical model that fuses the three dimensions of Space and the one dimension of Time into a single four-dimensional continuum. Which is probably why Einstein never designed websites — gravity was forever pushing his head in the sand of mathematical models. Physics ain't design, Einstein.
Indirectly, though, he did have a point. Dark matter and dark energy form the space in web design, the space that binds elements together and sets the website's pace. Some disbelievers say antimatter don't matter but the unavoidable truth is that no matter the size, each element is responsive to the laws of its own gravitational force. Using Space and Time it's possible to balance a design's equilibrium and set its pace in a way that is both invisible yet irresistible.
1. It's true they can design on the hoof as they hurtle across the savannah at 35 miles an hour, but who wants a website designed at that speed? Think about it: how many web designers are giraffes?
2. Sure, they have the requisite trendy beard, whiskers and tattoos of an agency designer, and can blend in like real developers — except, of course, they're sober.
3. No low-hanging fruit for these guys. With their extreme height, they’d struggle to view a screen properly. Everything would look tiny and distorted, making accurate design choices impossible.
4. Their natural environment favours tall trees and open plains so expect every site to feature acacia leaves and more acacia leaves, which leads to some very poor over-designed layout choices.
To be joyous is to be a madman in a world full of sad ghosts.
MacPheep needs no introduction. Or maybe just a little for those who haven't had the doubtful pleasure. Angus MacPheep is my alter ego, the man behind the mask, the right-brain to my left-brain, the yin to my yang, the thing to my thang, the wings to my wang.
However, don't be fooled by his suave good looks and reckless disregard for convention — he's the real driving-force behind RapidWeaver Central. Whereas I'm merely a dialtone, a methodical drone, a barely organised get-things-half-done-business-nerd with an internal dialogue of the latest marketing buzzwords, MacPheep is a madly intuitive aesthete with a wild imagination who makes inspirational leaps of faith to conjure pixel-perfect design magic from the uninspiring ether.
He's also a real hit with the ladies.
But he doesn't suffer fools. When he spits in the face of convention, it doesn't spit back. He eats pitchforks for breakfast. He embraces risks and craves the danger of flying too high. He's the guy sitting on the rim of the world and spinning it faster.
But fear not, he's not the only great philosopher espousing obstacles as a path to greater knowledge. Even his greatest fan, Pablo Picasso, said: "I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it."
It really is that simple.