The Internet contains more information than any other communicative medium and, because of this, as information architects often remind lowly web designers, "content is king." In fact, I feel confident in asserting that the most aggravating aspect of designing websites is content management. And the fact that web designers cannot easily manage content is evidenced by the industry's need for information architects.

I began professionally designing websites in June of 1998, in the palpitating heart of the Internet Boom, working for a Maryland startup headed by the wealthy son of a lead surgeon in Baltimore, a son who had nothing better to do with his time, and certainly nothing better to do with a bachelor's degree in Drama, than to courageously piggyback onto his inheritance through the tempestuous tide of silicon stardom. During this period, I felt the impossible burden to learn every existent part of web design, and even a bit about programming on the Internet, or what was alternatively labeled by most HR departments as "web development," to insure that I would always stay ahead of the game by leaps and bounds and hidden transfinite dimensions of the unprecedented competition.

One of my daily self-imposed study sessions included surfing the web for websites that I felt effectively utilized the Internet's capabilities as a medium of communication by showcasing information in sleek, unique and powerful ways. And with so many unemployed and underemployed young geeks out there, catapulting themselves with homemade poles onto the bandwidth bandwagon, there was never a shortage of such websites. Among those I frequently visited are the following.

http://www.gabocorp.com
http://www.eye4u.com
http://www.juxtinteractive.com
http://www.thevoid.co.uk
http://www.volumeone.com
http://www.ideo.com
http://www.breakout4u.com
http://www.wddg.com
http://www.hillmancurtis.com
http://www.absolut.com
http://www.nrg.be
http://www.razorfish.com
http://www.neostream.com

Many of these websites got facelifts. They had no choice. At one time, they all shared the commonality of what web designers call "eye candy." Essentially, a website has eye candy if its style overwhelms its content. Think, if you've seen one, of a Victoria's Secret advertisement. Why would a woman buy a product from Victoria's Secret? As silly as it seems, she would do so because she believes that wearing it increases her physical attractiveness. More precisely, she believes that the physical attractiveness of a Victoria's Secret model, camera lighting included, will absorb into her skin just by wearing one of this company's products.

Web designers during the Internet Boom felt no differently about their websites and the websites of their clients. The prevailing 'expert opinion' was that creating a website with plenty of eye candy would attract and retain potential customers, which marginally made sense in that most web surfers during the 90's were upper middle class white males in their 40's who tended to buy frivolous stuff on impulse because they could and because they were too exhausted to click a mouse after spending afternoon after afternoon locked in their offices masturbating to porn. However, as more and more middle and lower middle class arrive online, the Victoria's Secret sensibility loses effectiveness. (And I'm writing this post after looking at the aforementioned websites again after so long and realizing just how idiotic and naive the pre-Bust collection of web designs now appears. It's probably a silly realization to others, but I cannot believe that I didn't laugh at myself more often.) Today's websites require a symbiosis of form and function where, as in brick-and-mortar architecture, function determines form. Not the reverse.

This doesn't imply, mind you, that form must be sacrificed for the sake of function. I find the challenge of designing websites to fit their respective functions, whether to promote and/or sell a product and/or service, to showcase a personal resume, or simply to list a collection of links to other websites, to be a necessary condition for evolving creative expression. Design for the sake of design, like art for the sake of art, is creative annihilation. I didn't stay ahead of the game by forgetting why I play it.

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