This “undulant interface” was made by John Underkoffler. The heresy implicit within [1] is the premise that the user, not the system, gets to define what is most important at any given moment; where to place the jeweler’s loupes for more detail, and where to show only a simple overview, within one consistent interface. Notice how when a component is expanded for more detail, the surrounding elements adjust their position, so the increased detail remains in the broader context. This contrasts sharply with how we get more detail in mainstream interfaces of the day, where modal popups obscure surrounding context, or separate screens replace it entirely. Being able to adjust the detail of different components within the singular context allows users to shape the interfaces they need in each moment of their work.

Pushing towards this style of interaction could show up in many parts of an itemized personal computing environment: when moving in and out of sets, single items, or attributes and references within items.

everyone has unique needs and context, yet that which makes our lives more unique makes today’s rigid software interfaces more frustrating to use. How might Colin use the gestural, itemized interface, combined with semantic zoom on this plethora of data, to elicit the interfaces and answers he’s looking for with his data?

since workout items each have data with associated timestamps and locations, the system knows it can offer both a timeline and map view. And since the items are of one kind, it knows it can offer a table view. Instead of selecting one view to switch to, as we first explored in LN 006, we could drag them into the space to have multiple open at once.

As the email item view gets bigger, the preview text of the email’s contents eventually turns into the fully-rendered email. At smaller sizes, this view makes less sense, so the system can swap it out for the preview text as needed.

Each level gives you completely different information, depending on what Google thinks the user might be interested in. Maps are a true masterclass for visualizing the same information in a variety of ways.

Viewing the same text at different levels of abstraction is powerful, but what, instead of switching between them, we could see multiple levels at the same time? How might that work?

A portrait lens brings a single subject into focus, isolating it from the background to draw all attention to its details. A wide-angle lens captures more of the scene, showing how the subject relates to its surroundings. And then there’s the fish eye lens—a tool that does both, pulling the center close while curving the edges to reveal the full context.

A fish eye lens doesn’t ask us to choose between focus and context—it lets us experience both simultaneously. It’s good inspiration for how to offer detailed answers while revealing the surrounding connections and structures.

Imagine you’re reading The Elves and the Shoemaker by The Brothers Grimm. You come across a single paragraph describing the shoemaker discovering the tiny, perfectly crafted shoes left by the elves. Without context, the paragraph is just an intriguing moment. Now, what if instead of reading the whole book, you could hover over this paragraph and instantly access a layered view of the story? The immediate layer might summarize the events leading up to this moment: the shoemaker, struggling in poverty, left his last bit of leather out overnight. Another layer could give you a broader view of the story so far: the shoemaker’s business is mysteriously revitalized thanks to these tiny benefactors. Beyond that, an even higher-level summary might preview how the tale concludes, with the shoemaker and his wife crafting clothes for the elves to thank them.

This approach allows you to orient yourself without having to piece everything together by reading linearly. You get the detail of the paragraph itself, but with the added richness of understanding how it fits into the larger story.

Chapters give structure, connecting each idea to the ones that came before and after. A good author sets the stage, immersing you with anecdotes, historical background, or thematic threads that help you make sense of the details. Even the act of flipping through a book—a glance at the cover, the table of contents, a few highlighted sections—anchors you in a broader narrative.

The context of who is telling you the information—their expertise, interests, or personal connection—colors how you understand it.

The exhibit places the fish in an ecosystem of knowledge, helping you understand it in a way that goes beyond just a name.

Let's reimagine a Wikipedia a bit. In the center of the page, you see a detailed article about fancy goldfish—their habitat, types, and role in the food chain. Surrounding this are broader topics like ornamental fish, similar topics like Koi fish, more specific topics like the Oranda goldfish, and related people like the designer who popularized them. Clicking on another topic shifts it to the center, expanding into full detail while its context adjusts around it. It’s dynamic, engaging, and most importantly, it keeps you connected to the web of knowledge

The beauty of a fish eye lens for text is how naturally it fits with the way we process the world. We’re wired to see the details of a single flower while still noticing the meadow it grows in, to focus on a conversation while staying aware of the room around us. Facts and ideas are never meaningful in isolation; they only gain depth and relevance when connected to the broader context.

A single number on its own might tell you something, but it’s the trends, comparisons, and relationships that truly reveal its story. Is 42 a high number? A low one? Without context, it’s impossible to say. Context is what turns raw data into understanding, and it’s what makes any fact—or paragraph, or answer—gain meaning.

The fish eye lens takes this same principle and applies it to how we explore knowledge. It’s not just about seeing the big picture or the fine print—it’s about navigating between them effortlessly. By mirroring the way we naturally process detail and context, it creates tools that help us think not only more clearly but also more humanly.