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Very interesting discussion. I've faced some of this lately as I update my resume in the face of an imploding employer.

Five years ago when I ordered my business cards, I thought about what I wanted to put down as my title. I wanted something a little more descriptive of what I did than my "official" title, Sr. Information Development Specialist, which seemed horribly pedestrian to me at the time. This was the time, of course, of ridiculous and obscure titles. This was pre-polar bear, mind you, and I don't think I was more than dimly aware of Wurman at the time, so I didn't put down "Information Architect", but I was enamored of the parallel between what I did and architecture. In my thinking of the time, an architect imagines a space, hopefully in collaboration with the client who will eventually inhabit it, and proceeds to organize and structure that space in a way that will best serve the needs of the inhabitants. By talking to the client, getting an idea of what they want out of the house, considering what they're likely to want, talking about their hopes and dreams, perhaps seeing how they use their current house, the architect can produce something that suits their needs. Ideally, the architect does so in a way that's harmonious with the building's surroundings. Ultimately, the building belongs to the inhabitants, and they are the most important feature; anything within the building that does not serve their needs is a failure. That seemed like an apt description of what I was trying to do. My 1996 business card read "Web Architect & Mason."

By contrast, the term "Information Design" and particularly "Experience Design" makes me think of the people at Disney who design the rides in amusement parks. They're interested mainly in manipulating the user, bending them to the will of the designer in the service of providing the user with a good time. Good experience design does indeed provide the user with a good time. Disney draws millions. But I wouldn't want to live in the Hall of Mirrors or on a roller coaster. The graphic designers who come out of advertising serve a similar function, manipulating the user in the service of the salespeople of whatever product is being pushed.

I realize that this definition of "design" is grossly unfair, but I think there's a kernel of truth in the idea that the architect's art is to fit the surroundings to the user and the designer's art is to fit the user into the surroundings. There is a place for each.

Personally, I'm not terribly interested in fitting the user to the surrounding, but that's just me. And given the kinds of sites I've worked on, it's an entirely appropriate approach.

My college degree is in speech communications, specifically mass communications, and the academic component of that borrowed from sociology, psychology, linguistics, semiotics, and Marxist theory. As a result, I've never had a problem with being a magpie. I've stolen insights from marketing, usability, interface design, library science, technical writing, ethnography, anthropology, and of course architecture, among others, as I need them for what I do.

The practical aspect of my degree is also applicable. Making radio and television was very much about finding the place where technology and people meet. Spend too much effort on the people and you wind up with a program that doesn't sound/look good. Spend too much effort on the technology and you wind up with a program that doesn't engage people. Find that place where technology and people meet and you wind up with good stuff. I've found that working on the web is working in very much the same space where technology and people meet.

And my resume? I just used the term "webmaster"; it seemed like the best description for a magpie like me.