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HANDS-ON PYTHON GUI
DEVELOPMENT COURSE WITH
EXERCISES
Comprehensive Techniques to Crafting Responsive, Intuitive
User Interfaces From Concept to Deployment
Matthew Galvin
© [Matthew Galvin], [2024].
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored
in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,
without the express written permission of the author. Unauthorized
reproduction or distribution is prohibited and may result in legal
action.
Table of Contents
Introduction
- How to Use This Book
- Software Requirements and Setup Instructions
- Overview of Python GUI Options
Chapter 1:
Introduction to GUI Development
- What is a GUI?
- Advantages of Using GUIs
- Overview of Python in GUI Development
- Common Python GUI Frameworks
Chapter 2:
Getting Started with Tkinter
- Installing and Setting up Tkinter
- Your First Tkinter Application: Hello World
- Understanding Tkinter Main loop
- Basic Tkinter Widgets and Their Attributes
- Exercise: Create a basic form with labels and buttons
Chapter 3:
Layout Management in Tkinter
- Geometry managers: pack, grid, and place
- Responsive Design with Resizing Widgets
- Exercise: Designing a Responsive Contact Form
Chapter 4:
Advanced Tkinter Widgets
- Working with text inputs, sliders, and progress bars
- Using Menus and Dialogs in Tkinter
- Integrating Multimedia: Images and Sounds in Tkinter
- Exercise: Building a Media Player interface
Chapter 5:
Event Handling and Interactivity
- Understanding event-driven programming
-Binding Events to Widgets
- Creating Menu-driven applications
- Exercise: Develop a Paint Application
Chapter 6:
Data Handling and Display
- Using treeviews for data display
- File handling Guide: Open, save, and export files
- Creating and Managing Graphs and Charts
- Exercise: Create an Expense Tracker Application
Chapter 7:
Database Integration
- Introduction to SQLite with Python
- CRUD operations in GUI
- Connecting the GUI to a Database Backend
- Exercise: Build a Library Management System
Chapter 8:
Networking and GUIs
- Python sockets with GUI
- Creating a Chat Application
- Integrating Web Content into Your GUIs
- Exercise: Develop a Client-Server File Transfer App
Chapter 9:
Introduction to PyQt
- Installing PyQt and Setting up
- Translating Tkinter knowledge to PyQt
- Basic PyQt Widgets and Dialogs
- Exercise: Convert the Expense Tracker Application to PyQt
Chapter 10:
Advanced PyQt Features
- Using Qt Designer for UI design
- Advanced widgets and graphics (Canvas, Tables, etc.)
- Multithreading in PyQt
- Exercise: Create a Multi-threaded Download Manager
Chapter 11:
Packaging and Distributing Applications
- PyInstaller and cx_Freeze
- Creating Installation Files for PyQt Applications
- Cross-platform application considerations
- Exercise: Package and Distribute the Library Management
System
Chapter 12:
Case Studies and Real-World Applications
- Designing a complete small business solution
- GUI for IoT device control
- Educational Tools and Games: Fostering Learning Through
Engagement
Appendices
- Python refresher
- Solutions to exercises
- Common issues and troubleshooting
Introduction
Welcome to "Hands-on Python GUI Development Course with
Exercises" a comprehensive guide designed to usher you through
the art and science of building graphical user interfaces (GUIs) with
Python. Whether you are a complete beginner in programming or
someone with basic knowledge of Python looking to expand your
skill set, this book is crafted to provide you with a solid foundation in
GUI development.
The decision to focus on Python for GUI development stems from
Python’s remarkable simplicity and its status as one of the most
popular programming languages today. Python's readable syntax and
robust community support make it an ideal gateway for those
venturing into the world of software development. GUI development,
on the other hand, is a visually rewarding and intuitively gratifying
area of software engineering that makes your applications accessible
and interactive to the average user.
This book aims to demystify the process of designing and building
functional, real-world GUI applications using Python. We begin with
Tkinter, Python's standard GUI library, which is not only simple but
also powerful enough to build desktop applications. As you progress,
you will encounter PyQt, a binding of the cross-platform GUI toolkit
Qt, which is used by professionals to create both simple and
complex applications across operating systems.
Why focus on GUI? In the digital age, interfaces are the bridge
between users and software logic. They are the touchpoints that
determine how effectively a user interacts with technology. Learning
to build intuitive, efficient, and aesthetically pleasing interfaces is not
just about dragging and dropping elements but understanding user
behavior, application workflow, and system integration.
Throughout the chapters, this book covers essential topics such as
widget manipulation, layout management, event handling, and
database integration. We also delve into more advanced subjects like
networking with GUIs and integrating web content. Each topic is
accompanied by practical examples and exercises designed to
reinforce your learning.
The exercises included are not merely to practice coding, but to
solve problems similar to those you might encounter in the real
world. They escalate in complexity and encourage you to apply the
concepts learned in each chapter. By the end of this book, you will
not only be able to build functional GUI applications but also
package and distribute them to others.
This book is also a story of what makes programming enjoyable and
fulfilling—bringing your ideas to life visually. The joy of seeing your
code translate into a graphical application that you can click, interact
with, and use to solve real-world problems is unparalleled. It is my
hope that this journey will not just teach you how to write code, but
how to think creatively and solve problems programmatically.
Whether your goal is to develop commercial quality applications,
contribute to open source, or build personal projects to enhance
your skills, "Hands-on Python GUI Development with Exercises" is
tailored to guide you every step of the way. Let’s embark on this
journey together, and transform your ideas into interactive
applications that stand out in the digital landscape.
The moral of this somewhat hectic interlude is: when fitting out
for a cruise, get the advice of a deep-water man, and find a place
where there are no yachtsmen. This last is difficult, but it is worth
while.
Much the same thing applies to the study of navigation. If the
beginner lends an ear to the horde of amateur cranks who dabble in
the subject, and who seem obsessed with a desire to impart their
half-baked theories to others, he will know as much about the
practical business of finding a ship's position at sea as he does about
the origin of life. There is the long lean man, usually with a drooping
moustache, who demonstrates on an instrument of his own
invention that can do anything but talk—this last deficiency being
amply atoned for by the inventor himself. There is the man with
"short cuts" and "clean cuts." There is even the man who still
persists in the belief that the world is "flat with rounded edges," and
produces reams of his own screed, printed at enormous expense, in
support of his theories; but he is easily disposed of. After admitting
that the shape of the world is not a burning question with you
anyway, because after all it is not a bad old world and certainly the
best we can expect in this life, you confess to a sneaking suspicion
that it is a rhomboid.
No, there is only one way of learning to find a ship's position at
sea if you are unable to spend three months or more at a school of
navigation, and that is to find a retired master mariner who, for a
stipulated sum, will teach you exactly what he did himself probably
three hundred and sixty-five times in the year for thirty years.
Hearken unto him, in spite of all lures to the contrary, and in three
weeks or less the miracle will cease to be a miracle.
We of the dream ship were fortunate in running such a mentor
to earth in his charming cottage on the hillside, overlooking the
harbour. The Skipper, as he shall henceforth be called, was of the old
school, and so, if it is permissible to say such things of a lady, was
his wife! This remarkable woman followed the sea with her husband
on every ocean-going schooner he commanded, and once, when the
entire crew was down with beri-beri, and a voracious tug hovered
alongside like a bird of prey, she brought the ship to port single-
handed, thus saving the owners a stupendous sum for salvage. They
rewarded her with a presentation piano, and she wept. She could
not play. So a cheque for a hundred guineas was substituted, and
her husband alleges that she bought three new hats and a galley
range in which she cooks the acme in figgy dough to this day.
Using a sextant
CHAPTER III
Some confessions and a few morals
Chapter IV headpiece
CHAPTER IV
Dropping the pilot—and the result
Our first and imperative need was sleep. There comes a time when
enforced wakefulness causes the eyes to feel as though they were
sinking into the head. We of the dream ship had reached this pitch,
and turned in "all standing," to remain log-like until disturbed by port
officials at five o'clock the next morning.
In a state of pyjamas and semi-torpor I handed them the ship's
papers, which proved to be satisfactory; Steve treated them to a few
chosen words in near-Spanish picked up during a doubtful past in
Mexico, and we tumbled in again. But not to sleep. Thereafter, an
endless procession of boats, manned by picturesque and voluble
brigands who offered for sale every conceivable commodity from
anchor chain to picture postcards, succeeded in dragging us from
our bunks, and propelling us on deck.
A pleasant little town is Vigo. One of a goodly number scattered
over the world that I should like to make my home. Each to his
taste, and perhaps I am impressionable as to the desirable spots of
this earth, but to my way of thinking almost any race knows how to
enjoy life better than the Anglo-Saxon of to-day, and fashions its
surroundings to that end.
From the river front, with its handsome promenade, hotels, and
green, open spaces, Vigo climbs the sunny hillside in cheerful
fashion. No one seems overburdened with business cares, but when
such things have to be attended to, the palm-fringed Alamada takes
the place of an office, and the "deal" is discussed over vino tinto and
cigarettes, to the accompaniment of an excellent band.
We of the dream ship went ashore with the Skipper wearing a
fancy-worked carpet-slipper on one foot and a boot on the other, but
no one appeared to notice the peculiarity, and it is quite certain the
Skipper would not have minded if they had. His is a type of
hardihood that I envy as much as I admire.
At lunch, too, he found cause for complaint in the food, and
small wonder. After a week's enforced abstention, he found that in
these benighted parts figgy dough was as unprocurable as
elsewhere. Frankly, he was disappointed in Vigo and, after limping
over the cobblestones in clothes more adapted to the Arctic than to
Spanish sunshine, he returned aboard "to do a few jobs." We knew
what this meant. He would systematically and efficiently set right
everything that was wrong aboard the dream ship—a long-splice
here, a bit of carpentry there—which was precisely what we ought to
have been doing instead of gallivanting about Vigo. Most excellent of
skippers! He had been a tower of strength to us in time of stress,
and a qualm seized me when I secured his passage to Southampton,
and realized that in another week he would be gone.
From the quaint cobbled and terraced streets of the old town
we went down to the Alamada, and sat for a while watching the
children dance to the music of the band. No organized, mechanical
spectacle this, but a joyous affair of rhythmic abandon, twinkling
legs, and laughter. Most of us like to think that the children of our
own particular country are the most desirable, and they would be
poor folk who did not; but for unconscious grace of movement and
dainty appearance, the Spanish kiddy is hard to beat.
And this happy absence of self-consciousness is not confined to
the children. Picture, if you can, and as we of the dream ship saw
him a little later, a well-dressed Spanish gentleman standing in the
middle of one of Vigo's main thoroughfares and gazing toward the
housetops, apparently engaged in practising the deaf-and-dumb
alphabet. No one of the stream of pedestrians passing along the
sidewalks took the slightest notice of him. Neither did the wheeled
traffic, except to swerve obligingly out of his path. It was his affair,
and a love affair at that. He was conversing with his enamorata at
the third-floor balcony window in the only way possible to a suitor in
Spain, where parents firmly believe in "love at a distance" until the
actual engagement. And it needed three vulgar sightseers such as
the crew of the dream ship to find anything unusual in the
proceeding. I am ashamed to say that the lady caught sight of us,
and pointed in alarm, whereat the gentleman turned with an
excusable frown of annoyance, and we hurried on our way.
There are only two things the Spaniard takes really seriously:
his love and his bull-fights. Leave him to them, as you value a whole
skin.
Our next introduction was to the local cable office. Personally, I
have always regarded such places as drab receptacles for grudging
messages, but with the Eastern Telegraph Company it is a different
matter. Certainly this admirable concern takes your message, but
then proceeds to take you to its heart, and thereafter, wherever its
myriad wires extend, you may be sure of a welcome from the
kindliest of hosts. It conducts you to its palatial bachelor quarters
situated on the hillside behind the town, and proceeds to spoil you
with every device known to a pampered age. Tennis, golf, dances,
and dinners are yours to repletion, followed by moonlight car rides
into the country, and feasts at distant fondas under the trellised
vines.
At any rate, that is what it did with us, and we tried to
reciprocate. The Eastern Telegraph Company, or as much of it as
could get aboard at one time, made the dream ship its headquarters
during our stay; dived from her bowsprit or under her keel with
equal delight, mealed off strange messes in her seething saloon, and
sang songs on deck to Peter's piano accompaniment below.
With such distractions afoot, it is small wonder that nearly a
week slipped by before the subject of a sailing date received the
attention it deserved. The Skipper grunted his disapproval of our
dilatory methods, and pointed out in a satirical fashion peculiarly his
own that there were "things" to be done. Amongst them, he
mentioned the necessity of making out a new deviation card by the
Polar Star, whereat Steve and I collapsed. Had we not done with this
pest of deviation? Had we not already discovered and tabulated, at
the cost of terrific mental effort, the error of the dream ship's
compass owing to local attraction?
The Skipper admitted as much with a wistful smile, but pointed
out that deviation has an aggravating habit of changing with
latitude. It was the first we had heard of it, and that night we sat
again under our long-suffering professor, and swung the dream ship
to a mocking North Star.
Island
Then there was the matter of our broken boom. The Skipper
and I towed it over, neatly scarfed (dovetailed and bound) from a
neighbouring shipyard the next morning. And the instability of things
below as demonstrated in the Bay of Biscay? This was remedied by
having iron bands placed round everything movable, and screwed to
bulkhead or floor. We were ready. The Skipper stepped ashore with
his modest little suitcase, and limped away without so much as a
backward glance. Why? His "missus" has told me since that he never
expected to see us again.
So we three and the dream ship dropped down Vigo River
bound for Las Palmas, Canary Islands, with the biggest mixed cargo
of hope and ignorance that ever put to sea.
Four hours on and eight off was how we apportioned our
watches and, thanks to fair winds and the easy handling of the
dream ship, it was seldom necessary for more than one of us to be
on deck at a time. In fact, there were hours on end when the
helmsman could peg the tiller and take a constitutional.
Cooking we took week and week about, a dreaded ordeal. It is
one thing to concoct food in a porcelain-fitted kitchen on terra firma,
and quite another to do it over a primus stove in a leaping, gyrating
fo'c's'le. Porridge was found adhering to the ceiling after Steve's
"week," but hush! perhaps he may have something to say on the
subject of Peter and myself. There is always plenty to say about the
other fellow, but in nine cases out of ten it is best left unsaid.
Forbearance is as much the keynote of good-fellowship on a dream
ship as elsewhere—perhaps more—and we are rather proud of the
fact that we have covered half the world without battle, murder, or
sudden death.
With only three of a crew some of our troubles may be
imagined, but undoubtedly the worst of these, after a couple of
weeks at sea, was being awakened from a trance-like sleep to take a
trick at the tiller. One does not feel human under such
circumstances, but more in the nature of a bear disturbed during
hibernation.
And the awakener's task is not much better. He is forced to peg
the tiller, even with a following wind, nip below to resuscitate
somehow his log-like relief, and get back before the ship jibes. If
there is time he may employ the proper and humane method of
applying gradually increased pressure to the sleeper's arm until he
awakes. If there is not, he must resort to any merciless method that
proves effective. In either case, he is as unpopular as an alarm
clock, which, by the way, we tried, but discarded on account of its
waking everyone aboard.
The manner of our several wakings formed an interesting, if
somewhat intimate, subject of discussion at breakfast one morning.
Peter's was voted uninteresting because whatever means were
employed to arouse her she merely opened her eyes, and meekly
murmured: "All right." Steve, upon the other hand, was uncertain. If
he happened to be dreaming at the time, which was usually the
case, he either hit out the instant he was touched, or muttered
something unintelligible, and tenderly covered the disturbing hand
with his own.
As for me, I yawned cavernously, invariably said: "How's she
going?" and almost as invariably fell asleep again. Or so runs the
report, and one is not permitted to argue with reports. Verily, if man
would discover himself—and others—let him have recourse to a
dream ship and a crew of three!
It was during the passage from Vigo to Las Palmas that we first
experienced that most aggravating of winds, the light, varying,
following. I have heard schooner skippers declare that they prefer
the "head" variety, and I can well believe it. At night, when it is
exceedingly difficult to tell where such a wind is coming from, it is no
more pleasant to jibe inadvertently than to have to do so sometimes
thrice within the hour to keep the ship on her course. It wears out a
short-handed, light-weight crew (Peter turned the scale at ninety-
eight pounds, Steve at one hundred and forty-five, and myself at
one hundred and forty), and conservation of energy, which makes
for good health, is of prime importance on a voyage such as ours.
Finally, we lowered the mainsail, with its jolting, crashing boom,
and carried on in blessed tranquillity under a squaresail, which
proved to be the most useful sail we had aboard.
At the end of seven days' routine, and fair but light winds, we
experienced the acute joy of finding land precisely where our
frenzied calculations had placed it. As Madeira loomed on the
starboard bow, Steve was seen to pace the deck with a quiet but
new-born dignity—until hailed below to help wash dishes. But even
this failed to quell the navigator's exuberance, and the dish-washer
exchanged views on the subject with the helmsman through the
skylight. This, then, was the navigation that master mariners made
such a song and dance about! Well, we must be master mariners,
that was all we had to say! We had summoned Madeira, and
Madeira had appeared! We were not at all sure that we had not
discovered Madeira!
Peter seemed strangely unimpressed. Perhaps she sensed what
is indeed a fact, that luck in navigation, as in most things, favours
the beginner. For instance, a mistake somewhere in our calculations
brought us as near disaster in the next twenty-four hours as one
cares to be. Taking Madeira as our point of departure, we shaped a
course for Las Palmas, giving the intervening Salvage Islands a berth
of ten miles to the westward. We reckoned this a safe distance,
considering that according to "sailing directions" there was still more
to the westward a strong current inclining toward the African coast.
Well, that current failed to register in the particular case of the
dream ship, and on top of it the "mistake somewhere" caused a cold
shiver to traverse the spine of the helmsman when, at one o'clock of
a pitch-black night, while doing a comfortable seven knots, a mass
of rock reared itself out of the sea seemingly not more than a few
hundred yards, though probably more nearly a mile, to starboard.
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