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Exploring the definition of technology, the purpose of narrative, and our assumptions about "the self" in a world of exponential change (plus a smattering of odd humor, travel stories and general geekery).
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My favorite ride at Disney World has always been Spaceship Earth, the often-ignored ride built inside the monumental Epcot ball. It’s an original, one of the few designed by Walt himself. Spaceship Earth is a ride through the history of technology, from the earliest languages to the unimaginable future. Admittedly, this a pretty lame thing for a six-year-old to enjoy, but I’ve loved it since my very first trip to Disney World and, even though I haven’t been there in years, it still inspires me.
Toward the end of the ride, after the roads to Rome and the Guttenberg press, your cart rolls past a scene in which one kid talks to a friend on the opposite side of the world through a large screen. Teachers look over both of their shoulders. From there the cart turns a corner, the inspirational music crescendos, and you soar into the bright lights of “the future.” There are no people here. It is as though, after his 1960’s representation of two kids “Skyping,” even Disney couldn’t imagine what the world might look like. A question hangs in the bright, open space. Hope… an invitation to imagine that which Disney could not. You climb out of your cart knowing that the future is a beautiful place, if only we can conceive of it as such.
That feeling is why I do what I do. That experience. Disney never just made a point; he made you feel a point. That’s the way to tell a story.
This year I’ll be making my first attempt at telling that kind of story.
Last week I stayed with my friends Brett and Matt in Appleton, WI while the three of us ran workshops teaching 3D printing and modeling at a local elementary school. Everyone who’s seen a 3D printer understands that it’s a pretty incredible technology, but until last week I had never noticed that they are also incredibly loud. In fact, they sound a bit like a normal printer hooked up to a megaphone. On Monday morning it had seemed like a wonderful idea to send each child home with his or her very own 3d-printed memento (foxes we decided, for the Franklin Elementary mascot). The kids loved them. By Tuesday night, however, as I attempted to sleep on the couch of Brett and Matt’s tiny apartment while listening to the blaring clanks of the printers transforming strands of plastic into tiny foxes, I felt less enthusiastic. Nonetheless, watching the kids’ faces light up as we passed out the little toys made it worthwhile. I think it also made the technology feel more real to them… an important thing to note, as that, after all, is what 3D printing is all about.
By the end of the week we’d run seven workshops with 124 students. These workshops are the first step in creating something called The Marshmallow Project (new name coming soon… I hope), “an art and technology tour that uses 3D modeling and printing workshops to foster cultural exchange and enable kids around the world to co-create a shared vision of the future.” Like Disney’s Spaceship Earth, I guess this is my attempt to invite people to imagine a better future… starting with kids.
Today we have access to incredible technologies. The problem is that we haven’t learned how to effectively use them. Technology exists for people to communicate, learn and collaborate with others regardless of their locations. Video calling with tools like Skype and Google Hangout are easy and accessible. Technologies like 3D printing and modeling bridge the gap between the digital and physical worlds, enabling previously inconceivable levels of collaboration. Every “future” invention Disney predicted in Spaceship Earth is technically possible today. So why aren’t they being utilized in our schools?
This is what The Marshmallow Project is about: 1) Discovering better ways to use new technologies, particularly in schools, and 2) Inspiring people to imagine a better tomorrow. Our goal is to understand what’s important about life today by working with kids all over the world so that we can build an art installation that helps people imagine new possibilities for the future.
To start, however, we need to figure out this workshop. The focus is on 3D printing, modeling, scanning and the design process. We made a lot of progress (feel free to check out our notes, if you’re interested), but last week also served as a reminder of just how far we have yet to go. So much to learn! I’m so excited and grateful to be working on a project like this. Please check back for future updates… I think this is going to be a really cool adventure.
It’s day nine and what I can tell you is this: Singularity University is as a surreal dream world of possibility. That’s not just me being dramatic… it really is. Where else can you ride your bike in the cool morning air past a spaceship hanger and be blinded by the brightness of the rising sun dancing between its struts?
The parched, largely abandoned expanse of NASA Research Park provides an uncanny backdrop to one of the most advanced innovation centers in the world, but step inside the doors of SU (two dorms and a single building for classes) and the scene transforms into a high-tech university complete with a media center, robotics lab and every high-tech gadget a geek could wish for. Of course, the technology doesn’t compare to the greatest asset of this center: the people; they are not only geniuses but also some of the most interesting, engaged, kind and fun individuals I’ve ever met. Each person has a story from which he or she derives extraordinary drive; it is a powerfully passionate group.
And we are on quite a ride together!
Our days are overwhelmingly full, morning to night. We have lectures from 9am to 10pm with only Sundays off and the meals are somehow even more intense than the classes. I sit down to eat lunch and to my right begin a conversation with a Nigerian and an American about the right to health care while to my left an Israeli explains the latest nanocircuit research. Neither conversation has even truly begun before we’re called back into the classroom for a lecture on Artificial Intelligence and I realize I’ve forgotten to take even a bite of my food. Not that I’m talking so much that I can’t eat… mostly I just sit with my mouth agape, listening to their incredible stories.
On the first day I looked around the classroom and wondered how I belonged there, among a group of rocket scientists and millionaires (literally and literally). At first when the others asked about my background I found myself fumbling and stuttering in self-doubt, trying to tell my story, clambering to prove that I belong here… not to them, but to myself. As I struggled I began to realize that, somehow, in some way, the other students felt this way too. I couldn’t guess exactly why, but we all seemed to feel like the student who’d received the misaddressed acceptance letter… the accident. On Friday an alumni from last year came to speak to us about perception and as he prepared to leave the stage he stated simply, “I know you don’t feel it now, but you belong here.” I don’t know if it was his words or if we were already adjusting to this new experience, but after that the atmosphere palpably shifted. We began the week with eighty highly intelligent leaders, all somewhat confused about how they fit in here and by its end had already begun to form a team. Rather than competing we were supporting each other.
Maybe that doesn’t sound overly impressive, but in a room of successful, type-A leaders (I’m guessing there are lots of oldest children here!), that’s pretty rare. It’s an accomplishment I must largely attribute to the SU staff not only in selecting an extraordinarily diverse and complementary class, but also in managing our experience here. With the interns shouting for us to form a single-file line to board the buses, it may often feel like summer camp for adults, but I can’t deny that they do their job well. In only nine days they’ve convinced us that we do belong here and that, in many cases, it’s the very basis of our insecurities - our failures - that qualify us more than anything else to change the world. I have no doubt this this class will develop solutions that will change the world.
I feel unbelievably fortunate to be part of that.
My lofty intentions of a daily blog have already somewhat diminished… at the end of day one at Singularity University all I can summon the energy to say is this: I am exhausted. My brain feels as if it may burst at any moment… and the content has yet to even begin. I am grateful beyond comprehension to be surrounded by the most open, brilliant and engaging group of people I have ever had the opportunity to meet. (Oh, the sparkling eyes and eager smiles!) I am overwhelmed by their stories, passions, genius and ideas. I am fascinated by the technologies at our fingertips. I am overwrought with curiosity about how these ten weeks will unfold. I cannot wait for tomorrow.
So, since my last post was about what I’ve been doing, I figured I should also write something about what I’m doing now. At this moment I’m sitting at a wooden table (the only table, in fact) in the small, internet-less Westboro Public Library (/city hall/church). My dad just moved to this tiny town south of Lake Superior and although it’s, well… for lack of a better word rather desolate up here, I can’t help but gaze in wonder at the beauty of the north woods. The sun is out and it’s gorgeous. My time here in the Midwest is coming to an end and I’m thoroughly enjoying my last few days of family, nature and relaxation. (I won’t be seeing much of any of those things this summer.) As I think about returning to California I smile like an idiot at the bookshelf in front of me and my stomach twists. I’m nervous in a way I haven’t felt in a long time and I love it.
This summer I’ll be taking two huge steps in my career.
I left Singularity’s campus with the same excitement that I used to feel as a child about how engineering and science will, one day, save the world. The experience recalled childhood fantasies of technologies that connect the human brain to a central computer to share knowledge; bionic organs that give people superhuman strength; and nano-organisms that monitor and repair the body and cure disease. And I was reminded of my childhood fears of cyborgs becoming smarter than humans and taking over the world. All the great stuff from sci-fi movies.
A single line of dirt gives chase through careful rows of newly sprouted corn as my bus speeds up along Highway 51. It’s not easy to get around Wisconsin’s rural expanse without a car, but there’s something comforting about the rumble of an old coach bus, the gaping windows that give you the sense that you’re flying over the rolling farmland. I’m getting used to it. I’ve spent the past couple weeks traveling this state visiting family and friends. It’s been almost a year since I last visited home and with each encounter, after a few minutes of hugs and hellos, my friend/family member will invariable frown, level me with a serious stare and ask, “So… what are you up to these days?” I smile, vaguely wondering what the asker thinks I’ve been doing, clear my throat and try to explain. What comes out is something like… well… this:
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And work is pretty much what I do. Other than climbing at the gym a few times a week and the occasional camping or sailing trip, my weekdays (and most of my weekends) consist of freelance projects, writing, learning Javascript and interactive design, and a daily deluge of networking events ranging from philosophy café, to game design, to women in technology events.
So… if you’ve asked what I’ve been up to over the last year I apologize that I haven’t been able to give you a particularly satisfactory answer. It’s just been too much!
Check out this awesome RSA animation on the repeating structure of networks:
http://youtu.be/nJmGrNdJ5Gw