If you (or anyone) still read this you’re probably aware I’ve been banging on about Centaurs for a little while.
I started idly sketching something that could become a shorthand for a ‘centaur’ actor in a system. The kind of visual shorthand that you might often use on whiteboards or in sketches of flows in designing interactive systems.
For example… back in 2006 I sketched this…
My first centaur symbol sketches… was trying to make it something quick and fluid but kept getting hung up on the tail…
I then progressed to subjecting colleagues (thanks Tim) to impromptu lifesize whiteboard centaur sketches…
But then I remembered Picasso’s 1949 light paintings of centaurs which inspired me to do some quick long-exposure experiments.
Again, long-suffering colleagues were pressed into service (after buying them some beers…)
And I think that the constraint of having to paint the centaur body in a few seconds of long exposure got me to a more fluid, fluent expression
But then I think in the end it was Nuno who nailed the tail on this old designer…
More centaurs soon, no doubt.
“Stunning” car park will be demolished to make way for Eric Parry-designed hotel
Must remember to go and pay homage before it gets knocked-down. Perhaps being chased by an imaginary, homicidal industrial robot.
The WSJ published an “explainer” on visual facial recognition technology recently.
They’re to be commended on the clear wording of their intro, and policy on personal/biometric info…
As most people who have known me for any length of time will tell you, unless I’m actively laughing or smiling, most of the time my face looks like I want to murder you.
While this may have had unintended benefits for me in the past – say in negotiations, college crits or design reviews – the advent of pervasive facial recognition and in particular ’emotion detection’ may change that.
“Affective computing” has been around as an academic research topic for decades of course, but as with much in machine intelligence now it’s fast, cheap and going to be everywhere.
How many unintended micro-aggressions will I perpetrate against the machines? What essential-oil mood enhancers will mysteriously be recommended to me? Will my car refuse to let me take manual control?
Perhaps I’ll tell the machines what Joss Weedon/Mark Ruffalo’s Hulk divulges as the source of his powers:
“That’s my secret, Captain. I’m always angry.”
“I think a lot about what these birds see when they look at me — and I’m sure anyone who has a pet is familiar with this feeling. I assume they just see a female human who for some reason seems to pay attention to them. They don’t know what my work is, they don’t see progress — they just see recurrence, day after day, week after week.
And through them, I am able to inhabit that perspective, to see myself as the human animal that I am, and when they fly off, to some extent, I can inhabit that perspective too, noticing the shape of the hill that I live on and where all of the tall trees and good landing spots are.
These alien animal perspectives on me and our shared world have provided me not only with an escape hatch from contemporary anxiety but also a reminder of my own animality and the animateness of the world I live in.”
– “How to do nothing” by Jenny Odell
“You’re distracted,” said Dr Easy. “You’re so focused on distraction that, as a species,
you will never exceed what you are, right now.” The robot gestured at the students assembled in the lecture theatre.
“You are it, for humanity. You’re as far as your species goes. Whereas my people are going much further. But don’t worry: we will send you a postcard.”
A downbeat note to end on, thought Theodore, and he rebuked the robot on their walk back to his office.
Dr Easy replied, “I gave them permission to focus on their own enjoyment and not torment themselves with ambitions they cannot realise. It’s what they really wanted to hear.”
“You intervened,” said Theodore. “You closed off possibilities for their future.”
“I offered them an excuse,” the robot brushed moon dust from its suede chassis. “Some of them will take it. The best will not accept it.”
From “The Destructives” by Matthew D’Abaitua
My father emailed me yesterday, wondering if I’d listened to the episode of Desert Island Discs this last Sunday featuring Amanda Levete. I have not, but think I will have to, if only to find out why she selected Westlife as one of her tracks to be marooned with.
I was reminded as I wrote back to him of the chance I got to walk around AL_A‘s 10 Hills Place in Soho, in order to write about it for Beeker while she was at Dentsu London (RIP).
I always quite like that liminal moment when a building is almost complete but not occupied, and you see the raw bits, the bits between, the bits not quite there yet.
The weekend I got to walk around was also when the Icelandic ash-cloud struck, making London’s skies quiet of planes.
I went looking for the piece I wrote on this in-between place in an in-between time – and quite aptly the only place it exists any more is the in-between place of the Internet Archive.
p.s. Dan wrote about it here too