South by

The Interactive portion of the venerable culture festival known as South by Southwest concluded this week. I was there for much of it before departing for a somewhat hellish two days in Beijing (“East by Far East “). The event was one nerdgasm after the next. “Digital creatives” from all around crowded panels, keynotes, and the hallways to suckle the free wifi and listen to how They Too Could Be Web 2.0 or how they could design the next community app. In fact the conference was a great example of a community simultaneously inhabiting the virtual and physical realms. Attendees in the audience chatted in giant IRC rooms that corresponded to the individual panels often with the speakers on the platform chiming in backchannel or replying in the real world. As this was my first SXSW I can’t compare to previous events, but people told me this time it was more entrepreneurial in flavor, less tools-based. Sure, there were panels on CSS, but mostly topics were on community and startups or abstract concepts like convergence, a buzzword on which I blathered.

The best part by far of course was meeting people. Networking and beer-drinking is built right into the conference proceedings. You have to love that after-event parties are listed in the program. And attendees were genuinely interested in talking. You never quite knew who you’d be standing next to. Chances were high he or she had just sold a company to Yahoo or Google, but you know, so what? So might you soon. The Austin tech scene was well represented. So was the Chicago scene, such as there is one — and that pleased me. Chicago design mavens Jim Coudal of Coudal Partners and Jason Fried of 37Signals delivered the opening keynote and basically entreated the crowd to drop complexity, focus on creative entrepreneurship and then wait for the money to pour in. The crew from Threadless was there too, a great example of doing just that. (Maybe there’s a chance for a Chicago company-funded party next year along the lines of Seattle’s South by Northwest bash? South by Midwest?)

As a guy from IBM, perhaps the former paragon of complexity, I was pleased to be mostly taken on my own merits. It usually doesn’t happen that way. There’s a kind of stigma of respect when I normally tell people I work for the ‘BM. It is almost always positive, mind you, but the fact I work for IBM often overpowers anything I might offer individually. Not at SXSW. People didn’t much give a shit. I liked that. Hell, Craig Newmark of craigslist told me he worked for IBM for 17 years prior to quietly changing the world. See there’s hope.

OK, no more compass puns. That’s my direction anyway. Oh god, jetlag delirium.

Recombinant design

SXSW 2006 Interactive Playpen. LEGO wonderland. Aerial Rorschach.

Verge

Sitting in an afternoon panel at SxSW today I started a post on how I thought my panel in the morning went. I was thinking, gee, it would be nice to have a transcript when I looked up – literally to the guy sitting in front of me – and goddamn but he had one up on his screen.* I asked where he got it. He said, “Oh this is my site. I type fast.” And that is the essence of SxSW.

My panel? Oh it was on a concept that I didn’t really agree with. In fact, neither did my co-panelsts, David Pescovitz of Boing Boing and David-Michel Davies of the Webby Awards. Standing in line as we waited for our credentials a staffer looked at the title of our panel “Convergence and Transformation: A Whole New Creative World” and said quite disdainfully “What in the hell is that?” I shrugged. Sometimes that’s the best panel to be on though.

It was actually a lively discussion. The consensus from the panel was that it is not technology that is converging – tools diverge and proliferate to suit new tasks, after all – but that there is such a thing as convergent experience and in fact human beings crave experiences that unite, filter, and simplify – the more so in the face of multiplying tools, features, and media.

My particular take on the issue was to suggest that designers draw lessons from evolutionary biology. At the species level and above life does not converge at all. And in the rare case that it does – as with the horse and the donkey – it yields infertile life forms. There’s no convergence below the species level either, but there is certainly recombination, genetic in this case, which you might think of as a simultaneous divergence and convergence. A philosophy of recombinant design, I offered, is one where experiences are allowed to emerge by virtue of the remixability of your offering. Or, put differently, recombinant design is design as if your goal was to make designers of your customers. Consumer-as-producer, DIY media. Not terribly novel, I admit, but then no one threw me off the dais either.

[*} Not verbatim. I talked a lot more and made a lot less sense in reality.

Those who dwell in the gutter

Lots of travel these days which ironically provides the best blog material and the least time to write about it. More soon.

Since the time I have for composting the blogosphere is also a bit limited these days I’ve asked my pal Chris to man the marginalia link farm for a bit. Hope you enjoy his unique approach to agribusiness.

10,000

Last weekend I passed 10,000 music tracks played since I started logging them via Last.fm (then Audioscrobbler) exactly one year and one month earlier. Let’s do the numbers.

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The children are contaminating my playlist. Three of the top five tracks (Milhouse Relm, a remix of the Simpsons theme, De Do Do Do, and The Slow Train) are those that I play as requests for my boys — nightly. All fine songs, of course, but not really indicative of my listening habits. It’s like my wife using my Amazon profile. You know, I don’t really care what people who bought the Epilator also bought.*

Nearly every other track is an ambient tune. This isn’t fair either, really, since I often put on albums to fall asleep to, these albums invariably being downtempo. If only Audioscrobbler logged those tracks I actually heard as opposed to those I have played. EEG interface maybe?

I don’t synch my iPod with iTunes so the tracks that I consider to be truly representative of my awake listening habits don’t get logged. But then, am I really defined by what I listen to on my commute?

The Top Artists – Overall gives a much better sense of my last year of music. Interesting that Sufjan Stevens cracks the top 20 given that I only started listening to him last month.

What I’d really like to see in 2006 are richer visualizations of the Last.fm data. I’d love to see a schematic of artists over the course of a day. Also, richer data analysis. How often do I switch from artist X to artist Y? How many times did I queue up album Z before 3pm? That sort of thing. Does this exist?

[*] 13 and 16 are also kiddie tunes. What? Of course the Star Wars Imperial March is for the kids!

“Fun” Mac products

The Apple PR machine was groaning with exertion at their announcement event yesterday. Labelled as “fun,” the products they announced were new leather cases, an iPod boombox, and a new Mac mini. The first two were accessories of course and the last was somewhat interesting in that it moves much closer to being a media center component. I’m tempted to buy it. But when I isolate what my needs really are it becomes apparent that even a Mac mini is total overkill.

All I really need is the Airport Express equivalent of an iPod video. Where is the Airport Express that has an HDMI out? This would solve my problem completely. Why put an entire computer in your AV rig when all you need is an elegant bridge?

Weakened warrior

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I saw Curious George with my son this weekend. Of all the plush sleeping aids that I had as a child I now retain only two. The first is my original blanket, now ripped, fringeless, and still smelling of decades-old urine from a bit of a bedwetting problem. (I don’t want to talk about it, ‘kay?) The other is my Curious George doll. Oh how I love(d) that monkey. One of my favorite childhood memories was when my mom, a nurse, would perform surgery on his armpits when he’d fray. We were fully smocked in operating room fashions. But I digress. The movie stayed true to the George I grew up loving and it manages to weave in at least parts of most of the books. I loved the ending where a triumphant Man In The Yellow Hat saves his museum by transforming it from a dusty, dull repository to an interactive, lively experience through the power of, yes, curiosity. Oh, and he and George end the movie in a rocket ship. Museums and rocket ships, wow. Where’s my yellow hat?

Staying in the spirit, my son and I built a great fort in the basement last night for movie watching, goodie-eating, and hiding from mom. We slept in it. Wow, was this a mistake. Nostalgia gone too far. My son loved it, slept sound as a rock. I slept little, alternating between being frozen stiff and just stiff from the comforter-on-concrete amenities. No bedwetting, though.

As a sidenote and just to worry my readers a little more that this is becoming a parenting blog (it’s not), my old post on cyborgs and toddlers is on the front page of Parent Hacks today.

More fun at SxSW

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SxSW 2006 is less than two weeks away. This will be my first trip to the fest/conference/party excuse, though in certain ways both my professional and family center of gravity is in Austin (OK, one of my centers of gravity).

Because the speakers and bands and screenings simply won’t provide enough stimulus some folks have created the SxSW Interactive Playpen. Done wrong it could be as grimy and soulless as the free building areas of LEGO stores; done right — and there’s no reason to believe it won’t be done right — it could be a hell of a lot of fun. Can’t wait.

Oh, I’m also a panelist on the first day: Convergence and Transformation. That’ll be fun too. Bring some LEGO blocks.

Fellow Chicagoans Jason Fried and Jim Coudal are the keynotes.

Gonna be there and want to meet up? Let me know:

Social convergence

I’ve had some amazing moments of social serendipity lately. Call it the “small world” phenomenon or six degrees of separation minus most of the degrees, but frankly it is a bit odd. And, even though I’ve recently joined LinkedIn to explore my network of professional contacts once-, twice-, and thrice-removed, technology hasn’t contributed at all to what’s been going on.

Last week at the Special Olympics basketball tourney I wrote about I met a mom of one of the participants, a woman named Alison Leland. She was reading the New York Times in the bleachers so, this being middle-class Texas, I immediately knew she wasn’t like most of the other families there. Turns out, Ms. Leland is the wife of the late Texas congressman Mickey Leland. I only knew a bit about Mickey Leland: the causes he championed, the foes he made, the way he died. Forward a few days to New York City where I was meeting with some of the staff of the new National Museum of African American History and Culture and where, just for conversation’s sake, I mentioned this small world encounter with Ms. Leland. The team looked at me and said, “You know, the idea for this museum was Mickey Leland’s.” Hmm, small world.

This week I also learned about a computer scientist doing some interesting work in Arabic machine translation who one of my colleagues holds in very high regard. Her name is Violetta Cavalli-Sforza, a distinctive name to be sure and one that rang a bell. Now, I’m not certain of the connection, but it seems that she must be related (daughter?) to Luigi Luca Cavalli-Sforza, the father of population genetics, author of the seminal History and Geography of Human Genes, and mentor of IBM’s globetrotting co-principal on the Genographic Project Spencer Wells — a project of which I am a part. Genetic forensics, indeed!

Then last night. A friend of ours lent my wife a book she loved to help us in our struggle to find a name for our third child, due in May. It was called The Baby Name Wizard by Laura Wattenberg. This of course is also the name of the much-lauded online app (also known as NameVoyager) from last year that dynamically maps the popularity of names over time and which was created by Martin Wattenberg, Laura’s husband, and an IBM colleague of mine. I had no idea there was a book to accompany the site.

What does this prove? If the connections between the pairs of people and myself in each of these examples was a little less random it might suggest a widening professional circle. But two of the three pairs intersect my personal life too.

Oh, how I’d love this web visualized. Martin, are you listening?

City of the dead

I spent Mardi Gras this week in a New Orleans graveyard. For the second time in less than a year, though the first time since Katrina, we said goodbye to a grandparent in the vast city of mausolea called Lakelawn Cemetary. It was so much sadder this time.

Gravediggers know better than most people in New Orleans what rising water can do — which is why most New Orleans cemeteries are above-ground. Row after row of family tombs crowd the landscape like so many midget Roman temples. Last year it seemed novel, if a little macabre, to bear the casket through the alleys of the tombs to my wife’s family plot. The sun was bright. Flowers livened the drab gray houses of the deceased. Flags waved from numerous veterans’ grave sites.

This year the mood of the family was made darker a hundred-fold by the devestated cemetary, a scene very little would need to be modified in for a B-grade horror movie. On this gray day nearly every mausoleum was stained about four feet off the ground with the puke-green demarcation of high water — a grim reminder that most of the bodies of loved ones were submerged during the weeks before the floodwaters receded. If not assisting grave-side ceremonies the reduced cemetery staff (typical wait time for a burial was three weeks post-mortem) were put to work pressure-washing the horizontal bands of slime from the tombs. The grass between the rows was dead, moist, and fetid. It is difficult to say goodbye to someone you love when you are forced to imagine what might have washed out from the soaken caskets in the ooze on the ground.

Around New Orleans people were partying of course. The press made a lot of New Orleans parading on with Mardi Gras despite being so hobbled. But the truth is that the partiers seemed like actors reciting lines, going through the motions. It reminded me of the lone sober person at a party who acts crazier than the drunks in order not to be called out.

Not much has visibly changed since the last time I visited New Orleans. The city is still awash in trash, tarps, and trailers. The question I asked myself this time was: how do you start a city from nothing? Urban areas start slowly, accreting people, services, markets, and social networks over decades and centuries. But what happens when you know you want a city to exist in this spot, right now? What do you start with? Schools? OK, but what will bring the parents back? Business? OK, but who will you sell your wares to? Government? OK, but what if they’re utterly incompetent in the absence of the patronage machine that sustained them? I don’t have an answer. To me, this is less a question of disaster recovery or urban planning than one of human need. What factors begin (or restart) the gravitational pull that sucks in enough matter to create a city?

Yet good spirits persist. We bought a king cake on the way out of town. Running it through the metal detector in the airport the scanner operator said he’d tell us where the baby was in the cake for $5. When he did anyway gratis we thought he was letting us in on an Easter secret. Was the baby always in the green section? Was there some pattern than only true New Orleanians know? The operator chuckled as he said to my wife “Dawlin’, I’m runnin’ a scanna heah. I see ev’ry baby dat comes tru wit da cakes.”