I'm kind of tired of talking about simplicity, actually, so I thought I'd make my life more complex, as a serious play. So, I'm going to, like, go through some slides from way back when, and walk through them to give you a sense of how I end up here.
Man tā kā ir apnicis runāt par vienkāršību tāpēc domāju, ka izveidošu savu dzīvi sarežģītāku, kā nopietnu spēli. Tātad es es jums parādīšu dažus slaidus no pagātnes, iziesim cauri tiem, lai jūs saprastu kā es esmu šeit nonācis.
So, basically it all began with this whole idea of a computer. Who has a computer? Yeah. O.K., so, everyone has a computer. Even a mobile phone, it's a computer. And -- anyone remember this workbook, "Instant Activities for Your Apple" -- free poster in each book? This was how computing began. Don't forget: a computer came out; it had no software. You'd buy that thing, you'd bring it home, you'd plug it in, and it would do absolutely nothing at all. So, you had to program it, and there were great programming, like, tutorials, like this. I mean, this was great. It's, like, you know, Herbie the Apple II. It's such a great way to -- I mean, they should make Java books like this, and we've have no problem learning a program. But this was a great, grand time of the computer, when it was just a raw, raw, what is it? kind of an era. And, you see, this era coincided with my own childhood.
Tātad, pamatā viss sākās ar ideju par datoru. Kuram ir dators? Jā. Tātad, visiem ir datori. Visiem ir mobilais tālrunis, tas ir dators. Un... vai kāds atcerās šo darba burtnīcu "Pirmie soļi darbam ar Apple" ar bezmaksas plakātu katrā grāmatā? Tā sākās datoru ēra. Atceraties? Kad tika izlaisti pirmie datori, tiem nebija programmatūras. Jūs to nopērkat, atnesat mājās, pieslēdzat to, bet tā pilnībā neko nedara. Tātad jums tā vēl bija jāieprogrammē. Bija arī lieliskas pamācības programmēšanā piemēram kā šī: Tas bija lieliski. Kā šis Apple dators Hērbijs. Tas ir lielisks veids kā... Manuprāt, viņiem vajadzētu arī Java programmēšanas pamācības veidot pēc šīs grāmatas, tad mums nebūtu problēmas to iemācīties. Bet kopumā tas bija lielisks laiks datoriem, kad viss bija tik jēls, jēls, kā to lai nosauc? Tāda kā ēra. Redziet, šī ēra sakrita tieši ar manu bērnības laiku.
I grew up in a tofu factory in Seattle. Who of you grew up in a family business, suffered the torture? Yes, yes. The torture was good. Wasn't it good torture? It was just life-changing, you know. And so, in my life, you know, I was in the tofu; it was a family business. And my mother was a kind of a designer, also. She'd make this kind of, like, wall of tofu cooking, and it would confuse the customers, because they all thought it was a restaurant. A bad sort of branding thing, or whatever. But, anyway, that's where I grew up, in this little tofu factory in Seattle, and it was kind of like this: a small room where I kind of grew up. I'm big there in that picture.
Es izaugu tofu (sojas biezpiens) rūpnīcā Sietlā. Kurš no jums vēl ir audzis līdzās ģimenes rūpalai... ...un cietis mokas? Jā, jā. Mokas bija labas. Vai ne? Tas bija ļoti pamācoši. Tātad, mana dzīve, ziniet, bija par un ap tofu; tāds bija ģimenes uzņēmums. Mana māte arī bija nedaudz dizainere. Viņa veidoja tādu kā sienu par tofu gatavošanu, taču tā mulsināja klientus, jo visi domāja, ka tur ir restorāns. lai nu kā — slikta reklāma vai kas tāds. Taču tur es uzaugu, tajā mazajā Sietlas tofu rūpnīcā tas izskatījās šādi: maza istaba kurā es uzaugu. Šajā bildē esmu jau liels.
That's my dad. My dad was kind of like MacGyver, really: he would invent, like, ways to make things heavy. Like back here, there's like, concrete block technology here, and he would need the concrete blocks to press the tofu, because tofu is actually kind of a liquidy type of thing, and so you have to have heavy stuff to push out the liquid and make it hard. Tofu comes out in these big batches, and my father would sort of cut them by hand. I can't tell you -- family business story: you'd understand this -- my father was the most sincere man possible. He walked into a Safeway once on a rainy day, slipped, broke his arm, rushed out: he didn't want to inconvenience Safeway. So, instead, you know, my father's, like, arm's broken for two weeks in the store, and that week -- now, those two weeks were when my older brother and I had to do everything. And that was torture, real torture. Because, you see, we'd seen my father taking the big block of tofu and cutting it, like, knife in, zap, zap, zap. We thought, wow. So, the first time I did that, I went, like, whoa! Like this. Bad blocks. But anyways, the tofu to me was kind of my origin, basically. And because working in a store was so hard, I liked going to school; it was like heaven. And I was really good at school.
Lūk, mans tētis. Mans tētis bija kā Makgaivers, patiešām: viņš izgudroja kā lietas padarīt smagākas. Šeit redzam betona bloku tehnoloģiju viņam vajadzēja betona blokus, lai noslogotu tofu tāpēc, ka tofu patiesībā ir pašķidra lieta un vajag smagumu, lai izspiestu lieko šķidrumu un padarītu to cietu. Beigās tofu sanāk šādos lielos gabalos un tēvs tos grieza ar rokām. Es nevaru izstāstīt visu stāstu par ģimenes uzņēmumu, jūs to nesapratīsiet. Mans tēvs bija patiešām sirsnīgs cilvēks. Reiz, kādā lietainā dienā viņš iegāja Safeway lielveikalā paslīdēja, salauza roku un aizsteidzās prom, jo viņš negribēja veikalam sagādāt problēmas. Tātad, manam tēvam bija salauzta roka un divas nedēļas mums kopā ar vecāko brāli nācās visu darīt tēva vietā. Un tās bija mokas, īstas mokas. Jā, mēs bijām redzējuši kā tēvs griež lielo tofu gabalu nazis iekšā un šņik, šņik, šķik. Mēs domājām — oho, viegli! Tā nu pirmo reizi nazis aizgāja šķībi. Un sanāca nepareizi gabaliņi. Tofu bija mana pamatnodarbošanās Darbs noliktavā bija ļoti grūts, tāpēc iešana uz skolu, bija ļoti patīkama. Un man mācības padevās.
So, when I got to MIT, you know, as most of you who are creatives, your parents all told you not to be creative, right? So, same way, you know, I was good at art and good at math, and my father says, he's -- John's good at math. I went to MIT, did my math, but I had this wonderful opportunity, because computers had just become visual. The Apple -- Macintosh just came out; I had a Mac in hand when I went to MIT. And it was a time when a guy who, kind of, could cross the two sides -- it was a good time.
Kad sāku studēt MTI... Lielākā daļa no jums ir radoši cilvēki, jūsu vecāki taču stāstīja jums, lai neesat radoši, vai ne? Man bija tieši tāpat. man labi padevās māksla un matemātika, bet tēvs teica: Džonam labi padodas matemātika. Es devos uz MTI, mācījos matemātiku, taču man bija lieliskas iespējas, jo tikko sāka parādīties pirmie datori, un iznāca pirmais Apple Macintosh dators; Man rokās bija "Maks" un es devos uz MTI Tas bija laiks, kad varēja nošaut divus zaķus ar vienu šāvienu. Tas bija labs laiks.
And so, I remember that my first major piece of software was on a direct copy of then-Aldus PageMaker. I made a desktop publishing system way back when, and that was, kind of, my first step into figuring out how to -- oh, these two sides are kind of fun to mix. And the problem when you're younger -- for all you students out there -- is, your head gets kind of big really easy. And when I was making icons, I was, like, the icon master, and I was, like, yeah, I'm really good at this, you know. And then luckily, you know, I had the fortune of going to something called a library, and in the library I came upon this very book. I found this book. It's called, "Thoughts on Design," by a man named Paul Rand. It's a little slim volume; I'm not sure if you've seen this. It's a very nice little book. It's about this guy, Paul Rand, who was one of the greatest graphic designers, and also a great writer as well. And when I saw this man's work, I realized how bad I was at design, or whatever I called it back then, and I suddenly had a kind of career goal, kind of in hot pursuit.
Es atceros savu pirmo programmu tā bija Aldus PageMaker tiešā kopija Es izveidoju darbvirsmas publicēšanas sistēmu. Tas bija mans pirmais solis, lai atklātu ka šīs abas puses ir savienojamas patīkamā veidā. Kad esi jauns, galvenā problēma ir, arī turienes studentiem, tu ātri paliec iedomīgs. Kad es veidoju ikonas, es pat biju tāds kā 'ikonu meistars', Man šķita, jā, man ļoti labi sanāk! Tad, par laimi, man bija iespēja nonākt vietā, ko sauc par bibliotēku. Un bibliotēkā es uzdūros šajai īpašai grāmatai. Es atradu šo grāmatu. Tā saucas "Dizaina domāšana", to sarakstījis Pols Rends. Tā ir plāna grāmatiņa, domāju, ka neesat to redzējuši. Tā ir jauka maza grāmatiņa. Tā ir par šo puisi Polu Rendu, kurš bija viens no izcilākajiem grafiskajiem dizaineriem, un arī liels rakstnieks. Man ieraugot šī vīra darbus, es sapratu, cik mans dizains vai tas. ko es tobrīd tā saucu, tomēr ir slikts. un pēkšņi pār mani nāca karjeras atklāsme, strauji, kā tādā trakā skrējienā.
So I kind of switched. I went to MIT, finished. I got my masters, and then went to art school after that. And just began to design stuff, like chopstick wrappers, napkins, menus -- whatever I could get a handle on: sort of wheel-and-deal, move up in the design world, whatever. And isn't it that strange moment when you publish your design? Remember that moment -- publishing your designs? Remember that moment? It felt so good, didn't it? So, I was published, you know, so, wow, my design's in a book, you know? After that, things kind of got strange, and I got thinking about the computer, because the computer to me always, kind of, bothered me. I didn't quite get it. And Paul Rand was a kind of crusty designer, you know, a crusty designer, like a good -- kind of like a good French bread? You know, he wrote in one of his books: "A Yale student once said, 'I came here to learn how to design, not how to use a computer.' Design schools take heed." This is in the '80s, in the great clash of computer/non-computer people. A very difficult time, actually. And this to me was an important message from Rand.
Tad es pārslēdzos. Es gāju uz MTI, pabeidzu to. Saņēmu diplomu un tad devos uz mākslas skolu. Tad sāku veidot dizainu tādām lietām, kā ēdamo irbuļu iepakojumi, galda salvetes, ēdienkartes vārdu sakot, visu ko vajadzēja. Tāds sākums, virzoties augšup dizaina pasaulē. Vai tas nav dīvains brīdis, kad tu savu dizainu nodod publikai? Atcerieties to brīdi — sava dizaina publicēšana? Atcerieties to brīdi? Tā bija tik laba sajūta, vai ne? Tātad, mans dizains tika nopublicēts. Oho, mans dizains grāmatā! Pēc tā, lietas sarežģījās un es domāju par datoriem, tāpēc, ka datori man vienmēr savā ziņā ir raisījuši bažas. Es to īsti nesapratu. Un Pols Rands bija īgns dizaineris, Saprotat? Īgns dizaineris, tāds kā laba franču maize — ar cietu garozu. Viņš rakstīja vienā no savām grāmatām: Kāds Jēlas students reiz teicis: "Esmu šeit lai mācītos dizainu, nevis kā apieties ar datoru". Dizaina skolas tam sāk pievērst uzmanību. Tas ir astoņdesmitajos, laikā, kad nav vienprātības starp datoru atbalstītājiem un to pretiniekiem. Patiesībā, ļoti smags laiks. Un šī ziņa no Randa man bija ļoti svarīga.
And so I began to sort of mess with the computer at the time. This is the first sort of play thing I did, my own serious play. I built a working version of an Adobe Illustrator-ish thing. It looks like Illustrator; it can, like, draw. It was very hard to make this, actually. It took a month to make this part. And then I thought, what if I added this feature, where I can say, this point, you can fly like a bird. You're free, kind of thing. So I could, sort of, change the kind of stability with a little control there on the dial, and I can sort of watch it flip around. And this is in 1993. And when my professors saw this, they were very upset at me. They were saying, Why's it moving? They were saying, Make it stop now. Now, I was saying, Well, that's the whole point: it's moving. And he says, Well, when's it going to stop? And I said, Never. And he said, Even worse. Stop it now. I started studying this whole idea, of like, what is this computer? It's a strange medium. It's not like print. It's not like video. It lasts forever. It's a very strange medium. So, I went off with this, and began to look for things even more.
Tā nu es sāku šķetināt tajā laikā esošo datoru jucekli. Pirmā nopietnā lieta, ko izdarīju, bija Adobe Illustrator analogas versijas izveide. Tas izskatījās kā Ilustrator, ar to varēja zīmēt. Patiesībā, to izveidot bija ļoti grūti. Bija vajadzīgs mēnesis, lai izveidotu šo sadaļu. Tad es domāju, ja nu es pievienoto šo iespēju, ar kuru šim punktam pateikt: tagad lido kā putns, tu esi brīvs. Tā nu es izmainīju tik pierasto nekustīgumu ekrānā un ar vienkāršu darbību varēju apskatīt kā tas kustas. Un tas bija 1993. Kad to ieraudzīja mani pasniedzēji, viņi ar mani bija ļoti neapmierināti "Kāpēc tas kustas," viņi teica. Viņi teica: izdari tā lai tas apstājas! Es viņiem teicu: nu tur jau tā lieta, ka tas kustas! Un tad viņš teica: nu labi, bet kad tas apstāsies? Es teicu: nekad! Un viņš teica: vēl sliktāk, tūlīt pat apturi. Es sāku studēt šo ideju par to kas ir dators. Tas ir dīvains mēdijs. Tā nav izdruka. Tas nav video. tas ilgst mūžību. Tāds ļoti dīvains mēdijs. Tātad es biju beidzis šo un sācis meklēt lielākas lietas.
And so in Japan, I began to experiment with people. This is actually bad: human experiments. I would do these things where I'd have students become pens: there's blue pen, red pen, green pen, black pen. And someone sits down and draws a picture. They're laughing because he said, draw from the middle-right to the middle, and he kind of messed up. See, humans don't know how to take orders; the computer's so good at it. This guy figured out how to get the computer to draw with two pens at once: you know, you, pen, do this, and you, pen, do this. And so began to have multiple pens on the page -- again, hard to do with our hands. And then someone discovered this "a-ha moment" where you could use coordinate systems. We thought, ah, this is when it's going to happen. In the end, he drew a house. It was the most boring thing. It became computerish; we began to think computerish -- the X, Y system -- and so that was kind of a revelation.
Japānā es sāku eksperimentēt ar cilvēkiem. Tas ir slikti: eksperimentēt ar cilvēkiem. Mani studenti kļuva par pildspalvām, tur ir zila, sarkana, zaļa, un melna pildspalva. Un kāds apsēžas un zīmē zīmējumu. Viņi smejas, tāpēc ka viņam tika teikts, ka jāzīmē lapas vidū no labās puses uz vidu, viņš to nebija sapratis. Redziet, cilvēki nemāk uzklausīt pavēles. Datoriem tas sanāk labāk. Šis puisis izdomāja kā piedabūt datoru zīmēt ar divām līnijās reizē. Sapratāt? Tu pildspalva dari šo, tu pildspalva to. Tā mēs ieguvām vairākas līnijas vienā lapā. Ar rokām to izdarīt būtu grūti. Un tad kādam nāca atklāsmes brīdis, ka varētu izmantot koordinātu sistēmu. Mēs padomājām, kad tas vēl notiks... Beigās viņš uzzīmēja māju. Tas bija ļoti garlaicīgi. Viss palika ļoti datorisks; mēs sākām domāt datoriski. X, Y sistēma — tas gan bija atklājums!
And after this I wanted to build a computer out of people, called a human-powered computer. So, this happened in 1993. Sound down, please. It's a computer where the people are the parts. I have behind this wall a disk drive, a CPU, a graphics card, a memory system. They're picking up a giant floppy disk made of cardboard. It's put inside the computer. And that little program's on that cardboard disk. So, she wears the disk, and reads the data off the sectors of the disk, and the computer starts up; it sort of boots up, really. And it's a sort of a working computer. And when I built this computer, I had a moment of -- what is it called? -- the epiphany where I realized that the computer's just so fast. This computer appears to be fast - she's working pretty hard, and people are running around, and we think, wow, this is happening at a fast rate. And this computer's programmed to do only one thing, which is, if you move your mouse, the mouse changes on the screen. On the computer, when you move your mouse, that arrow moves around. On this computer, if you move the mouse, it takes half an hour for the mouse cursor to change. To give you a sense of the speed, the scale: the computer is just so amazingly fast, O.K.?
Pēc šī, es gribēju uzbūvēt datoru no cilvēkiem tādu kā cilvēkspēka datoru. Tātad, tas viss notika 1993.gadā Lūdzu, nogrieziet skaņu! Tas ir dators, kura sastāvdaļas ir cilvēki. Aiz šīs sienas ir diskdzinis, centrālais procesors videokarte, atmiņas sistēma. Viņi paņem milzīgu kartona disketi. un ieliek datorā. Un tur ir kāda maza programma kas atrodas disketē, nolasa datus no disketes sektoriem, un dators ieslēdzas un ielādējas. Tā nu tas dators darbojas. Kad uzbūveju šo datoru pār mani atnāca kā to sauca... ..epifānija, kurā es sapratu, ka dators patiesībā darbojas tik ļoti ātri! Arī šis, viņa strādā diezgan smagi, un cilvēki skraida apkārt, liekas, oho, tas notiek tik ātri. Šis dators tika ieprogrammēts tikai vienai darbībai, proti, pakustinot peli, peles novietojums izmainās arī uz ekrāna Datorā kustinot peli, kustas kursors. Šajā datorā, pakustinot peli, vajadzēja pusstundu lai pakustētos peles kursors. Lai jūs aptvertu to ātrumu, salīdzinājumam: dators taču ir tik neticami ātrs, vai ne?
And so, after this I began to do experiments for different companies. This is something I did for Sony in 1996. It was three Sony "H" devices that responded to sound. So, if you talk into the mike, you'll hear some music in your headphones; if you talk in the phone, then video would happen. So, I began to experiment with industry in different ways with this kind of mixture of skills. I did this ad. I don't believe in this kind of alcohol, but I do drink sometimes. And Chanel. So, getting to do different projects.
Pēc šī es sāku eksperimentēt dažādos uzņēmumos. Šo es darīju 1996. gadā uzņēmumam Sony Tās bija trīs Sony "H" ierīces, kas reaģēja uz skaņu. Ja jūs runājat mikrofonā, jūs dzirdat mūziku austiņās; Ja jūs runājat telefonā, tad redzams video. Tā nu es sāku eksperimentus ar industriju ar savām dažādajām iemaņām. Es veidoju šo reklāmu. šo alkohola veidu es ne parāk cienu, bet dažreiz es mēdzu iedzert. un arī Chanel. Nu pāriesim pie citiem projektiem.
And also, one thing I realized is that I like to make things. We like to make things. It's fun to make things. And so I never developed the ability to have a staff. I have no staff; it's all kind of made by hand -- these sort of broken hands. And these hands were influenced by this man, Mr. Inami Naomi. This guy was my kind of like mentor. He was the first digital media producer in Tokyo. He's the guy that kind of discovered me, and kind of got me going in digital media. He was such an inspirational guy. I remember, like, we'd be in his studio, like, at 2 a.m., and then he'd show up from some client meeting. He'd come in and say, you know, If I am here, everything is okay. And you'd feel so much better, you know. And I'll never forget how, like, but -- I'll never forget how, like, he had a sudden situation with his -- he had an aneurysm. He went into a coma. And so, for three years he was out, and he could only blink, and so I realized at this moment, I thought, wow -- how fragile is this thing we're wearing, this body and mind we're wearing, and so I thought, How do you go for it more? How do you take that time you have left and go after it? So, Naomi was pivotal in that.
Vēl viena lieta, ko sapratu: man patīk radīt lietas. Mums patīk radīt lietas. Tas ir jautri! Es nekad neattīstīju iespēju strādāt ar komandu, man nebija komandas, viss tika radīts ar paša rokām tādām kā lauztajām rokām. Un šīs rokas bija iedvesmojis viens vīrs, Inami Naomi kungs. Šis vīrs man bija kā padomdevējs. Viņš bija pirmais digitālo mēdiju producents Tokijā. Viņs mani atrada un ievadīja digitālājos medijos. Viņš bija tik iedvesmojošs cilvēks! Atceros, mēs bijām viņa studijā ap plkst.2 naktī un tad no kādas sanāksmes ieradās viņš. Viņš ienāca un teica: Ja jau esmu šeit, tad jau viss ir kārtībā. Un mēs uzreiz sajutāmies atviegloti. Es vienmēr atcerēšos, viņam pēkšņi tika atklāta aneirisma, Un viņš nokļuva komā. Trīs gadus viņš bija uz gultas, viņš varēja tikai pamirkšķināt ar aci. šajā brīdī es sapratu, cik trausla ir šī lieta, ko valkājam — šis mūsu ķermenis un prāts. Un tā nu es sāku domāt, kā izmantot lietderīgi šo laiku kas atlicis. Naomi šis bija pagrieziena punkts.
And so, I began to think more carefully about the computer. This was a moment where I was thinking about, so, you have a computer program, it responds to motion -- X and Y -- and I realized that each computer program has all these images inside the program. So, if you can see here, you know, that program you're seeing in the corner, if you spread it out, it's all these things all at once. It's real simultaneity. It's nothing we're used to working with. We're so used to working in one vector. This is all at the same time. The computer lives in so many dimensions. And also, at the same time I was frustrated, because I would go to all these art and design schools everywhere, and there were these, like, "the computer lab," you know, and this is, like, in the late 1990s, and this is in Basel, a great graphic design school. And here's this, like, dirty, kind of, shoddy, kind of, dark computer room. And I began to wonder, Is this the goal? Is this what we want, you know?
Un tā par datoriem es sāku domāt vēl dziļāk. Šajā brīdī, es domāju ja jau datora programma reaģē uz kustību X un Y virzienos tātad katrai programmai tam vajadzētu būt iekšā. Ja jūs varat šeit redzēt, šī programma stūrī, ja to paplašina, visas šīs darbības notiek reizē. Tā darbība notiek vienlaicīgi. Ar šo mēs neesam pieraduši darboties. Mēs esam pieraduši darboties vienā vektorā. Tas viss notiek vienlaicīgi. Dators dzīvo tik daudz dimensijās! Turklāt, tajā pat laikā es biju neapmierināts, jo man gribējās apmeklēt visas tās mākslas un dizaina skolas jo tur bija tā sauktās "datorlaboratorijas". Un tas notiek vēlīnajos deviņdesmitajos Bāzelē lieliskā grafiskā dizaina skolā, panetīrā, pabriesmīgā, patumšā datorklasē. Un es sāku domāt: vai tās ir mērķa piepildījums?! Vai tas ir tas, ko gribējām?
And also, I began to be fascinated by machines -- you know, like copy machines -- and so this is actually in Basel. I noticed how we spent so much time on making it interactive -- this is, like, a touch screen -- and I noticed how you can only touch five places, and so, "why are we wasting so much interactivity everywhere?" became a question. And also, the sound: I discovered I can make my ThinkPad pretend it's a telephone. You get it? No? O.K. And also, I discovered in Logan airport, this was, like, calling out to me. Do you hear that? It's like cows. This is at 4 a.m. at Logan.
Vēl, es sāku apbrīnot mašīnas. es domāju kopējamās mašīnas. Tas viss notiek Bāzelē. Mēs ļoti daudz laika mēs pavadījām, lai to padarītu interaktīvu tas ir tāds kā skārienekrāns Un es ievēroju, ka lai to lietotu jāpieskarās piecām vietām, un tā "Kāpēc mēs izniekojam tik daudz interaktivitātes?" kļuva par jautājumu. Un arī skaņa: es atklāju, ka varu izlikties, ka mans ThinkPad ir tālrunis. Jūs sapratāt? Nē? Nu labi. Un vēl Logana lidostā es atklāju, ka tas sāk mani saukt. Dzirdat? Kā govis. Tas ir plkst.4.00 no rīta.
So, I was wondering, like, what is this thing in front of me, this computer thing? It didn't make any sense. So, I began to make things again. This is another series of objects made of old computers from my basement. I made -- I took my old Macintoshes and made different objects out of them from Tokyo. I began to be very disinterested in computers themselves, so I began to make paintings out of PalmPilots. I made this series of works. They're paintings I made and put a PalmPilot in the middle as a kind of display that's sort of thinking, I'm abstract art. What am I? I'm abstract. And so it keeps thinking out loud of its own abstraction.
Tā nu es domāju, kas tā par lietu ir man priekšā, šis "dators". Tam nebija vairs nekādas jēgas. Tā nu es atkal sāku radīt lietas. Šī ir cita produktu sērija, kuras pamatā ir veci datori no mana pagraba. Es paņēmu savu veco Makintošu un no tā izveidoju dažādus Tokijas objektus. Datori, kā tādi, mani vairs neinteresēja, es sāku veidot gleznas no PalmPilotiem (plaukstdators). Es izveidoju šo darbu sēriju. Tās ir manas gleznas un Palmpilots ir vidū. kā displejs kas ir domāšanas veids. Es esmu abstraktā māksla. Kas es esmu? Esmu abstrakts. Un tā tas turpina domāt skaļi par savu abstrakciju.
I began to be fascinated by plastic, so I spent four months making eight plastic blocks perfectly optically transparent, as a kind of release of stress. Because of that, I became interested in blue tape, so in San Francisco, at C.C., I had a whole exhibition on blue tape. I made a whole installation out of blue tape -- blue painters' tape. And at this point my wife kind of got worried about me, so I stopped doing blue tape and began to think, Well, what else is there in life? And so computers, as you know, these big computers, there are now tiny computers. They're littler computers, so the one-chip computers, I began to program one-chip computers and make objects out of P.C. boards, LEDs. I began to make LED sculptures that would live inside little boxes out of MDF. This is a series of light boxes I made for a show in Italy. Very simple boxes: you just press one button and some LED interaction occurs. This is a series of lamps I made. This is a Bento box lamp: it's sort of a plastic rice lamp; it's very friendly. I did a show in London last year made out of iPods -- I used iPods as a material. So I took 16 iPod Nanos and made a kind of a Nano fish, basically. Recently, this is for Reebok. I've done shoes for Reebok as well, as a kind of a hobby for apparel.
Es sāku apbrīnot plastmasu Es pavadīju 4 mēnešus veidojot 8 plastmasas klučus, tie ir perfekti optiski caurspīdīgi, tas bija kā tāds stresa noņēmējs. Tāpēc mani sāka interesēt zilā līmlenta, Sanfrancisko man bija vesela izstāde veltīta zilajai līmlentai. Es izveidoju veselu instalāciju no zilās līmlentas. Mana sieva jau sāka par mani uztraukties, es beidzu niekoties ar līmlentu un sāku domāt, kas vēl ir dzīvē sasniedzams? Un tā datori, šīs lielās kastes nu ir kļuvuši pavisam maziņi. šie mazākie datori, ar vienu procesoru, es sāku programmēt tos un sāku veidot instalācijas no datora pamatplatēm un LED. Sāku veidot LED gaismas skulptūras, kas dzīvoja mazās saplākšņa kastēs Šo sēriju es veidoju izstādei Itālijā. Kastes ir ļoti vienkāršas, piespied pogu un dažas LED diodes iedegās. Es veidoju arī šo lampu sēriju. Tā ir Bento lampa kastē. Tā ir kā rīspapīra lampa, ļoti draudzīga . Pagajušajā gadā man Londonā bija izstāde, veidota no iPod(-iem) Es izmantoju iPod kā materiālu. Es paņēmu 16 IPod Nano atskaņotājus un būtībā uztaisīju tādu kā Nano zivi. Šis ir nesen, tas ir Reebok. Reebok(-am) es veidoju arī kurpes tas man bija kā vaļasprieks.
So anyways, there are all these things you can do, but the thing I love the most is to experience, taste the world. The world is just so tasty. We think we'll go to a museum; that's where all the tastes are. No, they're all out there. So, this is, like, in front of the Eiffel Tower, really, actually, around the Louvre area. This I found, where nature had made a picture for me. This is a perfect 90-degree angle by nature. In this strange moment where, like, these things kind of appeared. We all are creative people. We have this gene defect in our mind. We can't help but stop, right? This feeling's a wonderful thing. It's the forever-always-on museum. This is from the Cape last year. I discovered that I had to find the equation of art and design, which we know as circle-triangle-square. It's everywhere on the beach, I discovered. I began to collect every instance of circle-triangle-square. I put these all back, by the way. And I also discovered how . some rocks are twins separated at birth. This is also out there, you know. I'm, like, how did this happen, kind of thing? I brought you guys together again.
Lai nu kā, visas šīs lietas var turpināt darīt, bet visvairāk man patīk iegūt jaunu pieredzi, izgaršot pasauli. Pasaule ir tik garšīga! Mums liekas ka, jāiet uz muzeju, tur ir visas garšas. Nē, tās ir tur - ārā. Tas ir kā šis: Eifeļa torņa pakājē, būtībā Luvras apkārtnē. To es sapratu, kad daba man parādija šo bildi: Tas ir perfekts 90 grādu leņķis dabā. Tas bija dīvains brīdis, kad tas viss notika. Mēs visi esam radoši cilvēki. Mūsu galvās ir šis gēnu defekts. Mēs nevaram tur neko padarīt. Tā sajūta ir brīnišķīga. Tas ir mūžīgi mūžos, kā muzejā. Šis ir no Keipas pagajušgad. Man vajadzēja atrast mākslas un dizaina vienādojumu, zināmu kā aplis-trijstūris-kvadrāts. Pludmalē tas bija man visapkārt.. es salasīju pilnīgi visus apļa-trijstūra-kvadrāta formas akmeņus. Es viņus atlikšu atpakaļ! Tad es atklāju, ka daži akmeņi ir dzimuši dvīņi, bet pēc tam nošķirti. Tāpat ir tur ārā. Kā tas varēja notikt? Es jūs visus atkal savedu kopā.
So, three years ago I discovered, the letters M-I-T occurring in simplicity and complexity. My alma mater, MIT, and I had this moment -- a kind of M. Night Shayamalan moment -- where I thought, Whoa! I have to do this. And I went after it with passion. However, recently this RISD opportunity kind of arose -- going to RISD -- and I couldn't reconcile this real easy, because the letters had told me, MIT forever. But I discovered in the French word raison d'être. I was, like, aha, wait a second. And there RISD appeared. And so I realized it was O.K. to go.
Pirms 3 gadiem atklāju, ka burtu salikums M-T-I parādās vārdos vienkāršība un sarežģītība Mana "Alma Mater" — MTI Tas brīdis bija kā režisoram un scenāristam M. Naitam Šeilamalanam, es domāju, Ooo! Man tas ir jādara. Un es iekarsu. Nesenā RISD (Rodailendas dizaina skola) man bija kā liela priekšrocība. Strādāt RISD, nevarētu teikt, ka tas ir viegli. Burtu salikums man visu laiku atgādināja par MTI. Es atklāju ka franču frāzē "raison d'être", man par pārsteigumu atkal parādās burti RISD. Es sapratu, ka man tur ir jādodās.
So, I'm going to RISD, actually. Who's a RISD alum out there? RISD alums? Yeah, RISD. There we go, RISD. Woo, RISD. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Art Center -- Art Center is good, too. RISD is kind of my new kind of passion, and I'll tell you a little bit about that. So, RISD is -- I was outside RISD, and some student wrote this on some block, and I thought, Wow, RISD wants to know what itself is. And I have no idea what RISD should be, actually, or what it wants to be, but one thing I have to tell you is that although I'm a technologist, I don't like technology very much. It's a, kind of, the qi thing, or whatever. People say, Are you going to bring RISD into the future? And I say, well, I'm going to bring the future back to RISD.
Tātad, es strādāju RISD dizaina skolā Kurš ir beidzis RISD? RISD absolventi? Jā, RISD labākie! Jē, RISD! Piedodiet, piedodiet, Mākslas centrs arī ir labs! RISD ir mana jaunā aizraušanās, pastāstīšu sīkāk. Tātad RISD ir... Es tad vēl nestrādāju RISD kāds students bija uzrakstījis uz sienas šo: RISB ir ..... Es nodomāju: Oho, RISD paši grib zināt kas viņi ir! Man nav ne jausmas, kādai RISD būtu jābūt, vai arī kāda tā gribētu būt. Bet man jāsaka, lai arī esmu tehnologs, man tehnoloģijas ne visai patīk. tas ir kā ķīniešu akupunktūras meistariem. Ļaudis mēdz jautāt, vai tu ievedīsi RISD nākotnē? Un es atbildu, Jā, labi, es ievedīšu RISD nākotnē.
There's my perspective. Because in reality, the problem isn't how to make the world more technological. It's about how to make it more humane again. And if anything, I think RISD has a strange DNA. It's a strange exuberance about materials, about the world: a fascination that I think the world needs quite very much right now. So, thank you everyone.
Tur ir manas jaunās perspektīves. Jo īstenībā, nav jau problēma padarīt pasauli tehnoloģijām bagātāku. problēma ir padarīt to cilvēcīgāku. Un ja kas, es domāju, ka RISD ir dīvains DNS. Tā ir dīvaina informācijas pārpilnība par materiāliem, par pasauli. Es domāju, ka pasaulei ir vajadzīgs apbrīns tieši tagad, pat ļoti! Paldies visiem!