watch one hundred TED talks

Anand Agarawala has designed a new computer desktop interface modelled more closely on an actual desktop than what we have now. Items can be shoved around, folded, stacked, hung on the wall, or placed on shelves. I’m typically sceptical of new interfaces, and this one is no exception. I think the ability to resize icons on my desktop, however, could be useful, and the way BumpTop manipulates photos is similar to CoolIris, but perhaps even better. I think we’ll see some of these ideas on desktops soon, but his ideas largely seem to be artistic, idiosyncratic novelties.

James Burchfield turntablisms imaginary. His beatboxing is pretty darned good, but the way in which he simulates voice from a record being scratched is even better. I think he would do well to capture a little more of the performance art aspect of it; musically, I found myself wanting to listen to some RJD2 during slow spots.

Csikszentmihalyi introduces his idea of Flow, an ecstatic state of mind where one’s skill perfectly matches the difficulty of the situation in a way that causes the rest of one’s awareness to fall away. The importance of Flow is in happiness: the people who are happy in life are those who can reliably find Flow. While increasing income tends to decrease unhappiness, it doesn’t correlate at all with increasing the positive feelings of happiness. Csikszentmihalyi’s ideas are important, but his presentation here is lacklustre.

Rufus plays the electric cello, an instrument which can be a bit more percussive than the acoustic version. Bruno folds a bit of paper whilst blindfolded into a curious and amusing shape. Worth seeing.

British author and educator Ken Robinson inserts delightful humour into his speech about creativity. He explains that public school arose to fuel industrialisation, and that their curricula are hierarchically organised to provide fuel for the job market. Nowhere, he says, is there a public school that provides education in dance to the degree that mathematics is taught. He concludes with a story about the childhood of Gillian Lynne, the choreographer for Cats and for Phantom of the Opera, among many others. She was brought to a specialist as her teachers suspected her of having a learning disorder. After a few minutes of observation, the specialist concluded, “Gillian isn’t sick; she’s a dancer.”.
I also enjoyed the idea of Shakespeare sitting in English class. It boggles my mind: English class always already has Shakespeare.

Skip this one. His completely inexpert answer? Probably so.

Jill Sobule’s folksy style is a little grating to me, but her song about sunbathers and halter tops and gators in Manhattan in January is a little cute.

In a very brief talk, Marisa demonstrates some intricate art made by the Zulu as they shift to a more modern material for their weaving: telephone wire. The talk is missable, but at two and half minutes, it’s still worth the price of admission.

Alan Kay, one of the fathers of OOP and of the GUI, muses about usability and the $100 laptop. His presentation style is scattered and inexpert, but his trespass is easily forgiven because he demonstrates a beautiful idea. His thesis is that dry modes of representing technical fact are prevalent, but with innovating mentoring and new GUIs, children can learn advanced mathematical and physical concepts—moreover becoming interested in these concepts—at quite young ages. He demonstrates an optical illusion, the pythagorean theorem, the square relationship between length and area, and constant acceleration. As the concepts become more advanced, technology becomes a more inherent part of the visualisation method. I think our culture needs these ideas to overcome the (seemingly rather nascent) idea that mathematics and physics are arcane.

Majora Carter tells her personal story of growing up in the South Bronx, the environmental injustice the city has wrought upon her community, and the efforts that have been done to alleviate it. She rushes herself incredibly to pack as much information as she can in her talk. I was moved to tears a number of times, in part simply because of the intensity and passion, and in part because of the emotional nature of the subject. Near the end, she implores the audience with a phrase that chills me: “Please don’t waste me.”. It’s hard to fathom a self that contributes a quarter of what she does simply self-directed, and then has the confidence to demand that she be used even further.