When I was seven, my dad built me a bed, taking inspiration from a drawing in an old woodworking magazine, scavenging the wood, cutting it to fit the lean in the room. It had three drawers and cupboard space beneath for the games and toys and books I steadily acquired, as well as the growing pile of tapes for my ZX Spectrum.
Around the same time, he carved me a miniature cricket bat the length of my middle finger, notching a V, varnishing it, winding cotton for the handle grip. It’s a precious thing to me.
He has built sheds, paved patios, dug out ponds, knocked out walls, fit gas fires, tied flies — and that’s just in his spare time.
My dad is a maker.
In his twenties, my dad bought a tenor banjo. It’s a beautiful thing: ivory buttons, inlaid mother-of-pearl on the head and fretboard, vellum skin, a duster stuffed behind to keep down the volume. Looking online some years ago, I found a site devoted to vintage banjos, which told me a little about its age and history and the journey it had taken over nearly a century of existence. I told this to my dad, and he was thrilled; I printed out the pages and posted them, because computers remain a mystery to him.
Last year he told me that the screws from a couple of the tuners had broken; finding replacements was difficult, because that gauge wasn’t made any more in Britain. I registered at a banjo forum, asked for help, and within days a kind person from New York not only told me the gauge I needed, but sent a bag of screws that I posted on to my dad. They were a perfect fit. When I described how I got them, I might as well have been telling him that aliens landed in the garden and left them behind.
A couple of Christmases back, I called my parents, who were staying with my sister and her family. Could I speak to my dad, I asked? I’ll give him a shout, said my mother, but he’s been playing on the Wii with the kids from the moment they switched it on.
I finally spoke to him, surprised by what I’d heard. “Bloody marvellous, son.”
When I look at the iPad, I see something my dad could use without hand-holding to find the history of that banjo, to seek out those screws, to look at old video of Sonny Terry, to feed his glorious practical creativity, unencumbered by the need to learn the habits and quirks of computing, and not relying upon a transatlantic support department.
There’s a liberation in open things (and opening things) but there’s a far greater one in how things can open up people.
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Pingback from marks.dk – Can you buy an iPad when you’re a maker? on 3.04.2010 at 04.58
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Pingback from Infovore » Links for April 3rd on 3.04.2010 at 05.01
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Not really.
Apple could have achieved the same thing without owning the root.
What Apple have done is lock a computer (and their phone) down in a way that caused a serious scare when Microsoft were talking about it a couple of years back http://www.genomicon.com/2010/01/against-the-white-cliffs-of-neopalladium/ – Apple have done it, and for one reason or another, people absolve them of it.
A friendly interface does not warrant root-level DRM. Sorry. It’s evil.
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I don’t really have an opinion on this one way or the other, but yours is another in a long line of speculative iPad articles about the utility of the thing to other people. I’ll believe that the device is a success when I start seeing actual owners of the device talk about how great the device is for them.
Take your banjo example – how does the iPad help him find banjohangout.org to begin with? Once he’s there, how is interacting with the forum web page via the iPad easier than the same actions on a different computer? When he wants to watch that Sonny Terry video, how will he know to switch from the Flashless iPad browser to the purpose-built Youtube-only video application? Why was your story of getting those screws so weird to your dad? Seems like what you really did was find the right place and the right people to ask, not solve some crazy-intractible technological problem that Apple is poised to fix for the unlettered masses.
In summary, what Nick and Munim said. The characteristics of the device that make it interesting for people’s parents do not require the characteristics that make it offensive to programmers. To think so is a weird sort of paternalism.
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If Apple owned 90% of the market and were going to switch all their devices to the iPad model, I’d be pretty upset. Instead they are offering a product aimed at one segment of the market that historically has been brutally underserved. I’m keeping my laptop, but I might get my parents an iPad.
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Most people don’t even know what root-level drm is or care about it. Evil – nuts to that.
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Nick Taylor: “A friendly interface does not warrant root-level DRM. Sorry. It’s evil.”
Sorry, Nick, you insta-lose this argument on two counts: You clearly don’t know what DRM is if you think the iPad has “root-level DRM”; and secondly by talking about “evil”, except in relation to real evil – you know, killing innocent civilians with machetes, that kind of thing.
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Pingback from The geek civil war | TechnoLlama on 4.04.2010 at 05.46
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Nick,
I agree that Cory is a bit over the top, but the points he makes aren’t completely off the mark. The Marvel Comics thing, for example, is a pretty good deconstruction of the importance of sharing and trading for comics fans. Overall I think the saddest aspect of the App Store is that it’s a suboptimal political arrangement for developers and coders. It routes most potential creative flows for the device through Apple, and we’ve all read the accounts of overworked app reviewers misunderstanding what they’re seeing and denying releases for specious reasons after weeks or months of silent limbo.
I don’t agree that this is a “guild” concern, by the way. One of my coworkers recently got an Android phone. We were working on a project that required 24 hour monitoring of a system, and so he wrote up a tiny Python script to alert him up with a spoken message if something in the system went awry. Python is a simple scripting language, worlds away from the caricature of the disassembling “maker” with a soldering iron, even recommended as a learning environment for children. This is entry-level stuff that’s never been possible on any of the “i-” devices, more akin to the way that people excitedly write spreadsheet macros for themselves than to real programming. This is the kind of consumer/producer that the iPad shuts out: casually curious, motivated by specific, small-scale needs, and nowhere close to the Make Magazine douchebag you parody above.
A few folks brought new iPads to an event I attended yesterday, so I’ve had a chance to play with it. It’s a completely gorgeous device (if you can ignore all the finger-grease smudges), with some responsiveness problems but overall it delivers on the promise of a functionally awesome tablet computer. Still, I don’t see where it will fit in my life. It’s not going to slip in my pocket like my phone, and I can’t do work on it like my laptop. I suppose it could replace my Kindle, but I consider the non-backlit display and heroic battery life of that device to be features. I suppose it remains to be seen whether the iPad truly abstracts away all the computery bits of using a computer; I know a thing or two about leaky abstractions so I’m not particularly optimistic on this point. This doesn’t mean that it won’t be a sales success of course, just that I don’t think we’re quite at the point of replacing all our parents’ desktop machines.
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Pingback from links for 2010-04-04 on 4.04.2010 at 15.03
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Nick,
Thanks for all your responses, I appreciate that you pay attention to comments on your site. Not everyone does!
Anyway, a reaction to this: “What I meant by ‘guild mentality’ is something much broader than your example: it’s the underlying principle that productive or creative interactions with computing devices have to be tied to programmatic acts.” I understand that creativity etc. is broader than programmatic acts, but the fact is that the entire context for this discussion is the release of an electronic gizmo. You may be able to write on it, paint on it, communicate with it, play with pictures on it, or learn with it (paraphrasing Ian), but you can do that stuff with any number of other tools, while coding is the *specific type of creative act* that lets you change the terms of this particular device itself. Or would, if it was allowed.
This is why I’m unsatisfied with your “open up people” phrase that’s gotten so much attention for this post. It’s so broadly scoped as to be irrelevant to the thing being discussed. The iPad is not an inflection point, it lives on a long bendy line that stretches from Marconi to Engelbart to Bricklin to Atkinson to moot, a long hard slog towards making more things possible for more people. The thing *I’m* frustrated with is the recent willingness of talented, creative thinkers to throw up their hands and give up on the idea that programmatic thinking is a relatively easy skill to acquire – Ian’s got this in spades on his post, and it’s completely shitty and self-defeating. “Wah, not everyone knows how to manage memory in Obj-C so here’s a great new device that only lets you buy movies and play farmville.”
What will it take to help people understand that open platforms don’t require every user to also be a rockstar developer, but do allow for the possibility that people might help one another? There could be so many more interesting relationships here than consumer-to-app-store.
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Pingback from Contents of content « things magazine on 12.04.2010 at 17.26
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