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Algorithmia: An exhibition about problem solving

Algorithmia Opening Reception: Saturday March 14, 2009 at 7:00pm. Object Adjective’s own Lauren Scime curates an exhibition that explores the relationship between math, science, programming, and the effect these have on our relationship to the changing world.

Unlike many math oriented shows of the past, this exhibition does not draw the line at simply defining algorithm as the use of a mathematical equation, but rather opens up the door to a broad array of artistic interpretations, both literally and conceptually referential.

Just as the algorithms of nature constantly work in flux to solve and create problems, so does the human use of algorithmic processes towards advancement. The science fictions of yesterday are rapidly becoming the realities that shape our everyday. From iPods shuffling our favorite songs and videos, to web applications that allow us to do everything remotely online, to the “smart bombs” that target enemies of the corporate world, we are surrounded by the good, the bad, and the ugly sides of computational progress.

Algorithmia consists of both physical and web-based work, presenting diverse procedures for problem solving, and explores the ways these methods, in turn, program us.

Curated By: Lauren Scime, Bryan Hewitt, Vita Mei Hewitt.

It is the pride and honor of every designer to have the opportunity to work on something that is truly profound. Such opportunities, like designing the Jüdisches Museum, Berlin or the Tube Map for London’s Underground, seldom grace the life of a designer. But, the opportunity to design a country, is one that almost never happens.

That is, until Dutch designer Daniel van der Velden was commissioned in 2003, to design money, passports and stamps for the abandoned water fortress off the British coast, proclaimed to be the independent micro-nation of The Principality of Sealand.

As disputed and controversial as this nation status may be, the project to conceive Sealand’s visual identity was not without complexity. Part and parcel to ‘The Sealand Identity Project’ and the uniqueness of this man-made, self-proclaimed nation, was the internet, as global archive.

In a press release in 2003, Van der Velden is quoted as saying:

The consequences of the internet’s daily usage, its universal vastness and its potential to blur the boundaries between the ‘real’ and the ‘fictional’, will be key operators in the design methods employed.nettimes.org

a little history

Before we get into the complexities in designing for this particular identity project, let me give you a little history about the “country.”

During WWII, the United Kingdom decided to establish a number of military bases along the borders of the English territorial waters, to defend against German air raids. They were home to 150-300 personnel, plenty of radar gizmos and a healthy cache of anti-aircraft cannons.

After the war ended, the troops were pulled out and these water fortresses were dismantled. That is, all except for the royal fortress Roughs Tower, which was situated in international waters, of the North Sea.

In 1966, Paddy Roy Bates, a former English major, moved onto the water fortress to establish a pirate radio station. Later that year, formally 1967, Bates proclaimed the base his own state and took the title of Prince. In 1968, following defensive action taken by Sealand, towards approaching British vessels, the British courts found they could not exert any jurisdiction over Roy of Sealand, since it was outside of British national territory, and thus, provided the first formal recognition of the Principality of Sealand.

on Branding a Country

Getting back to the point, the task of branding a country is a rewarding challenge few of us designers could ever hope for. Developing the identity for the Principality of Sealand, with all of it’s absurdities is compelling on an entirely separate level. Though the proclamation of nation status, is no doubt a serious one for Prince Roy of Sealand, I have a hard time regarding this at face value. The nature of this particular nation, seems to make it more akin to great works of conceptual art, than other nations. In this way, the objectives for developing an identity, seem entirely unique.

Lets first take a look at the Principality of Sealand crest.

This is, undoubtedly, an integral part of the overall branding and identity package.

It is the nation-state equivalent to the corporate logo. The historical, seafaring influence in the Sealand crest is apparent. The serpent-lion creatures, flanking the traditional, coat of arms shield, have been long standing symbols of sea vessels. The armor helmet, fisted arrows and Latin slogan, are also common features in this sort of identity.

What sets this crest apart from others, is not it’s subject matter, but in fact the manner in which it has been rendered. Unlike the formal stuffiness or fear inducing qualities we have come to expect from a code of arms, the Sealand crest makes strides in the opposite direction.

In fact, I would go as far as to say, I would be much more likely to expect this guy (pictured left), an illustration for a childrens’ coloring book, to be on the page adjacent to the Sealand crest, than an official document of any kind.

The distinct coloring book quality of the crest, creates an atmosphere that makes a person want to giggle (and maybe even request an official Lord or Lady title, with the Principality of Sealand).

All in all, it kind of makes you feel warm and fuzzy

I couldn’t help but immediately think of Ze Frank’s Red Alert piece, about designing for Homeland Security.

In this same very spirit, Van der Velden has managed to encapsulate the vibrancy and friendly (aside from the occassional anti-aircraft blast) spirit of Sealand. His cynically happy interpretation extended from the national crest, to the official postage stamps and into every facet of Sealander life.

How can you not be a fan. Fine work Mr. Van der Velden. Very fine work. It makes me want to be a citizen. In 2007 Sealand went up for sale. Too bad I missed the boat (or country, as the case may be). This would have been a fine piece to add to the collection.

On Friday night I attempted step outside of the world of digital media and information superhighways and attended the The Edwardian World’s Faire, here in San Francisco.

The Edwardian period fascinates me for the fashion and adventure our modern lives seem so miserably to lack. The outing we planned, was intended as a brief departure into this world, and to my surprise it was very nearly approaching successful. I left behind all traces of my contemporary life, barring my iPhone and six one dollar notes, all minted in the last 3 years.

My inability to part with my iPhone, for a night in the early 1900s, is excusable by my standards, but my reasons and the resulting outcome turned out to be quite contrary. There are a dozen or more reasons why I love my iPhone, but the camera was never among them. It is fine, in all practical senses, but I have never purchased a phone for it’s camera. And I’ve never considered a mobile phone camera to truly manifest any of the prerequisite qualities of an actual camera. The evenings excursion, however, proved the iPhone camera otherwise.

recording visual images

I’ve always been a sucker for cameras. For me, nothing feels better than a fully manual, traditional camera. I like to feel the mechanics of a good camera in my hands. Digital cameras have always felt a bit foreign to me, but for the convenience, they are winning.

For the first time, the poor, grainy quality of a mobile phone camera became an asset at the Edwardian Ball and I ended up capturing some of the most compelling, apropos images of the event. The photos below, as well as the one I used in the title image for this post, were all taken with my iPhone 2 mega pixel camera. They have not been manipulated in any way.

Kinetic Steam Works installation

Kinetic Steam Works crew, manning the boiler

I was completely impressed, though I will admit, the subject at hand, made the exception. You can view more of my photos on Flickr. You can also see a collective posted in the Flickr group, Edwardian Ball.

Despite my enthusiasm for my iPhone photos, my chap August managed to capture the winner this evening, with something a device slightly more confident than 2 mega pixels. To top it off, it’s a picture of me.

Outside the Edwardian Ball

Years ago, while I was studying art at the Baskin Visual Arts Center, we were tasked with constructing an on-the-spot, interactive art piece. We had about 20 minutes to come up with a compelling art piece that embodied the fundamental principals of interactivity.

For this project I partnered up with one of my classmates. Five minutes later, we had our masterpiece. It was simple and direct. We stood before the class with two cardboard signs, a box of chewing gum and a stack of singles. The sign around my neck read, “Scream in my face for a dollar.” The sign by my partner read, “For a dollar, I’ll put another stick of gum in my mouth.”

It was the most beautiful play on an age old child’s game. We started out with 100 $1 bills and finished with close to $160, not that that was our aim by any means. Don’t ask me how he fit all that gum in his mouth; I really couldn’t tell you.

The reason I bring this up, is because this silly little piece has a lot in common with web design. Don’t believe me?

This is not print

In a brilliant article, Understanding Web Design, Jeffrey Zeldman sizes up the common misgivings and mis-disseminations about, well, understanding web design. The focus of Zeldman’s article was centered around how web design is evaluated, as design. The common comparison used by industry magistrates, is of course print and weighed against generated revenue as would make perfect sense.

Print design is a logical comparison (on the surface). It has a long standing history and is well understood¹, given it’s comfortable similarities to other “design” based, visual media, such as painting. I’m not going to argue that. Those similarities however, in the way of web design, are icing only and not the whole cake.

The true “design” experience when it comes to the web, happens in the cracks and not on the surface, as with print. The precise moment when a user decides to interact with a web application, is where the design takes place. In this way, it makes more sense to compare an application such as Facebook, to two college students handing out one dollar bills so that people can pay them to stuff chewing gum in their mouths, than it does to compare it to, say, László Moholy-Nagy’s Konstruktion.

LaszloMoholy-Nagy’s Konstruktion

Click not “click”

In contrast to the industries’ revenue hungry critics and award givers, we web designers need to focus on the snap that takes place in that sacred moment of interaction. Beautiful design, makes for beautiful snaps. So, rather than chasing “clicks” to set a benchmark, let us seek the other kind of click and make for good experiences.

¹ By understood, we mean not at all or at least not at any level worth mentioning, which becomes self-defeating in this case scenario.

Back in March of this year, a great period in web history came to pass. After months of having my plate piled as high as a Vegas buffet, I wanted to circle back and take a moment to reflect. At the time this started, I had a weekly radio show. We were one of the first radio stations regularly podcasting our shows. I never thought much of it: over the air waves, streaming across the web and now internet archives. I had a tape recorder, yes a tape recorder, as in compact cassette recorder, no big deal right? But then zefrank came on the scene with the show.

Example of the ever changing starting screen for the show

For those of you who aren’t familiar with zefrank, I highly encourage you to set aside a few minutes and indulge. “the show with zefrank” was a short video program produced Monday through Friday for exactly one year. It quickly became synonymous amongst Sports Racers, with Podcasting technology. You can catch all the greatness by visiting the archives.

more than a designer (maybe)

My first exposer to Ze, was through a short film he made called Red Alert.

still from zefrank’s Red Alert

It was all down hill from there. If I ever refer to anti-design when I write, Ze is a perfect embodiment of what I mean. I don’t mean the common Web 2.0 treatments that so often earn this label elsewhere on the web. True anti-design is much more akin to conceptual art, than traditional design. The show will be missed, as well as the other projects of awesomeness that followed, like the earth sandwich and hundreds of vacuum cleaners.