As a member of the High-LowTech research group at the MIT Media Lab, my time is split between writing code, building things and teaching people. My research involves a study of connections between computation, design and craft, with the goal of finding ways to enable a broad range of people to design and build beautiful, functional and personal artifacts through computer programming. Through this research, I’ve developed several software tools and programming environments that let people design physical objects in new ways. I’ve taught a large number of workshops and classes that help people to use these tools in combination with digital fabrication machines (laser cutters, CNC-milling machines and 3-d printers) and traditional crafting techniques (sewing, wood-working and screen-printing) to create everything from lamps and furniture, to clothing and jewelry.

Many of the skills and knowledge I rely on for my work at the Media Lab were developed during my time as a student of The University of Oregon Digital Arts Program. When I talk about my work with visitors to the Media Lab, one question I get asked frequently is: “What is your educational background?” My response that I have bachelors and masters degree in fine art, and that I managed to pick up programming skills along the way usually comes as a surprise. The majority of the students and researchers at the Media Lab have prior degrees in computer science and engineering, which are considered requirements for working with technology. In fact, my background in fine arts has been extremely useful, not only in my work as a researcher at the Media Lab, but also throughout my entire career. This utility comes not just from the practical skills in construction, design and technology that I acquired as an art student, but from a larger set of guiding principles at the core of art and design. Many of these principles were imparted by my professors at the UO and reinforced through the process of making art. I’ve tried to articulate four of the most important ones here.

1) Try things that you might fail at.

One of the first classes I took in the Digital Arts program was Programming for Artists, taught by Craig Hickman. It was difficult for me to sign up for the course in the first place, because I thought I would be terrible at programming. This belief almost caused me to drop the class in the first week, when Craig showed us an intial bit of code. I managed to stick with it, and about two weeks in, Craig introduced us to the Arduino. By the 4th week, I had programmed the Arduino to work with a set of distance sensors and the computer so that an animation of a robot I created would dance when the user moved in front of the computer. It sounds trivial, but this project marked the point when I first understood the potential of computation. It was also when I realized that programming was fun. After finishing my first programming course, I signed up for another, and eventually another. After I graduated, I got a job as an interactive developer. The work was sometimes stressful, but more frequently, it was rewarding. Later, my experience gave me the confidence to apply to MIT. Through the process of pursuing programming, I struggled and made mistakes. In the long run however, the experience was well worth the uncertainty and difficulty. The risk I took in signing up for one programing class eventually changed how I see the world completely. It was also a lot of fun.

2) Talent helps, but practice will get you much farther.

This is something you’ve probably heard before, but in art, where success is frequently attributed to vision and genius, it’s useful to be reminded. Working in studio courses with the faculty in the Digital Arts department gave me an opportunity to learn from people whose work I was in awe of. After spending time in their classes, I realized that the success of my professors’ work was the result of significant time, energy and focus. This attitude was often reflected in their instruction. On the first day of my 3D modeling course, Chris Coleman, told us that if we were serious about learning to model, we should be prepared to put in the necessary time. If we were really serious, our social lives would suffer a bit. Michael Salter told us that pursuing a career as an illustrator was difficult; the best place to start was by drawing every single day. In Multimedia Design, Colin Ives encouraged us to practice programing like we would any other artistic or design skill, which meant creating projects, seeking feedback, and using the feedback to make the projects better. Lather, rinse, repeat. In almost every course I took, the idea of practice was emphasized over and over. Fortunately, an undergraduate education is optimal environment for this form of practice. College is one of the only times where you are actively encouraged to improve your skills by spending long hours in the studio, working on projects that are important to you. I highly encourage any current Digital Arts students to take advantage of the time you have now. After you graduate, you’ll realize how rare opportunities like this are.

3) Communication is important

As an artist or a designer, one of your primary tasks is effectively communicating your ideas. No matter what medium you have chosen, in some way, shape or form you are telling a story, or sending a message with your work. Part of this story is expressed through the work itself, and well-executed pieces do a good job of communicating in this way. A key part of the communication however, takes place in how you write about the work, and how you talk about it with other people. The process of writing or preparing to talk about your work is not easy. As a part of the Digital Arts BFA terminal project, we were required to write 100 word artist statements. This was a task that all the students in my year, found frustrating and tedious, especially as we were scrambling to finish the projects themselves. In spite of this frustration, writing the statement turned out to be worthwhile. The completed statement allowed me to better explain, and justify my work to people who weren’t artists. (This is important.) In addition, the process of writing about my work forced me to re-evaluate the ideas behind my project and improve them. In the end, writing the statement did more than improve my ability to talk about the work; it made the work itself better, and it got me thinking about what I wanted to make next.

4) If you love doing something, you’ll eventually figure out why it’s meaningful.

Michael Salter told me this when I took his illustration course. At the time, I was working on a set of illustrations of cartoon monsters and robots which had taken me most of the semester to finish. In the midst of drawing however, I had gotten stuck on trying to figure out why the characters were important. I felt I shouldn’t continue with the illustration until I could explain the artistic significance of the project. Salter told me to stop worrying and keep drawing. Gradually, he helped me to realize that pleasure and enjoyment are important elements of making art. It’s useful to regularly examine and refine ideas behind your work, but there will always be open questions about why you do what you do. In the mean time, if something feels right, or you have fun doing it, then that’s probably a sign that you’re headed in the right direction. Keep working, pause and take time to reflect, and something valuable and significant will usually emerge.

I still haven’t figured out why robots are important, but I’m continuing to make them…