I think I did less reading this quarter than at any point since I beat dyslexia. Certainly less than any point since I started keeping track in 2011, and that includes the period when I finished my dissertation and had two kids. I'm teaching a course at a local college this semester, and lesson prep and grading has not left a lot of time for reading. But enough complaining...
slide:ology: The Art and Science of Creating Great Presentations, Nancy Duarte
Despite giving a fairly large number of presentations, I'm definitely not the audience for this. It's not really about presentations, but about sales presentations. If, like me, you have mostly factual & technical information to impart, I'm not sure how much this will help. There's a decent amount of advice in here if you're a complete graphic design novice, but there are probably better places to get that knowledge.
"The Relaxed Mind," Dza Kilung
The Relaxed Mind, Dza Kilung Rinpoche
There is perhaps a bit too much "woo" in the later chapters of this meditation manual, but it is still a good book for practice. If nothing else, I like having some meditation-related book on my bedstand/ipod: even if that book itself is not the best, it serves as an encouragement to keep practicing. The earlier two or three of the seven practices described here seem concretely useful. Maybe the latter practices will have more appeal to me as I become a "better" meditator?
"The Most Human Human," Brian Christian
The Most Human Human: What Talking with Computers Teaches Us About What It Means to Be Alive, Brian Christian
I loved this. Christian has a degree in computer science and an MFA in poetry. I can't think of a better background to write about what the Turing Test tells us about talking with (and being) human. There's good history of AI, exploration of psychology and epistemology, and tips for what makes a conversation interesting.
I'm recommending this as a great book for other technologists to learn something about "soft skills" and for non-technologists to learn about AI. I can't think of another book that comes close to providing both benefits.
Lies Sleeping, Ben Aaronovitch
This is the latest in Aaronovitch's "Rivers of London" series, which I still love. I should really write these recaps as soon as I finish reading, because it's been long enough now that I don't have anything specific to say about it. But this is the ninth volume in the series, so if you don't already have an opinion about the prior eight, there's really no need for you to have one about this.
My wife, who reads mysteries almost exclusively, has recently started this series after hearing me talk about it since 2014. It's one of the few book series we both equally enjoy.
The Labyrinth Index, Charles Stross
(1) Copy-and-paste what I said above about not waiting to write these comments. (2) Copy-and-paste what I said about already having opinions about the series since it's long running, but replace "ninth" with "twelfth."
"Gravity's Rainbow," Thomas Pynchon
Gravity's Rainbow, Thomas Pynchon
I'll be honest: I did not understand this book. I enjoyed it a great deal, but I did not understand it.
I like Pynchon as a stylist even when the narrative has me completely befuddled. As a result, even the confusing passages make for very good audiobook listening because I can let the language just wash over me.
"Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind," Shunryu Suzuki.
Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind, Shunryu Suzuki
I also didn't fully understand this book, but I feel like I wasn't really meant to. ((Actually, now that I think about it, maybe Pynchon didn't really want people to understand him either.)) I'm not sure "understanding" is even a thing you're supposed to be able to do to Zen. I think I got a lot out of it regardless. It's definitely something I'm going to revisit in the future.
"House of Suns," Alastair Reynolds
House of Suns, Alastair Reynolds
This is another winner. I haven't had this much fun reading a sci-fi book in years. It has that wide-screen baroque space opera feel that I used to get from Iain Banks books. I can't think of another story that engages so well with the sheer scope — in time and distance — of the galaxy. Before I was half way through I was already putting all of the library's other Reynolds books on my list.
The Sky-Blue Wolves, S. M. Stirling
I keep saying I'm going to stop reading this series, but then a new volume comes out just when I want a junk-food book and I read it anyway. Then I feel about as satisfied as I do after eating actual junk food. This is a fun world to mentally play around in, but Stirling is really phoning it in at this point. The Big Bad Guy that was supposed to require a world war to defeat just got knocked off in about a chapter of Dreamtime Ninja Shenanigans, and meanwhile two of our Intrepid Heroes (who happen to both be rightful heirs to continent-spanning empires) decided to have a love-child. Nice neat bow; everyone rides into the sunset.
Today I'm going to put on my Tyler Cowen hat and speculate about what art work will be valuable when humans are space-faring.
That's a pretty big range of possibilities, so let's keep things to a realistic, near(-ish) future. That means ignoring Iain Banks-type, post-singularity futures in which people are molding entire continents on ring worlds for aesthetic value alone. For the sake of argument, let's imagine a future something like that laid out in James S.A. Corey's "The Expanse" world: large population centers on artificial habitats on Mars, the asteroid belt, Jovian moons, etc. with a stable-but-tenuous economic existence. (I've been watching the latest season of the TV adaptation recently, and the latest printed volume is on hold for me at the library, so it's on my mind.)
There are myriad ways that the technology of the next several centuries could change art, but I want to think about what effects living in space specifically will have, rather than generic sci-fi-ness of the future could have.
The art market itself is also extremely broad, so here I'm thinking of mostly the upper-middle of the market more or less: not the sort of stuff at Art Basel or Gagosian, but what you might find in the off-world version of Canyon Road.
If living in space maintains the frontier aspect that I am picturing — and honestly, why wouldn't it, since it will be harder than living on a deep sea oil platform, undersea habitat or antarctic base? — then I'd predict a lot more shift to crafts and folk/outsider art.
Most obviously, the volume of living space will be constrained in a way we're not used to. (Think of living permanently on a cruise ship, or perhaps even a submarine.) I'd think that the average size of visual art will decrease to match. On the other hand, the sheer size of a canvas will itself will become a signal: a huge picture will be a prestige item simply because it makes a direct claim about how much living space you have.
This would not apply as directly to digital art, which I would expect to proliferate. For one thing, it is massless and volume-less — a nice feature when momentum, conservation of energy, and other orbital mechanical constraints play such an important role in life. Furthermore, it can be swapped out with any other work of art in a display effortlessly, which allows for both variety and flexibility in the event that living in confined conditions change our norms of privacy and personalization. (Hot-swapping living space would necessitate either bland, lowest-common-denominator, hotel room artwork, or similarly hot-swappable artwork.) The supply of digital art may also increase: with millions more people relying directly and tangibly on computerized navigation, life support, logistics, etc. it seems reasonable to suspect that some people will take their digital skills into more creative roles.
"Table Piece CCLXVI," Anthony Caro, 1975.
Will there be more sculpture? A lot of the economy of space seems (in Expanse-world, that is) to be based on mining, drilling, fabrication, etc. Will having many more people able to work a plasma torch and MIG welder lead to a proliferation of Anthony Caros? I can see an increase in supply, but on the demand side not so much. I have had dealers tell me that there is already low demand on Earth for sculpture because it is perceived by potential buyers as being awkward to display. Buying a big chunk of decorative rock or metal or ceramic would be more prohibitive in space than it is in the here-and-now.
Sci-fi designers seem to love non-rectangular corridors with lots of protruding bulkheads and other features that seem intentionally wasteful of volume. I have no idea if real space ships will actually end up like this in a case of life imitating art, but let's assume they do. This will: (a) make it difficult to hang canvases because the walls are often inexplicably not vertical, and (b) leave you with a lot of little nooks and crannies into which you might be able to fit sculpture. How would your aesthetic sense change if you didn't have blank walls to cover, but instead had lots of interstitial space between all the assorted conduits and ducts that needed to be filled?
I would expect other traditional hand-crafts to increase. A population of artisan workers — possibly with limited entertainment options due to being physically isolated from large population centers — may very well turn to crafts as a method of expression and to pass time. Textiles, perhaps? Limited living space would also mean limited possessions. Would there be a resurgence in, for instance, needlework to personalize jumpsuits? ((Because if there's one thing the sci-fi of my youth universally agreed on, it's that people on space stations will wear jumpsuits.)) Perhaps jewelry would be another outlet, if there is access to machinist skills and tools. This form of wearable sculpture would bypass the limitations of size & weight mentioned in the previous paragraph. Both jewelry and needlework might have added appeal if clothing becomes more standardized for safety or utilitarian reasons.
Materials will also be a limitation. There are no trees in space, so forget one of my hobbies, wood-working, or carving or turning. However I could see an increased demand for small wooden objects like boxes and small scale cabinetry as semi-luxury items, both because they would act as a reminder of Earth, and because living on a moving vessel would create a practical need for things to be put in containers. (Again, think of being on a ship.) Perhaps there would be a big demand for intarsia or yosegi? These both become easier with CNC tools (even if that is sort of cheating), and I assume these tools would be well provided for in space. All sorts of veneer work could be in higher demand: it can be used to mask the metal or synthetic materials that habitats would be made out of without costing significant mass or volume.
I would expect some advanced technology in terms of chemistry and materials science. What new possibilities for pigments, substrates, etc. will this open up? The exploration of hostile environments will require advances in sensor and processing technology. What effect will this have on computational photography or digital rendering? AR/VR as an artistic medium will probably be helped along.
Many beginners are often tempted to paint from photographs as source material. This often leads to problems matching colors and values well since cameras and displays don't come close to capturing the full dynamic range of human vision. Will this mismatch between cameras and our retinas cause difficulty painting landscapes if the artist's vision has to modulated through some variety of sensors or visors to protect them from radiation when observing the environment? Forget painting en plein air.
The skills and tools for ceramics and glasswork seem like they would be more common in a space ecosystem, but does the utility of materials that shatter easily go down if you live on a moving vessel? I would think so. Perhaps there is a divide between those living on moons & asteroids and those living on ships, with the former being interested in ceramics and the latter not. Perhaps one of the materials science advances is more durable ceramics, and this point becomes moot.
More broadly, will interior decoration be divided between spaces that are rigged for acceleration and those that aren't? Or those that have a definite up/down axis due to (pseudo)gravity and those that do not? Will visual artists adjust to create works that don't have a defined top or bottom so that they can be appreciated better in zero-g? Or will the opposite occur: the use of artwork and decorations to subliminally orient occupants of a space in a common direction when there is no proper "down"?
How do the aforementioned CNC and 3D printing technologies fit into purely aesthetic pursuits? Too early to tell for me.
Regarding performance arts, I have little opinion. Will scarcity of large, open spaces make theatre less common? Will live music proliferate for the same reasons I speculate that crafts might (i.e. isolated communities looking to make their own entertainment)? Or will people be sailing off into the deepness with such large digital entertainment libraries that this is unnecessary? If people become used to working and living in space suits, communicating via radio, and seeing others primarily through screens, will that increase or decrease the desire to see and hear unmediated, live performances? ((Will the choral traditions of mining communities like those in Wales or South Africa be replicated by miners of asteroids?)) I have no idea what the sign of the effect is, to say nothing of the magnitude. One thing we can be confident about is that zero or low gravity environments certainly open up huge possibilities for dance, acrobatics, etc.
To what degree are artworks made in space demanded on Earth? I once bought a (rather ugly) change dish/ashtray only because it was cast out of lava on Mount Etna in front of me. Would there be enough people on Earth that would want decorative paperweights made of chunks of Iapetus or Pallas? Will art produced in space demand a premium on Earth because of its exotic origin, or will it be scene as an inferior good from a cultural/economic backwater?
Going in the other direction, will art that is conspicuously from Earth have extra luxury status in space? "I paid to haul this dead weight up out of the gravity well just to look at it."
What themes will be explored in space-based art? My first guess is that desire for landscapes and other natural scenes of Earth would increase, to compensate for people not being able to be in "natural" environments personally. On the other hand, perhaps the early settlers in space are proud enough of their pioneer spirit that they turn their back aesthetically on Earth. ("Shrouded bards of other lands, you may rest, you've done your work..." etc.) Psychologically, it seems like the most salient themes of living in space would be isolation and danger; I would expect those to be explored. Are there any thematic elements linking the art of nomadic cultures or those living in very hostile conditions? I'm not well-versed enough to think of any, but perhaps they exist.
A common connection in my speculations is that the supply and demand may move in opposing directions (e.g. easier to make sculpture, but fewer people want them). Another is that there could be a more bifurcated art market, with higher demand for luxury items (e.g. made of wood) among a narrower portion of the space-faring population, but a broader demand for more folk-art and crafts.
I mostly don't have answers to any of the questions I raised. I think the only thing to do is hoist ourselves out of the gravity well and find out what happens.
PS I hope you read the title of this post in the same voice Mel Brooks used at the end of the History of the World Part I. I certainly did.
Edited: I just thought of another art form that could adapt to space well — bonsai. Agronomy will be critical not just for food, but for life-support systems in general. This could lead to increased prominence for horticultural pursuits.
Bonsai seems especially well-suited, given the volume constraints of space-living. I could sum up the entire goal of bonsai ((To the extend I understand it, and my experience boils down to visiting a few arboretums and attempting to grow one juniper that almost immediately succumbed to a fungal infection.)) as "let me take untamed Nature, and form it into a bite-sized version to keep inside my home," which I can definitely see the appeal of if you're traveling away from Earth and out into The Beyond. I also think an over-looked aspect of space travel is how long it will take to get anywhere translunar, so a slow form of art creation may have an intrinsic appeal.
A fukinagashi (wind-swept) style bonsai tree.
I'm very curious how forms of plants and human tastes would adapt to low- and zero-g, especially since many traditional bonsai styles are either about succumbing to gravity (cascades) or reacting strongly against it (upright). Simulating the effect of wind on a tree is also a common technique, but wind might be a somewhat foreign concept to people residing in space. ((Unless we build something like O'Neill cylinders that have coriolis winds.))
