Posts Tagged ‘moveable type’
“The historian of science may be tempted to exclaim that when paradigms change, the world itself changes with them”*…
What we now call AI has gone through a series of paradigm shifts, and there appears to be no end in sight. Ashlee Vance shares an anecdote that suggests that AI might itself be an agent (perhaps the agent) of a broader paradigm shift (or shifts)…
AI madness is upon many of us, and it can take different forms. In August 2024, for example, I stumbled upon a post from a 20-year-old who had built a nuclear fusor [see here] in his home with a bunch of mail-ordered parts. More to the point, he’d done this while under the tutelage of Anthropic’s Claude AI service…
… The guy who built the fusor in question, Hudhayfa Nazoordeen, better known as HudZah on the internet, was a math student on his summer break from the University of Waterloo. I reached out and asked to see his experiment in person partly because it seemed weird and interesting and partly because it seemed to say something about AI technology and how some people are going to be in for a very uncomfortable time in short order.
A couple days after the fusor posts hit X, I showed up at Nazoordeen’s front door, a typical Victorian in San Francisco’s Lower Haight neighborhood. Nazoordeen, a tall, skinny dude with lots of energy and the gesticulations to match, had been crashing there for the summer with a bunch of his university friends as they tried to soak in the start-up and AI lifestyle. Decades ago, these same kids might have yearned to catch Jerry Garcia and The Dead playing their first gigs or to happen upon an Acid Test. This Waterloo set, though, had a different agenda. They were turned on and LLMed up.
Like many of the Victorian-style homes in the city, this one had a long hallway that stretched from the front door to the kitchen with bedrooms jutting off on both sides. The wooden flooring had been blackened in the center from years of foot traffic, but that was not the first thing anyone would notice. Instead, they’d see the mass of electrical cables that were 10-, 25- and sometimes 50-feet long and coming out of each room and leading to somewhere else in the house.
One of the cables powered a series of mind-reading experiments. Someone in the house, Nazoordeen said, had built his own electroencephalogram (EEG) device for measuring brain activity and had been testing it out on houseguests for weeks. Most of the cables, though, were there to feed GPU clusters, the computing systems filled with graphics chips (often designed by Nvidia) that have powered the recent AI boom. You’d follow a cable from one room to another and end up in front of a black box on the floor. All across San Francisco, I imagined, twenty-somethings were gathered around similar GPU altars to try out their ideas…
Vance tells HudZah’s story, recounts the building of his fusor, explains Claude’s (sometimes reluctant) role, and raises the all-too-legitimate safety questions the experiment raises… though in fairness, one might note that the web is rife with instuctions for building a fusor, e.g., here, here, and here, some of which encuraged HudZah.
But in the end, the takeaway for Vance was not the product, but the process…
I must admit, though, that the thing that scared me most about HudZah was that he seemed to be living in a different technological universe than I was. If the previous generation were digital natives, HudZah was an AI native.
HudZah enjoys reading the old-fashioned way, but he now finds that he gets more out of the experience by reading alongside an AI. He puts PDFs of books into Claude or ChatGPT and then queries the books as he moves through the text. He uses Granola to listen in on meetings so that he can query an AI after the chats as well. His friend built Globe Explorer, which can instantly break down, say, the history of rockets, as if you had a professional researcher at your disposal. And, of course, HudZah has all manner of AI tools for coding and interacting with his computer via voice.
It’s not that I don’t use these things. I do. It’s more that I was watching HudZah navigate his laptop with an AI fluency that felt alarming to me. He was using his computer in a much, much different way than I’d seen someone use their computer before, and it made me feel old and alarmed by the number of new tools at our disposal and how HudZah intuitively knew how to tame them.
It also excited me. Just spending a couple of hours with HudZah left me convinced that we’re on the verge of someone, somewhere creating a new type of computer with AI built into its core. I believe that laptops and PCs will give way to a more novel device rather soon.
I’m not sure that people know what’s coming for them. You’re either with the AIs now and really learning how to use them or you’re getting left behind in a profound way. Obviously, these situations follow every major technology transition, but I’m a very tech-forward person, and there were things HudZah could accomplish on his machine that gave off alien vibes to me. So, er, like, good luck if you’re not paying attention to this stuff.
After doing his AI and fusor show for me, HudZah gave me a tour of the house. Most of his roommates had already bailed out and returned to Canada. He was left to clean up the mess, which included piles of beer cans and bottles of booze in the backyard from a last hurrah.
The AI housemates had also left some gold panning equipment in a bathtub. At some point during the summer, they had decided to grab “a shit ton of sand from a nearby creek” and work it over in their communal bathroom for fun.
I’m honestly not sure what the takeaway there was exactly other than that something profound happened to the Bay Area brain in 1849, and it’s still doing its thing…
Goodbye, Digital Natives; hello, AI Natives: “A Young Man Used AI to Build A Nuclear Fusor and Now I Must Weep,” from @ashleevance. Eminently worth reading in full.
And for a look at one attempt to understand what may be the emerging new pardigm(s) of which AI may be a motive part, see Benjamin Bratton‘s explantion of the work he and his collegues are doing at a new institute at UCSD: “Antikythera.” See his recent Long Now Foundation talk on this same subject here.
On the other hand: “The Future Is Too Easy” (gift article) by David Roth in the always-illuminating Defector.
(Image above: source)
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As we ponder progress, we might spare a thought for Johannes Gutenberg; he died on this date in 1416. A craftsman and inventor, he invented the movable-type printing press. (Though movable type was already in use in East Asia, Gutenberg’s invention of the printing press enabled a much faster rate of printing.)
The printing press spread across the world and led to an information revolution and the unprecedented mass-spread of literature throughout Europe. It was a profound enabler of the arts and the sciences of the Renaissance, of the Reformation (and Counter-Reformation), and of humanist movements… which is to say that it contributed to a series of pardigm shifts.
“Every great advance in science has issued from a new audacity of the imagination”*…
Itai Yanai and Martin Lercher on the importance of interdisciplinarity and creativity in science…
The hypothesis-testing mode of science, which François Jacob called “day science,” operates within the confines of a particular scientific field. As highly specialized experts, we confidently and safely follow the protocols of our paradigms and research programs . But there is another side of science, which Jacob called “night science”: the much less structured process by which new ideas arise and questions and hypotheses are generated. While day science is compartmentalized, night science is truly interdisciplinary. You may bring an answer from your home field to another discipline, or conversely, venturing into another field may let you discover a route towards answering a research question in your
main discipline. To be most creative, we may be best off cultivating interests in many areas, much like Renaissance thinkers such as Leonardo da Vinci or Galileo Galilei. But this creativity-enhancing interdisciplinarity comes at a price we may call “expert’s dilemma”: with your loss of status as a highly focused expert comes a loss of credibility, making it harder to get your work accepted by your peers. To resolve the dilemma, we must find our own balance between disciplinary day science expertise and interdisciplinary night science creativity…
Eminently worth reading in full: “Renaissance minds in 21st century science,” from @ItaiYanai and @MartinJLercher.
See also: “Night Science“
And for more: see their project’s home page and listen to their podcast.
Apposite: “8 lessons on lifelong learning from an astrophysicist,” from Ethan Siegel.
* John Dewey
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As we find a balance, we might send easily-reproducible birthday greetings to a man who was moved by necessity to cross disciplinary boundaries, Alois Senefelder; he was born on this date in 1771. A playwright and actor, was having trouble getting his plays printed; he needed a less expensive and more efficient printing alternative to relief printed hand set type or etched plates. So he invented the technique we call lithography– the biggest revolution in the printing industry since Gutenberg’s movable type.
The principle is simple: oil-based printing ink and water repel each other. The image is drawn on a stone (Bavarian limestone for Senefelder) with greasy crayon, after which the stone is soaked in water, which is absorbed into the part of the stone not covered in greasy paint. The ink is rolled onto the stone. The image areas of the stone accept ink and undrawn areas reject it. Finally, a piece of paper is pressed onto the stone, and the ink transfers onto the paper from the stone.
Senefelder called the technique “stone printing” or “chemical printing,” but the French name “lithography” became more widely adopted. Today photo lithography is used to print magazines and books, but the original process of drawing by hand on litho stones still exists in the fine art world.

“The more energy you put into trying to control your ideas and what you think about, the more your ideas end up controlling you”*…

‘Pope-Donkey’
Martin Luther’s theological battle with Catholicism and his verbal war against the Pope pioneered an attack technique that we would recognize as trolling. Luther’s grotesque caricatures of the Pope were certainly in keeping with the sixteenth century polemics that were vulgar, slanderous, and coarse. But importantly, Luther’s attacks were facilitated by a new technology — printing with movable type:
In 1523 [Martin] Luther and [his ally Philip] Melanchthon collaborated on an illustrated anti-Roman pamphlet based on the alleged appearance of two monstrosities. One, dubbed the ‘pope-donkey,’ was washed up on the banks of the Tiber river in Rome, and the other, called the ‘monk-calf,’ was born only a few miles from Wittenberg. The pope-donkey was pictured in front of the papal castle at Rome. It was a standing figure with a donkey’s head, a skin of fish scales, female breasts, a hoof and claw for feet, and the end of an elephant’s trunk for its right hand. The head of a dragon protruded from its rear. Luther deemed it a sign of God’s wrath against the papacy and warned that more omens would appear. Relying on a medieval treatise on the Antichrist, Melanchthon offered a similar reading in which, for example, the head protruding from the donkey’s rear signified the decline and demise of the papacy. …
Why would Luther and Melanchthon point such ugly fingers at the papacy and monasticism? First of all, because niceness was not a virtue in their day; and second, because, by 1523, they had been the butt of similar satire from their opponents. However, they also had more profound reasons, which went to the heart of the reformation. Luther was convinced that laity were being hoodwinked by the medieval church. … For Luther the pope-donkey and the monk-calf symbolized the futility of trusting in a religious authority that sanctioned the pursuit of perfection as the right way to heaven. On the contrary, claimed Luther, a less demanding and more merciful Christianity would liberate people from anxiety about reaching heaven and redirect their concern toward others in place of themselves. Beginning in 1518, an astounding number of people agreed with Luther, left behind the religion of their ancestors, and rallied to his side.
“Rome, however, did not buckle, and what ensued from 1520 to 1525 was a war of words and images on a scale never previously imagined. The war was made possible by a new, cheaper, and faster technology — printing with movable type. Luther’s facility with words, combined with the artistic skill of Lucas Cranach and his journeymen in Wittenberg, fed a burgeoning printing industry that gave Luther a distinct advantage in the competition to sway religious opinion. In those five years, around sixty Catholic writers produced more than 200 pamphlets and books against Luther and other Protestant authors. Many of these were theological essays of good quality, but they were written in Latin and thus inaccessible for most laypeople. In contrast, Luther wrote in a lively German style that explained clearly and directly the changes he wanted to make and the theological basis for them. It was not a fair fight. Protestant pamphlets outnumbered Catholic publications five to one; Luther alone published twice as many as all his Catholic opponents combined…
An excerpt from Martin Luther: Visionary Reformer, by Scott H. Hendrix; via Delancey Place.
* Nassim Nicholas Taleb, Antifragile
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As we refrain from feeding the trolls, we might that this date in 1582 was one of ten that simply didn’t happen in Italy, Spain, Portugal and Poland. Those countries had introduced the Gregorian calendar. While this was “October 10” in the rest of the world, those four countries, adopting Pope Gregory XIII’s innovation, skipped ten days– so that there, the date shifted from October 4 to October 15. With the shift, the calendar was aligned with the equinoxes, and the lunar cycles used to establish the celebration of Easter. Britain and its colonies resisted this Popish change, and used the Julian calendar for another century and a half, until September 2, 1752.

From a work published in 1582, the year of the calendar reform; days 5 to 14 October are omitted.
“The real questions are: Does it solve a problem? Is it serviceable? How is it going to look in ten years?”*…

Ziba, a Portland-based design firm, asked each staff member to submit his/her “top five” list of designs that have changed the way we think about the world over the organization’s 29-year history– back to 1983. They clustered the submissions around thematic statements that characterize the innovations, e.g. “The mundane shall be celebrated,” or “Connectivity is like oxygen.” Then, they captured the results in an infographic (a detail of which is above).

Explore a larger version here, and note that there are a number of things that didn’t make the cut: Napster? the GIF? Yelp?… but then, that’s the fun– and the useful provocation– of lists like this, encouraging us to make our own nominations.
A common mistake that people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.
– Douglas Adams
* Charles Eames
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As we noodle on the new new thing, we might celebrate the emergence of a design, an innovation, a technology that took on a life of its own and changed… well, everything: this date in 1455 is the traditionally-given date of the publication of the Gutenberg Bible, the first Western book printed from movable type.
(Lest we think that there’s actually anything new under the sun, we might recall that The Jikji— the world’s oldest known extant movable metal type printed book– was published in Korea in 1377; and that Bi Sheng created the first known moveable type– out of wood– in China in 1040.)





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