For the love, not the likes

A couple months ago, my GPS watch stopped syncing with Strava. For whatever reason at the time, I was unable to restore the connection. I was also not in a position to spend $$$ on a new GPS watch, so since this disconnect was introduced my activities have no longer been pushing out to the popular social network for endurance athletes. As an active daily user who dished out boku kudos, I was initially quite bummed. And because I wasn’t posting to Strava, I stopped opening the app and reviewing what my friends were doing.

In the days since, I’ve noticed my mindset has been much healthier with respect to my exercise activities. So much of my time spent in Strava was me comparing my stats, paces and distances to others’. This resulted (subconsciously) in feeling pressure to always push harder, faster and further. I was losing the joy associated with getting outside and moving my body through the natural world.

In recent weeks, it’s been refreshing to get out for runs, rides and climbs simply for my own personal enjoyment, rather than feeding the ego associated with throwing down something epic for the kudos. It’s funny how this small technical hiccup has allowed me to recenter on my love for movement outside instead of the dopamine that came from the likes after the fact.

If You Love It, Set It Free

It’s release day for my team at REI. We’ve been working tirelessly for the past few months to build a tool that makes pricing product in our stores easier and less painful for employees. Our goal is to replace an archaic, manual & paper-based workflow with a modern, scalable, digitally-supported tool and standard operating process (SOP) that streamlines sales floor operations across the Co-op.

This morning, we deployed the tool to our first group of pilot stores. Exciting! As a data-driven product manager, these days are like Christmas morning. It’s like I woke up to some new datasets under the tree and I can’t wait to unwrap them to see what insights might be inside.

Every now and then I catch myself lamenting that I don’t work on products with millions of users or billions in revenue. But then I catch myself on days like this when I can see the thing we’ve built in the hands of REI’s amazing employees. I can see them using it and the positive impact it makes in their daily lives. I can hear the pain points surfaced in our feedback channels rapidly fade off into the distance. I can watch the thing we’ve built make our stores a better place to work for more than 10,000 people who wear the REI green vest with pride.

I think that kind of direct, measurable impact is something special.

The next few weeks will likely be hectic as the team analyzes and responds to usage data, fields feedback from employees, and optimizes for rollout to all 190 locations. When we get to that point, I’ll circle back with some insights.

On Marshmallow Longtermism

Cory Doctorow – writing for Locus Mag and using the Stanford marshmallow experiment as an allegory – tears down the inherent flaws of the conservative premise that self-discipline is a determining factor on someone’s chances in life:

On average, the kids who “fail” and eat the marshmallow rather than waiting and doubling their haul were poorer, while the “patient” kids were from wealthier back­grounds. When the “impatient” kids were asked about the thought process that led to their decision to eat the marshmallow rather than holding out for two, they revealed a great deal of future-looking thought…The adults in these kids’ lives had broken their promises many times: Their parents would promise material comforts, from toys to treats, that they were ultimately unable to provide due to economic hardship.

Conversely, those kids who were able to delay their gratification for double the reward came from wealthier homes:

Which means that the “patient” kids weren’t demonstrat­ing “self-control” – rather, their willingness to wait for a second marshmallow reflected a charmed life in which adults came through with the goodies they promised. That same charmed life saw those subjects enrolled in the best schools, backstopped by tutors and college application consultants, significant parental financial contributions to excellent postsecondary education, and smooth entry into the job market.

Self-discipline and delayed gratification are virtues worth developing in all humans. Our planet and future generations depend on it. But it can only be done when people are on equal footing stable enough to allow for that development.

Mouthful of Trail

A photo of tall pines at sunrise

We have some pretty technical trails here in Western Pennsylvania and I’m usually reliable for a good fall every few months. In my mind, it goes with the territory of running on top of rocks, roots and mud. Even the best and most accomplished trail runners bite the dust. It’s been quite some time – over a year I think – since I’ve taken a digger on a run, but today was my day!

I’ve been getting out early, pre-dawn with a head torch, and pushing my pace on some faster, shorter jaunts. Today, however, I decided at the start that I’d take a relaxed route and go super easy.

The first mile was awesome. Air was a warm 67º F and it hasn’t rained in a week so the trails were perfection. Feeling excellent, I entered the section of North Park’s red trail where the tall pines pierce the sky like wooden daggers.

Then I felt it. You know what I’m talking about. I felt my toe catch on an object underfoot and everything went into slow motion. In no particular order all of the following rushed through my brain prior to my hitting the ground:

  • Was that a rock or a root?
  • I wonder if I can save this?
  • Nope, not gonna be able to save this.
  • Oh man, this is a rocky section of trail.
  • Shit, this is gonna hurt.
  • How should I land? Brace with hands or tuck-n-roll?
  • When is the last time I fell? I can’t remember.
  • Ground approaching, prepare for impact.
  • FUUUUU….

And then it was over. There I was, layed out in the wooded darkness, headlamp shining vertically up into the emerging sky, with a mouthful of trail. I spit out the dirt, brushed myself off and took a moment to assess my condition.

All good. Nothing broken. No blood. All I have to show is a few scratches on my knee and elbow, and a bruised ego. Hopefully I’m good for at least a year until the next one.

The New Slang

Jason Fried making an analogy that companies are like complex languages where new executives sometimes struggle to gain proficiency:

A casual browse through LinkedIn at C-level folks will unearth many short tenures. 2 years. 3 and a half. Sometimes just 1. It’s incredibly hard to become a high-expectation native speaker in such short order. This leads to what I call “churnover” — a high turnover rate driven by the churn of executives struggling to fully integrate into their new corporate language.

It’s an astute observation. I’ve seen this over and over during my time in retail. A new executive comes in, speaks an entirely different language, is unable to gain traction and ultimately leaves for greener pastures in short order.

The great leaders, however, are able to quickly assimilate into the existing culture. They learn and speak the language of the locals, while working to introduce new and effective colloquialisms as they earn trust across the organization.

Death to the Algorithm

As someone who was born on the blurry border between Generation X and the Millennial generation, I remember a time before the internet and I fondly recollect my curiosity surrounding the emerging internet in the late-90s. The infant internet was an extremely strange place. There were very few rules, even fewer boundaries and – as far as I could gather – no limits to the interconnected potential of this new universe.

I wanted to know how it worked, so I too could have a hand in creating the magic of the World Wide Web. I viewed page sources and inspected elements to learn how HTML and CSS fused together to make websites. I started making my own sites and added them to webrings. Remember those?

AOL gave way to Geocities gave way to Blogger gave way to Wordpress, which led to MySpace which led to Twitter. At the dawn of early social media, I felt just as excited about using the web to connect and share with likeminded people who were equally excited about the promise of digital culture. The early days of Twitter felt like the Wild West. Everyone was exploiting the tech for their own needs via open APIs and user-generated features like the hashtag.

The progress in this space in the early- to mid-2000s was a thing of wonder. We started to see its impact on communities, politics, art + culture, and social justice. Social media had become the great democratizer.

And then somewhere along the line money, user data, and algorithms took over.

Reverse chronological timelines morphed into algorithmic feeds labeled ‘For You,’ but the feeds don’t actually show posts from the people you follow. This helped create the attention economy and influencers were born. Shortly after, the 2016 & 2020 elections helped create a toxic level of political polarization, online echo chambers fortified the barriers between those polarized, and misinformation campaigns continue to feed the flames of the burning social stack.

I’m done with all that. Over time I’ve learned that participating in the attention economy negatively impacts my mental and emotional well being and I am making a conscious choice to walk away from it. In support of this decision, I am rethinking how I spend my time online. Connecting and sharing with people is still important to me, but I want to do it in a mindful and responsible way. Here’s how I plan to do this:

  • Reinvest in publishing on a personal domain. I’ve written on the web since I was a kid and I really enjoy the act of working through thoughts and then putting those thoughts out into the world to see what comes back. A personal site allows for writing at a deeper level than social media will allow and I maintain control over the final product. This website – built on the Micro.Blog platform and underlying Hugo CMS – will be my home for that moving forward.
  • Integrate with the social web. I’ve consolidated my social media use to Mountains.Social, a decentralized instance of Mastodon that caters to outdoors enthusiasts. The people are friendly, the community is vibrant, the culture is healthy and there are no algorithms. I’m enjoying my time there. Check it out if you’re interested, or not. No pressure. All posts here will automatically cross-post there, as well as Bluesky (although I am not really hanging out there very much).

So here’s to hoping I can enjoy a healthy relationship with the internet again. The spirit of the open web was a philosophical pillar for me at one point in my life, and I’m hoping that it will be again. Hello, old friend.

Implications and Insights of the Modern Product Leader

I’ve been a subscriber to Implications, a monthly Substack newsletter written by Scott Belsky, for some time now. The issues I’ve read so far have been quite enjoyable, as Belsky provides deep analysis that explores what we might expect to come from rapid advancements in technology, shifts in culture, and the evolution of product design & management.

The latest installment includes a section called Insights from the Modern Product Leader and there are some great thought nuggets for product managers to consider as we work on our individual practices.

On the topic of resources versus resourcefulness, and the nuances that exist between them, Belsky writes:

I like to say, if resources are carbs that you can throw at your problems, resourcefulness is muscle that has far longer lasting power and is worth building (despite the pain of doing so).

This is great context for approaching resourcefulness with a growth mindset. It’s something the triad of my product team works on consciously and regularly. Building that muscle is important to ensure our resiliency through ongoing organizational change.

And on product vision, he proposes a thoughtful triad of considerations:

Clarity In Product Strategy: Does every product have a flag planted and a roadmap for how to get there? We should always have a 3-year vision coupled with an annual plan, and your teams should be aligned around what this is throughout your organizations.

Great product teams have a clear strategy and are able to articulate the path to achieve it. Great organizations position product teams to ladder their product strategies up to a broader set of strategic objectives for the company._

Steward The Narrative for Your Segment or Function: The narrative of why your work matters and how your strategy impacts customers is yours to write, share, and iterate.

The internal PR for a product is often overlooked by teams because they are largely, and rightly, focused on executing the work. Telling the story of the work – the impact it will create, the benefits it will provide and the process used to deliver – is an important piece to a product team’s success, and can lend weight to the resiliency efforts outlined above.

Optimistic About Future, Pessimistic About Present: Do you lead with a balance of excitement and vision for the future of a segment/function — and willingness to take big bets — coupled with a pragmatic focus on obstacles and tasks to be done? Are you direct with what is going right and what is going wrong?

This is great. Balance is vital. Great product leaders are simultaneously able to understand long-term goals, but are also realists about current state. They can see either the stepping stones of incrementality and/or the seismic shifts they need to force in order to get to the objectives, and they have the wisdom, empathy, and creativity to understand when to employ each.

Hear No Evil: Jesse Welles, slimdan, Font, Glass Beams

As summer winds down, here are a few artists & records that have been in my heavy rotation lately.

  • Jesse Welles is like an angry Josiah & the Bonnevilles. His new album Hells Welles is a cathartic teardown of modern society. Think Arlo Guthrie singing about Boeing whistleblowers.
  • Second Dinner by slimdan has been in my heavy rotation for a few weeks now. I am simply loving his pop-driven songs. They’re smart and catchy, and carry melodies that seem both familiar and fresh at the same time. My favorite track on the record is Wimbleton White.
  • Font is scratching my indie-rock itch these days. Elaborate and angular, the songs on their 2024 release Strange Burden swell with substance. Complex time signatures and counterpoint lines weave throughout. But you can still feel the groove and dance to it.
  • If you’re looking for some chill, instrumental tunes to put on while working or relaxing, Glass Beams may be of interest. Hailing from down under, their trance-inducing vibes are feel-good and groovy. You can be productive and bounce your head at the same time.

2024 Rabid Raccoon Midnight Half Marathon

This past weekend on March 17, I ran what has become my favorite trail race: The Rabid Raccoon Midnight Half Marathon. It’s one of several distances – 100M, 100K, 13.1 morning & 13.1 midnight – offered by Wolf Creek Race Management under the Rabid Raccoon banner. The concept is simple: Show up at midnight and run 13.1 miles through the woods in complete darkness while dealing with serious elevation, unpredictable weather conditions and sleep deprivation. How awesome is that!

My first experience with this race was last year in 2023. Temperatures were brutal, 19º at the start and 13º at the finish. My water froze within the first few miles, the course was extremely challenging, and after running for a few hours in the woods I was pretty close to hypothermic. But I persevered and finished in the top ten. So when registration opened up for the 2024 race, I had to toe the line again.

There were some changes implemented this year, however. The race location was moved to Brady’s Run, a quaint community park located in Beaver Falls. The race was also changed to a half-marathon, when in previous years it was a 20 miler.

Auto-generated description: Two men in a sports facility pose in front of a large RR10 sign, with various banners and a tennis court in the background.

Having done a bit of recon with Rob a few weeks ahead of time to understand the course, I made a couple mental notes and developed a simple strategy for my race:

  • The first ~5 miles are pretty flat and take place on a mix of road, crushed limestone, grass and jeep trails. I planned to take these quickly, but not red line. If I could keep these miles at or just under 8-minute miles, I thought I’d be in good pack position going into the single track with enough gas to push my tempo for the remaining 8 miles.
  • There are three significant climbs on the course: mile 5, mile 9 and mile 11. I planned to be conservative on the climbs and then bomb the flats & downhills. It is all downhill for the last 2 miles after the final climb at 11. If I kept enough gas in the tank to open up the throttle on those final 2 miles, it could be a very strong finish.
Auto-generated description: A line graph displays the elevation profile of a 13-mile route, with varying altitudes ranging between 600 and 1,400 feet.

Toeing the line this year was a very different experience than last year. First of all, temperatures were in the 50s (balmy!) with showers slated for just after midnight. Second, the start and finish lines were inside the Brady’s Run recreation center, which gave people a nice place to hang out before and after the race.

About five minutes before midnight, Rob and I entered the starting corral with 121 other runners. After some pre-race announcements and the national anthem, the airhorn sounded and we were off.

Out of the gate I hung with the middle of the pack in order to settle into a groove. After about a quarter mile, I looked at my watch and noticed we were cruising at about a 9 minute mile. I decided to pick it up to 7:45 and this started to create some separation from the pack. At this time it looked that there were about 10 runners ahead – 3 or 4 way out front (probably running sub-7) and 5 or 6 within striking distance.

I held strong and reserved at 8:15 through the first 2.5 miles and picked off 2 or 3 runners during that road section. At mile 2.5 there was a small climb to another 2.5 miles of jeep trail. Once on the jeep road, I was surprised to find flow again right at 7:45. This is where it started to get muddy; there were some splashy sections and some peanut buttery sections. Between mile 3 and 5, there was a guy drafting me, breathing super heavy. I got a sense he was pushing pretty hard to keep up.

The Breather and I ran together all the way to the mile 5 climb. My strategy was to power hike the three major climbs so once we were on the first, I settled into a driving power hike. The Breather had different intentions so I let him pass and he continued to run up the incline.

With The Breather now pulling away from me, I found myself in the situation I remembered from the previous year: just me – alone – in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night.

At the top of the hill, I kicked it back into gear and settled into a moderate trail pace over the flowy single track. I basically ran the next 8 miles completely alone, except for some 100-milers who were in the zombie phase of their adventures.

There was a great stream crossing just before the mile 9 climb. I remembered this stream from the recon run with Rob, but was surprised to find it as high as it was. The water was up to my thigh at one point.

The climbs at 9 and 11 went as planned but the rain started somewhere along the way and the mud was getting progressively worse. There was one section on the final climb where I was literally calf-deep in mud and thought my Lone Peaks were going to get sucked off my feet. Quicksand-type stuff.

As I neared the top of the final climb, I saw some headlamps ahead. Still feeling good and with only 2 miles left, I turned on the jets. I saw myself gaining on one of the runners ahead who was walking. It was The Breather! I took him pretty quickly and locked in on two more headlamps ahead.

By this time I was pushing pretty hard and I didn’t seem to be gaining on the two runners ahead. I kept pushing but never caught them. They must have saved some juice for their kick as well. The final descent to the rec center and finish line was pretty dicey with all the mud and rain, but I traversed it without issue and sprinted inside to finish the race in 2 hours 6 minutes. I placed 6th overall.

I love this race and recommend it to anyone who enjoys unique experiences and challenges in their adventures. Kudos to Wolf Creek on the success. I’ll definitely be back next year and will likely make this an annual tradition moving forward.

The 2023 Pittsburgh Marathon

On this #MedalMonday, I’m posting an update for all of you who donated to to my Pittsburgh Marathon Run for a Reason cause, UPMC Children’s Hospital Foundation.

TL;DR: It was not my day time-wise, but it became – hands down – my most memorable and meaningful race.

The first 15 miles were perfection. I felt great, held to my target pace and kept up with my nutrition. Then at mile 16, my legs started cramping and I knew I was in for a long haul for the remaining 10 miles. Between 16 and 19 my pace slowed significantly. I could run for a bit, but then my legs would seize and I’d need to stop and work out the cramps.

My family was positioned at 19 to spectate. When I saw them, they knew I was struggling. The First Aid volunteers at 19 gave me two syringes of sodium chloride to help with the cramping and I was seriously considering dropping.

While talking it through with First Aid, I saw my son Elliott stretching out his quads. He then came over and said in so many words, “You’re not dropping. I’ll run you in. Let’s do the last 7 together.”

So we did. We went slow and I suffered. But he kept my spirits up and motivated me to push forward, even offering to put some Goggins clips on repeat (Stay Hard!). Those last 7 were the most meaningful miles I’ve run to date. It wasn’t pretty, but we got it done.

Very poetic too, that I was fundraising for Children’s Hospital, which cared for Elliott the first few days after he was born. All in all, we raised more than $1,600 for UPMC Children’s Hospital. Thank you to everyone who donated. Your support means so much.

2023 Pittsburgh Marathon

On this #MedalMonday, I’m posting an update for all of you who donated to to my Pittsburgh Marathon Run for a Reason cause, UPMC Children’s Hospital Foundation.

TL;DR: It was not my day time-wise, but it became – hands down – my most memorable and meaningful race.

The first 15 miles were perfection. I felt great, held to my target pace and kept up with my nutrition. Then at mile 16, my legs started cramping and I knew I was in for a long haul for the remaining 10 miles. Between 16 and 19 my pace slowed significantly. I could run for a bit, but then my legs would seize and I’d need to stop and work out the cramps.

My family was positioned at 19 to spectate. When I saw them, they knew I was struggling. The First Aid volunteers at 19 gave me two syringes of sodium chloride to help with the cramping and I was seriously considering dropping.

While talking it through with First Aid, I saw my son Elliott stretching out his quads. He then came over and said in so many words, “You’re not dropping. I’ll run you in. Let’s do the last 7 together.”

So we did. We went slow and I suffered. But he kept my spirits up and motivated me to push forward, even offering to put some Goggins clips on repeat (Stay Hard!). Those last 7 were the most meaningful miles I’ve run to date. It wasn’t pretty, but we got it done.

Very poetic too, that I was fundraising for Children’s Hospital, which cared for Elliott the first few days after he was born. All in all, we raised more than $1,600 for UPMC Children’s Hospital. Thank you to everyone who donated. Your support means so much.

Canadian Roadtrip: Quebec City

Canadian Roadtrip: Montreal

Canadian Roadtrip: Toronto

Had a great time in Toronto. Checked out the CN Tower and the Ice Hockey Hall of Fame.

Canadian Roadtrip: Niagra Falls

We did all the touristy things. Probably one of the nicest hotel rooms we’ve ever stayed in.

2021 Laurel Highlands Ultra (DNF)

Made it 46 miles of the 71. Stomach went south at Seven Springs and I could not recover. Pushed on for another 20 miles but decided to call it at Rt. 31 aid station. Here’s a pic of me just as it was starting to get bad.

Self-supported FKT on the Rachel Carson Trail (Westbound)

Decided to give this a go as my last epic training run ahead of Laurel Highlands Ultra in June. The day before, I dropped supplies at Bull Creek Road (10 miles), Springdale High School (20 miles), Emmerling Park (28 miles) and North Park (38 miles). Then I parked my car at the North Pittsburgh chamber of commerce near the Western Terminus in Wexford.

The morning of the run, I caught a Uber up to Natrona Heights. I left the Eastern Terminus shortly before 7am. Nutrition consisted of Tailwind, Honey Stinger waffles, potato chips, Twinkies, Mt. Dew and Clementine oranges. The run went pretty much as planned, which is an exception when it comes to ultras. Got pretty low around mile 30 but pushed through and finished with an elapsed time around 11 1/2 hours.

This trail is a beast and a true gem of the Pittsburgh area!

Glacier Ridge Trail 50 Mile Substitutional

GRT was cancelled, so Dani and I ran loops in North Park until we hit 50 miles.

2020 NPTR Frozen Goat

Frozen Goat 20-miler. It was cold!

2019 Winter Solstice RCTC

1st annual winter solstice run on the Rachel Carson Trail.

2019 Fire on the Mountain 50k

I’m officially an ultrarunner. Fire on the Mountain 50k was amazing. Finish time: 6 hours, 46 minutes.

Wynwood Walls

Went to Wynwood and took in some nice street art. Shepherd Fairy. Swoon. Good stuff.

Something about permissive street art rubs me the wrong way, however. It’s absent of the elements of the genre that I really enjoy. The subversion. The humor. The middle fingers.

The Day After

Today is hard. Much harder than I thought it would be. I’m heartbroken for my kids. I’m heartbroken for my friends. And I’m heartbroken for our future together.

The best we can do is learn. The most we can do is try to empathize with each other. The right thing to do is keep moving forward. Keep pushing for progress. Organize. Activate. Mobilize.

Keep working.

You can subvert or you can submit.

The Light Clock

Auto-generated description: A dimly lit plaza features a tall, rust-colored sculpture and a vintage-style clock on a pole.

Late last year, the Hillman Photography Initiative at Carnegie Museum of Art (CMOA) invited the Innovation Studio to join planning discussions for its next cycle of activities, a calendar year filled with artist projects, events and public programming. Those discussions have coalesced nicely into LIGHTIME, which kicked off earlier this month and investigates photography as it relates to two of its most fundamental elements: light and time.

We’ve been working closely with museum staff over the past ten months to develop a physical identity for LIGHTIME’s slate of activities over the next year. Today, we’re super excited to share the Light Clock, a physical interactive installation on the museum’s public plaza and main entrance.

The Light Clock is actually comprised of two main components:

  • The curious clock itself (outside the museum), which conveys the passing of time through a continuously swooping solitary hand. This hand makes a rotation every 5 minutes and each time it gets to the top, the clock captures a 360º image of the museum plaza. It will do this 24/7 for 15 months, resulting in hundreds of thousands of images. Every one of these images is instantly sent inside the museum to…
  • An interactive visualization (in the museum lobby) that remixes the captured imagery into a participatory experience for museum visitors. We’ve installed several large displays and an interaction zone, where visitors physically spin their bodies to control their point-of-view (spinning left) and the lens of time (spinning right).

As you can imagine, there are many moving parts to this complex project, so we produced a documentation video that we think does a good job of succinctly summarizing our project process.

###The Process

As Caroline says in the documentation video, this project was the ultimate new media challenge. Our process began in December of 2015, when conversations with the Initiative’s leadership and artist agents landed on a fantastic quote from critical theorist Roland Barthes.

For me the noise of Time is not sad: I love bells, clocks, watches — and I recall that at first photographic implements were related to techniques of cabinetmaking and the machinery of precision: cameras, in short, were clocks for seeing, and perhaps in me someone very old still hears in the photographic mechanism the living sound of the wood.” ― Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography

This concept — cameras as clocks for seeing — is driving every aspect of this cycle of the Hillman Photography Initiative, from the four artist-led projects through to our work with the clock. This quote has been our foundation and we regularly came back to it as we made design and experiential decisions throughout the project.

With the Barthes quote in the front of our mind, the Innovation Studio’s first step was to lead CMOA through a discovery process designed to unearth institutional goals and priorities, departmental objectives, aesthetic preferences, and logistical realities. We gathered the stakeholders together and held a series of discovery sessions through which we asked intentional questions like “What stories must the Light Clock tell?” and “Who uses the Light Clock?” and “What is your all-time favorite clock? Why?” These types of questions passively pulled out details that were important to the CMOA team. We then turned these findings into an extensive creative brief that ultimately defined the project requirements moving forward.

The nice thing about starting from scratch with a comprehensive discovery process was that we had the time and flexibility to complete several drafts of the creative brief. Getting the creative brief just right was crucial because it would be the document we would be responding to with our concept pitches. It’s at this point the project started to get fun. We took a few weeks to explore the craziest of concepts and follow loose but exciting ideas down into rabbit holes. And we invited really smart, talented people we respect greatly (like designer Brett Yasko) to probe these concepts with us. On the other side of all these exploratory activities we ended up with two solid ideas, one of which is the concept that stands in front of the museum today.

We pitched it. CMOA dug it. Now, to build it. It was already April and we were cruising quickly toward a CMOA target date of September 9th. From the beginning it became clear that this project had so many moving parts and would require participation/investment from many people and departments, not only within CMOA, but across Carnegie Museums of Pittsburgh. We would need a detailed requirements document to keep everyone on the same page with respect to timelines, roles/responsibilities, project scope and budget. Once these final details were formalized, we started designing and developing.

It turned out to be a busy summer the core Studio project team, which shook out to be myself, Caroline Record, Drew McDermott and Sam Ticknor. We don’t keep a clock maker on staff, so we partnered with Verdin Bells and Clocks, who proved to be up for the challenge. Tommy Verdin and his team became invaluable collaborators on this project, advising us on myriad mechanic, design and fabrication decisions.

Auto-generated description: A large outdoor scale with a round dial is positioned on a plaza in front of a building with large glass windows. Auto-generated description: A surveillance camera with dual lenses is mounted on a pole against a cloudy sky.

The 360º camera rig that sits atop the clock was a particularly interesting challenge for us to solve. Our requirements for the camera were that it needed to capture 360º imagery, it needed to be powered using Power-over-Ethernet (PoE) and it needed to be weathertight for an entire year of outside use. Nothing off the shelf existed that would meet these requirements, so we reached out to camera manufacturers and ended up working closely with surveillance company OnCam to invent a rig that would work for us.

While the outside components of the clock were very challenging, the visualization inside the museum also presented some large obstacles for us. Our initial concept for the visualization was a projection, but we quickly discovered that light levels through the lobby’s wall of windows were too high to support projection within our project budget. So we changed course to focus on a matrix of digital displays, and ultimately settled on several 70" monitors hung in portrait orientation to form a subtle semicircle.

In order to detect the spinning of a visitor, we mounted a camera directly overhead in the ceiling. This sensing component of the project presented some very specific challenges for us, and Sam will be digging a bit deeper into this in a future blog post.

###The Current Moment

Coming out of the discovery sessions with CMOA, it became clear that the museum wanted to delicately walk a line between embracing selfie culture and moving beyond it. The museum wanted visitors to be able to see themselves in the clock, but also wanted to convey stories in addition to personal likenesses becoming part of the visualization.

We addressed this complexity by creating something we refer to as The Current Moment. Every five minutes, when the clock takes a picture outside the museum, the photo that was just taken emerges within the visualization in its entirety. This gives visitors the ability to see themselves in the clock and experience their participation in this current moment. The visualization is completely functional and useable while the current moment is appearing. After a minute, the current moment then dissipates and becomes a part of visualization’s remix.

###Is it Art?

This project is interesting to me because it effectively blurs the lines between art object, gallery interpretation, marketing strategy and museum technology. In essence, we created a physical thing for an art museum. The physical thing occupies space twenty feet to the left of a Richard Serra and fifty feet to the right of a Henry Moore. The physical thing has a wall label just like the museum’s Monet.

So is the Light Clock art? If so, it pushes the museum to consider where art objects can come from. To think the museum’s collection could regenerate from within is mind-blowing. If the Light Clock is not art, than what is it? Does it deserve a record in the museum’s collection management system?What happens to the clock 15 months from now when this cycle of the Initiative is over? Does it go into storage or into the dumpster? These are all meaningful questions. Questions that push us forward as a field. Questions I’m glad our museums are starting to discuss.

###Acknowledgements

This is the part where we thank people. A lot of people. So many people helped make this project a reality and without each and every one of these brilliant, creative and dedicated people the Light Clock would still be a figment of our imagination:

Jo Ellen Parker, Lynn Zelevansky, Divya Rao Heffley, Natalia Gomez, Catherine Evans, Dan Leers, Brad Stephenson, Matthew Newton, Bryan Conley, John Lyon, John Surloff, Kevin Gafner, Tony Young, Traci Moore and OnCam , Tommy Verdin and Verdin Bells & Clocks, openFrameworks and Arturo Castro, Brett Yasko, Tom Fisher, Ryan Sanderson, Ashley Czerniewski-Hagan, Nico Zevallos, Jason Fletcher, Golan Levin, Prasanna Velagapudi, Liz Deschenes, Steffani Jemison, Laura Wexler, Clear Story, MAYA Design, and Wall to Wall.

Support for the Hillman Photography Initiative is provided by the William T. Hillman Foundation and the Henry L. Hillman Foundation.

Fault Lines

Innovation starts on the fringes. It germinates on the edges and festers in the shadows. It begins below the surface where the dissidents and dissatisfied reside, and it is from these depths that seismic shifts occur.

These shifts rarely happen slowly and incrementally. We may think of them as glacial, but the historical evidence suggests that change of this scale is rapid and transformational. Subterranean ideas take shape and take hold quickly inside the earth’s core, and they begin their rise to the surface through fault lines and volcanos. And then, when enough pressure and momentum has built, the earth gives way to new land formations upon which these new ideas can stand tall.

A question I regularly ask myself and now pose to you: Who’s your core and what’s your fault line?

Let’s shake the world.