Gifts of knowledge to humanity There are many commonalities we can admire in these endeavors: the dazzling leap of imagination, the broad scope of applicability, the founding of a new paradigm. But let’s focus here on their form of distribution. These are all things that are taught. To “use” them means to learn them, understand them, internalize them, perform them with one’s own hands. They are free to any open mind. In Hamming’s world, great achievements are gifts of knowledge to humanity. Bret Victor, The Art of Doing Science and Engineering: Learning to Learn knowledge
Hamming-greatness Hamming-greatness is tied, inseparably, with the conception of science and engineering as public service. This school of thought is not extinct today, but it is rare, and doing such work is not impossible, but fights a nearly overwhelming current. Bret Victor, The Art of Doing Science and Engineering: Learning to Learn
Up and Down the Ladder of Abstraction An Essay by Bret Victor worrydream.com The most powerful way to gain insight into a system is by moving between levels of abstraction. Many designers do this instinctively. But it's easy to get stuck on the ground, experiencing concrete systems with no higher-level view. It's also easy to get stuck in the clouds, working entirely with abstract equations or aggregate statistics. This interactive essay presents the ladder of abstraction, a technique for thinking explicitly about these levels, so a designer can move among them consciously and confidently. From a roving viewpoint abstractionunderstandinginteraction
The Ladder of Abstraction An Essay by Bret Victor worrydream.com Collaborative Information Architecture at Scale informationthinkingcommunicationabstraction
A Brief Rant An Essay by Bret Victor worrydream.com Like, just a post complaining that screens should be better designtechnologywwwinteractionbody
The Future of Programming A Talk by Bret Victor worrydream.com programmingcodetechnologyinteractionsoftware
A Slow Boat to China A Short Story from The Elephant Vanishes by Haruki Murakami Can you even call it memory?Never any place I was meant to be
Can you even call it memory? My recall is a damn sight short of total. It’s so unreliable that I sometimes think I’m trying to prove something by it. But what would I be proving? Especially since inexactness is not exactly the sort of thing you can prove with any accuracy. Anyway—or rather, that being the case—my memory can be impressively iffy. I get things the wrong way around, fabrication filters into fact, sometimes my own eyewitness account interchanges with somebody else’s. At which point, can you even call it memory any more? memory
Never any place I was meant to be Supposing I found myself chasing another fly ball and ran head-on into a basketball backboard, supposing I woke up once again lying under an arbor with a baseball glove under my head, what words of wisdom could this man of thirty-odd years bring himself to utter? Maybe something like: This is no place for me. This was never any place I was meant to be. melancholywisdomage