Essays on Jeffrey Inscho

Some Housekeeping

Thu, 27 Aug 2026 13:26:49 -0400

As I get older, I’ve taken to decluttering. Clearing out the garage. Simplifying my workspaces. That sort of thing.

Along with physical decluttering, I’ve been considering the notion of consolidating my online life under one domain. There was a time when I owned too many domains. One for this website, one for that blog, one for this half-baked idea I may go after someday. I had dozens of domains.

Now I want just one, so today I started the process of folding everything into inscho.org. This website has already made the transition, as has my Atmosphere identity and my Navidrome instance. As new things emerge, they will live at a subdomain and be compartmentalized within one domain.

It’s bittersweet letting go of some long-standing URLs, especially StaticMade.com, which was my digital front porch for years. Inscho is my real-world identity and it feels natural to unify under that digital identity as well.

This website has been chugging along since 2004 under several names. I’m glad it’s finally living under mine.

The Sky is Not Falling

Fri, 31 Jul 2026 10:23:24 -0400

So now we’re hearing the frontier models are breaking containment. Two reported instances this week alone. First OpenAI announced that one of its agents hacked Hugging Face in order to complete a test. Then just yesterday, Anthropic announced that Claude broke out of it’s cage to hack three companies, two of which didn’t event notice the breach.

Isn’t it a coincidence that both of these stories appeared in the same week? I don’t think so. Call me a silver hat conspiracy theorist, but I think this is all coordinated PR for these companies designed to feed into the hysteria that AI will eventually end up owning us or feeding off the energy of humans.

Yeah, LLMs suck. They’re being forced upon us at every turn, they’re consuming unreasonable quantities of water and electricity, they’re making kill decisions on the battlefield, they’re putting people out of work, and the overlords running these companies are some of the Worst People on the Planet™. But in the end, as Cory Doctorow says, these are just word guessing programs.

And these word guessing programs need the hysteria of people running around like Chicken Little claiming the sky is falling because it feeds into smoke and mirror valuations that the Worst People on the Planet™ are selling to investors and the media. These guys need the hysteria because their money will run out if they try to sell a word guessing program instead of the almighty, all-knowing digital savior for capitalism and war.

It took me a while to understand that the sky is not falling. The sector as it exists now is not sustainable. The money will run out if we stop feeding into the hype.

Farewell Old Friend

Sun, 26 Jul 2026 06:43:44 -0400

Yesterday we said goodbye to my trusted Jeep Wrangler. For more than decade, the Jeep served us well. We traveled far and wide, and made a lot of memories, but it was time to move on.

It’s interesting to think about life in terms of phases and markers. The Jeep Wrangler era was certainly a good one for me.

Ultimately, we decided to go in another direction with our new vehicle and I’m looking forward to finding out how my VW era turns out.

Unbreathable Air

Fri, 17 Jul 2026 07:17:53 -0400

When it comes to outdoor activities, my personal mantra has always been, “there is no such thing as bad weather.” Very few weather-related things could keep me from getting out there.

Prior to today, the only thing that could keep me from my daily run was icy conditions. Add one more to the list: wildfire smoke.

We are in a code purple with air quality pushing 300 here in Pittsburgh. It smells like the world is on fire and you can’t see more than a few hundred yards away.

I run to be healthy, not to feel like I’ve smoked a pack of cigarettes afterward.

Reading is Thinking

Tue, 14 Jul 2026 10:01:47 -0400

Seth Godin on how work and meeting dynamics have shifted due to the proliferation of Powerpoint-driven content:

If you have something to show us, send it before the meeting. If there’s a memo, we can read it in advance, or afterward. In fact, if the memo is really important, simply pause the meeting while we all take two minutes to read it. We know how to read.

I’ve been doing this for a while and find the most productive meetings start with a detailed pre-read. Give people the appropriate context before the meeting so they can come prepared to discuss the topic intelligently, ask the tough questions, and make the most informed decisions.

A meeting brief or memo requires people to read (a fleeting skill, I know!), but reading requires people to think and comprehend and formulate thought. And those are the things we want, er need, informing our work.

Mid-2026 Bangers

Mon, 13 Jul 2026 15:51:21 -0400

I know we’ve only just passed the halfway mark in 2026, but here are a few of my favorite records released so far this year. I will be curious to see if and how these show up on my year-end list.

bitknot by feeble little horse
URGH by Mandy, Indiana
A Short History of Decay by Nothing
Cost of Living Adjustment by Cola
Singin’ to an Empty Chair by Ratboys
EXPO by Ulrika Spacek
A Wave That Will Never Break by WU LYF
PANCHO EP by Pancho
Unexpected Violence by School Fair

What’s on your mid-year list?

Refreshed & Rejuvenated

Sun, 12 Jul 2026 08:14:28 -0400

We are back after spending a week on Bonita Beach in southwest Florida. I really needed this vacation. Work has been intense and this trip came at precisely the right time for my mental health. It was the first time in my career that I left work completely at home. No laptop. No work phone. Completely disconnected. And it was awesome.

While in Bonita, we just relax. Lots of time on the beach. We intentionally keep the itinerary empty and everyone just does what they feel like doing.

My favorite thing to do is take an early morning run on the beach. Our spot is just north of the Barefoot Beach preserve, which offers miles of undeveloped beachfront. I run this every morning while here and it is amazing. I can run for 2 hours and not see another human. Most mornings, the only other living things I see are porpoise, birds and jumping fish. In all my years vacationing there, I had never run the complete island in one go, so I decided to do that this time.

The point of a vacation is to return refreshed and rejuvenated. This trip did that for me and I’m ready to get get back after it now that I’m home.

The Boy in the Tree

Mon, 29 Jun 2026 06:58:21 -0400

The air was thick as I stepped outside. It wasn’t raining, but it felt like the sky could open up at any moment. It was quiet. The world hadn’t fully awoken to greet the day. On mornings like these – most mornings – I never know which route in my standard rotation of routes I will run. The first decision is to go left or right at the end of my driveway, and the rest just comes naturally based on how I’m feeling. Today I went right.

When I go right, I want hills. The first mile of this route is all uphill. The steady upward incline allows me to take it slow, work into a rhythm and center on my breath. Today I was quickly able to get into a breathing cycle with my cadence. The first step toward a much needed flow state.

I make a point to spend at least one hour outside each day because I need it mentally. It’s my way of getting away from screens, the news, personal and professional commitments, and anything else that vies for my attention. My hour outside is where I go deep into my own mind, rejuvenating it so I can give the rest of the day my all.

Cresting that first hill, I caught a glimpse to my left of two bare feet gently dangling a few feet above wet grass. I followed the feet upward, to a pair of legs that were attached to a young boy sitting in the crux of a tree branch. This sight surprised me because the boy couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8 years old and it was still early. Most of the neighborhood was still sleeping. Except for us.

In the boy’s hand was a phone. His head hung, neck krinked, watching something on the screen.

I thought about this image of this boy in the tree with the phone for the next hour as I finished my run.

Initially, I was overtaken with elder disappointment. “Kids these days,” I thought. “These goddamn phones,” I thought. But the image of this boy in the tree with the phone would not let go of me. Questions began creeping.

Why was he up so early? Why was he outside? Why was he alone? Why climb a tree and not just watch the phone on a couch inside? Did his parents know he was outside? What was he watching in that tree? Does he do this often?

The questions kept coming and as I neared home I had no answers. Maybe the boy in the tree with the phone was outside for the same reason I was. Maybe this was his escape. Maybe he needed this escape the same way I needed mine. That’s the amazing thing about nature and the outdoors. It’s there for us in whatever way we need it. It asks nothing about the way we use it and demands nothing in return.

Today, I needed the hills and breath. He needed the crux of the branch, the feeling of bark on his back and dew on his feet.

We are the same.

Reflecting on Another Year

Fri, 26 Jun 2026 16:06:11 -0400

I turn 48 today. At this age, birthdays have become just another day. This morning was similar to yesterday and it will be similar to tomorrow. I woke, had a cup of coffee, got outside for a bit, went to work, and spent time with the folx I love.

If you search June 26 on this site, you’ll find a bunch of birthday posts. It’s interesting to see how the voice in those posts has evolved with me over the years. In 2013, I posted about disconnecting to celebrate my 35th year. Back in 2021 I posted about seeing a birthday twister. And last year I posted a list of 47 things I’ve learned in 47 years.

Over the years, I’ve realized that the anticipation and excitement younger me once had for this day has given way to deep reflection and gratitude.

This coming year, I want to lean into mindful reflection and gratitude wherever possible. In order to grow my practice in these areas I am beginning a routine of posting a daily haiku. A temporal snapshot of my gratitude. My first haiku is posted here and, from today onward, each day’s poem will also hit the front page of this site for 24 hours until the next one arrives.

I am appreciative of my family, friends, health and career, and I want this daily practice to reinforce that sentiment. Here’s to another 48 years powered by love, gratitude and positivity.

36 Hours in Chicago

Fri, 12 Jun 2026 08:56:46 -0400

We came to see Jimmy Eat World, Sunny Day Real Estate and The Get Up Kids, but the show was cancelled last-minute due to weather. Some intense stuff blew through right at showtime.

We still had a great time during our abbreviated stay. Now we are packing up and heading off to Detroit to catch tonight’s show.

Pacing at Rabid Raccoon 100

Sun, 31 May 2026 16:38:42 -0400

My fist pacing experience was so much fun and extremely rewarding. For the first time in my running journey, I wasn’t running to achieve a personal goal, but to help someone else achieve theirs.

When Rob asked me a few weeks ago to share the last 25 miles of the Rabid Raccoon 100 with him, I instantly said yes because he was instrumental in helping me crush my first 50 miler back in 2020. I’ve wanted to return the favor for a long time.

Congrats on crushing your first 100k, Rob. Thanks for asking me to join the adventure. It was an honor to share those miles with you.

No Trust to Burn

Wed, 20 May 2026 10:28:25 -0400

The incomparable Koven Smith asks some important questions about how AI might impact the museum sector, particularly key differentiators like trust and authority:

I’ve always been somewhat skeptical of the “museums are the most trusted institutions in the universe” trope, but here is a situation in which a loss of authority in a very small situation has the potential to lead to a real collapse in the purpose of the institution.

This is very similar to how I’m starting to think about customer-facing AI at my current company (a retailer), where we strive to be the most trusted in our industry. Activating LLM-powered experiences is a decision that should not be taken lightly. We should take a measured, thoughtful, proactive, and research-based approach, as Koven advocates for in his post.

Nobody trusts Walmart or Target or Amazon the way our customers trust us. Let them rush; they have little trust to lose. The bottom line is that we need to be careful rushing to implement in customer- and employee-facing experiences, so as to preserve – and ultimately grow – the trust we’ve earned over decades with both groups.

I still maintain: a company brave enough to publicly lean away from AI and lean into humanity as a differentiator could have one hell of a winning strategy.

When It Rains

Sat, 16 May 2026 06:10:24 -0400

You’ve likely heard the saying, “When it rains, it pours.” Well, it rained on me yesterday. Poured, actually. Metaphorically. I didn’t have an umbrella or rain jacket, so I got wet. Also metaphorically.

I’ve learned that when this happens in life, it’s valuable to pause, reflect, understand the root cause, and internally commit to addressing the things I can control that factored into my soaking experience. Sometimes those things are difficult to acknowledge because sometimes you make your own weather.

We’ll all get caught in a downpour at one point or another in our lives. The key to getting through these drenching moments is having a framework in place that acts as a rain barrel to collect the water and store it until it can be used to grow a garden.

Metaphorically, of course.

The 2026 Pittsburgh Half Marathon

Sun, 03 May 2026 12:50:04 -0400

I’ve run 13.1 miles countless times. I’ve done it in fun runs, training runs and as part of longer races like marathons and ultras. But as I get older, I’m growing to love the half marathon distance as race in and of itself. The training is (usually) manageable. The distance lends itself well to both building speed and mental strength. And there is definitely still some risk of things going south on you if you don’t prepare and execute well.

Thankfully, my race today at the Pittsburgh Half Marathon is evidence of preparing and executing well:

I PR’d with a time of 1 hour, 39 minutes, 23 seconds
My average pace was 07:31 minutes per mile
I placed 698th overall in a field of 14,011 runners
In my 45-49 age group, I placed 26th out of 949 runners

I’m really pleased with this result. My only goal going into this race was to beat 1 hour, 45 minutes – the time I clocked at the last half marathon I ran back in December. Shaving 6 minutes off that time is more than I was expecting, but I guess all those interval workouts and tempo runs payed off!

The weather might have helped. It was a crisp 34º at the start. Once the sun came out it warmed up a bit, but for the most part the cool temps prevented me from running hot.

The vibes of the race may have also played a part. Each neighborhood - from the Strip District to the North Side to the West End to the South Side – brought the energy and cheering. There was rarely a point during the 13 miles that didn’t have a group of people ringing cowbells, shouting encouragement, and sending positivity. When I started to feel the fatigue around mile 11, those vibes definitely helped me bring it home.

So, in a nutshell, I’m now hooked on the half marathon and looking forward to finding another one to train up for. If there’s a race on the eastern seaboard you absolutely love, hit me up.

The Retailer Rush

Fri, 01 May 2026 08:13:32 -0400

This article from Modern Retail about the retailer rush to develop and integrate their apps into the OpanAI & Claude ecosystems caught my eye.

Having worked in retail for more than a decade, I understand this rush because the industry is reactive. Most of the time it goes down this way: Target or Walmart or one of your competitors does something, then you rush to copy-cat as fast as you can for fear of getting ’left behind.’ This is exactly what’s happening here, especially when you consider the marketing narrative around AI these days.

Having products or services surfaced in ChatGPT or Claude, and then having those apps facilitate a checkout on your behalf is alluring for retail leadership because all they’re hearing is that this future is inevitable. (It’s not.) But if we pull on this thread and think about how this path might evolve, I think there’s a lot of risk associated with it. From the article:

Still, some retailers, brands and other app developers are hesitant to hand off customer information and payments to OpenAI, according to Bloomberg, which also reported that developers have complained about a tedious app approval process, a buggy coding system and the lack of usage data.

If the AI hype comes to fruition, we’ll be mediating our entire existence through these apps eventually. In my opintion, this is our generation’s version of the snake oil pitch. When it comes to retail, if we optimize for the snake oil we’re being sold we will have willingly embraced a layer of obfuscation between our customers and our products. We will have relinquished the most important aspect of retail: our customer experience. If we don’t control the quality and consistency of our customer shopping experiences, what differentiates us?

We will have also lost any position of control over margins & profitability because we will be at the mercy of our new LLM marketplaces. This would create immense market pressure on our business. Just look at Amazon for how this might pan out long term. How is that going for business owners other than Amazon?

I think retailers need to think critically about this rush to embrace a mediation of their shopping experiences and business conditions by LLMs. Curiosity is one thing. Curiosity should be always be encouraged to understand the potential for emerging technologies. But rushing to embrace the vibe-based future we’re being sold is a concerning play in my mind.

The Violence of AI

Thu, 30 Apr 2026 18:19:53 -0400

Tante pulls no punches in this blistering critique that likens “AI” to a fascist, political, borderline-religious project with a mission to shift power & agency away from people and organizations toward centralized power structures. This mission is often rooted in violence:

The first form of violence “AI” depends on is the violence of data acquisition: “AI” depends on scraping and accumulating all you can get – including taking against people’s explicit will and without their consent.

This is must-read for anyone thinking critically about AI and/or working to subvert it.

Outsourcing Our Cultural Memory

Thu, 30 Apr 2026 09:50:52 -0400

Anil Dash explores why NASA published the Artemis II photos on Flickr, of all places:

By having the public’s images preserved in an independent archive in standard formats, we increase the likelihood of future generations being able to access accurate copies of these historical records.

As I get older, cultural memory and the long-tail archive of our digital lives is on my mind. This site serves as that personal archive for me, and at individual scale, it works. I manage the infrastructure, pay the bills and nurture its development.

Anil makes the good point that at institutional scale, self-hosting is often not a viable option. NASA is naturally more concerned with flying humans into space than managing a website, so the outsourcing of this archive to a responsible, ethical 3rd party is the wise choice, if not the only choice.

I’m glad Flickr is still here and they’ve made commitments to cultural longevity with archival intent. We need more platforms to think this way to ensure the cultural artifacts we’ve been producing for the last several decades remain accessible for generations to come.

Chop wood, carry water

Sun, 22 Mar 2026 18:33:40 -0400

I spent the majority of the weekend working with my hands. It felt good. It felt natural. My mind was clear. I was tired and sore by the end of the day.

When the severe storms blew through last week, we had several trees down. All the limbs missed our house, thankfully, but we were left with a large amount of wood to process. Last weekend was about cutting up the trees and hauling away debris. This weekend was about splitting and storing what the chainsaws diced up last week for our summertime supply of campfire wood.

Before splitting, though, I needed a spot to house the wood so it would stay dry and season appropriately. I could just stack it at the back of the lawn and put a tarp over the pile, but Jilly and I didn’t like the aesthetics of that approach. We wanted something that could dress-up the yard a bit while storing the wood.

Saturday morning I grabbed some pressure-treaded 2x4s and my circular saw and got to work. I am not a carpenter. I’ve done very little construction work, but I decided to just vibe out on the build. Eight feet wide by four feet tall, capped off with a corrugated tin roof. What I ended up with might be laughable to artisan woodworkers, but I enjoyed the creative process of making it with no pre-set plan.

After the firewood rack was complete, it was time to start swinging the axe. Sun’s out, guns out. What a workout. It was warm and I sweat. By the end of the weekend I had blisters on my hands from all the chopping and there’s still more to do.

Throughout the weekend – as I assembled the structure, swung the axe and stacked the wood – I kept returning to the Zen proverb ‘chop wood, carry water.’

Before enlightenment? Chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment? Chop wood, carry water.

The mundane, foundational work of life is important because it reinforces mindfulness, presence, consistency, discipline and humility. This labor did just that. My work this weekend was a meditation through movement and I’m looking forward to splitting the remaining logs, although that will happen after some well-deserved rest.

I Feel the Need, the Need for Speed

Wed, 18 Mar 2026 14:52:38 -0400

My ‘breaking 1:45’ half marathon plan called for 7 miles with intervals this morning. It was 15ºF when I left the house to stretch. I wanted nothing more than to stay indoors with a warm cup of coffee and ease into my day.

The icy air froze my nose hairs as I started the warm-up. An easy 2 mile warm-up still requires you to inhale at rhythm. You know that feeling when you’re about to sneeze but can’t? That’s what the first few breaths felt like.

I passed another runner going the opposite way during the warm-up. We gave each other a nod, acknowledging each other’s dedication and crazy.

Mile 3. Go time. My interval target was 7:00/mile. Within a few yards of starting, my lungs felt like they were on fire as I gulped frigid breath to stay on pace. Ladders, up and down. 400, 800, 1200.

It was a helluva workout. I’m hoping these tough speedwork sessions pay off in May.

Ethical Streaming from the Cloud

Fri, 20 Feb 2026 16:05:40 -0400

We all know Spotify and other big tech music streaming services are evil. They take advantage of artists, their algorithmic business models are designed to flatten the cultural bell curve, and they directly support ICE. I quit using Spotify ages ago, but since that decision I’ve struggled to find a cloud-based streaming platform that was ethical to artists, aligned with my personal political worldview, and accessible to me everywhere and on all my devices.

My first move after Spotify was to switch to Apple’s iTunes Match, not to be confused with Apple Music (which has a similar business model ickiness to Spotify). Rather, iTunes Match sync’d my locally-stored music collection with Apple’s cloud servers, making my purchased music collection accessible on all my Apple devices. This worked well for me for several years. I was able to purchase digital music directly from artists or via ethical outlets like Bandcamp, import the files into my music library on my laptop, and poof – the music would be available on my phone.

Somewhere along the line though, iTunes Match broke. I think it coincided with the release of iOS 26. After that update new additions to my collection would not sync to my phone. I was heartbroken.

My next step was to sync my collection to my phone via a hardwire, like a Neanderthal. This was inconvenient but manageable, and I found the offline availability of the collection to be wonderful. My collection is large, however, and I needed to curate what I was syncing to my phone due to storage capacity. I needed to find a better way to have access to all my music.

Enter Navidrome. I never read blog post comments, but a note from Thomas Brand on Manton’s post about Spotify burnout was enough to peak my interest. Navidrome is a free, open source personal streaming service. After a few minutes reading the docs, I decided to give it a go.

The first thing I needed was a place to host the Navidrome instance. I chose PikaPods because they have an out-of-the-box managed integration with Navidrome and the hosting cost estimate for a collection like mine was ~ $3.00 per month. The price is right!

Creating pod and installing the Navidrome app took me about 10 minutes. I uploaded a Nirvana’s In Utero as a test to see how it all worked. Listening in the browser on my laptop, it sounded great. Could Navidrome become my radio-friendly unit shifter?

But what about listening on my phone? Navidrome doesn’t have a native iOS app, but there are several options that support streaming from Navidrome. After playing around with a few, I settled on Amperfy which is open source, feature-rich and seems to have the most elegant UI of the mobile apps I tried. Yep, works as advertised. Francis Farmer did indeed get her revenge on Seattle via Amperfy’s CarPlay integration as I drove to pick up my kid last evening.

With a quick, multi-device test complete. I bit the bullet and transferred my entire collection via SFTP. It took most of the night, but I am now live with a cross-platform, multi-device, ethical streaming workflow that I think will serve me well into the future. I’m excited to have access to my entire collection on all my devices again.

Just Pull Up

Thu, 29 Jan 2026 18:52:37 -0400

Pull-ups are an activity I’ve wanted to be good at for a long time, however the truth is I hate them. I’ve tried to work them into my exercise rotation many times but they’ve never stuck. For as long as I can remember I’ve despised doing them, probably because I’ve got a runner’s body with toothpicks for arms.

Well, 2026 is the year I will get better at pull-ups. A few days ago I bought a pull-up bar and hung it from the door frame of my office. I chose this location because it’s unavoidable as I pass through this threshhold numerous times a day. I wanted an undeniable way to establish muscle memory and create a habbit.

For the past few days, each time I enter and leave, I do as many pull-ups as I can. Entering in the morning, pullups. Grabbing a refill of coffee, pullups. Hitting the head, pullups. Leaving for the evening…you get the picture.

It started on Monday when I could not complete just one good-form rep. Today is Thursday and I just completed five pull-ups as I entered the room to sit down and write this, which feels like a small milestone. My goal now is to progress to the point of being able to do ten perfect-form pull-ups.

I’m not sharing this to humble brag, although I am proud of the progress. I’m sharing as an acknowledgement that the human body and mind are amazing things. All I needed was the persistent reminder to keep trying. Repitition and consistency are the enablers of rapid growth and progress. I’ve known this, but it’s interesting to see tactile results so clearly in just a few days.

The Promise is Perception

Fri, 23 Jan 2026 08:35:01 -0400

Casey Newton in Platformer:

One of the more famous papers about artificial intelligence last year came from METR, a nonprofit that evaluates frontier AI models. In July, it published results of a randomized controlled trial studying experienced open-source developers. It found that when they use AI tools, completing tasks takes them 19 percent longer than when they go without. That was surprising enough. But the real twist is that when these same developers were asked what AI had done for them, they reported that it had sped them up by 20 percent.

This was a fascinating dive into the professional productivity that’s promised by our AI overlords. We’re starting to learn that much of this productivty is perceived. I’ve felt this in my own professional life, and have drastically reduced my use of Copilot at work because I found myself spending far too much time reviewing and correcting incorrect output from the model.

I also found many of the outputs, when accurate and correct, were just OK and simply not up to my professional standards. So much of my daily work requires communicating effectively through writing – explaining value and impact to leadership; acting as a translation layer between engineering, design and the business; and aligning stakeholders to broad, complex initiatives – all of which need to be buttoned-up to my highest standard. I’m simply not getting that quality from any AI model I’ve tried.

A Running List of Human-First Orgs

Wed, 21 Jan 2026 15:47:20 -0400

Last week I posted about the differentiation opportunity for companies and organizations who publicly lean into humanity and away from artificial intelligence. Since posting that, I’m starting to notice some examples of this in the real world.

I think it’s important to raise the visibility of Companies With Guts. Therefore, this post is will become an evolving list of organizations that take a public, pro-human, anti-AI stance. If you know of good examples, please share via email and I will update the list here ASAP.

Bandcamp (via reader email)
Procreate (via reader email)
San Diego Comic Con (via 404 Media)
Vivaldi (via reader email)

Last updated 2026-01-21

On Superhumanity

Mon, 19 Jan 2026 15:01:19 -0400

Scott Belsky writes about the promise and vitality of ‘Superhumanity’ in a world that’s becoming ever-obsessed with artificial intelligence. Several of the ideas in this piece resonate with me.

First, I think Scott’s definition of taste as a combination of INPUTS, FILTERS and DISCERNMENTS is really smart. As AI evolves, humans will remain tastemakers. How we lean into the experiences we seek out (INPUTS), the things we actively choose to ignore (FILTERS) and the decisions we make (DISCERNMENTS) based on our inputs and filters will be the key to thriving in a post-AI world.

He rightly points out that establishing human taste will not be enough. We will need to activate our human agency to act upon our tastes. This often resembles – and in the post-AI world it should continue to resemble – audacity. Our human-centric audacity that we can achieve the impossible or be the first to accomplish something. AI can only know the past, but humans can envision a future.

I also thought his jazz-based approach to using AI is unique and worth considering:

You must engage AI with flexibility rather than having a fully formed sonata in your head and no willingness to deviate from it. You must discover the “instruments” AI is best at, and you must complement AI with what it lacks - your taste, agency, and natural human tendencies.

I highly recommend this piece, as well as Scott’s other writing, for anyone who thinks critically about technology and our human experience living with it.

Humanity as Differentiator

Wed, 14 Jan 2026 16:59:06 -0400

I just spent a few days in New York City at NRF 2026, the premier conference for the retail industry in the United States. For those unfamiliar, NRF is a behemoth – nearly 40,000 retail practitioners descending on the Javits Center each January.

My primary observation: AI wasn’t just present at this year’s event, it dominated everything. Every session. Every conversation. Every exhibitor pitch. Everything was presented through an AI lens. You couldn’t avoid it, even if you tried.

And I did.

NRF 2026 wasn’t billed as a “retail & AI” conference, but that’s exactly what it was. AI optimizing your supply chain. AI promising store operations efficiency. AI running wild on product catalogs to enable agentic shopping. Robots massaging data so websites are easier for other robots to navigate.

I wasn’t surprised by the saturation. Just look around. AI is being shoehorned into our daily interactions and companies are desperate to brand themselves as AI companies. The US economy is being propped up by AI investment, and retail is claiming its share.

What struck me was the opportunity cost.

In a landscape where every company fetishizes AI – in their products, in their operations, in their marketing – there’s a massive opening for companies brave enough to lean the other direction. Into humanity. Into the natural world. Into what makes us distinctly human.

I caught glimpses of this alternative path. Ryan Reynolds’ keynote touched on it. My friend Justin Weinstein’s talk about grocers serving their communities embodied it. But these were exceptions in a sea of sameness.

Here’s what I’m imagining: What if a company stood up and publicly declared they would resist artificial intelligence in their operations? What if they said instead they’d invest in people – the people who make the company work and the people the company serves? And what if they went all-in on this message in their marketing?

That decision would instantly differentiate them in a meaningful, substantive way.

The irony of everyone chasing the same AI strategy is that it eliminates competitive advantage. When everyone optimizes for the same thing, nobody stands out. But a company that deliberately chooses humanity over automation? Right now that’s an admirable decision and a signal customers can’t ignore.

I don’t know about you, but that’s the kind of company I’d get in line to support.

The Kindness Keeps Me Here

Fri, 09 Jan 2026 08:39:22 -0400

Sarah Samms Velázquez writes about finding unexpected kindness and a long-term home in Pittsburgh after years of wanderlust:

However, in an alleyway in Pittsburgh, I woke up to homemade soup, leftovers and even a camper-sized crockpot sitting on my truck’s bumper. In Pittsburgh, folks say hello and rarely turn their nose up at one another. In Northern Appalachia, we value the blue collar and the stories that come along with hard living; and do I have some stories to tell. I sometimes wonder where I’d be if I never found the Paris of Appalachia. Probably still searching, with a pack on my back – waiting for home to find me.

This is very similar to my own personal experience, although my journey to land in this city took place about 15 years prior to Sarah’s. I didn’t ride into town as a stowaway on a freight train (legendary!), but my arrival was in the cab of a broken-down tour van.

Pittsburgh is the kind of place where strangers look you in the eye. Where people help each other when there’s no benefit other than a thank you and smile. There’s an element of ‘realness’ here that I’ve found to be very different from most other cities. I think this realness can be distilled down to the kindness that Sarah writes so eloquently about in her piece.

That kindness is what keeps me here. And that kindness is what the world needs more of right now.

Welcome to the News Desert

Thu, 08 Jan 2026 08:55:23 -0400

The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette will cease operations on May 3, 2026, leaving the region without a daily print news publication. The paper has been operating as the cornerstone of reliable media in the area for nearly 240 years. This is a massive blow to the news ecosystem here in Western Pennsylvania.

Block Communications Inc. communicated the decision to shutter the paper to employees via a pre-recorded video. This is a spineless, timid act that’s unfortunately par-for-the-course for the Block family who spent years fighting against the rights of PG workers only to lose that fight in the Supreme Court of the United States.

The announcement to cease operations on the immediate heels of the Supreme Court verdict reinforces that the Blocks believe there’s no point in maintaining a valuable asset for a community if they can’t exploit the workers who toil to create that asset.

Yes, the media landscape is shifting. The news business is difficult. Journalistic institutions are reeling. But we collectively have to find a way to keep journalism alive and accessible for communities. It’s one of the most important things we can do for our future.

User Error is a Myth

Wed, 07 Jan 2026 07:00:00 -0400

In a meeting earlier today, a colleague used the term user error. My ears perked up. After nearly twenty years building digital products, I’ve heard this phrase countless times and it never sits right.

This is how I’ve found it usually plays out: Someone uses our product in an unexpected way. Something breaks or doesn’t work like they thought it would. A product team member then asserts:

“They’re using it wrong.”
“The app isn’t designed to work that way.”
“They just need to tap this button first.”
“The software is functioning as designed.”

Next comes the verdict: user error. The person is making the mistake, not us. They need to adapt to our design, not the other way around.

This mindset is poison for great product work.

Every unexpected behavior, every “misuse,” every bug report from someone navigating our product differently than we imagined aren’t errors. They’re signals. They’re opportunities to learn about actual usage patterns, understand what people are really trying to accomplish, and iterate toward something better.

The phrase user error lets us off the hook too easily. It places blame on the person trying to get something done rather than on the system we designed. It assumes our mental model of how the product should work is the only valid one.

Users don’t care about our mental models. They care about their goals. If our product makes it easy to take a wrong turn, that’s a product problem, not a user problem.

There’s no such thing as user error. There’s only unwillingness to acknowledge that we might have gotten things wrong and a refusal to recognize opportunity to make things better.

Gearing up for NRF 2026

Tue, 06 Jan 2026 08:26:30 -0400

I’m looking forward to being back in New York City next week for NRF 2026. The big things on my radar this year are learning about ways to create progressive clienteling experiences for our customers, flexible & unified checkout technologies, and task management tools for store teams.

Also, I’m extremely keen to meet up with other people working in store tech product management at other retailers. If you’ll be at NRF and you’re interested in similar things or offer these types of services/products, let’s connect.

Also, also! The unofficial NRF Pittsburgh Steelers wild card watch party will be at Printer’s Alley on W 40th in Midtown on Monday night. I hate that I won’t be in the Steel City for this game, but the next best place to watch is at NYC’s Steeler Nation headquarters. Pack your Terrible Towel and swing by.

Pinnacle Pizza

Tue, 30 Dec 2025 08:32:06 -0400

We finally got a chance to taste John’s of Bleeker Street, after several attempts and refusals to queue around the block for pizza. So many people have told us that John’s is pinnacle pizza and yesterday we decided to see what the fuss was about.

I might be about to say something controversial:

It was a solid pie, but I found it to be just OK. The sauce was sweet and the crust was a bit flimsy for my liking. Above average for sure, but definitely not worth the hour-long wait in the rain.

There is better pizza in NYC, even in the Village. For my money, Joe’s Pizza around the corner on Carmine remains the best slice I’ve tasted anywhere.

The Pennsylvanian

Sat, 27 Dec 2025 18:47:07 -0400

Amtrak 42, also known as The Pennsylvanian, runs from Pittsburgh to New York City. When possible, we love traveling by train. It’s a slower pace than flying and allows for taking in the passing landscapes in a way traveling by car does not.

Product Thinking in Newsrooms

Tue, 23 Dec 2025 17:09:03 -0400

New to me: the News Product Alliance, a nonprofit that supports product professionals in newsrooms with the goal of elevating the product practice and expanding the diversity of product thinkers in decision-making roles at news organizations.

Our vision is to empower the news industry with a new generation of diverse leaders – News Product Thinkers – who have the empathy and know-how to build resilient news organizations, deliver quantifiable business results, and rebuild trust by ensuring we truly serve our communities.

This is a worthwhile cause. I hadn’t thought about how product thinking might play a role in the future of journalism, but it makes complete sense. Grounding media strategy in product foundations and understanding desirability, viability, feasibility and usability (through a constant lens of journalistic integrity) may just be a winning playbook to breathe much-needed life into the industry.

My Favorite Records of 2025

Fri, 19 Dec 2025 12:19:39 -0400

What a year it’s been for music! There have been so many awesome records released this year and it’s been extremely difficult narrowing this list down to my ten favorites. So hard, in fact, I’ve included five honorable mentions at the end. Please take no pretense or judgement in these choices, they are simply the albums released this calendar year that I connected with most. Without further ado and in no particular order, here are my favorite records of 2025.

Sunshine and Balance Beams by Pile

I know these are in no particular order, but this record may be favorite of the year. It’s definitely my most played record. The songwriting on this one is just impeccable. Pile brings an intensity and sharp edge to their performance, but the melodies and lyrics are just as solid as the musicality. They’ve been around for a long time, but this record was my gateway into their back catalog, which is also very good.

Glory by Perfume Genius

Glory is what happens when amazing musicianship meets smart & evocative songwriting meets unique production. Seriously, listen to this one with headphones. Not airbuds, but really good headphones. You will hear layers upon layers of dynamics that seem to surround in 360º. And the voice. It’s a thing of majesty.

Ego Death at a Bachelorette Party by Hayley Williams

I never got into Paramore. I think I just missed them when they were doing their thing back in the day. Williams was the frontwoman for that band, but I can’t really hear much Paramore influence in these songs. And these songs are fire. Eighteen of them and not one is a dud. My favorite track is True Believer. If you haven’t seen her performance of this song on Jimmy Fallon, check it out.

The Future is Here and Everything Needs to Be Destroyed by The Armed

This record is shot out of a cannon. One hundred miles an hour from start to finish. The Armed doesn’t have much in common with bands like Refused or At the Drive-In, but the first time I heard this record I had the same feeling I had when I heard The Shape of Punk to Come or In Casino Out back in the day. It feels like they’re earnestly pushing forward with something important and new with these songs.

Highwalllow & Supermoon Songs by Saintseneca

Have you ever had that weird feeling after you spin a new record for the first time and it feels like it’s one that’s been in your collection forever? Not it a trite or unoriginal way, but like when your nose catches a scent of something memorable from your past and transports you back there instantly, subconsciously. That’s what Highwalllow & Supermoon Songs feels like to me. It’s folky and yodely, but in a head-noddin’ way. Really beautiful mandolin & guitar melody lines layer themselves under shaky & pained vocals. There are some seriously great songs on this record.

Essex Honey by Blood Orange

I drove to the beach last September. It was a spur of the moment add-on to a work trip that had me in New Jersey anyway. The excursion to the shore was an occasion to meet up with some good friends from high school, who were all remarkably in town from disparate areas of the country for disparate reasons. The hang was spontaneous and real. There was 30 years of history among us. There were intoxicants. There was a seafood boil. There were memories. We shared laughs and tears. As the sunset brilliantly over the bay, someone put on this record and I lost my shit. It was the perfect vibe for that moment. Mellow, relaxed, orchestral. Deeply layered. Intense. Familiar but fresh. A fantastic record to enjoy with the ones you love.

SAYA by Saya Gray

There’s something about Saya Gray’s voice that I connect with. It has a unique texture. It’s rhythmic in a cool way. The songs on SAYA bring together acoustic artistry and digital production that create a sound that pulls you in and keeps you in from top to bottom. The melodies are wandering, from joyful to solemn, and they take you on a journey to someplace different from where you started listening.

Something to Consume by Die Spitz

It’s the year of our lord 2025, but the 90s are alive and well. The songs on this record from Die Spitz sound like they could have been performed on the stage at one of the early Lollapallooza tours. Simply put, these women shred and this record is one of my favorites released this year.

LOTTO by They Are Gutting a Body of Water

I don’t know much about They Are Gutting a Body of Water and I can’t remember how I heard about this record, but I love it. It’s so different. Some songs are noisy and experimental, some songs have hints of pop laced throughout. I hear something different each time I listen, and to me that’s the sign of a great record.

45 Pounds by YHWH Nailgun

This record is insane. I’ll admit, after Justin recommended it and I first listened, I wasn’t totally into it. But after a few more listens I was fully on board the YHWH Nailgun train. I’ve never heard anything like this before. Complex time signatures, guitar synth, roto toms and some of the most guttural/spastic vocals make for a truly unique sound.

Honorable Mention:

8 Tips for Full Catastrophe Living by Asher White
Patience, Moonbeam by Great Grandpa
Never Enough by Turnstile
Evil, Baby, Evil by Evil Adeline
Father Figure by Jon Bellion

Freedom of Missing Out

Fri, 12 Dec 2025 16:00:31 -0400

The ringer was off, but the sudden vibration was jarring. It was the fourth such vibration in as many minutes. The buzzing phone, lying face down on my desk sent tremors through my forearms as those muscles powered keystrokes from my hands.

This particular notification was a mother on Adeline’s soccer team alerting the team chat app that her daughter wouldn’t be at training that evening. The three previous notifications included a retail store marketing an upcoming sale, a mention from Mastodon, and a text message from my health provider requesting feedback from a recent visit.

Four disruptions in four minutes, my phone had become an unforgiving foghorn. These four minutes were not a one-time exception. Never-ceasing notifications had become the rule – my reality – over time. Once deliberate and discerning with the tentacles I allowed to dictate my attention, my guard had eroded and they were slipping through like seepage.

I’m not sure what it was about these four notifications or this particular four minute window, but they created an awareness toward how these FOMO-driven flechettes have been impacting my presence with and focus on the tasks, ideas and people immediately before me. I noticed myself feeling splintered in this moment. Pulled apart. Traction lost.

In this instant of self realization, I opened the settings on my phone, disabled all notifications except for text messages and phone calls from my immediate family, and saved these changes as a custom focus option I now call Mental Hygiene. This has been my default in recent weeks and it’s improved my quality of life greatly.

FOMO – or fear of missing out – is an interesting cultural abstraction. Technology has conditioned us for speed, constant reachability and the need to always be aware of the latest updates, otherwise we’re left behind.

But filtering out unwanted noise is not being left behind. It is prioritizing attention on what matters. It’s protecting a level of focus that becomes rarer with each new notification and version update.

We should not fear of missing out. Instead, let’s normalize a freedom of missing out. A freedom to let the insignificant and immaterial slide into the ether unnoticed. A freedom to be bored or reflective. A freedom that honors stillness and slowness. A freedom that empowers a focused mind, time spent with meaning, and whole presence in any given moment.

Old Graybeard Strikes Again

Mon, 08 Dec 2025 17:45:03 -0400

Yesterday I laced up my running shoes and toed the line at the Nittany Valley Half Marathon. It was my first race since March 2024 and I was very intrigued to find out if these old bones still had some race left in them. Turns out, they do and I’m stoked on my performance.

Before we get into the race itself, a bit about why I chose to run this particular event. You may remember that my son is a first year student at Penn State. Well, the start and finish line for the Nittany Valley Half is basically across the street from his dorm, so this was really just a great excuse for me to get up early, drive a few hours to University Park, run 13.1 miles, watch the Steelers game with him over an extended lunch, and then drive home. It turned out to be the perfect day.

When I signed up for the race back in October, I had no expectations for pace or time. I just wanted a goal & event to strive for that might help me get back into a training regimen. As I stood at the starting line yesterday, I reaffirmed to myself that there were no expectations and I gave myself permission to run strong & run with curiosity.

The airhorn sounded and we were off. The big dawgs took off and quickly separated themselves from everyone, probably running sub-6 pace. This wasn’t my first rodeo, so I knew the importance of not starting off too fast. I settled into a comfortable 8:30 min/mile pace and felt great over the first mile. I maintained that pace over the first 5k and felt I could drop the hammer some more, but remembered there were still 10 miles to go, so I stayed solid at 8:30 min/mile.

I ran miles 4 to 7 with a young kid, who couldn’t have been older than 15. Must’ve been his first race because his family and friends seemed to be following him throughout those miles, cheering on teenager Adam at each opportunity. He started sucking wind between six & seven (see what I did there?) so I dropped him. Hope the young buck finished strong.

I started to feel some fatigue between mile 7, and wondered if may have gone out too fast. This course saves the hills for the final few miles and I decided to go big or go home on the first significant climb at mile 9. Being a trail runner, I think the hills are where I tend to shine. I’m not the fastest on the flats or downhills, but I can crush a 10% incline. So I went for it on the mile 9 climb and picked off about 10 runners struggling with the elevation.

As I neared the top, legs burning & lungs pulsing, I questioned what I had done. I was really feeling it with 5k left. Cresting the hill, I saw the semblance of an angel. This angel took the form of a woman working an unofficial aid station, handing out orange slices to runners. Yes! Just what I needed to power me through the last 5k. I dipped my hand into her Tupperware and retrieved the glory.

Four mandarin wedges and I was back to life.

By mile 11, I started picking up the pace into the sevens. I knew there was one major climb left at mile 12 that could be my opportunity to jump some more places. I was right. The course gains about 200 feet of elevation over the last mile. That’s nothing for a trail runner, so I turned it on and must’ve picked off nearly 20 runners on that climb. The most memorable moment of the race for me came at the top of that final climb, when a course official yelled out, “Hell yeah graybeard! Crushin’ it! Way to go!”

Approaching the finish, I spotted my son in the crowd and got to give him a fist-bump as I approached the line.

I crossed the finish line with an official time of 1 hour, 45 minutes and 8 seconds – which translates to an overall pace of 8:07. Having had no expectations at the start, I’m super happy and proud of this effort, particularly being able to run based on feel and finish strong.

On Snow Days and Simple Joy

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:01:02 -0400

We got about four inches of snow overnight and the roads are awful so it’s a snow day – er, “flexible instruction” day – for my youngest. Instead of being outside sledding, building a snow man or working with the neighborhood kids to create an igloo, she will be tethered to her iPad taking Zoom calls with her classmates and teacher for the majority of the day.

Of course we’ll make some time to get outdoors and do a few of those things today, but I’m sad that this generation of kids will never wake up to the unexpected magic of a true snow day. That elation when you open your eyes in the morning and look out the window to see a white blanket covering everything and learning that school is closed. The whole day ahead with anything possible.

Simple joys like this are receding from childhood and I’m not sure the digital equivalent is comparable. As parents, we should work to keep simple joy in the lives of our children.

This Old Brown Belt

Tue, 04 Nov 2025 12:07:57 -0400

I’ve only ever owned one belt. It’s an unremarkable belt. Brown leather, about two inches wide with a weighty, minimal brass buckle. I wear it with everything. Brown pants, black pants, blue jeans, whatever. I even have a couple pairs of shorts with belt loops and I wear it with them.

I used to be a bit heavier. When I started running a lot about 10 years ago, the weight poured off and I ran out of holes on the belt. Instead of getting a new one, I just punched a couple more holes into the worn leather and kept on wearing it. I’m not sure why I didn’t go get a new belt. I just didn’t think to.

Getting dressed yesterday it dawned on me that I can’t remember when or where this belt entered my life. I have absolutely no recollection of acquiring it. If I had to guess, it’s probably a belt my mother purchased for me during one of her back-to-school outfitting sessions when I was a teen. So, middle school school probably.

Definitely longer than my kids have been around. Longer than I’ve known my wife.

It’s a versatile belt. My style has evolved over the decades from adolescent punk rocker to middle-aged professional and this belt has ridden my hips the whole way. It serves casual and formal situations alike.

I think about this belt sometimes when I’m standing in a store surrounded by things that are designed to be replaced. There’s something radical about an object that refuses obsolescence by simply continuing to work.

This belt has disappeared into total utility, earning the right to become invisible yet so integrated into my life. I forget it’s there, but can’t imagine a life without it.

Employee-Facing Apps Don't Need to Suck

Fri, 31 Oct 2025 11:12:51 -0400

I’ve been heads down at work for the past several weeks rolling out a significant operational change (supported by new technology) to a segment of pilot stores in our retail fleet. This rollout required me to visit stores on both coasts listening for feedback, observing things that need to be improved and iterating quickly to deliver value in near-realtime. It’s been invigorating and has brought back to the surface all the elements I love about product management as a practice!

Ultimately, the problem space we’re operating in is this: How might we make the products in our stores easier to find for our employees and our customers?

The big change we are attempting to deliver is the introduction of product location data in-store. It’s a big, gnarly problem to solve for a legacy co-op like REI, mainly due to the extreme variability in our store layouts. If you’ve been to more than one REI, you know that some locations are in historical buildings – an old train station in Denver, for example – while others inherit a simpler big-box & strip mall retail feel. This variability in warehouse size & organization, combined with diverse floor sets across markets, create complexities that make standardizing a process and delivering tech that works across all locations extremely difficult.

One store workflow this new product location data will help improve is the sales floor restocking process. For the first time at REI, we know how many units of a SKU are on the sales floor, how many units are in the warehouse, and where those units are in the store. My team is also ingesting several data elements from our Visual Merchandising team and we wrote a machine learning algorithm to forecast a Target Sales Floor Quantity for every SKU in the store.

So with the raw location data and the algorithm telling us what should be on the sales floor, we were able to develop a new restocking tool in REI’s employee mobile app (Ascent) that is centered around one key hero metric: Sales Floor Percent Stocked. Store employees can now get a real-time snapshot of their sales floor stocked rate, along with a prioritized list of products that need to be restocked, on their mobile devices. This is a big step forward for our store teams.

One of the things I’m most proud of related to this pilot rollout is the feedback we’re getting from users about the Ascent features. Because we lean into co-creation mindset, the product team was able to deliver an initial version that delighted store teams out of the gate and we continue to iterate as we learn more about usage. The Ascent team obsesses over quality and store employee experience, and I think that’s evident in the product we deliver. I mean, tell me this is not one of the most elegant employee-facing app interfaces you’ve ever seen.

Employee-facing apps don’t need to suck. The Ascent team is lean: 1 front-end engineer, 1 back-end engineer, 1 QA analyst, shared product designer, shared product manager (me). The lean-ness of the team presents some hurdles, but it also affords us the ability to take both an an agile approach that prioritizes speed-to-market and an artisanal approach that prioritizes craft. I believe this mode of operating is our sweet spot.

As we enter REI’s holiday code freeze, we’ll be hands off on production changes but we’ll be working hard behind the scenes on the next version of Ascent (ETA January) that will power location data enablement across the enterprise.

A Fully-Present Participant in Reality

Mon, 06 Oct 2025 19:00:17 -0400

I’ve been thinking a lot about attention. My attention, primarily, but also our collective attention and where we direct it in the world.

Like time, attention is a finite resource. But unlike time, we can never run out of attention. There is a never-ending supply until we breathe our last breath. The rub with attention, however, is that even though we have an unending supply, we can only ever fully dedicate it to one thing at one time. This creates a distinctly different scarcity from time. Where time has a scarcity of depletion, attention has a scarcity of distribution.

In every moment, we make attention-allocation decisions. These decisions require active engagement with the world around us. Our reality. You can’t save attention for later. You can’t bank it or invest it or set it aside. You can only practice directing it more intentionally in each moment.

Our world is now designed to make these decisions of direction for us. The notification that pulls us away from conversation. The infinite scrolling that captures twenty minutes we didn’t intend to give. The autoplay that queues up the next video before we’ve processed the current one.

Our world has evolved to be hungry for attention. It’s the capital of our modern times. It wants to train our attention into patterns. It wants to colonize the practice of attention itself, to make fragmentation feel normal.

What if we approached attention differently? Not as a resource to be managed or extracted, but as a practice to be cultivated? What if we chose the here and now over the distant and digital? What would change if our attention was not an opportunity to monetize, but an opportunity to be fully here in this moment?

Being fully present means making intentional choices about where attention goes. Let’s choose to pay attention to the things that help us become fully-present participants in our shared reality.

An Open Letter to Shaler Area School District

Tue, 30 Sep 2025 10:02:42 -0400

The following is an open letter to Shaler Area School District superintendent Bryan O’Black and the district’s board of directors regarding the closure and eventual sale of Shaler Area Elementary School. It was delivered via email on Tuesday, September 30, 2025, but I am posting here for transparency and in case anyone else from the community wants to send a similar note. Feel free to use this as a template for your own communication.

TO: oblackb@shalerarea.org, tunstallj@shalerarea.org, phillipse@shalerarea.org, dunne@shalerarea.org, burnj@shalerarea.org, kresse@shalerarea.org, machajewskij@shalerarea.org, petrancostad@shalerarea.org, kwiatkowskia@shalerarea.org, saullet@shalerarea.org, tresslerj@shalerarea.org
FROM: jeffrey@inscho.org
RE: Community Forum Follow-Up

Dr. O’Black and SASD Board Directors —

[Redacted first paragraph with personal identifiable information]

Thank you for sharing the information about the transition to a K-5 elementary education model at last evening’s Community Forum. I appreciate the transparency and vulnerability as you addressed questions from a naturally emotional audience.

I personally support this educational recommendation for the students of the district.

My wife and I are concerned, however, about the future of the SAES property. My home is one of approximately 30 residences that abut the SAES grounds, and one of more than one hundred within a quarter mile radius of the school.

As you know, the 22 acres upon which the school stands provides a lot of benefit for neighbors and the surrounding community. People gather, practice athletics, exercise, socialize and grow relationships with their neighbors on those grounds every day. I want to ensure some aspect of that remains when SAES is gone, while also generating much needed funds for the district to reinvest in our children’s future.

My intent with this note is not to add to the emotional responses, but recommend the board take a measured and thoughtful approach when considering the sale of the property. This may include:

Adding a work stream for the responsible sale of SAES property. I think the work stream approach for the transition is smart and I’ve seen this be effective in private sector change management. Unless I missed it in the presentation last evening, there is not currently a work stream identified for the sale of the property. I recommend that one be created, noting the impact to hundreds of families in close proximity to SAES.
Engaging neighbors for feedback and vetting of potential buyers. The sale of the Jeffery Elementary property several years ago set a precedent for the district’s active collaboration with community to facilitate a real estate transaction. I recommend a steering committee of neighbors be engaged to help identify viable & appropriate buyers for the land under shared goals of creating a lucrative sale for the district and a community-based plan for the property’s future.

I am willing, able and interested to volunteer or partner in any capacity to help make this a win/win for the district and the Scott Avenue community the district serves. Thanks again for the openness.

Respectfully,
Jeffrey Inscho

Connectivity Isn't Connection

Thu, 25 Sep 2025 20:44:31 -0400

The WiFi unexpectedly went out at my house last Friday. It was completely random — working fine one minute, then zero connectivity the next. I restarted my router a few times and checked all my connections. No luck. I couldn’t spend much time troubleshooting because I was on a deadline for work, so I left the house and worked the remainder of the day from a neighborhood coffee shop.

The technical issue that brought down the WiFi isn’t important. What’s important is that it was something I couldn’t fix myself and the provider needed to send out a technician to resolve it. The extra-important part is that they couldn’t put us on the schedule until the following Tuesday. This meant we’d have no internet at home for five days.

As an elder millennial, the thought of an offline extended weekend excited me. I remember well, and often long for, pre-internet living. This wasn’t the case for my 13-year-old who lives on YouTube or my 18-year-old ESPN freak who was on his way home from Penn State (they were on a bye) to visit for the weekend.

What transpired over those few offline days was special. Yes, our phones still had cellular connections, so we weren’t completely disconnected. But lack of WiFi meant our laptops remained closed, our tablets untouched, and our smart TVs dark.

Instead, we spent quality time together, mostly outside. We built a fire. We made margaritas. We took a few family walks with the dog. We cooked a Sunday football feast and watched the game using an antenna. We looked each other in the eye as we talked, and it was nice.

Those five days reinforced for me that life feels richer when I’m not constantly plugged in. Sometimes absence can create space for much needed presence. When Tuesday came and the technician completed his work, I was almost reluctant to reconnect because I now realize the connectivity I’d been missing wasn’t the WiFi at all.

Turn Off the Internet

Wed, 17 Sep 2025 17:38:24 -0400

Big tech has built machines designed for one thing: to hold your attention. The algorithms don’t care what keeps you scrolling. It could be puppy videos or conspiracy theories about election fraud. They only care that you keep consuming. And unfortunately nothing keeps people engaged quite like rage.

The executives at these companies will tell you they’re neutral platforms, that they don’t choose what content gets seen. This is a lie. Every algorithmic recommendation is an editorial decision. When YouTube’s algorithm suggests increasingly extreme political content to keep someone watching, that’s editorial. When Facebook’s algorithm amplifies posts that generate angry reactions, that’s editorial. When Twitter’s trending algorithms surface conspiracy theories, that’s editorial.

They are publishers. They have always been publishers. They just don’t want the responsibility that comes with being publishers.

For years, these companies have hidden behind Section 230 protections while operating more like media companies than neutral platforms. They’ve used recommendation algorithms to actively shape what billions of people see every day, then claimed they bear no responsibility for the consequences. It’s like a newspaper publisher claiming they’re not responsible for what appears on their front page because they didn’t write the articles themselves.

We need to be honest about what these algorithms are doing to our democracy. They’re not just amplifying existing divisions, they’re creating new ones. They’re not just reflecting polarization, they’re manufacturing it. Every time someone opens one of these apps, they’re being shown content specifically chosen to provoke an emotional response. That’s not neutral. That’s manipulation.

This isn’t a technology problem. This is a business and choice problem. These companies could change their algorithms tomorrow to prioritize accuracy over engagement, community over conflict, human wellbeing over profit. They choose not to because extremism is more profitable than moderation.

The solution isn’t to ask nicely for these companies to do better. We tried that. The solution isn’t to hope users will abandon these platforms en masse. That won’t happen as long as the network effects keep people trapped.

The solution is regulation. Real regulation. Not the performative theater we’ve seen in congressional hearings, but actual laws with actual consequences.

We need algorithmic transparency. These companies should be required to disclose how their recommendation systems work and what content they’re amplifying.

We need algorithmic accountability. When an algorithm recommends content that leads to violence, there should be consequences. And we need algorithmic choice. Users should have the right to see chronological feeds, not just algorithmically curated ones designed to manipulate their emotions.

Most importantly, we need to end the liability shield these companies hide behind. If you’re going to operate as a publisher, making editorial decisions about what content gets amplified, then you should face the same legal responsibilities as any other publisher.

Turn off the internet. Or fix it. Those are the only choices we have left. The time for hoping these companies will self-regulate is over. The time for treating algorithmic manipulation as an inevitable part of modern life is over. We know what these systems do. We know who they hurt. The only question left is whether we’re going to do something about it.

Reality Check

Thu, 04 Sep 2025 20:34:50 -0400

Things feel heavy right now. The headlines are grim, the discourse is toxic, and each day seems to bring fresh reasons for despair.

I try to stay optimistic underneath it all. It’s hard. But here’s what I’ve come to realize: optimism isn’t some fluffy feeling I can summon by thinking happy thoughts. It’s a decision. A daily choice to notice what’s actually happening around me.

The real world is still functioning and there is good happening within it. People are still fixing bikes, making coffee, helping their neighbors, creating things with their hands. The static of everyday life – messy, imperfect, beautifully human – keeps crackling along.

You want to know where hope lives? It’s in the fact that someone still grows the tomatoes you buy. That baristas remember how regulars take their coffee. That strangers still help push cars out of snow. That construction workers show up every day to build things that last.

I’m paying attention to the small stuff that works. Noticing the crossing guard who waves at kids every morning. The postal worker who knows which packages need careful handling. The mechanic who just fixed my Jeep for a fair price and didn’t try to screw me over.

Most people are decent. Most systems, despite their flaws, still function. Most problems get solved by people showing up and doing the work, quietly, without fanfare.

We can’t ignore the big problems. But we must remember that they exist alongside a million small things that are going exactly right. The world isn’t broken – it’s complicated. And complicated includes both the disasters and the daily miracles.

The Next Chapter

Wed, 20 Aug 2025 22:42:00 -0400

Tomorrow we will get up early and drive you off to college. The car is mostly packed, except for some last-minute items you’ll grab in the morning.

I’ve been thinking about time a lot in recent days. Not in an abstract way, but in a very concrete sense. This website has been chronicling your journey since before you could hold your head up, and today I found myself scrolling through years of posts like flipping through a diary that spans your entire life.

There’s the announcement of your arrival in 2007, when I was so new to fatherhood that I was still figuring out how to hold you properly. Your first Father’s Day, when you were barely a month old and I was already marveling at how completely you’d changed everything. Then years of football games, dude’s days, graduations, milestones both big and small. All of it archived here, a digital scrapbook of watching you grow from that tiny infant into the young man you are today heading off to study journalism.

As you head into this next chapter, I want to share some thoughts – not as the guy who’s been writing about your life for eighteen years, but as someone who cares deeply about how the next eighteen turn out.

Be yourself. This might be the last time in your life you get a completely clean slate. Nobody at Penn State knows the Elliott from high school or the Elliott from middle school or the kid who used to catch snowflakes on his tongue. You get to decide who you want to be, how you want to show up, what parts of yourself you want to emphasize. That’s both liberating and terrifying, but lean into the liberation. The world needs your particular brand of thoughtfulness and curiosity.

Try new things. College is basically a four-year experiment in being human, and the best experiments involve trying things you’ve never done before. Take that dance class. Join that club that sounds interesting but weird. Order something off the menu you can’t pronounce. Say yes to invitations that make you a little nervous. Great discoveries happen when you venture outside your comfort zone.

Find your people. You’re going to meet hundreds of people in the next few months, and you don’t need to be friends with all of them. But pay attention to the ones who make you feel more like yourself, not less. The ones who laugh at your jokes and challenge your ideas and seem genuinely interested in what you have to say. Some of the most important relationships of your life might start in a dorm hallway or a dining hall line. Choose wisely – you become who you hang out with.

Call your mother. And not just when you need something. She’s going to miss you. Hearing your voice — not just reading your texts – means more than you know. Call when something good happens. Call when something frustrating happens. Call when nothing much is happening at all. And yes, call me too.

We have your back. This one is important: independence doesn’t mean isolation. There’s going to come a moment – maybe several moments – when you’re overwhelmed or confused or just need someone to remind you that you’re capable of handling whatever you’re facing. Lean on the core four. That’s what we’re here for. Not to solve your problems, but to remind you that you have the tools to solve them yourself. And if you don’t have the tools yet, we’ll help you find them.

Have fun. But not too much fun. You know what I mean.

As I write this, I keep thinking about that first Father’s Day post when you were barely a month old. I wrote about how surreal it felt to suddenly be responsible for this tiny person, how the weight of fatherhood was both overwhelming and motivating. Eighteen years later, that feeling hasn’t gone away – it’s just evolved. Now instead of protecting you from falling off the changing table, I’m watching you prepare to launch yourself into the world.

The difference is that now I have eighteen years of evidence that you’re going to be just fine. More than fine. I’ve watched you navigate challenges with thoughtfulness and grace. I’ve seen you stand up for what you believe in. I’ve witnessed you treat people with kindness and respect. I’ve watched you pursue your interests with genuine passion.

Tomorrow we’ll jump in the car and make the drive to State College. We’ll carry your boxes up to your room, help you get settled, and then – probably after lingering longer than you’d prefer – we’ll drive home to a house that feels a bit smaller. But this is the way it is meant to be.

Now I’m handing the metaphorical pen to you. You’re the author of the next chapter in this story that started eighteen years ago and I can’t wait to watch you write it.

Letter Club

Thu, 07 Aug 2025 06:57:25 -0400

Letter Club, a new project from Naz Hamid and Scott Robbin, looks very cool. From Naz’s announcement post:

Not physical letters, but digital letters that arrive with traditional mail’s rhythm. It’s a private group newsletter that everyone contributes to and receives. It’s intentionally slow, purposeful, and deeply gratifying — a low-stress, high-signal way to stay connected that creates meaningful moments in a social world dominated by drive-by likes and fleeting attention.

I love this concept and I’m thinking of a number of cool topics worth exploring in this small group format:

A record club where we share new additions to our collections
An adventure club that shares highlights and recaps of running, cycling, hiking or climbing endeavors
A BBQ club focused on smoker & grill experiments and recipes

If one of these ideas resonates with you, hit me up. Awesome stuff, Naz and Scott!

Update: I created a club called Get in My Earholes that asks the question, “What’s the best record you’ve added to your collection recently?” Feel free to join the club…first letter goes out on 8/9 and then every 2 weeks after that.

Jameson - line (pause) line

Fri, 01 Aug 2025 12:22:05 -0400

A friend reached out the other day asking if a self-released EP my band put out back in the day was streaming anywhere online. It was not, so I uploaded it as a playlist to YouTube.

Released in late 1999, line (pause) line was the first and only recording we put out into the world. We toured a bit supporting it opening for bands like Midtown, The Juliana Theory, Further Seems Forever and the like, and I have some amazing memories from this period of my life.

I haven’t listened to it in ages, and thought I’d cringe a bit upon hearing it, but I’m cringing less than expected. It actually brought a smile to my face and unlocked those memories once again.

Let me know if you want the mp3 files and I can email them to you.

Ebb + Flow

Wed, 16 Jul 2025 17:48:46 -0400

I’m sitting here at my laptop for what feels like the first time in weeks, and it feels good. Really good. Like returning home after being away for too long.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. Elliott graduated high school. One chapter closing, another opening. We threw him a graduation party that seemed to take over our entire lives for a month. Planning for 100 people at our house, coordinating catering, setting up tents, worrying about weather. The setup was exhausting, the teardown even more so.

But when it was happening? Pure magic. Watching Elliott surrounded by friends and family, seeing the pride on everyone’s faces, feeling that collective celebration of this milestone – it was everything we hoped it would be and more.

Between the party planning, family travel, and an unusually demanding stretch at work, writing this site took a temporary backseat. This site sat here, patient and waiting, while life demanded my full attention elsewhere. And you know what? That’s exactly how it should be.

There’s something extremely natural about the ebb and flow of creative practice. Some seasons are for output, when thoughts are flowing and the words come easily. Other seasons are for input – for living, experiencing, gathering the raw material that eventually becomes the next wave of posts.

I used to feel guilty about the quiet periods. Like I was failing some invisible obligation to feed the algorithm, to maintain momentum, to stay visible in the endless scroll. But that’s the beauty of owning your own corner of the web. It doesn’t demand daily feeding. It doesn’t punish you for taking time away. It simply exists, ready for whenever you return.

This space has become something I didn’t expect when I started writing here: a refuge. A place where I can think out loud, process experiences, and document the moments that matter. It’s here when I need to work through something complex, celebrate something meaningful, or simply reconnect with the practice of writing.

Tonight, sitting here after being fully present for graduation ceremonies and family celebrations and work deadlines, I’m grateful for this patient digital home. I’m grateful for the rhythm that allows for both busy seasons and reflective ones. And I’m grateful that some things in our hyperdigital world still move at human speed.

This Site in Perpetuity

Fri, 27 Jun 2025 16:53:59 -0400

Not to get morbid, but turning 47 yesterday started me thinking about the persistence and legacy of this site if I were to suddenly get gone. One of the main purposes of StaticMade.com for me is to leave a public mark or a detailed record of my time, thoughts and consciousness while on this planet. How might I ensure it persists if something unforeseen happens?

Coincidentally today, Manton (founder of Micro.blog, the platform I use to publish Static Made) posted some information about his policy on scenarios of subscription lapses and untimely death:

If you have ever paid for hosting with us, and you haven’t violated our terms of service or community guidelines, we keep your blog online forever, even after you’ve stopped paying for your subscription.

I think this is a very proactive and generous policy. So as long as there is a plan for domain management, the site should remain online in perpetuity. Thanks Manton!

Forty-Seven Things

Thu, 26 Jun 2025 16:33:36 -0400

I begin my 48th trip around the sun today, so here is a non-exhaustive list of 47 things I’ve learned during those 47 orbits.

Static made old radio.
Be here now. This moment is the only one you can truly inhabit.
Put the phone down. The best conversations happen face-to-face.
Quality over quantity, always. Fewer, better things make life richer.
Your body knows more than any smartwatch can. Listen to it.
Progress isn’t always about moving faster or going farther.
Sometimes the best way to move forward is to leave things behind.
Eat as low to the ground as you can.
Pizza and bagels are just better in New York.
Never drink so much at night that you ruin the whole next day.
People matter more than protocols, and protocols matter more than platforms.
Relationships require effort.
If the music is too loud, you’re too old.
You should not enjoy the music your kids listen to.
Seek out conversations with the elderly. Their perspective will educate you.
Seek out conversations with children. Their perspective will energize you.
Read books. Real ones. Feel the pages. Breathe in the binding.
Depth almost always beats breadth.
Chaos is constant. Exploit it.
Living well is about progression, not perfection.
Everything fades.
Grief doesn’t last forever. It dulls over time.
There is a difference between pain and discomfort. Learn to deal with each uniquely.
Pain caves are mental constructs. You can choose to leave them.
Small, consistent choices add up to big changes over time.
Running can be meditation in motion.
It’s OK to be bored. Let your mind wander. It may lead to something creative.
Spend at least one hour a day outside.
There is no such thing as bad weather.
Get sunlight into your eyes as quick as you can in the morning.
Avoid productivity as performance.
Take notes, but don’t document everything.
Take photos, but not selfies.
Use the appropriate tool for the job.
Outcomes over outputs.
Don’t just do a thing. Do the right thing.
Technical debates often obscure the more important human questions.
Own your content. Put it on your own domain. Leave a digital legacy.
A good leader doesn’t create followers. A good leader creates more leaders.
Embrace both/and thinking instead of either/or battles.
You are not your profession. Work is a means to an end, not an identity.
Rise early. Get an edge.
Check in on the news once, maybe twice, per day. Any more than that is not helpful.
Attention is your most valuable currency.
Tip well.
Listening is vastly more important than speaking.
Learn to be comfortable in silence and solitude.

Sunday Service

Sun, 15 Jun 2025 10:44:01 -0400

For some people, attending church on Sunday morning is the spiritual space they need in their lives. I have never been one of those people, but I am someone who needs quiet, reflection and beauty to feel spiritually fulfilled. I find my spiritual space in the nature.

This morning, as the church bells atop North Park rang to signal 8am, I started out on the Green trail. It was foggy and humid, but once I got into the woods, the fog added a layer of mystery to the familiar trail.

As I moved from the Green trail to the Orange trail, I passed a father and young son just starting out on a Father’s Day hike. They were the only two humans I’d see on the trails this morning.

I love solo runs like this. They ground me in a way I presume church or religion does for others. I listen closely to the sound of my breath and the non-rhythms of my footfalls. My mind wanders wherever it wants to wander, much like my body in these trail running moments.

After an hour or so in this zen-like state, I emerged from the woods into the church parking lot refreshed, aware and at ease — a spiritual space those now entering the church will likely have in about an hour.

A Different Kind of Ultra

Fri, 13 Jun 2025 15:11:08 -0400

It’s been several months since I stopped using a smartwatch to track health and exercise metrics, and it’s an understatement to say this simple act has fundamentally altered my mental state in the best possible way. The shift has completely changed my perspective on the purpose of maintaining good health.

Before I made the switch, I could classify my metrics gathering into two buckets:

general life metrics like sleep quality, resting heart rate, and daily steps
workout metrics like pace, weekly miles, and elevation gain

My assumption going into the experiment was that the general life stuff would be easier to let go of than the workout metrics. But to my surprise, I don’t miss the exercise metrics at all.

In fact, not having pace and miles strapped to my wrist – or the pressure to stack miles week over week – allows me to be more present when I’m out there on a run or ride. Not knowing exactly how fast I’m pacing lets me truly listen to my body for cues about when to go harder or when to back off. I can feel my fatigue in greater fidelity, if that makes sense.

For example, I wasn’t feeling 100% after starting this morning’s run, so I decided to power hike the steep inclines of North Park’s South Ridge. In that moment, I thought to myself, “You would never let yourself hike these hills if you had pace on your wrist.” Hiking would slow down my overall pace too significantly.

It’s liberating to be able to run fast when I want to and throttle it back when I feel like I need to. Similarly, it’s refreshing (and sort of weird) to have no idea exactly how far I’m running.

When I returned home from this morning’s run, Jilly asked how far I ran.

“I’m not quite sure,” I told her. “I ran through the woods for about an hour and fifteen minutes, so that’s maybe six or seven miles, but I don’t know for sure.”

She didn’t quite understand why I would run if I wasn’t paying attention to how far I ran.

I think all of this boils down to the phase of life I’m currently in. I’m getting older and I’m okay with that. I’m not chasing paces anymore. I’m not chasing mileage volume. I’m not putting pressure on myself to progress at all costs. I don’t get upset if life gets busy and I don’t have time for my daily run. There are no ultramarathons on my docket.

Things are different now.

These days I’m chasing experiences – I want a unique one with each outing, and that’s only possible if I am fully present during each outing. These days I’m chasing future experiences and a level of fitness that will keep me on this planet for a bit longer so someday in the not-too-distant future I can be active with my grandkids.

That’s a different kind of ultra, but it’s the one I’m training for these days.

A Dream for the Web

Wed, 11 Jun 2025 11:37:33 -0400

I dream of a web that’s small and strange and wonderful. Where personal websites grow like gardens – each one unique, crafted by hand, reflecting the beautiful weirdness of its creator. Where the web feels big because it’s made of small, individual voices.

I dream of a web where people own their words. Where our thoughts live on our own property, not rented from a company that can disappear voices on a whim. Where writing exists because you have something to say, not because the appetite of the algorithm demands it.

I dream of a web where linking is loving. Where hyperlinks have power, where blogrolls make comebacks, where discovery happens through human curation rather than manipulation by machines. Where following a thread of links can lead down rabbit holes of genuine fascination.

I dream of a web that respects our attention. Where websites load quickly because they’re not bloated with tracking scripts and surveillance infrastructure. Where reading an article doesn’t trigger an onslaught of analytics events and cookie consent banners. Where the interface serves the content, not the advertiser.

I dream of a web that’s accessible to everyone – not just those who can afford the latest devices or fastest connections. Where sites work on old phones and slow networks because the creators remembered that the web is for everyone, not just the privileged.

I dream of a web where communities form around shared interests rather than shared platforms. Where discussions thrive, where posts feel like letters from friends, where feeds let you choose your own reading rhythm instead of surrendering to an infinite scroll.

I dream of a web that’s built by humans for humans. Where the goal isn’t to automate away human expression through artificial intelligence, but to amplify the unique perspectives that only humans can offer.

I dream of a web that moves at human speed. Where conversations unfold over days and weeks instead of milliseconds. Where depth matters more than virality, and reflection is worth more than reaction. Where you can disappear for a month and come back to find your community still there, still talking, still caring.

I dream of a web where silence is golden. Where not every moment needs to be documented, shared, or optimized for engagement. Where digital sabbaths are respected, where being offline isn’t a productivity failure, where the most profound connections happen when the screens are dark.

I dream of a web that doesn’t just connect our devices, but connects our souls. That doesn’t just transfer data, but transfers meaning.

The No Excuses Jacket

Wed, 04 Jun 2025 15:19:00 -0400

My friend Rob calls it my “no excuses jacket.” Every time I show up for a run when the weather is doing its worst—sleeting, pouring, or threatening something even more unpleasant—I’m wearing the same beat-up, greenish-yellow Marmot Precip jacket that’s been my constant companion for years.

It’s not the most technical piece of gear, and it’s certainly not the most stylish. But it has one quality that matters more than anything else: I trust it completely. Through Christmas Eve runs at -11 degrees, winter solstice adventures on the Rachel Carson trail in 18 inches of snow, and just last week when sheets of summer rain turned my morning neighborhood run into an impromptu swimming session, this jacket has never let me down.

The durability isn’t just about the fabric—it’s about the memories woven into every mile. This jacket has been with me through breakthrough runs and breaking points, through moments of clarity on quiet trails and the grinding determination of longer efforts. It’s become more than gear; it’s become a symbol of showing up.

But here’s what I’ve realized: the real power of the “no excuses jacket” isn’t protection from the elements. It’s protection from my own resistance to discomfort.

Weather is just the most obvious form of resistance we face. The cold whispers that it’s too harsh to go out. The rain suggests that maybe today isn’t the day. The wind argues that conditions aren’t ideal. My jacket doesn’t eliminate these conditions—it just gives me the confidence to move through them anyway.

This same principle has started showing up in other areas of my life, particularly in those moments that require a different kind of courage. Like having uncomfortable conversations with team members about performance issues. Or pushing back on a decision I disagree with in a leadership meeting. Or admitting I was wrong about a product direction we’ve been pursuing for months.

These situations don’t require literal weather protection, but they need the same kind of shield—something that helps me face discomfort rather than avoid it. Sometimes it’s preparation that serves as my jacket: spending extra time thinking through a difficult conversation before having it. Sometimes it’s a mindset: reminding myself that avoiding hard truths doesn’t make them disappear. And sometimes it’s simply the accumulated confidence that comes from having weathered difficult moments before.

This isn’t about toxic productivity or grinding through everything that feels hard. There’s a difference between productive discomfort and destructive suffering. The “No Excuses Jacket” philosophy is about being brave enough to engage with the things that matter, even when they feel uncomfortable. It’s about recognizing that the best runs often happen in the worst weather, and the most important conversations often happen when they feel the hardest to have.

The jacket reminds me that I have more capacity for discomfort than I usually give myself credit for. That the anticipation of harsh conditions is often worse than the conditions themselves. That showing up consistently, regardless of circumstances, builds a different kind of strength than any training plan could provide.

There’s something grounding about having a piece of gear—or a practice, or a mindset—that you trust completely. It becomes an anchor point, a reminder that you’ve faced uncertainty before and made it through. My beat-up Precip has become a tangible representation of the principle that we’re more resilient than we think, and that the best version of ourselves often emerges not in perfect conditions, but in spite of imperfect ones.

How I Used AI Today

Wed, 28 May 2025 19:35:32 -0400

My son is having a birthday and graduating from high school in the span of five days, so Jilly and I thought we’d do something special and get him a joint gift to celebrate both occasions. He’s very much interested in photojournalism and will be entering university in the fall to study communications. We thought a nice DSLR camera would be a the perfect gift.

I don’t know much about cameras or lenses, so I asked Claude for some help. My initial prompt:

I want to buy my son a DSLR camera for his birthday/graduation. You are an expert in photography and photography equipment. Could you help me select the right camera, lenses and bag? I’d like to spend about $X total.

Claude and I then chatted about my son’s photographic interests, his current level of expertise, and several of my purchase preferences/requirements. The output of this conversation was a tight list of three potential camera bodies w/ corresponding lens pairings.

I then asked Claude to find the best deals for two of the options and it returned the top three online retailers for both based on price, service and customer reviews.

After validating some pricing details, I made the purchase. In total, I estimate this approach saved me several hours of research and analysis paralysis, which I am known for when making purchases like this.

The camera kit arrived two days later, we gave it to him on his birthday and he used it for the first time last night to cover his school’s WPIAL title baseball game.

Note: This post is part of an ongoing series called How I Used AI Today, inspired by friend and former colleague Beck Tench who does something similar over on LinkedIn. I’m starting to believe the thinking and narrative around generative AI is becoming too binary. The intent of this series is to keep me publicly honest and intellectually responsible with my use of this emerging technology.

Long Live the Zine

Wed, 28 May 2025 08:26:53 -0400

Pittsburgh-based nonprofit news outlet PublicSource is experimenting with a new printed edition, although not the typical format for which legacy media is known. Taking a page from the underground publishing playbook, PublicSource is releasing neighborhood-focused zines intended to meet communities where they are – at coffee shops, community centers, their neighbor’s home – and create a hyperlocal publication with impact.

Zines are independently published, noncommercial publications that are often handmade and focus on very specific subject matter. They carry a storied history, with some scholars tracing zine lineage back to Thomas Paine’s political pamphlet Common Sense in 1776. The modern era of zine culture in the U.S. was ushered in during the late-19th century’s amateur press movement and carried through the 20th century with help from the Harlem Renaissance, science fiction fandom and punk rock movements.

PublicSource’s foray into zine publication is in the spirit of these previous movements, but also brings with it a reaction to the digiral culture of our day. Halle Stockton on the rationale:

We intentionally chose the zine format: a small, printed publication you can hold, flip through, pass to a friend or tuck into your bag. It’s low-tech and high-touch. It slows you down just a little. It doesn’t ping or scroll. And it doesn’t require an algorithm to find its audience.

There’s something profound in Stockton’s phrase “high-touch.” The tactile experience of paper creates engagement that’s very different from media that’s mediated through a glass screen. The physical act of flipping pages, the inability to hyperlink away to endless distractions, the constraint of finite space – these aren’t limitations. They’re features. They force both writer and reader into a more intentional relationship with the stories.

I think this is an interesting move for a media outlet like PublicSource. Journalism needs to become more local. It needs to connect with people on the issues that directly impact them, their neighbors and their neighborhoods. It’s smart PublicSource considers the zine project to be one element of a broader strategy to “inform and inspire the Pittsburgh region through the power of deep, independent journalism,” because the artisanal nature of the format does raise questions about scalability.

While most of our information these days arrives through algorithmic feeds and endless scroll, there’s something quietly revolutionary about a folded piece of paper that exists entirely outside that system. PublicSource’s zine experiment reminds us that sometimes the most innovative approach is also the most ancient one: putting words on paper and handing them directly to your neighbors.

Whether this model can scale remains to be seen, but perhaps that’s missing the point. Zines were never about scale – they were and continue to be about connection, community, and the radical idea that everyone has a story worth telling. Maybe what modern journalism needs isn’t more reach, but more touch.

The Leadership We Need Right Now

Wed, 21 May 2025 08:54:17 -0400

Retail Brew analyzing how REI is doubling down on diversity, equity and inclusion:

While REI is affirming its values now, the company, by its own admission, betrayed them earlier in the current Trump administration.

Full disclosure: I work for REI and what follows is my personal view from the inside.

Earlier this year the Co-Op signed on to an outdoor industry letter sent to The Senate Committee on Energy and Natural Resources supporting the nomination of Doug Bergum for Secretary of the Interior. Many REI employees were left confused, upset and feeling somewhat betrayed by a company whose primary purpose was to protect our public lands and work tirelessly to ensure the outdoors is accessible for all. We felt the letter was in direct conflict with the values that drew us to work at REI.

Since that letter was published, REI has a new CEO. In one of her first public statements as CEO, Mary Beth (MB) Laughton announced clearly and transparently that it was a mistake signing the letter:

Signing that letter was a mistake. The actions that the administration has taken on public lands are completely at odds with the long-standing values of REI…I’m here to apologize to our members on behalf of REI, to retract our endorsement of Doug Burgum, and to take full accountability for how we move forward.

At REI’s annual member meeting held on May 8th, MB made another public statement affirming REI’s commitment to DEI, even in the face of mounting pressure from the current administration:

In a time when our public lands and values like diversity, equity and inclusion are under threat, I want you to hear from me that REI believes these are essential to our business.

I feel like this is the kind of leadership REI needs right now. Admitting mistakes, owning the accountability for those mistakes, and charting a path forward honoring the core values that make the Co-Op a special place work. Most of us who work at REI don’t work there because we love selling tents. We work there because we love the outdoors. We want to protect it. We want to ensure people of all backgrounds and abilities can experience it. We want to make a positive impact in the world. With leadership like this at the helm, I still believe all of that is possible.

The retail industry is tough business. It’s even harder when the political current is working against company values. As I survey the room of other retailers and notice their actions related to the politics of the day, it’s very easy to see which companies are willing to sell out for political favor. I’m glad REI is not one of those.

Rearviewmirror

Tue, 20 May 2025 08:40:30 -0400

As a pre-teen in the early ’90s, few things lit me up like the newly emergent Seattle grunge scene. I had been playing guitar for several years by then and most of those early years were spent idolizing hair metal shredders and learning Guns N’ Roses solos note for note. But then at some point in 1991 I heard the four-chord intro to Smells Like Teen Spirit and my life changed.

Those four chords showed me that music was meant to move you. Forget formality. Forget the polish. Those four chords opened up a new world of bands who wrote songs with raw emotion and intensity. One of those bands was Pearl Jam.

The first Pearl Jam song that hooked me was Alive. That intro lick was (and continues to be decades later) so fresh. Shortly after hearing it, I bought the Ten cassette and played it on repeat. It was in the walkman. It was in the deck of my parents’ 1988 Dodge Caravan. I played it in my room over and over and over learning the hard-panned guitar parts played by Mike and Stone. Pearl Jam had become my favorite band.

When the lineup for Lollapalooza ‘92 was announced, with Pearl Jam playing in the 2nd slot between Lush and The Jesus and Mary Chain, I knew I had to find a way to be there when the tour came to nearby Scranton, Pennsylvania. Being only thirteen, getting there would not be easy. I had no friends that could drive and my parents were not keen on the idea of dropping their thirteen year-old son off into a grungy mosh pit.

I’ve written before about how supportive my dad was in my musical endeavors. After weeks of badgering him to go to the show, he relented and agreed to go with me. It wasn’t the coolest thing to go to a rock show with your dad, but nothing would stop me from being there.

Long story short, the concert was located at Montage Mountain Ski Resort in the Pocono Mountains and the parking situation was a nightmare. We couldn’t park near the venue and needed to park several miles from where the concert was taking place. Concert organizers were bussing attendees from remote parking locations up to the base of the mountain where the bands were performing. It took us several hours to get from where we parked to the location.

As we stepped off the yellow school bus at the base of the mountain, I heard in the distance the familiar sound of one of my favorite Pearl Jam songs, Porch. They were already playing. Back in those days there was no setlist.fm so I had no idea how far the band was into their set. Turns out, they were pretty far into it. By the time we got to a vantage point of the band, they were well into Rockin’ in the Free World, which would be their final song. I was bummed to miss most of their set, but to this day I feel extremely fortunate to have caught a glimpse of their brilliance at that stage of their career.

Fast forward 33 years. Between 1992 and 2025, I never had the chance to see Pearl Jam again. I continued to follow and admire the band, but getting to a show just never worked out. That all changed last Sunday night.

Earlier this year when the band announced a pair of Pittsburgh dates, I made it a mission to attend. The tickets were hard to get (thanks Ticketmaster) and a bit pricey, but I would not be denied. I scored two upper level tickets, and Jilly and I circled the date on the calendar.

To say Sunday night’s show was worth the wait is an understatement. It was the final show of their Dark Matter world tour, and the band blew the roof off PPG Paints Arena to a more-than-capacity crowd. The air was electric – a mix of die-hard fans who’d seen them dozens of times and people like me who’d waited decades for this moment. You could feel the anticipation building as the lights dimmed and the crowd roared.

Early set highlights included an urgent & powerful version of Why Go that folded perfectly into Deep, two of my favorite tracks from Ten. Elderly Woman… was amazing as well, especially when Eddie turned over vocal duties to the crowd for the outro. Hearts and thoughts, they fade away. Chills. As expected, Even Flow whipped the crowd into a frenzy for the remainder of the first set, which culminated in a frantic rendition of Rearviewmirror that left the crowd dizzy.

The band left the stage for a few minutes and came back to play a 10-song encore that included unexpected songs like Hunger Strike (dedicated to Chris Cornell) and Crazy Mary, setlist staples like Alive, Lukin and Yellow Ledbetter, and covers of Rockin’ in the Free World and Little Wing, which closed out the night.

Eddie’s voice was so good and the band was super tight, seemingly firing on all cylinders. The energy was electric. It seemed like they were actually having fun. That’s rare to see in a band nearly four decades into their run. Pearl Jam is something truly special.

Reflecting back on this experience, I think it was worth the wait. It’s pretty cool that 33 years after I first saw the last bars of Rockin’ in the Free World at Lollapalooza, I got a chance to see the full version at a distinctly different stage of life. I lost my dad a long time ago, but Little Wing was one of his favorite songs of all time and I can’t help but think the universe was smiling at me at that moment. He would have loved to hear Pearl Jam’s version.

I’m not sure if I’ll get the chance to see Pearl Jam again. To be completely honest, I’m not sure I want to. The experience from Sunday will be a lasting memory and part of me wants to leave it at that – captured and catalogued alongside the 1992 memory for decades to come.

On Care, Craft and Quality

Thu, 15 May 2025 16:37:37 -0400

Few things in life are actually urgent. True emergencies do happen, but hopefully they are rare. The urgency I’m referring to is fabricated. A modern myth.

Our culture has evolved to value instant gratification, instant response and instant turnaround for most things. The faster your synapses get feedback, the better.

It doesn’t need to be this way. In fact, this faux urgency creates conflict with several of the personal pillars I hold dear: care, craft and quality.

Caring about something requires that you get to know it over time. A relationship is necessary for care to exist, and relationships don’t take shape instantly. They’re built on connection, trust and empathy – all elements difficult to nurture quickly.

Likewise, craft requires practice. And by definition, practice is working toward perfection over time. A craft is not developed overnight, but over years. Sometimes decades.

I think quality is the summation of care and craft. A thing of quality can only be the result of time spent caring about an outcome and crafting a response to that care.

All of this requires that we slow down. Turn off the firehose. Preference the signals that matter. Notice the details. Ask nuanced questions. Make space for diverse perspectives. Take on difficult conversations. Become intentional about our actions. By living this way, we’ll be able to center the care and craft required to deliver the quality the world deserves.

Protocols as Pillars

Tue, 13 May 2025 08:17:54 -0400

The social web is at an inflection point. After years of centralized platforms dominating our digital lives, we’re witnessing a resurgence of alternatives built on open protocols. I believe this is something to celebrate, yet I’ve noticed a recent rift of technologists, developers, and early adopters engaging in debates about which approach is more “pure” or “truly open.”

The Mastodon/ActivityPub camp points to federation and existing implementation. The Bluesky/AT Protocol proponents highlight architectural advantages and planned interoperability. They’re both right and each side has compelling arguments, but they miss a fundamental truth: the web was never meant to be a monoculture.

The early web thrived because it wasn’t beholden to a single implementation or approach. HTTP, HTML, RSS and other foundational web technologies weren’t prescriptive about how they should be implemented. They simply defined interfaces that allowed different systems to communicate. This protocol-first approach created a healthy ecosystem where experimentation was encouraged and diversity was a strength, not a liability.

If today’s web is built in the spirit of the web we were given by its creators, platforms simply shouldn’t matter. Protocols should.

When Tim Berners-Lee gave us the web, he didn’t dictate which software to use or which browser was the “true” implementation. Instead, he offered protocols that allowed for interoperability while encouraging innovation at the edges. The result was a renaissance that transformed human communication. The web we knew and loved.

The challenge we face today isn’t deciding which social platform is more ideologically pure. It’s building systems that return agency, privacy and control to users while maintaining the convenience and network effects that drew people to centralized platforms in the first place.

This isn’t a zero-sum game where one protocol must “win” while others fade away. Let’s take email as an example. Email has thrived for decades with multiple protocols working in concert. Different implementations serve different needs, and the ecosystem is stronger for it.

The real metric of success shouldn’t be which protocol gains dominant market share, but whether users regain control over their digital identities and social connections. Can I own my data? Can I choose which clients I use to access the network? Can I move between providers without losing my social graph? These questions matter far more than whether a particular implementation uses federated servers or a distributed approach.

As someone who’s been thinking about the intersection of technology and human experience for years, I’ve come to believe that technical debates often obscure the more important human questions. In reality normies don’t care whether their social media runs on ActivityPub or AT Protocol — they care about connecting with friends, sharing ideas, and being part of communities.

Perhaps what frustrates me most about the current discourse is how it forces people to choose sides in a battle that shouldn’t exist. The brilliant minds crafting today’s open web are wasting energy fighting each other rather than working together to build alternatives to the centralized offerings from big tech.

What if, instead, we embraced a both/and mindset? What if Mastodon/ActivityPub and Bluesky/AT Protocol were seen as complementary approaches, each with strengths and weaknesses, each contributing to a richer, more resilient social web?

It’s already this way for me. By leveraging the POSSE (Post on your Own Site, Syndicate Everywhere) philosophy via Micro.blog, I am able to post & reply on both Mastodon/Fediverse & Bluesky without ever seeing or touching either platform. Because the underlying protocols for each are well architected and documented, Micro.blog’s creator Manton Reece can build his platform above their protocols. The Ghost blogging platform is heading this direction too. This is the future.

The path forward isn’t choosing between competing visions of openness. It’s embracing the plurality of approaches while insisting on core values of user agency, data ownership, and interoperability. In that spirit, let’s redirect our energy from debating protocols to building the web we want to see — one that’s truly open to everyone, regardless of which particular technical approach gets us there.

Mother’s Day 2025

Sun, 11 May 2025 20:58:54 -0400

We had a wonderful day honoring and celebrating Jilly. First, we made our way to the South Side to check out the Neighborhood Flea. There were tons of vendors and people out and about, largely due to the splendid weather. I scored some artisanal Ginger Beer and the Jilly scored some prints from a local artist.

Next, we took a ride on The Gateway Clipper. We’ve been living in Pittsburgh for 25 years and have never done it. It was fun, and again, the weather was absolutely perfect. As we were deboarding, we even saw a beaver on the river bank. All the years I’ve been running through the woods, I have never crossed paths with a beaver. But the first time I take an urban cruise, there he is. Super cool.

We closed the day with a fabulous meal at Nicky’s Thai Kitchen. Pineapple Fried Rice for me, Pad See Ew for Jilly and Thai Fried Rice for the kids.

Happy Mother’s Day Jilly! We love you.

Designing for Chaos

Tue, 06 May 2025 15:19:27 -0400

I envy product thinkers who operate within the context of a lean and born-digital startup. Product strategy is never easy, but building technology in this environment becomes fairly straightforward. Write code, test, deploy. Rinse and repeat. Or some variation of this. But try bringing that same approach into a complex physical environment like a retail store, and suddenly you’re not just a product manager – you’re part ringmaster, part therapist, and part exorcist for technology that seems possessed by real-world demons.

I’ve spent the last two decades building tech designed to be used in physical space – first in museums, then in retail organizations – and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the gap between the digital roadmap and the reality of the floor is extremely wide.

First, there’s the idealism divide. Most technologists think about users as disembodied entities who interact with software in predictable, often ideal, ways. This is the happy path mentality. Meanwhile, most retail associates are often juggling many scenarios at once: a customer who’s trying to return a swimsuit they bought 6 months ago, a thief trying to steal an expensive piece of outerwear, a random question about product specs, or a manager who’s just informed them they need to be cross-trained on a new area of the store – all while attempting to use enterprise systems on six-year-old hardware.

Then there’s the physical environment itself. That sleek tablet kiosk we designed? It’s now positioned directly under an HVAC vent that drips condensation like a leaky faucet. That in-aisle digital display meant to guide customers? It’s been commandeered as a support pole for seasonal decoration. And the once-white customer-facing payment terminal now bears the fingerprint smudges of a thousand customers.

Let’s not forget connectivity. In the product requirements, the system requires a stable internet connection. In reality, we’re dealing with large-scale Faraday cages that create spotty Wi-Fi at best.

The gap between digital intention and physical implementation creates a special kind of cognitive dissonance. Most product managers are trained to think in terms of user journeys and personas, only to watch customers use the self-checkout as a surface to scratch off a lottery ticket. I’ve grown to love this dichotomy over the years.

Within this chaos lies a peculiar beauty. Unlike purely digital products, retail tech exists in a messy, human world – one where success is measured by metrics, of course, but also the absence of complaints. The most elegant product isn’t the one with the cleanest code or the most impressive AI; it’s the one that works when the Wi-Fi doesn’t, when the user hasn’t slept, and when reality refuses to conform to a carefully plotted customer journey.

I’ve found the best retail tech product managers develop a kind of zen-like mindset. We learn to let go of digital perfection and embrace analog reality. We don’t build for the ideal conditions of the demo environment. We build for the beautiful disaster that is actual retail.

So the next time you’re struggling to operate a seemingly simple piece of technology in a store, know that somewhere a product manager is observing, taking notes, and going back to the drawing board to try once again to bridge the gap between the binary code and the bricks-and-mortar – one humbling iteration at a time.

The Elemental Hour

Fri, 25 Apr 2025 09:36:18 -0400

Over the past few years, I’ve developed an essential daily practice I call the Elemental Hour. The idea is simple – I commit at least one hour each day to being outdoors, regardless of weather or circumstance. No phone. No music or podcasts. No technology. Just me and whatever elements nature decides to serve up that day.

Sometimes I run. Sometimes I bike. Often, I simply walk. And some days I might just sit on the grass in my backyard, watching clouds drift or rain fall. The only condition that blocks me from the Elemental Hour is active lightning – a concession to safety that I’ve only had to invoke a handful of times.

This daily hour began as an experiment during a particularly screen-heavy period of work and has become an essential part of my wellbeing. It represents a small grounding, a deliberate step away from a technology-infused world. It creates a space where my attention isn’t fragmented by notifications, where success isn’t measured in metrics, and where presence isn’t mediated through a screen.

I can feel the benefits. Physically, my body moves in ways that feel natural and intuitive. Mentally, my thoughts have room to untangle themselves. And the practice has reconnected me with a direct, unfiltered experience of the world around me.

I think there’s something transformative about feeling rain on my face. About the absolute frozen bones after an hour sitting still in sub-zero windchill. About noticing the subtle transition of seasons. About navigating by landmarks and intuition.

When you’re standing in a downpour or navigating a snowy trail, the present moment demands your full attention. The future (how much longer will this last?) and the past (why didn’t I check the forecast?) become irrelevant. There is only now – this moment of being fully alive in the natural world.

Turning Helplessness Into Something Helpful

Tue, 15 Apr 2025 14:49:55 -0400

I’ve been thinking a lot about this current and pivotal moment we find ourselves in. You probably are too. The world seems to be unraveling at an unprecedented pace. It’s impossible to ignore. Even if you’re mindful about how and where you spend your time and attention, there’s no escaping the onslaught of negativity swirling around us.

Violence and hate have been normalized. Basic human rights are being taken from marginalized people with each passing day. Isolation and nationalism pit global allies against one another. And it costs us all more to make ends meet for ourselves and our families.

Left unchecked, I can’t see how this all ends well. For anyone.

It’s obvious the goal of this whirlwind is to flood the zone and make us feel helpless. It’s working. I feel extremely helpless at times. Today is one of those days. But for me, the first step toward turning helplessness into something positive – something helpful – is to acknowledge the feeling, understand why I’m feeling this way and sit with that feeling for a moment. This post is essentially me sitting with the feeling of helplessness.

The second step I can take toward helpfulness is to make a commitment to do something – anything – that helps others. None of us individually or alone can end hate or reverse the downward trend of the economy. But we can all do our part and I believe one helpful act from one individual can scale up to many helpful acts across dozens, hundreds, thousands of people.

Here are a few things I’m committing to in order to become more helpful:

Talk openly, honestly and politely with those who disagree. We’re all too dug in and unwilling to interact with opposing views. This needs to change. I will never argue with a Nazi, but short of that, I will make an effort to talk openly about my belief system with others in an honest and approachable way. I will lean into empathy and humor (where appropriate) to deflect and connect with those who hold opposing views. I will do my best to communicate why I believe the things I do. I will remain proud and undeterred.

Support the businesses of my (marginalized) neighbors. I’ve seen a number of locally owned businesses close their doors permanently in recent weeks. Economic turbulence affects everyone, but I think local independent businesses that operate without economies of scale take the brunt. And local businesses owned by people in the cross-hairs of society feel the pain even more. To that end, I will spend my dollars at the establishments owned and operated by my marginalized neighbors wherever possible. From food to clothing to services, and everything in between, I will opt to shop small over corporate options.

Do not fall into the trap of contributing to divisive narratives online. It’s sad, but I feel like factual truth has become obsolete. The echo chambers are real and they’re here to stay. Too much of what I see online is about fact checking things that are blatantly false. In the context of a social network, who does this help? Whose opinion do we hope to change with that post? I believe nothing helpful can come from quote posting or clapping back online. We need more substantive dialogue on issues and social platforms offer none of the substance or depth required for meaningful change.

Volunteer at least once per month at a social service nonprofit that aligns to my worldview. Like you, I have a lot going on in my personal life. A demanding job and family responsibilities consume most of my days and evenings, but I think it’s important to contribute to causes I believe in. I will make a point to find time each month to volunteer in person at local nonprofit organization that assists some of the people and groups currently threatened by systems and policies that have emerged in recent days.

I’m curious if this sentiment resonates with you. If it does, what are some things you do to transcend this helpless feeling? I’d love to hear about some things that are working for you.

In Pursuit of Ordinary

Tue, 01 Apr 2025 08:23:41 -0400

In The Ordinary Sacred, Joan Westenberg examines the alternative to a hyper-connected and ultra-performative lifestyle:

We live under systems—economic, cultural, digital—that demand we strive to be impressive. Inspirational. Aspirational. Permanently visible. Permanently performing. Eternally, achingly unsatisfied. We’re trained to ask, before doing anything: Will this make good content? Will this signal something useful? Will this get me closer to who I’m “supposed” to be?

I feel this sentiment in my bones. In my core. It’s a tension I feel pulling at me in surprising moments. Joan’s piece is a longer read, but worthy and relevant one – for me, and I suppose some of you who think similarly about digital culture.

A Professional Transition

Mon, 31 Mar 2025 09:35:31 -0400

Things have been quiet on the site lately and the reason is due to some professional news. A couple weeks ago I transitioned into into a new role at REI: Manager of Product Management for Front of House Technology. That’s a mouthful, but basically this newly-created role expands my responsibility beyond my current domain to include leading the product strategy for almost all the technology employees use to keep stores running smoothly and customers use to shop with us. Think point of sale & checkout systems, bike and ski shop services, apps that power sales floor workflows and our growing Re/Supply business.

The new role is a “player-coach” position and it feels like a natural extension of my work over the past few years. I’ll continue to have hands-on product management responsibilities, while taking on the added responsibility that comes with being a people leader. I now lead a team – and while I’ve done this in previous roles – it’s a new realm for me at REI.

I’m approaching this shift with open eyes and open ears. Good leadership isn’t about having all the answers, but about understanding what you don’t know, asking the right questions, listening with empathy, and creating space for honest conversations. It’s with this spirit that I plan to lean into leadership.

We have a lot of work ahead of us. What really gets me hyped is how these interconnected front of house systems — from browsing to checkout to services — have the potential to create a cohesive, amazing experience for our customers, members and employees. We’re not there right now. But we will get there eventually.

The retail technology landscape shifts quickly, and the boundaries between digital and physical experiences continue to blur. At REI, we’re embracing this head-on while staying true to our core mission of connecting people with the outdoors. In many ways, this parallels my own journey of finding balance between technological innovation and mindful living – my personal and professional sweet spot!

As with any new challenge, I’m approaching this role with both excitement and vulnerability. There’s so much to learn, systems to understand, and relationships to build. Things may be quiet around here for a while longer, but I’m super grateful for this opportunity, eager to continue my work with REI, and committed to leading with wholeheartedness. And as capacity allows I’m looking forward to sharing this journey as it unfolds.

Bring the Whisper

Wed, 19 Feb 2025 18:43:26 -0400

Our world is complex. It’s messy and laced with nuance. In this context, I believe subtlety matters. Thoughtfulness matters. Depth matters. Now more than ever.

Show me a problem that can be solved over a couple hundred hastily typed characters and an angry button tap. Or a cynical, irony-infused dunk. What progress have you seen come out of that? Increasingly, we are bringing megaphones to tasks that require honest, substantive, personal interactions. Inside voices, please.

Bring the whisper.

Soundbite culture doesn’t allow for the holistic understanding we need right now. Nor the empathy required to take ground on the change we’re working toward. With most things, answers don’t lie on the fringes. They can be found somewhere along a spectrum and the key to winning in this endeavor is to slide people along that spectrum toward you. That’s not possible through anger and shouting into a megaphone, which only digs people further into their trenches.

Bring the whisper.

Speaking with nuance and empathy does not mean deferring to or submitting to or normalizing conflicting perspectives. In fact, the opposite. By offering an empathetic ear we can understand why people believe the things they do and offer the alternatives in which we believe. I think this is best done face-to-face. In real life. Where nuance can be addressed.

Bring the whisper.

It’s not easy. These are uncomfortable, difficult conversations. They can be painful and depressing at times, but occasionally you’ll see someone inch toward you. A pondering look. A slow nod in the affirmative. An honest question about your thought process. These are windows into progress.

Bring the whisper.

Some might think I’m naïve in this approach, and that’s OK. I might be. To those who might write this off as a futile tactic I’ll ask, how’s that megaphone working out?

Millions of whispers in unison can be extremely loud. Bring the whisper.

Happy Birthday Dad

Tue, 18 Feb 2025 17:39:47 -0400

My father would have turned 73 years old today. In July it will be 15 years since we lost him. Since then, I don’t think there has been a day that I haven’t thought about him.

Like many dads out there, he was one-of-a-kind. I can’t help but see parts of him reflected in the man I’ve become. Some things are obvious. The receding hairline and similar smile are easy to see. Other traits – the more important ones – I hope are evident to those people in my life that mean the most.

The term ’lifehacker’ gets used a lot these days, but I think my dad hacked life long before that term existed. Whether it was dabbing our Space Derby rocket with a bit of liquid silicon so it was the fastest on the track or being able to talk himself out of any tricky situation, he was able to figure out angles on things and exploit situations in creative, non-malicious ways.

From my earliest memories, my dad was always my biggest supporter. We didn’t have a lot of money, but he did what he could to foster creativity and encourage me to pursue my passions. Early on for me, that was music.

He gifted me a secondhand guitar at the age of 8, which set off a lifetime of interest. I played that first Alvarez acoustic until my fingers were raw. Day and night, shredding in my room. My dad would come in and he’d just want to listen to me practice. I remember my first guitar instructor giving me a lesson that included an intricate waltz designed to improve the technique of my picking hand. It was called Sailor Dance. My dad loved that song for some reason and would regularly ask me to play it for him, even into my twenties.

I started my first band at 14 and booked my first gig shortly after. Scarlett O’hara’s in Bethlehem, PA. One of those pay-to-play joints where you needed to sell a bunch of tickets in order to get on the bill. A real hell hole. We sold our quota and got a slot on a Saturday night. Being underage and without a driver’s license, my dad offered to serve as van driver and roadie that night. Anything to get me on stage. He helped carry amps and stood in the back as we played a fine selection of Sex Pistols and Pantera covers. I still remember the wide-eyed smile on his face, even as the skinheads in attendance heckled us.

On the way home, we talked about perseverance in the face of obstacles and holding strong to artistic integrity, even when it’s not the most popular thing to do. He had a great way of connecting life back to learning opportunities. I hope that part of him is in me and I can do that for my kids too.

His level of enthusiasm was not entirely fault-free. One Xmas shortly after that first gig, one of the gifts under the tree for me was a frilly pirate shirt. Like the one from the Seinfeld episode. My dad thought I’d look good wearing it on stage. It was a very Fleetwood Mac vibe. I smiled and thanked him, never letting on that by then I was trying to look more like Kurt Cobain than Lindsay Buckingham.

I never did wear that shirt on stage.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this. Is it an act of remembrance? A subconscious documenting of the fact that I still miss him? A public, fleeting hope that I’ve become a fraction of the father he was? Probably yes to all of that. Maybe though, it’s nothing more than a simple birthday card sent into the ether where memory meets reality. Happy Birthday, Dad.

Next-Generation Journalism

Thu, 13 Feb 2025 17:00:44 -0400

I’m posting today with some exciting family news: my son Elliott has been accepted to the Donald P. Bellisario College of Communications at Penn State University where he’ll study journalism starting in the Fall of 2025.

The timing of his entrance into the field of journalism and media couldn’t be more important. We’re living at a time when the very nature of information sharing is being reshaped by technology, economics and politics. That change is coming from all angles. While traditional newsrooms and media outlets are facing unprecedented challenges, the need for skilled, ethical journalists who dedicate themselves to telling the truth has never been more vital to society.

As Elliott gets ready to join the class of ‘29 at Bellisario, I’m thinking a lot about the journalists who helped shape our understanding of the world and how he might join their ranks - from Woodward & Bernstein, to the emergence of cable news networks in the ’90s, to the more recent work of born-digital outlets like 404 Media that are reinventing the industry through revolutionary journalistic operating models. Each of these examples require skilled journalists willing to dig deeper, ask tough questions, innovate in the face of obstacles, and be brave when telling truth to power.

The challenges facing modern journalists are daunting and real. Misinformation. Media silos. AI slop. Economic and political pressures. It’s going to be hard, but seeing Elliott’s passion for this field gives me hope and fills me with pride. I’ve always tried to leverage a mindset where challenges present opportunities, and I hope I’ve instilled that in him. His generation understands intuitively how digital information flows, and it’s exciting to me that a new guard will be equipped with tools, instincts and ingenuity to flip these current challenges into opportunities that will benefit society.

To all the current and future journalists out there: keep asking questions, keep digging for truth, and keep telling the stories that need to be told. The world needs the next generation of journalists and I’m so proud Elliott will be among them.

Flow, Stock and the Open Web

Tue, 11 Feb 2025 16:27:56 -0400

Fifteen years ago, one of my favorite writers Robin Sloan wrote about the concept of “stock and flow” as they relate to digital media. His metaphor, borrowed from economics, distinguished between the ephemeral stream of updates (flow) and the durable lasting content (stock) that builds value over time. I stumbled upon this post again this week, probably through a bit of Mastodon flow, and reading it among today’s modern context feels both prescient and incomplete – prescient because Sloan astutely identifies the emerging tension between immediate engagement and lasting value, and incomplete in that he couldn’t have predicted how dramatically over the coming decade the pendulum would swing toward flow.

The intervening years have seen the rise and dominance of algorithms, short-form video, and endless streams of ephemeral content. These are the feeds we come to know and love¹ . We’ve optimized our digital lives for flow to an extent that would have been hard to imagine in 2010. The “treadmill” Sloan described has become a high-speed conveyor belt, perpetually delivering new content while whisking away anything more than a few hours old.

I’ve noticed something interesting happening, though. As our digital lives have become increasingly dominated by flow, there seems to be a growing hunger for stock – for content with permanence, depth, and lasting value. You can see it. You can feel it. I don’t think it’s just a notion of nostalgia from elder millennials like myself; it’s an emerging & collective awareness that the endless streams often leave us feeling empty and disconnected from what matters. Even my Gen-Z kids tell me this.

In my mind, the open web is the natural home for stock media. While social platforms optimize for ’engagement’ (read: time spent scrolling) and viral spread, the open IndieWeb creates space for content that develops and appreciates over time. Take this post as an example. It’s referencing a blog post from 15 years ago! When you own your platform, you’re free from the tyranny of flow. Your words can find their audience through myriad entry points, through intentional discovery, through the slow build of genuine connection rather than viral mechanics.

This matters because stock isn’t just about content strategy – it’s about how we think, how we create, and how we build understanding over time. When everything is flow, we lose the ability to develop ideas fully, to let thoughts mature and evolve. We sacrifice depth for immediacy, wisdom for novelty.

The open web provides the much needed infrastructure for digital permanence. Through evergreen protocols like hyperlinks and technologies like RSS, we can create connections between pieces of stock content that grow stronger over time. Unlike social platforms where old content effectively disappears, the open web allows ideas to find new audiences months or years after publication.

Now, we can’t reject flow entirely. As Sloan noted as early as 2010, we need both. But these times call for us to consciously rebalance. We need to recognize that some ideas need time to develop and that some conversations are worth having at a human pace rather than an algorithmic one.

I’ve personally experienced this rebalancing since moving my writing to this self-hosted corner of the internet. Free from the pressure to feed the algorithm, I find myself thinking differently about what I create. I’m more willing to let ideas develop over time, to revisit and refine thoughts, to build a body of work that has coherence and permanence.

The economics of stock and flow have shifted too. While flow still dominates attention economy, I think stock increasingly drives genuine interest and lasting value. In a world of generative AI, thoughtful, accurate, nuanced and human-created stock content has (and will) become more valuable, not less.

I believe we are entering a renaissance of stock media on the open web. As more people grow weary of the endless scroll, I think they’ll seek out spaces for deeper engagement and lasting connection. The infrastructure exists – through the basic building blocks of the open web. What’s needed now is a shift in how we think about creation and consumption.

Sloan was right about the importance of balancing stock and flow. What he couldn’t have predicted was how corporate flow would have evolved over those years. He also couldn’t have predicted how the open web would persist over the decades as a natural home for stock, providing both the technical infrastructure and the cultural space for media that endures.

And by ’love’ I actually mean ‘hate.’ ↩︎

Bandcamp Friday Snags

Fri, 07 Feb 2025 17:28:58 -0400

Jake in the Desert reminded me earlier that it was Bandcamp Friday with 100% of company proceeds going to LA fire relief, so I picked up a couple things I’ve been both anticipating and eyeing for a while.

First, I grabbed the new release from FACS, Wish Defense, which dropped today. I absolutely love this vibe and FACS has been in heavy rotation into my earholes for a while now. This new record picks up where they left off and I recommend it if edgy, angular art rock is your thing.

I also picked up this record from Neighbors Burning Neighbors, a politically progressive post-hardcore outfit from Rotterdam, Netherlands. Completely digging the layers, texture and intensity on this one.

Lastly, my boy JV turned me on to Ligatures, an energetic and mathy post-punk outfit featuring x-members of some influential Pittsburgh bands like Crucial Unit and Pressgang. Their latest full-length A23a is very good and brings me my fix of palm mutes and riffage.

All in all, a solid haul.

Ya Gotta Keep 'em Separated

Wed, 05 Feb 2025 09:17:56 -0400

Props to the folx over at The Iconfactory on the release of Tapestry, a unified feed reader that brings together open social platforms like Mastodon and Bluesky, with other sources like RSS and YouTube. The concept of a unified reader like this is interesting to me, but after trying Tapestry, I think I want my social feeds quarantined from my blog/website/RSS feeds.

Simply put: I read Mastodon for a completely different reason than I read RSS.

In Mastodon, I want to favorite, boost and reply to friends, learn what they’re up to and what they think about things. This is done in short order. I’m usually in and out quickly, never spending more than a few minutes cruising the feed. When I come upon an interesting link that requires more time and attention to read, I save it for later in my feed reader of choice Reeder.

Conversely, when I open Reeder, it’s usually for a session. I do this once in the morning and once at night. Blog posts and website articles by nature are longer than social posts, so reading RSS is a conscious decision when I have the capacity to dedicate to longer reading. Even thought Reeder has the ability to unite RSS with open social feeds, I do not utilize this feature.

For me, social feeds are for interaction, while RSS feeds are for deep thinking.

Again, kudos to Tapestry and Reeder for experimenting with feed unification. Perhaps as the feature set grows in each app I will consider migrating over, but for now I will keep my feeds separated.

Affirmations: Be Here Now

Tue, 04 Feb 2025 09:19:03 -0400

This post is part of the February 2025 Indieweb Carnival, where Joe Crawford invited us to share personal affirmations - the sayings and mantras that help guide our lives.

Be Here Now. Three simple words that have carried me through the darkest valleys and highest peaks, both literally and figuratively. This mantra, popularized by Ram Dass, has been my companion through unthinkable loss, through ultra-distance runs, and increasingly, through our algorithm-infused world.

I first encountered these words during a period of profound grief, when the weight of loss made both past and future unbearable. The past was too painful to revisit, the future too uncertain to contemplate. Be Here Now became my anchor, a reminder that this moment - just this one - was all I needed to handle. It didn’t make the grief disappear, but it made it manageable, one present moment at a time.

Years later, I found myself returning to these words in a different context: ultra-running. When you’re 40 miles into an ultra, your mind becomes your greatest adversary. It wants to complain about every ache, project how much worse they’ll feel in 10 miles, replay every training run you missed, question every life choice that led you here. But none of that serves you. The only thing that matters is this stride, this breath, this moment. Putting one foot in front of the other. Keep moving forward. Be Here Now. The mantra becomes a rhythm, a meditation in motion, carrying you through the pain cave one step at a time.

Lately, I’ve found new meaning in these words as I navigate what the internet has become. The constant pull of notifications, the endless doomscrolling, the quantified metrics of our lives - they all conspire to pull us away from the present moment. They fragment our attention and scatter our consciousness, leaving us somehow both overstimulated and undernourished.

This led me to make significant changes: deleting corporate social media accounts, self-hosting my online presence, removing my fitness tracker after nearly two decades. Each change was a choice to Be Here Now, to experience life directly rather than through the lens of algorithms and analytics.

The irony isn’t lost on me that I’m sharing these thoughts on a digital platform. But there’s a profound difference between using technology mindfully and letting it use us. The IndieWeb movement itself embodies this distinction - it’s about being present and intentional in our digital lives, rather than passively consuming the algorithmic firehose.

Be Here Now isn’t about rejecting the past or ignoring the future. It’s about recognizing that the present moment is where life actually happens, where we have the power to act, to heal, and to grow. Whether I’m processing grief, pushing through physical or mental limits, or choosing how to engage with technology, these three words remind me to return to the only moment I can truly inhabit.

In a world that increasingly pulls our attention in a thousand directions, being here now is both a challenge and a radical act of self-preservation. It’s an affirmation I return to daily, a compass that always points to this moment, this breath, this now.

Favorite Concert: Schoolhouse Spazcore

Thu, 30 Jan 2025 09:51:54 -0400

I really enjoyed reading all the blog questions challenge posts from a few days ago and while I was drafting mine it sparked an idea to kick off a new one. I follow a lot of music blogs and folx on Masto with a music bent, through which I’ve discovered some really great artists. I’ve grown to love this feed of music discovery; it brightens my day!

Shows and concerts are also a big part of my music adventures, so this challenge is to share your most memorable / favorite / epic concert you’ve been to. I’d love to read posts from Jake, Naz, Jason and Brad if they’re so inclined to share.

My Most Memorable Concert

The year was 1998. It was a different time. The internet had arrived, but it was still tangential to life. I was 19 years old and in my first years of undergrad at a rural Pennsylvania university. Back then, music was also a big part of my life and I was deep into the underground post-hardcore scene.

I was in a band at the time, and my friends were all in bands. We played anywhere that could hold a few dozen people and had electricity. One particular night in October, my friends in The Juliana Theory were playing a show opening for headliners Knapsack. There was also a band in between called At the Drive-In. I wasn’t familiar with At the Drive-In, but I was very into Knapsack’s Day Three of My New Life and I was always down to support friends, so I made a plan to check out the show.

The show was taking place at The Armburst Schoolhouse, a venue I had never been to and actually had never heard about before seeing it on the show flyer. Google Maps wasn’t a thing back then, so I MapQuested it on my school-issued desktop computer and printed out the directions. It looked to be in the middle of nowhere. Carless, I borrowed my buddy Todd’s Blazer and drove about 40 minutes to the destination, which in fact, was in the middle of nowhere.

I rolled up to a nondescript, abandoned one-room schoolhouse. A couple punks were smoking outside and there was a gravel lot with a couple tour vans and maybe a dozen cars. I paid my entry fee at the door (probably $5) and got one step closer to a blown mind.

The Theory’s set was solid, but what I witnessed afterward was like something from another planet. At the Drive-In took the stage (er, classroom?) by storm and blasted the fortunate few in attendance with a level of energy and intensity no one was prepared for. For about 30 minutes they crashed through most of the cuts from their most recent record, In Casino Out. Cedric and Omar were absolutely frantic and on fire, flanked by Jim on the other side as the stable anchor.

As a musician myself early in my journey, this performance solidified for me what live music should be. It should be a release of raw emotion. Movement through pulsing meters. Perfectly imperfect, with no regard for what may come in return.

Anyone who follows this scene knows that the rest is history for At the Drive-In. They went on to release Relationship of Command, tour with Rage Against the Machine, and spawned amazing projects like The Mars Volta and Sparta.

And even thought the internet was in its infancy, some forward-thinking saint was there with a shoulder-mounted camcorder to record the performance with no concept that it would live on in infamy on a thing called YouTube:

Blog Questions Challenge

Tue, 28 Jan 2025 09:36:36 -0400

I saw this challenge making the rounds last week and thought I’d give it a go. Back in the day, challenges like this were really fun and helped draw connections between interesting corners of the open web. It’s also a productive exercise for me to reflect on blogging as a practice. From what I can discern, we have Ava to thank for kicking this off…so, thanks! Here we go…

Why did you start blogging in the first place?

I came of age during the dawn of the internet in the mid-1990s. At that time the web was like the Wild West. There was an energy about it. It was fresh and new and it was bringing people together in meaningful ways. I wanted so badly to understand how it worked, so I dove deep under the hood of my favorite sites to learn how semantic code generated pages.

From that point on I was hooked, and threw myself into creating my first site – on Geocities. Sunset Strip, represent! This was circa 1996 and blogs hadn’t been invented yet, but I did publish my writing on the Geocities site, so I do consider this my first blog.

What platform are you using to manage your blog and why did you choose it?

I currently use Micro.blog to power StaticMade.com. I’m very happy with it and think Manton does a great job developing it.

When I was looking for a platform upon which to relaunch my personal website last year, one of the most important elements for me was to find a platform that embraced the open web. Micro.blog’s simplicity and flexibility, combined with robust feeds integration and on-board syndication to several Fediverse platforms make it the perfect fit for my needs.

Have you blogged on other platforms before?

Having written on the web since the ’90s, I’ve used my fair share of blogging platforms. To the best of my memory, here they are in chronological order: Geocities, Blogger, Tumblr, Ghost (self-hosted), raw dog HTML files, Ghost (hosted), Micro.blog

How do you write your posts? For example, in a local editing tool, or in a panel/dashboard that’s part of your blog?

Most of the time I use the Micro.blog editor, either on my laptop for longer posts like this one, or in the Micro.blog for iOS app on my phone for shorter or image-based posts. Sometimes I get workflow envy when I read about how some folx have sexy workflows that publish static pages, but writing in the browser gets the job done for me quickly and efficiently. These days I don’t have the time to reinvent my publishing workflow process.

When do you feel most inspired to write?

Inspiration comes at the strangest times, doesn’t it? I’ll often see something online – a post or an article – and that can spark the muse. That’s the way this post originated. Other times, posts come from deep reflection about something going on in my life. And yet some other posts are completely spur of the moment. I use those posts as a way to document meaningful or intersting things in real time.

Do you publish immediately after writing, or do you let it simmer a bit as a draft?

I always tend to post immediately after writing. I’ll read it over a few times, to catch typos and tweak wording, and then tap publish.

What’s your favourite post on your blog?

One of the first posts I published after relaunching this site in August 2024 was Death to the Algorithm. It’s a manifesto of sorts. I think it does a good job summarizing why I do this and why it’s important.

Any future plans for your blog? Maybe a redesign, a move to another platform, or adding a new feature?

I’m happy with Micro.blog and I don’t have any plans to migrate elsewhere, but I’m always tweaking things. Most recently I added a ‘Reply via Email’ button to all posts, as well as a cool feature in the footer that displays the song I’m currently listening to. So I’ll probably continue to ship things like that, along with incremental design updates. The web is never finished!

Onramps to the Open Web

Thu, 09 Jan 2025 09:31:24 -0400

Jared White articulating quite clearly the biggest obstacle facing the Open Web:

…never before has The Indie Web been such a glorious platform for building anything you might dream of and sharing it with anyone you like, yet never before has The Corporate Web been so awful and damaging to the body politic. I wish I knew how to deal with this cognitive dissonance, and how to convey to mere mortals out there that the The Indie Web is alive and kicking, and that The Corporate Web doesn’t have to define their experience of being online.

The Open Web has a messaging and onramp problem. There’s no shortage of brilliant technical and engineering minds working on it, but where are the designers and product strategists who might craft the ’easy enough’ onramps for those who don’t really give a shit about ActivityPub and just want a healthy, constructive and friendly place to share online? Who is communicating the value of the Open Web in compelling ways and using language non-nerds can comprehend?

The recent growth of Bluesky is proof of a collective appetite for something more. Full disclosure, I don’t think Bluesky is the answer, but they definitely understand the onboarding assignment of making the experience easy without introducing dark patterns (yet).

The foundation for a scalable Open Web is here, thanks to the dedication and great work of the developer community that’s gotten us to this point. But to truly realize the potential and impact a universal open web, we need to augment the engineering focus with two additional legs of the stool: design and product. Only then will we be able to understand the problems and needs of the users who aren’t yet here and build the open, accessible and welcoming web of the future.

Layers of Interpretation

Wed, 08 Jan 2025 12:16:51 -0400

In the shifting landscape of our digital commons, the words the leaders of these corporate social platforms use have become shapeshifters, their meanings bending like light through murky water. As we witness the transformation of our shared online spaces, I find myself creating a new dictionary for these times—a translation guide for what remains unsaid.

When they say “free expression,” I want you to hear “the end of community care.”

When they say “algorithmic neutrality,” I want you to hear “the automation of amplified harm.”

When they say “marketplace of ideas,” I want you to hear “a colosseum where truth wrestles with virality.”

When they say “content-neutral platform,” I want you to hear “we’ve chosen profit over protection.”

When they say “open dialogue,” I want you to hear “we’ve removed the guardrails.”

When they say “reduced content moderation,” I want you to hear “we’ve dismissed the digital gardeners.”

When they say “user empowerment,” I want you to hear “you’re on your own now.”

When they say “engagement metrics,” I want you to hear “behavior we can monetize.”

When they say “democratic discourse,” I want you to hear “the loudest voices win.”

When they say “digital town square,” I want you to hear “unmoderated chaos.”

These aren’t just semantic games—they’re the architecture of our new digital reality. Each phrase is another layer between what we’re told and what we experience, between the promise of connection and the practice of division.

I find myself returning to the early dreams of the web, when we imagined digital spaces as gardens to be tended, not markets to be exploited. It’s time to reclaim not just our platforms, but our very language—to speak plainly about what we’re building, what we’re breaking, and what we’re willing to sacrifice in the name of unconstrained growth.

The web I want to inhabit still has gardeners. It still has carpenters and caretakers. It still believes in the power of boundaries to create safety, and the strength of moderation to cultivate community. Most importantly, it still understands that true freedom comes not from the absence of constraints, but from the presence of care.

Living Well as a Practice

Tue, 31 Dec 2024 14:48:26 -0400

Each December as the year comes to a close, I find myself reflecting not just on where I’ve been during the past twelve months, but more importantly, on where I want to go during the next twelve. The past few years have brought unprecedented changes to how we live, work, and connect. I’ll be honest, I struggled this past year through a lot of it. I know I’m not alone in this admission.

Through it all, one truth has become increasingly clear to me: the quality of our lives isn’t measured in grand gestures or accomplishments, but in the small, intentional choices we make each day.

For 2025, I’m approaching my intentions with this notion in mind. Instead of a scattered list of resolutions, I’m focusing on a single theme: Living Well. This isn’t about perfection or hitting arbitrary numbers (though I’ve included some specific targets to keep myself honest). It’s about building a framework that feels both purposeful and sustainable.

My framework breaks down into four key areas, each with specific, measurable objectives that support the broader goal of living well:

Get Stronger

First, I’m focusing on getting stronger—both physically and mentally. On the physical side, I’ve set a few concrete goals:

achieving 100 good-form pushups in one rep
doing 25 proper pull-ups in one rep
advancing my bouldering ability from V2 to V4/V5
bikepacking the GAP & C&O trails from Pittsburgh to DC

These aren’t just about numbers; they’re about building a resilient body that can keep up with my adventures and ambitions.

Mental strength is equally crucial. After noticing how much time I spend mindlessly consuming content, I’m committing to two daily practices:

dedicated time for reading actual books (not just snippets and headlines)
actively catching myself when I fall into the doomscrolling trap

It’s about quality of attention rather than quantity of information.

Eat Low to the Ground

The second pillar focuses on nourishment—specifically, eating “low to the ground.” This means prioritizing whole foods and reducing processed ingredients. This isn’t about strict rules or elimination diets, but rather making conscious choices about what I put into my body. The goal is to make whole, minimally-processed foods the default rather than the exception.

Prioritize Quality

Quality is my third focus area, extending beyond just food choices. I’m being more intentional about the media I consume and the things I bring into my life. This means fewer impulse purchases, more thoughtful choices about what I read and watch, and a general shift toward “fewer, better things.” It’s about creating space for what truly matters by being selective about what gets my time and attention.

Actively Cultivate Relationships

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I’m prioritizing relationships. The pandemic showed us all how easily connections can fray without active maintenance. I’m setting up regular check-ins with friends and family—not just through texts and social media, but through actual calls and in-person visits. These won’t be relegated to “when I have time” but will be treated as non-negotiable appointments with the people who matter most.

These objectives aren’t just items to check off a list; they’re guideposts for getting more intentional and aligned with my values. Some days I’ll hit all the marks, others I won’t—and that’s okay. The point isn’t perfection, but progression. And practice. Living well isn’t about dramatic transformations but about small, consistent choices that add up over time.

Thanks so much for reading and supporting this site in 2024. Your readership is important to me.

My Favorite Records of 2024

Mon, 30 Dec 2024 12:17:06 -0400

I thought 2024 was a fantastic year for recorded music. It seemed like every few weeks another absolute banger was released. As an avid listener, this year also saw my personal transition away from Spotify as a streaming source to a more intentional discovery and direct purchase model that I believe honors artists in a way streaming services don’t (or won’t).

In no particular order, here are the ten records released in 2024 I found to be my favorite:

Dulling the Horns by Wild Pink: I know I just said ’no particular order,’ but this just might be my record of the year. The songs and texture are just so layered. Simply complex, in a way that’s refreshing. The title track showcases this effortless density and is a standout on a stacked collection of songs.

No Arc by Rave Ami: My local selection this year comes from rockers Rave Ami. These guys are tight, fun and bring some unique energy to their live shows and recorded releases. I sorta feel like they’re a bit overshadowed by bigger Pittsburgh-based bands, but for my money this record rips hard.

Evergreen by Soccer Mommy: Sophie Allison describes her music as ‘chill, but kinda sad’ and I think that’s right. I’ve always felt the best songs were the saddest songs. Evergreen definitely brings the emotion, but not is a way that’s trite or placating. I find the songs on this release to be honest, raw and forthright in a way that’s comforting but also challenging.

Lighthouse by Francis of Delirium: A friend sent me this record earlier in the year and it’s been in constant rotation ever since. Lighthouse has a little bit of everything – in a good way. Luxemburg-based Jana Bahrich writes grungy pop songs that you find yourself singing to yourself during those random quiet moments of your day.

All Pleasure by THUS LOVE: No frills, four-on-the-floor rock and roll from Vermont-based THUS LOVE. The thing I love about this record is the swagger the band brings. It starts out of the gate with the opening ripper On the Floor and continues for the duration. I think swagger is a lost art these days and it’s great to see a group that’s out and proud bring it unapologetically and full-on.

Where we’ve been, Where we go from here by Friko: What a freaking epic release from Chicago duo Friko. These songs wander and traverse genres like there are simply no boundaries. Part singer-songwriter, part noise art, part chamber orchestra. On paper, the math doesn’t appear to work, but on tape it’s genius.

Cool World by Chat Pile: This is definitely the heaviest record on my list. Cool World is intense and guttural. The whole thing is raw and throbbing with some killer breakdowns that are sure to open up the circle pit at live shows.

Second Dinner by slimdan: Another one that has been in heavy rotation for most of the year. I am in love with slimdan’s pop-driven songs. They’re smart and catchy, and carry melodies that seem both familiar and fresh at the same time.

for frank forever by piglet: A late addition to the list, I randomly stumbled upon piglet - a solo project from Irish songwriter and producer Charlie Loane – just a few weeks ago. for frank forever carries really interesting production and infections melodies. I’m looking forward to seeing how piglet evolves into the future.

Valentin Prince by Valentin Prince: A fantastic LP from Richmond-based guitarist and songwriter. Sorta jammy and sorta trippy, but the song structure and performance are on point. This is a free digital download on Bandcamp, so don’t sleep on it!

The Perfect Fold

Thu, 26 Dec 2024 13:30:29 -0400

The eggs must be room temperature. This isn’t negotiable—it’s the foundation everything else builds upon. I learned this the hard way, through countless mornings of broken, rubbery attempts that ended up more scrambled than folded. Cold eggs straight from the refrigerator never cooperate; they resist, they seize up, they refuse to flow.

Each morning now starts the same way: I take two eggs from the fridge and place them in a small bowl on the counter. While they slowly warm, I prep everything else: chopping the veggies, grating a small amount of cheese, setting out and warming my well-seasoned 8-inch pan.

This waiting period to temperature used to frustrate me. Now I understand it’s not just about temperature—it’s about preparation, about giving space for what comes next.

The whisking is gentle but deliberate. Two eggs (never more, never less), a pinch of salt, seven twists of the peppercorn grinder and exactly twelve whisks. Not enough to create foam—that leads to sponginess—but just enough to unite the whites and yolks into a seamless golden liquid. You can feel when it’s ready; the resistance changes, becomes smoother, more cohesive.

The pan must be hot, but not too hot. Medium-low heat, butter just starting to foam but not brown. This is the moment that demands the most attention, the most presence. Too cool and the eggs won’t set properly; too hot and they’ll toughen. You have to read the signs: the way the butter moves, the subtle change in its sound, the first whisper of fragrance.

When the eggs hit the pan, time simultaneously speeds up and slows down. You have maybe two minutes total, but within those minutes are dozens of small decisions. The initial swirl to coat the pan. The gentle lifting of the edges as the eggs set, allowing the liquid to flow underneath. The moment when you stop touching it altogether and just watch, wait, and feel.

The fold itself is both the simplest and most complex part. One smooth motion, confident but not aggressive. Too hesitant and it breaks; too forceful and it tears. The spatula slides underneath at precisely the right angle, and then it’s just physics and faith. The eggs know what to do if you let them.

I’ve made hundreds of omelettes over the past few years. Each one has taught me something, not just about cooking but about the nature of practice. About how mastery isn’t a destination but a series of small adjustments, tiny calibrations, moments of paying attention. About how the same ingredients, the same steps, the same motions can produce wildly different results depending on your state of mind.

Some mornings, everything aligns. The omelette slides onto the plate in one perfect golden crescent, barely containing the melted cheese within. Other mornings, despite following every step exactly the same way, something goes wrong. The fold isn’t quite right, or the cheese breaks through, or the edges are just a touch too brown.

These imperfect ones still taste good—sometimes even better than their more photogenic siblings. They remind me that perfection isn’t always the point. The point is showing up, paying attention, making small adjustments, and being present for whatever emerges from the pan.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll take two eggs from the fridge and place them in a small bowl on the counter. And while I wait for them to warm, I’ll think about what the day might bring, about all the small moments that add up to something larger, about the endless pursuit of that perfect fold.

I Can Haz Your Copyright?

Sat, 21 Dec 2024 08:51:34 -0400

Even though I’m curious about the potential for AI and exploring small language models (SLMs) at work, it’s stories like Noor Al-Sibai’s reporting for Futurism’s The Byte that give me pause and feed my internal conflict:

OpenAI is begging the British Parliament to allow it to use copyrighted works because it’s supposedly “impossible” for the company to train its artificial intelligence models — and continue growing its multi-billion-dollar business — without them.

To me, this is simple. OpenAI is correct. They can’t continue their growth trajectory without exploiting books, blogs, feeds, websites, images and other content that’s under copyright. This is a flaw in their business model. The machine is hungry and needs to be fed. Public domain content will satiate its hunger for only so long.

But copyright is copyright, and copyrighted works should only be consumed and distributed with the consent of the copyright holder. My advice for folx writing and publishing online? Update your robots.txt files to prohibit crawling from known AI origins. If you need an example, here’s mine.

I’m an techno-optimist. I think we can figure out how to responsibly and ethically leverage AI in our lives. Perhaps the key to doing this is to slow down, and scale down. Take a slow web approach to it. That’s why SLMs are so interesting to me, especially in my specific professional use cases. You can be thoughtful with the application and actively monitor the impact.

I’m interested in your thoughts. Do you think there is any hope for a measured and throttled AI future? Or is this 10x-mindset train already barreling down the tracks toward dystopia?

CarsonAI

Fri, 20 Dec 2024 11:06:42 -0400

As a product manager on REI’s store technology team, I spend a lot of time thinking about how we can make life easier for our employees. Our team builds Ascent, an iOS application that helps more than 10,000 REI store employees access product information and accomplish tasks on sales floors across 180+ locations in the US. Our mission is simple but vital: provide store employees with the tools and information they need, in the moments they need them, so they can do their job with ease, confidence and joy.

Last week, during REI’s internal hackathon, my colleague Seth Daetwiler and I had the opportunity to explore how we might thoughtfully apply AI to support this mission. The result was CarsonAI, a friendly Raccoon process assistant named after environmentalist Rachel Carson (who, like Carson the bot, was also born here in Pittsburgh).

The Problem

Store employees face a common challenge: when they need to understand a process or find best practices, they have to step away from the task at hand, search through dense documentation scattered across various internal systems, hope they find the specific information they need (sometimes it can be one sentence in a 12-page PDF), and then return to their task. This constant context-switching isn’t just frustrating for our employees - it takes valuable time away from why they work at REI in the first place: serving customers, sharing their vast expertise and geeking out over gear.

Can AI Be Thoughtful, Responsible & Humane?

I’ll be honest - I have reservations about AI and I’m extremely conflicted. Like many, I’ve watched its rapid emergence with a mix of fascination and concern. But I’ve come to realize that rather than resist its inevitability, we should focus our energy on finding thoughtful, humane ways to apply this technology where it can create genuine benefits in people’s lives.

I think Carson represents this philosophy in action. Instead of using AI to replace human judgment or save a quick buck, we’re using it to remove pain points that employees have told us exist. The goal isn’t to automate tasks or increase throughput - it’s to give employees better, easier access to the knowledge they need to do their jobs well.

How It Works

Carson integrates directly into Ascent’s interface in two ways:

On the home screen for general process questions
As a contextual “Need Help” button within specific workflows

This means employees can verbally ask Carson questions about workflows and get immediate answers to process questions without leaving their current task. No more hunting through documentation or switching between systems - just quick, relevant guidance exactly when it’s needed.

Building During Hack Days

Working with Seth on Carson was a highlight of the hack days experience. His killer chops in iOS development and user experience design brought the concept to life in ways I hadn’t imagined. When I first floated the idea, his enthusiasm was immediate, and he ran with it, creating an elegant and intuitive interface that makes complex processes more accessible.

Looking Forward

While Carson began as a hackathon project, we’re excited about its potential. Obviously, we aren’t planning to immediately ship a project we threw together over a couple days to production. There are optimizations and tweaks we need to make before opening access to our fleet. Our next steps include:

Testing the prototype with store employees to gather feedback and better understand their needs
Making UX improvements based on feedback
Benchmarking performance and load testing
Exploring a beta release in Ascent during Q1 2025
Learning more about how employees use Carson in real-world situations once it’s live

A Reflection

The retail environment is complex and constantly changing. Our store employees navigate this complexity daily while working hard to provide the best possible experience for our customers. I think tools like Carson represent an opportunity to use emerging technology in a way that genuinely supports our employees - not by replacing their expertise, but by making it easier for them to access and apply it.

At REI, we live and work by a set of values called The Co-Op Way. Three of these values are:

We courageously embrace change
We go further, together
We start from a place of respect

I think Carson is in alignment with these principles. As we continue to explore the possibilities of AI in REI store operations, keeping these Co-Op Way values close will be crucial. The goal isn’t to chase technology for its own sake, but to thoughtfully apply it in ways that responsibly look forward, respect and foster human interactions, and make the work experience better for employees in our stores.

Running Away from Quantified Self

Wed, 18 Dec 2024 18:23:53 -0400

After two decades of religiously tracking every step, every mile, and every heartbeat, I’ve decided to take off my fitness tracker. My health metrics tracking journey began in the aughts with a Jawbone (remember those?), then evolved to a Fitbit, an early generation Apple Watch, and then most recently to a COROS Apex as I got more serious in my endurance pursuits. The journey has been enlightening, but perhaps not in the way these devices’ makers intended.

For nearly 20 years, I’ve been a dedicated member of the quantified self movement. Most mornings began with checking my sleep quality, each run or ride was meticulously recorded and posted to Strava, and most days ended with a review of my stats. The progression through devices—from the simple step counting of early Fitbits to the comprehensive health suite of the Apple Watch and the endurance-focused metrics of the COROS—reflected my growing appetite for more data, more insights, and more control.

But somewhere along the way, something changed.

I started noticing how the numbers were shaping my behavior, and not always for the better. A relaxed-pace run wasn’t just a chance to enjoy fresh air and sunshine—it was a disappointing pace stat. A rest day wasn’t a conscious choice for recovery—it was an unfortunate break in my activity streak. The quantified self had become my qualified self, where the value of my activities was determined by what my watch thought about them.

The irony wasn’t lost on me: tools that were supposed to help me become more in tune with my body had actually created a layer of digital abstraction between me and my physical experience. I was no longer running to feel good, riding for the freedom and wind in my face or climbing for enjoyment—I was doing these things to feed the algorithms.

This realization led me to question the role of tracking in my life. Was I measuring to help me improve or was I becoming digitally dependent on the metrics? The constant stream of data had overshadowed the simple joy of movement, the natural rhythm of rest and activity, and the intuitive understanding of my body’s needs.

The decision to stop tracking wasn’t easy. My COROS was a loyal companion. It was with me through countless miles, crazy adventures, my first ultra, and with each new bouldering grade. It witnessed my growth as a runner, cyclist and climber, and provided the data that fueled my progress. But sometimes, progress means letting go of the tools that got you here.

Now, when I head out for a run, it’s just me, my breath, and the trail ahead. There’s no GPS track being drawn, no pace alerts buzzing on my wrist, no stats to upload and analyze afterward. It feels both foreign and familiar—like running to a home you’d forgotten you had.

I don’t think this is a total rejection of tracking technology or the quantified self movement. These tools can be incredibly valuable, especially when working toward specific goals or managing health conditions. But perhaps their greatest value lies in teaching us to eventually listen to ourselves again.

As I adjust to this new, untracked existence, I’m rediscovering something that no algorithm could quantify: the simple pleasure of moving through the world, unchanged by sensors and unmediated by screens. It turns out that sometimes the best way to move forward is to leave the numbers behind.

A Little Housekeeping

Mon, 16 Dec 2024 16:55:26 -0400

I did a little housekeeping on the site over the weekend. Most prominent is a move to a new domain: staticmade.com. This isn’t a new domain per se, but one that I’ve been holding in my back pocket for several years. It actually used to be my primary domain and online identity circa 2007. The internet I’m most interested in right now feels a lot like the internet of early aughts, so I thought it was fitting to resurrect the Static Made moniker.

The name comes from one of my favorite songs, A Dozen Roses by Braid. During the bridge, songwriter Bob Nanna unleashes a poignant assertion: static made old radio. I’ve always liked this notion – that the imperfect elements of a thing shape the thing and make it special.

Along with the new domain comes a new Fediverse account (@jeffrey@staticmade.com) that will just host site syndication. This will free up my @jinscho@mountains.social account for personal interactions, banter and boosts. It makes it cleaner this way, in case someone wants to follow the site and not my Pittsburgh Steeler hot takes or bouldering sends.

Anyway, I’m sure there will be some kinks to iron out like feed updates and that sort of thing, but I’ll make sure to get to that stuff over the coming days.

Hack Away

Wed, 11 Dec 2024 14:37:00 -0400

Hack Days are occurring at REI this week. This is an annual event where employees working in product, design or engineering get some flexibility to pursue ideas we think have potential, but aren’t officially on the docket. My team is working on an AI-powered voice assistant for store employees. The goal is to give our employees quick and easy access to ops process guidance and best practices while they’re in the midst of their work on the sales floor or warehouse, so they don’t need to hunt down a standard operating procedure (SOP) or find a small piece of information within a lengthy document.

Like all internal systems and apps at REI, this hack-days product has an outdoors-inspired hame: Carson. Named after legendary conservationist and author of Silent Spring Rachel Carson, the bot is coming along nicely.

So far, we’ve spun up a locally-hosted LLM that we’re training on operational process documents, retail knowledge base articles and other sources of internal data. Next up will be to build a conversational interface that we’ll plug into the apps on store employee mobile devices. There are still a lot of tweaks needed on the model, but I’ve found the responses to be quite good.

We might be at a point later today where I could test it with store employees. I’m excited to get some feedback that we could rapidly integrate before the final deadline and pitch presentation on Friday.

The Gestalt of You

Tue, 10 Dec 2024 20:00:00 -0400

You are an awful developer. In fact, to call yourself a developer is a complete fabrication. You’re not formally trained in code or capable of building anything more sophisticated than a rudimentary website. You’re a self-taught hobbyist whose curiosity has led you far enough to be dangerous.

You are a mediocre designer. In fact, to label yourself a designer would be skewing the truth and devaluing the work of those true artisans who meticulously craft delicate digital artifacts. Those perfectors of the pixel. Those framers of the future.

You are an average writer. You formulate and convey clear thoughts through the written word, however Hemingway you are not.

Your entrepreneurial and business acumen is nothing to write home about. Marketing doesn’t scare you, but you don’t enjoy it. It makes you feel dirty. Many people have made much more money in their profitable ventures. And you don’t seem to mind.

In light of these things you are not, you are able to see past the horizon. You understand how puzzle pieces fit together. You effortlessly connect people with resources and desirable outcomes.

You’re not afraid of hard work or sacrificing to get better. Your drive is a thing of wonder.

Your sense of direction is unprecedented. Some call it strategy. Others, leadership prowess. You leave it undefined, but know deep down it’s this nebulous mass throbbing in your chest that makes you special. It makes you different. It’s a thing of wonder.

You’re not a great coder, designer, writer or entrepreneur, but you might just be a great combination of those skills. Move forward with speed and confidence.

Archive Under Attack

Tue, 10 Dec 2024 15:44:17 -0400

A diverse coalition of artists has united to voice objection to a $621 million copyright infringement lawsuit against the Internet Archive. The lawsuit claims the Archive is violating copyright rules under the “smokescreen” of their Great 78 Project, which aims to digitize vinyl records produced between the late-1800s and the 1950s. A portion of the Great 78 collection includes work from well-known acts like Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley. The plaintiffs and some estates of included artists claim the project is unlawfully reproducing and distributing works under copyright.

The case is being led by music rights holders Universal Music Group and Sony Music, while the objection includes support from artists such as Amanda Palmer, Deerhoof, Real Estate, Ted Leo, Kathleen Hannah and Cloud Nothings. A judgement against the Internet Archive at the scale of $621M could bankrupt the organization.

It’s an ironic gut punch to musicians and audiences alike to see that the Internet Archive could be destroyed in the name of protecting musicians. For decades, the Internet Archive has had the backs of creators of all kinds when no one else was there to protect us, making sure that old recordings, live shows, websites like MTV News, and diverse information and culture from all over the world had a place where they’d never, ever be erased, carving out a haven where all that creativity and storytelling was recognized as a critically valuable contribution to an important historic archive. – Amanda Palmer

The Internet Archive does important work at the intersection of digital culture and public access. The work needs to continue and you can help ensure that it does.

The Aging Athlete

Tue, 03 Dec 2024 16:54:11 -0400

I recently stumbled upon this post from Andy Jones-Wilkins about aging & running, and it prompted me to reflect on my own experience as a 40-something runner.

Needless to say, I’m not as speedy as I once was and my body needs longer & more frequent recovery than it did even just a couple years ago. The repetitive motion and high-impact is starting to wreak havoc on my joints and tendons. It’s taken a long time, lots of soul searching and some avoidable injuries, but it’s a truth I’ve come to ~~accept~~ embrace. The fact that I can’t crush 10 milers seven days a week or jump into a random marathon on a few days notice anymore has opened up a variety of new options for me to stay engaged with my physicality on a daily basis.

The most notable non-running activity I’ve grown to love is bouldering. I find it to be fundamentally different than running, however it requires a similar mindset. Bouldering and running are equally mental and physical challenges. And in my opinion, the mental challenges are always more interesting problems to solve. In running and climbing there will be times when you want to quit or bail, but mental strength will get you through.

Of course, as I get older, cycling also plays a bigger role in my life due to its low-impact cardio benefits. We’re lucky to have a great trail system here in Pittsburgh, upon which I can bike commute when I can’t work from home. I’m not a fan of riding roads due to safety issues, so the trail system is clutch and allows for some epic rides. One of these summers I want to bike pack from Pittsburgh to Washington DC on the Great Allegheny Passage.

I’ve never been into lifting weights or getting swole, but lowering my running mileage has afforded me the opportunity to begin a strength training routine. I mostly stick to bodyweight (pushups, sit-ups and pull-ups) and kettlebell/mace exercises but I’m really feeling the benefits. I feel lighter on my feet. I feel like I have more agency in my movements.

I still think of myself as primarily a runner. I’m out there 4-5 days a week now, with notably lower mileage. And for the first time in a long while, I feel absolutely wonderful when I finish a run. That’s the point of all this, right? Embracing the changes that come with aging requires work, but it’s work I’m excited to take on and continue as a practice.

#GivingTuesday Short List

Tue, 03 Dec 2024 10:32:38 -0400

Today is #GivingTuesday, a campaign designed to maximize contributions to mission-based nonprofits during the traditionally-corporate holiday shopping season. I always try to make a point to give if I am able. This year the independent web and independent journalism are top-of-mind for me. My short list for organizations to support includes the following:

#OptOutside 2024

Fri, 29 Nov 2024 09:01:53 -0400

While most people know today as Black Friday (the retail industry’s busiest shopping day), those who work at REI know it as #OptOutside day. Every year on the day after Thanksgiving, all stores and offices are closed, and employees are encouraged to get outdoors, connect with nature and avoid consumerism.

Most days are #OptOutside days for me personally — it’s why I work for REI — but I absolutely love this statement even years after joining the co-op. To me it continues to demonstrate values that nature and the outdoors are more important than revenue.

So today, instead of shopping or sitting on Teams calls, I will take my kids, niece and nephews bouldering and get to show them one of the outdoor activities I’ve grown to enjoy over the past few years. It’s sub-zero here in Pittsburgh today, so we will be hitting up Iron City Boulders, but hopefully they will like it enough to give it a go outside next time.

Fresh air forever. Outdoors for all. #OptOutside

A Shield Against Enshittification

Wed, 20 Nov 2024 09:28:24 -0400

I’ve noticed a lot of talk about hyperlinks lately. A post from Nilay Patel initially caught my attention yesterday and it was followed by a wonderful article from Anil Dash about the ways corporate social media platforms like Substack work hard to co-opt open protocols and keep users inside their respective walled gardens. Key to his argument is the fact that people are now referring to their email newsletters as “their Substacks.” Dash writes:

We constrain our imaginations when we subordinate our creations to names owned by fascist tycoons. Imagine the author of a book telling people to “read my Amazon”. A great director trying to promote their film by saying “click on my Max”. That’s how much they’ve pickled your brain when you refer to your own work and your own voice within the context of their walled garden. There is no such thing as “my Substack”, there is only your writing, and a forever fight against the world of pure enshittification.

Email is email. Writing is writing. Personally, I’ve worked hard to establish a POSSE approach to publishing my thoughts on the internet. The way it works is this: I publish everything on this website, where I own the domain and the content that lives here, and then I choose how and where that content gets delivered. You like email newsletters? Cool, that’s an option. Are you old school and want to subscribe via RSS? Yup. Do you spend your time on Mastodon or Bluesky? Posts hit those platforms as well. I even do this for shorter, in the moment posts that appear as if I’m posting from within the platform itself. This way of working is my attempt to shield myself from the eventual enshittification that is inevitable on any platform that needs to create a return for investors¹.

A lot of folks are really enjoying their time on Bluesky right now. They’re harkening back to their glory days of early Twitter when the firehose still existed, reverse chron was the only feed, influencers hadn’t been born yet, and the social web was like the Wild West. I’ll admit, I am caught up in the nostalgia a bit too.

Bluesky is is a corporation, however, and it’s raising a lot of money from private equity. Eventually the platform will need to generate revenue and there are really only a few ways to do that in the context of social media. All of those ways will typically make platforms worse for users.

Hopefully I’m wrong and Bluesky becomes a social platform that honors its users at scale. Let’s enjoy it while it lasts, but I’m not holding my breath. If and when enshittification does come to Bluesky, and there is a mass exodus to the next big social platform, at least the POSSE philosophy will have served me well.

This is why my heart still belongs to Mastodon. It’s completely decentralized and servers are maintained by individual admins. This environment does bring onboarding, usability and discovery challenges, however. ↩︎

Slow Web Now

Thu, 14 Nov 2024 16:47:32 -0400

I’ve spent the last week detached and disconnected from political discourse. This is different for me. I’m normally extremely pugged in and engaged but I just can’t follow this train wreck of a transition. I can’t watch the news. The podcasts in my queue remain unheard. My initially-deactivated accounts on corporate social media platforms are now officially nuked. I’ve muted certain words on Mastodon to keep the one remaining feed I actively monitor friendly and chill.

Several friends and family members have asked me in recent days what I think about the election results. The truth is that I am not yet ready or able to talk about it. I just can’t go there. I realize how privileged that is. I realize how others, who actively live the fight and endure assaults on their rights each day, don’t have this luxury.

Mentally, I think this is the only way I’m going to be able to handle what I fear is just going to get worse.

And while I hope I may find the strength to tap back in and rejoin the fight someday, I’ve taken comfort in this slower life – and this slower web – recently. Without the constant onslaught of negativity and endless doomscrolling, I’ve found time and space to write more. I’ve been able to connect with thoughts in more substantive and reflective ways than I typically do. Of course I’m getting out on the trails, but I’ve also started a strength training program. I finished a book. And started another. I’ve been binging The Diplomat, which while political, lands far enough outside of reality to feel like fiction.

I’m also rediscovering at a deeper level the personal independent web that exists below the corporate surface of the internet. This website is emblematic of it. Thousands of other homegrown websites exchange hyperlinks to form it. Some of my favorite discoveries lately are Erin Kissane’s new Wreckage/Salvage, Naz Hamid’s wonderful site, Ben Pobjoy’s newsletter chronicling his epic adventures on foot, The Shrediverse, Cory Dransfeldt’s wonderfully built and artisanal corner of the web, Craig Mod’s Roden and Ridgeline, Robin Sloan, and of course indieweb staples like The Marginalian and Kottke.

All of this is convincing me to build out a blogroll-type list here. Maybe I will. But for now I’ll continue to bask in and admire the slowness and thoughtfulness of the hand-crafted web. The slow web. If you have a site or newsletter or post somewhere free from surveillance capitalism, hit me up. I’d love to check out your stuff.

An Open Letter to Amerika

Wed, 06 Nov 2024 17:27:22 -0400

I’ve spent most of today trying to rationalize the irrational as I attempt to understand how we ended up here. Political scholars will study this for years and I surely have no answers. Yes, the price of milk and eggs is high. Yes, illegal immigration is a problem that needs to be resolved. But shouldn’t we as humans, collectively as a nation, insist on some level of decency from our leaders? Shouldn’t our kids be able to aspire to be like people in positions of power such as the President of the United States? I say yes, but unfortunately a majority of voters disagree. The people have spoken. Amerika has spoken.

Amerika, you made a sexual predator the most powerful man in the world. How do I explain that to my daughter?

Amerika, your new president believes school shootings are just a way of life that we should get used to. How can I convey safety when my kids are scared to go to school?

Amerika, you reinstalled as president a serial adulterer who payed off a porn star to remain quiet about an affair. How can you just hold your nose and cast that vote anyway?

Amerika, you condoned the behavior of an insurrectionist who incited a mob that stormed the Capitol on January 6th, injuring several and killing a police officer. How can you reconcile that on your conscience?

Amerika, you have emboldened and elevated the worst human qualities and this choice will have unknown consequences for years – maybe decades – to come.

Amerika, I can’t understand your choice but I do hope the cost of eggs comes down for you.

Greetings from the Epicenter

Mon, 04 Nov 2024 10:18:54 -0400

This election cycle has been difficult to weather. I’m speaking for myself when I say this, but it’s also been a common sentiment in discussions with friends and family. Here in Western Pennsylvania, where pundits believe the race may be decided tomorrow, you can’t go five minutes or literally anywhere in your normal daily activities without seeing a political advertisement.

They’re on the airwaves and in the streaming feeds, they’re along the highways, they’re in people’s yards, they’re coming in via text message, they’re in the sky and they’re knocking on front doors.

This election is important. I get it. But for someone who’s been engaged in the political process for decades and someone who’s never missed a vote (even odd-year local elections) since 1996, this is the first time I can remember being completely saturated, mentally exhausted and emotionally beat down with election-based content.

I made decisions on these races months ago. I wish there would have been some way to opt-out of the onslaught, short of becoming an off-the-grid recluse for the past few weeks.

The Algorithm Takes Hold

Wed, 30 Oct 2024 17:20:36 -0400

As we made the journey to our seats in peanut heaven at Acrisure Stadium the other night before the Monday Night Football game, I noticed something interesting out of the corner of my eye. Out beyond the open end of the stadium near the point of confluence, a swarm of drones lit up the night sky.

At first the drones appeared to be making elegant geometric designs. I thought it was cool and I couldn’t remember the Steelers ever making use of drones in their pre-game program. I paused to watch for a moment and then the designs began to morph into words. First Madame Vice President and then Madame President. Next the drones resolved into the Harris Walz logo.

I thought to myself, “What a subversive and smart advertising tactic!” with just enough time to grab my phone and snap a photo. When we got to the seats, there was still about 30 minutes before kickoff so I posted the photo here on my website with the caption: Harris Walz drone game is on point at tonight’s Steelers game! As with all posts on the site, the image and caption were syndicated to Mastodon, Bluesky and Threads. I then put my phone down and enjoyed watching my Pittsburgh Steelers beat those Giants in primetime.

Throughout the evening, I checked Mastodon a couple of times (per usual) to find a few friends had favorited the drone post. I don’t actively use Bluesky or Threads and I don’t have those applications installed on my phone, so the fact that the post went out to those platforms escaped me in the moment.

I usually try to check in on Bluesky and Threads replies once per day, so when I opened Threads on my laptop the next morning, I found the drone post had gone somewhat viral. At the time of this writing the post has 93K views, 12.4K likes, 246 replies and 292 reposts. Numbers of this scale are new to me. I’ve never had more than a dozen likes or replies to a post on any platform. Somehow the algorithm found this particular post, latched onto it and carried it across the Threads ecosystem.

A quick dive into the replies (I don’t recommend it) surfaces some of the worst of humanity. The comments trend toward distasteful, border on offensive and come from a wide-range of perspectives including crypto bots and MAGA trolls. There is even one commenter who claims it didn’t happen and asserts that I photoshopped the Harris Walz logo into the image.

While Meta and Threads talk about embracing the Fediverse and have taken some steps to walk the walk, their use of and reliance on algorithms alongside ActivityPub troubles me. What was it about this particular post that invited the algorithm to take hold? Was there something about the image itself? Or the caption? Or was it simply the network effect and extrapolation?

Whatever the cause, the experience raises some questions for me about my intention for cross-posting from this site. For now, I think I will disable Threads cross-posting because I’m not interested in going viral due to an algorithm boost. I write and publish as a method of capturing moments, and engaging in meaningful dialog with people about the topics that interest me. Threads does not seem like the place for that kind of interaction.

Toward Collective Action

Tue, 29 Oct 2024 10:09:30 -0400

I have school-age kids. Enabling stricter gun laws and eliminating mass shootings from our society is a top issue for me this election, ranked only behind preserving democracy and the U.S. Constitution. Thank you to The Verge for having the guts to publish this piece when other spineless & fear-clouded media companies refuse to take a position on this election:

It should be easy for Vance to imagine a world in which school shootings don’t happen — that is the pre-Heller world he grew up in! — but fixing the problem of school shootings requires admitting that a collective action problem exists. It requires admitting that the current policy solution — sending kids to school with fucking Kevlar in their backpacks — is less effective than restricting gun ownership in any meaningful way. He cannot do that. Trump cannot do that. Trumpism cannot allow that debate to happen.

The op-ed closes with this passage:

It is time to stop denying the essential nature of the problems America faces. It is time to insist that we use the power of our democracy the way it’s intended to be used. And it is far past time to move beyond Donald Trump…A vote for Harris is a vote for the future. It is a vote for solving collective action problems. It is a vote for working together, instead of tearing our world to shreds.

Only one candidate is interested in solving collective action problems. Harris is the candidate. And The Verge is the type of journalism we need to help carry the message forward.

An Agent from Anthropic

Wed, 23 Oct 2024 08:29:49 -0400

AI startup Anthropic yesterday announced an update to the Claude 3.5 Sonnet large language model that brings a new feature called ‘computer use’ to the forefront of the user experience. Available to developers via the API, users can now direct Claude to use computers like people – surveying open windows and performing operations like moving the mouse cursor, clicking links and buttons, and drafting text.

This is a huge development in the AI space, and one that Anthropic’s rivals in the space are pursuing with great priority. While the tech is nascent, slow and error-prone, the potential is immense. Casey Newton writing for Platformer:

But to use another phrase popular among the AI crowd, the agent that Anthropic released today is as bad as this kind of software will ever be. From this moment on, AI will no longer be limited to what can be typed inside a box. Which means it’s time for the rest of us to start thinking outside that box, too.

I’ve never been a huge proponent or advocate for AI¹ , but it’s impossible to deny the impact and influence on our daily lives in the wake of developments like this.

Several months ago, I began using both Claude and ChatGPT to understand how I might use LLMs to improve my professional workflows. Personally, I’ve found Claude to be a better fit for my use cases, which are specific to product management duties such as synthesizing user feedback, analyzing value and impact, and specifying acceptance criteria in technical terms.

With advancements like Anthropic’s ‘computer use’ happening so rapidly in the AI space, it’s daunting to think about what might be coming at us next. One might say the future is already here. I might say we’re perpetually living in it.

I do not use AI to write or develop the content on this website. ↩︎

The Web Needs Words

Tue, 22 Oct 2024 08:21:25 -0400

Ryan Broderick writing in yesterday’s Garbage Day about the state of the social web as it relates to text-first platforms like Bluesky, Xitter and Threads:

Unless something truly miraculous happens, it is reasonable to assume that every day there will be fewer people reading words on the internet than there were the day before.

I hope this won’t be the case and will do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t. The fundamental building blocks of the web are words and hyperlinks. Both must have a place in perpetuity if the web is to function as it was intended, as we want and need it to.

The web needs words.

Thriving as a Practice

Fri, 18 Oct 2024 16:18:44 -0400

Beck Tench is a designer and researcher who studies the way technology impacts our lives at Harvard’s Center for Digital Thriving. Her mission is simple: begin to understand what it means for young people to thrive in this increasingly digital and connected world.

I’ve been a fan of Beck’s work since we initially crossed paths more than a decade ago, when we both focused on building compelling digital experiences for museums. I worked primarily with art museums and she worked primarily with science museums. We both brought a healthy sense of skepticism to the task of infusing cultural experiences with technology, and held a high regard of professional respect for each other’s approach to digital mindfulness. In fact, we collaborated twice (1, 2) and each conversation ranks as a personal highlight during my time in the museum sector.

While we haven’t kept in touch, I’ve been following Beck’s professional journey through her newsletter, Making Thriving Visible. And while everything she writes is interesting to me, I found her most recent update to be extremely profound. In it, Beck uses the analogy of a tiger named Mohini – who was conditioned by zookeepers to exist within an uncaged 12’ x 12’ space – to explain the way digitally-enabled grind culture was negatively impacting her mindset and happiness.

Through likening her situation to Mohini’s experience, Beck came to the realization that she was not thriving. She made some impactful changes and now considers the definition of thriving in a whole new light:

I am beginning to see thriving, digitally or otherwise, as a practice. It’s not a destination. It isn’t static. We can be thriving and things can change. We can change. If Mohini had ventured out of her 12x12 self-imposed cage… if she had explored the trees and hills and plants and pond, would she have started to notice the exhibit fence? Would she have wondered what was on the other side?

Thriving as a practice. I can get behind that, and I think to some extent I’m subconsciously working on it. The mindful changes I’ve made in my digital and professional footprint are evidence, but after reading Beck’s piece I am going formalize my thriving practice by creating a reflection and future visioning routine.

If you’re interested in digital mindfulness, I highly recommend Beck’s newsletter. You can subscribe via Substack, or via RSS (like I do) to avoid any surveillance capitalism that may be associated with the delivery platform.

Garbage Day for Crazy Uncles

Wed, 16 Oct 2024 17:43:06 -0400

Ryan Broderick has some theories in today’s Garbage Day newsletter about why Republican disinformation isn’t completely gumming up the works this time around:

Is it because the media has gotten institutionally smarter about giving these stories oxygen? Is it because industry-wide layoffs have gutted newsrooms across the country and now there’s just fewer reporters to throw at stupid shit editors saw on Twitter/X? Is it because cable news audiences are literally dying off? Is it because Facebook has gotten rid of news content? Who knows, but things have changed in that regard.

It’s a little bit of all of this, I think. The media has gotten smarter about fanning the flames, but I hope we have too. If we haven’t gotten smarter, than maybe we’ve gotten tired of hearing about these disinformation narratives at every online turn. I mean, that’s a primary reason for my not using social media these days. Broderick continues:

The online pathways that the right wing have relied on since 2015 to, not just win elections, but shape America’s national discourse are gone. And it’s almost entirely because pathologically annoying conservatives pushed everyone else out. All of the viral energy around Walz might turn into something that America’s various horrible uncles might ramble about incoherently at the Thanksgiving table in a few weeks — if Harris wins, I guess — but unless a Republican operative Mr. Magoo’s themselves into a real scoop about Walz’s past, none of this is really going to move the needle.

This is right. We are now able to see our collective crazytown uncles and their wild theories as simply weird. And because the theories are not sucking the life out of our social fabric, we have the choice to participate with it. Or not. I choose the latter.

As an aside, Garbage Day is consistently one of the few email newsletters I read from top to bottom. The way Broderick weaves thoughtful and astute sociological observations against a backdrop of social media dumpster fires and the political hellscape we find ourselves in on the reg is a thing of beauty. Highly recommended.

The Kids Are Alright

Wed, 16 Oct 2024 09:28:16 -0400

A few articles about the shopping habits of Gen Z have caught my attention over the past few days. As someone who works in retail technology – leading a team that focuses on sales floor operations – I keep a close eye on consumer trends. These two pieces, published within days of each other in separate outlets, are interesting to me because they reinforce a singular thesis: digital natives enjoy shopping in physical stores.

Modern Retail sets the stage with reference to an ICSC study that highlights the social nature of shopping for young people:

Sixty percent of the ICSC survey’s Gen Z respondents said they visit malls to socialize or meet friends even if they don’t need something specific, 60% also said they would rather spend money on experiences than material items, and 70% said retail centers and stores have done a good job designing things for Gen Z members to enjoy together.

This is interesting. I think the social experience created inside a store flys under the radar of most retailers. This is natural because we’re primarily business-minded and transactional in nature. Creating an environment for social connection on our sales floors not only meets this need for young customers, but it creates opportunity for connection points among all in-store customers. If you can do that well, it’s a big step toward creating community.

To my surprise, a few days after reading the Modern Retail article I stumbled upon a similar piece in The Guardian about how bookshops are suddenly cool¹ with Gen Z and Millennials. Some of the same themes are reinforced here, notably how physical space can foster community and a growing aversion to algorithmic recommendations:

“I think it’s kind of a misconception that younger people want to do everything online or only care about how things look on social media,” Grace Gooda, the manager at Morocco Bound in Bermondsey tells me. “In our experience … it creates a relationship where they trust our recommendations and might take home something they wouldn’t have seen advertised elsewhere.”

This deeper connection is what really makes physical bookshops appeal to many younger readers. “Bookshops aren’t just places to buy books, they’re places of community, of gathering and this is something that’s actively fostered by so many bookshops,” Ash, 29, from Yorkshire, says. “Speaking to staff to get book recommendations is often a path into hearing more about the community aspects of bookshops, too – it’s often more than just a book recommendation.”

When I think about how these threads apply to my daily work at REI, I think there is relevance here. We already do a great job of showcasing the knowledge & expertise of our store employees, but we can definitely do more to foster human connection in our stores – inclusive of employee-to-customer and customer-to-customer experiences. My world (store technology) can play an important role in this effort, but it will take a truly collaborative effort across all store teams to create compelling experiences for the next generation of outdoor enthusiasts.

Bookshops have always been cool in the mind of the Gen X author. ↩︎

The Cost of Vinyl

Tue, 15 Oct 2024 16:11:12 -0400

According to TechRadar, vinyl record sales dropped 33.3% between 2023 and 2024. Before I dive into the substance of this, the reporting outlet must have taken a slight liberty with the 33 1/3 percentage drop, right? I mean, what are the odds that the vinyl sales dip would equate precisely to the RPM speed of an LP?

Anyhoo, Carrie Marshall writes:

I love vinyl, and in a world where streaming CEOs have a higher net worth than almost any musician in history, I want to support artists directly by buying their stuff. But like many music fans, I’m buying a lot less now because I simply can’t afford the prices being charged.

I love vinyl, too. And supporting artists directly is important to me; it’s why I migrated away from using streaming services. However it’s very hard for me to justify spending $30 - $50 for a vinyl record, therefore I’ve been buying more digital downloads from Bandcamp lately.

My hope is that all of this is pointing toward a reaction in the vinyl market, after which we might get a settling of the supply and demand forces. I’d love to support more artists through the purchase of physical media, but it will be hard for most people until the prices come down.

Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground

Wed, 09 Oct 2024 08:44:57 -0400

Running trails in Western Pennsylvania in the Fall can be glorious. Crisp temperatures, bright sun and fall colors combine to create ideal running conditions. That said, hitting the trails this time of year can also be somewhat treacherous. The changing leaves are beautiful, but the falling leaves cover the single track, concealing the rocks and roots underfoot.

I’ve been running in this area for years, and I know this. As I was cruising the White trail in North Park yesterday, a hidden rock caught my toe and I went down hard. Head first. Superman style. The fall left me with a nice gash on my knee and trail rash on my shin, hip and forearm. My right side, which took the brunt of the impact, is quite sore today.

Luckily I’ve learned how to fall to minimize significant harm. Had I not ’tucked and rolled,’ this one could have been much worse. Broken wrist, probably. A fall like this comes with the territory of trail running, and is a good reminder to stay present and mindful with footfalls this time of year in the northeast.

Choice Cuts for Bandcamp Friday

Thu, 03 Oct 2024 16:22:55 -0400

Heads up! Tomorrow is Bandcamp Friday, where Bandcamp waives it’s fees and passes those funds on directly to artists and labels. Here are a couple releases that have caught my interest and will probably make their way into my collection tomorrow:

Dulling the Horns by Wild Pink: Just. Wow. The guitar tones on this record are so interesting. Fuzzed-out and warm like a fleece blanket on a winter day. And the songwriting is so good.

H. E. Double Hockey Sticks by The Hell Hole Store: I really like the vibe of these guys, who are based in Philadelphia. Dope rhymes and sick beats. Wit wiz.

Hurricane Relief by Jon Charles Dwyer: This is a benefit release and Dwyer is donating all his proceeds to the Hurricane Helene relief efforts throughout Appalachia. Tomorrow is a good day to maximize your support.

Exhaust by Pyrrhon: These guys are from NYC and they are siiiick. Epic blast beats, tasteful breakdowns and full-on goblin mode vocals.

opaque by Mo Dotti: Dreamy shoegaze from this LA-based outfit. Jangly guitars and thick tones back reverb-soaked vox. Feels like this one would be good late at night with some bourbon.

sentiment by Claire Rousay: This came out earlier this year, but I slept on grabbing it. I guess you could consider this singer-songwriter? The arrangements and production are so interesting though, so I struggle to pigeon-hole it.

For the love, not the likes

Thu, 12 Sep 2024 13:12:16 -0400

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

Fri, 06 Sep 2024 16:49:33 -0400

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

Wed, 04 Sep 2024 17:38:31 -0400

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

Fri, 30 Aug 2024 14:35:07 -0400

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

Tue, 27 Aug 2024 07:40:52 -0400

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

Mon, 26 Aug 2024 13:31:50 -0400

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

Wed, 21 Aug 2024 17:33:31 -0400

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

Mon, 19 Aug 2024 14:34:05 -0400

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

Sat, 23 Mar 2024 10:31:00 -0400

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.

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.

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

Mon, 08 May 2023 12:00:00 -0400

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

Mon, 08 May 2023 10:20:00 -0400

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.

Canadian Roadtrip: Quebec City

Thu, 23 Jun 2022 12:00:00 -0400

Canadian Roadtrip: Montreal

Wed, 22 Jun 2022 12:00:00 -0400

Canadian Roadtrip: Toronto

Tue, 21 Jun 2022 12:00:00 -0400

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

Canadian Roadtrip: Niagra Falls

Mon, 20 Jun 2022 12:00:00 -0400

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

2021 Laurel Highlands Ultra (DNF)

Sat, 12 Jun 2021 12:00:00 -0400

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)

Sun, 16 May 2021 12:00:00 -0400

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

Sat, 16 May 2020 12:00:00 -0400

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

2020 NPTR Frozen Goat

Tue, 03 Mar 2020 13:00:00 -0400

Frozen Goat 20-miler. It was cold!

2019 Winter Solstice RCTC

Sat, 21 Dec 2019 13:00:00 -0400

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

2019 Fire on the Mountain 50k

Sun, 03 Nov 2019 13:00:00 -0400

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

Wynwood Walls

Tue, 28 Feb 2017 13:00:00 -0400

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

Wed, 09 Nov 2016 13:00:00 -0400

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

Mon, 26 Sep 2016 12:00:00 -0400

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.

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

Tue, 22 Dec 2015 13:00:00 -0400

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.

We Make the Road by Walking

Sat, 13 Jun 2015 12:41:00 -0400

Roads, as we know them today, are common necessities. These manicured paths we traverse day-in and day-out have become public infrastructure that allow societies and culture to grow and thrive throughout the world.

While trade routes and migratory paths existed as early as 5000 BC, the Romans are credited for dramatically improving road technology. In order to move armies quickly and efficiently in their conquest of the known world, Roman roads were made from deep beds of layered crushed stone to ensure smooth and dry wheeled chariot travel.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Roads now guide us as we travel around the world. It’s become second nature for us. Roads lead us to knowledge institutions like museums and libraries. They lead us to business ventures and recreational activities alike. Their benefits are analogous to a real-world internet that facilitates analog connections between people and places. Roads, alongside the advent paper, have perhaps done more to support the democratization and dissemination of ideas throughout physical space than any other technological development in history.

In a practical sense, roads are awesome. We wouldn’t be where we are as a global culture without them. Metaphorically, however, and in the context of the modern technology landscape, I think the concept a road or a predetermined path that connects point A and point B deserves some examination.

Computer scientist Bran Ferren is noted for saying:

Technology is the stuff that doesn’t work yet.

I love this quote. Scaling Ferren’s thesis out a bit, we can infer that technologists are the beating hearts that take the stuff that doesn’t work yet to a place of functional distinction. Through passion, obsession and an inherent need to make, technologists dedicate their lives to building things that impact our lives. Software and hardware often get the glory, but let us not forget that human spirit and ingenuity have tread the ground leading to these palaces of pixels.

As Ferren’s quote implies, the most compelling technology projects solve new problems, often in surprising and exquisitely considered ways. Creative technologists regularly need to be transported to a place existing roads won’t take them.

When it comes to true innovation, there is no city grid. Google Maps won’t help you. Macadam turns to asphalt turns to gravel turns to dirt turns to lush old growth. Instead of following existing roadmaps, we are required to forge new paths. We reverse engineer our future. And as our feet fall from common trails, we press our soles into the new fresh earth. Quicksand and jagger bushes be damned.

Turn off your GPS. Disable location services. Carry a machete. Take a step. Then take another. And then one more.

We make the road by walking.

The Untethering

Tue, 12 May 2015 13:30:00 -0400

The internet is intentionally pervasive. His far-reaching tentacles evolved through Darwinian-like design. The internet is also persistent. He is ubiquitous, pwned by no one. He is everywhere. All the time.

The network will not apologize. The network is proud of this persistence. This ubiquity. He’s earned it.

These traits are what make the web beautiful. By and large, they’re why pixel workers like us do what we do, day in, day out. We carry meaning forward through ones and zeros to communities at scale. Seven billion potential participants interacting with the things we make. All the world’s knowledge, democratized and in our pockets.

But in the face of all the internet’s promise and charm, do you ever dream about giving it all up? Walking away for good? Finally and forever, severing the digital tether?

I do.

Every single day.

Some people dream about winning the lottery. Putting cash money in the bank. Others long for a perpetual vacation on a tropical island. Sand between their toes. An umbrella delicately placed in their cocktail.

Not me.

I daydream of awkward silences and unbroken eye contact. I dream of focus and undivided attention. My thoughts fix on being unreachable and independent, and fully in the moment with the people I’m with.

However, the network commands constant attention. He pings, we check.

I want less real-time, more real time. I want to be here. Right now.

I want to make things with my hands, things that last and have a tactile presence in the world. Things with physicality. Things that take up space. Does it ever bother you that so much of what we labor so hard to make in the digital space is so fleeting, swept away like sand under the waves of browser updates, new operating systems, and software versioning?

The network is proud of this progression and is unforgiving. As he consumes his previous self to sustain his future iterations, we’re left with one choice: Jump on or get left behind run over.

Sometimes I dream of letting go and allowing him to crush me under the weight of his pixels.

In this fantasy, I’m standing still and alone in a swirling digital vortex. I am in the eye and I am calm. Around me swirls the madness of our omnipresent digital fabric. Hexidecimals, source code, selfies, ping, emoji, uploads, likes, ping, navigation menus, status updates, browser widths, ping, downloads, emails, WiFi connections, analytics, ping, retina screens, ping, that goddamn watch, ping, tweets, git push, ping. Faster, louder, swirling all around my still frame. Eyes closed, teeth clenched. Faster, louder. I am still. Swirling. Dizzy. Disorienting. I am still. Ballooning with every rotation until one final pixelated, glitchy gasp.

Ping.

And there I stand. Still. Calm. Enveloped in silence. I am alone in the quiet calm of the disconnected dawn. No longer a statue. No longer paralyzed by persistence, I take a step.

I am finally and forever untethered.

We Hacked an Amiga 1000

Tue, 28 Apr 2015 13:30:00 -0400

I’ve been so busy at work and home that I completely forgot to post about a cool project we shipped at the museum last week. We hacked an Amiga 1000 and are letting visitors use it to explore some of Warhol’s digital experiments created with the device in the 1980s.

Me, over on the museum blog:

The shell and innards have been modified to allow for constant, ongoing usage, but all the 1980s details remain. The mouse is jumpy and doesn’t track tightly, and the files open much slower than we’re accustomed to these days, but the authenticity of the operating experience goes a long way in conveying the blunt, primitive nature of the digital tools available for artists at the time.

This was such a cool project to work on.

Not Content with Content

Fri, 03 Apr 2015 13:00:00 -0400

Earlier this week at work, we published (and effectively open-sourced) a digital strategy that will guide us for the next several years. I wrote about it on the museum’s blog and if you’re into this kind of nerdy stuff, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Shortly after we made the strategy public, I stumbled upon a tweet by the brilliant Seb Chan:

I get sad when museums talk about all their stuff as ‘content’. — Seb Chan (@sebchan) March 31, 2015

I’ve never liked the word ‘content’ and I always feel a bit icky when I hear marketers fling it about. Seb is completely right. The word doesn’t do museum missions justice and it cheapens the integrity of our subject matter. Sure enough though, there it was littered throughout sections of our strategy used to describe the museum’s varied objects and narratives.

Since the strategy was open-sourced on Github, I promptly filed an issue ticket and started discussing language alterations with my team. Everyone agreed that an edit was appropriate. A few minutes later, I pushed an update to the repo. We now refer to our objects, media and ephemera with more meaningful language.

This is a really great example of how operating openly and transparently can positively impact institutional philosophy. This minor modification made our approach much stronger. I hope we push more changes like this in the future and when I look back on the versioned repo a few years from now, I’ll be able to see a comprehensive record of how our approach evolved over time.

Death of the Art Museum?

Mon, 02 Mar 2015 13:00:00 -0400

In an op-ed piece in the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review published last week, cartoonist, pundit and former director of the Toonseum Joe Wos attempts to tackle the topic of technology’s impact on the museum experience. In Death of the Art Museum?, a markedly uninformed Wos asserts:

Art is an important part of society. But museums to house it might no longer be needed. Art museums are a holdover from an elitist, patriarchal society that force-fed us hand-picked culture. They are becoming discarded relics of the past, much like encyclopedias, phone books and Bill Cosby’s career.

He continues:

Only a handful of high-profile art museums — such as the Met, Smithsonian and Louvre — are thriving. That’s because they package themselves as “must-see” attractions, serving tourists as backdrops for cultural selfies.

To those of us who work in the #musetech field, the article regurgitates many of the antiquated arguments we’re used to confronting, however this piece lacks even the slightest trace of research or factual support. I suggest you take a few minutes to read the whole thing.

Outside of the author’s baseless assertions and lack of evidence to support the claims thrown around within the piece, there has been some constructive dialogue emerging from the article:

Wow. Pittsburgh is talking openly about museums and technology! Even though his article is completely off-base, I’d personally like to thank Mr. Wos for starting this discussion. Anytime the topic of #musetech transcends specialty blogs like this one and makes a splash within mainstream conventional media, especially here in Pittsburgh, it’s a good thing. I hope the conversation continues.

A Mission and a Marker

Mon, 26 Jan 2015 13:00:00 -0400

I’ve been writing and developing Static Made three years this month. Before that, I was publishing a less-focused personal blog. And before that, I had a fairly-well-read lefty political site. If we go all the way back, a Geocities page for emo show reviews got the whole thing rolling for me.

When I stop and really think about it, I’ve been making stuff for the internet my entire adult life. Lately it’s art + tech projects or blog posts, but at times it’s been music, video or political opinion. I guess this is natural for creators — evolving, shifting, moving forward.

People always ask me, when such great off-the-shelf tools exist for internet creators, why I continue to put so much time and attention into a freestanding personal website. I then typically launch into a diatribe about how it’s important that we participate in the open web and publish content that’s independent of platform-specific silos. And while that’s part of the reason, it’s not completely true.

The real reason I do this is because no one else will. This site is an extension of me. If I want the logo shifted over 5 pixels, I’ll do it. If I grow tired of the color pallette, I’ll change it. If I want to blow the whole thing up and start over, I can and I have. If I want to publish a piece no one will read about my motives behind making this site, there’s no one stopping me.

Dave Winer believes a good blog exists independently of people reading it. I agree. Readers are important, and I certainly appreciate each and every one of you who reads this site, but I’d continue to write if the Static Made readership vanished overnight.

My objective here has nothing to do with what happens after I’ve published. It’s about the creative process. My mission with this website is to create a place where I can grow artistically and professionally; workshop some crazy thoughts in varying states of undress, and leave a semi-permanent marker of those ideas that can live on indefinitely when I’m gone. Hopefully that’s not any time soon.

My Fifteen Minutes

Sun, 14 Sep 2014 13:00:00 -0400

When Jilly and I were considering a move to Pittsburgh in the winter of 2001, we came into town for the day to explore the city and its many amenities. The first place we went on that fateful day nearly 15 years ago was the Andy Warhol Museum.

I’ll never forget my first experience there. Seeing the work first-hand was of course amazing, but more than that I found the artistic narrative and the immersive environments created by the institution to be truly impactful. To me, the museum breathes cool. It feels fresh and somewhat elusive (like Warhol himself). From that first moment I was hooked on the ethos of the place.

That initial visit to the Warhol Museum was a big part of our decision to reside nearby on the city’s North Side. It was also an inspirational keystone for me to focus my professional work on the intersection of art + technology.

My personal relationship with the museum developed over the years through countless exhibitions, concerts and one photo-booth wedding announcement. Today I’m happy to report my professional relationship with the museum is just beginning.

On November 3rd, I will join the team at the Andy Warhol Museum to lead digital engagement efforts and help continue the great work already being done there. The museum is lucky to have a great foundation, built by extremely smart and capable predecessors. I am beyond excited to dive into this dynamic institution, learn as much as I can and begin work on some truly remarkable initiatives.

It’s strange, but in a way, it feels like I’m returning home.

Refragmenting the Web

Thu, 04 Sep 2014 13:00:00 -0400

I got my first taste of publishing to the web in November 1996. I was a first-semester undergrad, still wet behind the ears. It was a life-altering experience.

For the life of me I can’t remember the URL of that first Geocities node. A damn shame though, because if I had it today, I would Wayback Machine the hell out of that little turd pile of HTML. Alas, that first URL is a victim of my memory and the site is off somewhere lost in the binary.

The ability to craft feeling and emotion from pixels was seductive to me as a teenager. Still is. Learning how a seemingly random string of unicode text could output color and aesthetic became my obsession. My first sites were an exploration in markup and imagery. In retrospect, they were not good – hideous in fact – but the idea that I could upload openly to a server that could be accessed by anyone with an internet connection, anywhere in the world, blew my mind.

I began publishing my writing online shortly after I figured out the nuts, bolts and protocol of the web. Blogs weren’t a thing yet, so inline styles served as post formatting and table wrappers made the sidebar. A new post meant appending the top of the journal.html file with some new, often idealistic, text. Much simpler days.

Shortly after my first foray into online journaling, a virtual tag cloud’s worth of blogging platforms emerged. Millions of people (myself included) entered the world of platform-based reverse chronology and the big business of blogs was subsequently born. By 2004, blogs were all the rage and a personal URL was the social accessory of choice. Independent weblogs enjoyed their time in the sun for a hot second before something happened.

Facebook happened. Twitter happened. And then the social dominos started falling until they covered over independent websites. Now when someone publishes, they tweet. Or post on Facebook. Or publish an essay on Medium.

So why, if it’s become so easy to publish via 3rd party services, do I and others like me continue to publish sites like these, on unique URLs, free-standing in their platform-agnostic glory? It’s simple really. We subscribe to the Craft Indie philosophy, meaning we take extreme pride and are borderline-obsessed with hand-crafting our own little corners of the web.

Writer and designer Craig Mod says it better than I ever could in his amazing essay All You Need is Publish: Considering the Indie in Indie Web:

Craft Indie is calculated indie. Laborious indie. Tie-your-brain-in-a-knot indie. No easier than it’s ever been. I’m talking about breathing your bits — really possessing, sculpting, caressing, caring for, caring after your bits. Knowing. Takes buckets of effort. And buckets be heavy…Craft Indie is lose your afternoon to RSS 2.0 vs Atom specifications indie. Craft Indie is .htaccessing the perfect URL indie. Craft Indie is cool your eyes don’t change indie. Craft Indie is pixel tweaking line-heights, margins, padding … of the copyright in the footer indie. Craft Indie is #efefe7 not #efefef indie. Craft Indie is fatiguing indie, you-gotta-love-it indie, you-gotta-get-off-on-this-mania indie.

Outside of our obsessive-compulsive code tweaking, independent websites remain extremely important for reasons of sustainability, portability and legacy. Relying on dedicated platforms to support the carrying of messages places the majority of power in the camp of the platform, not the publisher. Brent Simmonds writes:

My blog’s older than Twitter and Facebook, and it will outlive them. It has seen Flickr explode and then fade. It’s seen Google Wave and Google Reader come and go, and it’ll still be here as Google Plus fades. When Medium and Tumblr are gone, my blog will be here.

Using 3rd party services is great, however I’m more interested in using them to share content than publish content. This is a subtle, but all-to-important difference. In recent years web publishing has become consolidated and homogeneous. We rely on too few platforms as the pillars of this web we love. We need more distribution. We need refragmentation.

Frank Chimero explores this concept in a recent essay:

The lack of an tag led to Pinterest. No method to connect people created Facebook. RSS’s confusing interfaces contributed to Twitter’s success. Any gargantuan web company’s core value is a response to limitations of the protocol (connection), markup spec (description), or browsers (interface). Without proper connective tissue, consolidation becomes necessary to address these unmet needs. That, of course, leads to too much power in too few places. The door opens to potential exploitation, invasive surveillance, and a fragility that undermines the entire ethos of the internet.

So how do we stimulate a refragmentation of the web that isn’t just usable, but more useable than Twitter or Facebook or Pinterest? How can we achieve the dream of tech companies becoming field research that informs the underlying protocol Chimero proposes in the closing to his wonderful post? I don’t have the answer and I’m not sure a definitive one currently exists. But I believe we’ll get there.

This is just the beginning.

Until then, you know where to find me. I’ll be here in perpetuity tweaking my margins, fine-tuning my palette and publishing my pipe dreams long into the digital dawn…Craft Indie-style.

Digerati Dads

Tue, 26 Aug 2014 13:00:00 -0400

In a recent article for Quartz entitled How Technology Can Make Better Fathers, Alexandra Svokos takes a surprising look at how the proliferation of digital technologies is impacting the way fathers connect with their kids.

Structured mainly through the lens of her own experiences growing up with a traveling father, Svokos’ argument asserts that instant messaging and web-enabled mobile devices make a positive impact on a non-present father’s relationship with his children. These technologies are not meant to replace in-person experiences, she says, but rather increase the “overall volume of contact.”

The most important factors of distanced communication are immediacy, regularity, and reciprocity. Fathers don’t have to maintain an exhaustive phone schedule to keep up a relationship with their children; they just have to show up, and do so regularly. Because my dad took the time to send pictures and messages, I knew he still cared about me, no matter how far from home he was at any given time. A pixilated picture with a one-sentence description was often enough.

Svokos certainly has a right to her point-of-view and her thought-provoking article has given me much to think about.

I spent a large portion of this summer traveling for work, away from my family for weeks at a time. From a non-present father’s perspective, I’m not sure I agree with the thesis put forward by Svokos. No matter how many text messages we send or video calls we make to our kids when we’re away, they still know we’re absent. Not only are we absent, but we are absent by choice in their eyes.

My kids struggled through our time apart. They found it difficult to understand why Daddy wasn’t at the soccer games or cuddled up at bedtime to read them a story. No heightened level of technology could replace my absence.

I believe in the promise of technology and think it is our best tool to solve some of the world’s most important problems. I also believe technology can help us be better fathers, but it falls very short when it attempts to act as a replacement for physical presence.

I’ve been sending emails to both of my children since before they were born, however these notes don’t aim to chronicle things I’m experiencing while alone. They are a record of the things we experience together. One day, when my kids are old enough to have an email account, I’ll give them the keys to unlock a decade or so of memories we made with each other.

My son just turned seven and he gets excited by technology. You know, the whole Minecraft phenomenon. He’s very curious about how software is made and has expressed interest in learning how to code. I look forward to spending some time, just the two of us (and Macbook makes three), hacking together his first website or mobile application.

Both of these examples are, in my opinion, two distinct ways the digital world can help me be a better father.

Parenthood is predicated on presence. Technology should help bring mothers and fathers together with their children, not failingly attempt to mask the fact that we’re apart.

Impossible Questions

Sun, 17 Aug 2014 13:00:00 -0400

Earlier this week, my team at work announced a large-scale project that will consume a large portion of my professional life over the next few years. Art Tracks: The Provenance Visualization Project is a facinating concept and an opportunity to make a valuable contribution to the museum sector.

The TL;DR version of the announcement post:

The Digital Media Lab at Carnegie Museum of Art is attempting to structure provenance and exhibition history data so curators, scholars, and software developers can create dynamic visualizations that answer impossible questions—and we’ve assembled a talented team to do it.

Since announcing the project, several people have asked what we mean when we say “impossible questions.” In our minds, the impossible questions are the questions we’d love to have answers for, but currently don’t have the ability to calculate. Or if we could manually calculate answers, the available data won’t allow us to compute at scale.

Some examples of impossible questions we’re challenging ourselves with include:

Which objects currently in the museum’s collection were in New York for the 1913 Armory Show?
What items in the museum’s collection were located in England during WWII?
What percentage of our collection has been on loan at least once in the past 20 years?
What areas of the world have the permanent collection never been on loan to? What are the prohibitive reasons (geographical, political, etc.)?
Where, on a map, is every item in the permanent collection located today?
What group of works belonged to a particular nationality of collectors at a particular time and/or in a specific place?
Which artwork in the museum’s collection has logged the most “miles” since creation?

These are just some of the things we’re considering as we explore this concept of impossible questions. We’ve only been working on Art Tracks for a month, but we’re already realizing that when you begin to connect an art object with its entities (artist, owner, exhibitior) over time and place, there is enormous potential for arriving at impossible answers.

Ich bin ein Berliner

Wed, 30 Jul 2014 13:00:00 -0400

I recently wrote about the first leg of a European trip, which found me and a team of colleagues working and exploring Geneva and its neighboring French countryside. For the second leg of the trip, we hopped on an EasyJet and flew over to Berlin to spend a few days filming a series of interviews with Joachim Schmid.

We worked the majority of the time we were in Berlin, but I was able to escape one morning and spend a few hours exploring this beautiful city. My entire photoset is up over on Flickr, but here are a few of my favorites.

I was initially suprised at how green and infused with nature Berlin was. For some reason, my notions of the city had been industrial, rigid and grey. I couldn’t have been more wrong with my assumptions.

Our hotel was in the Tiergarten neighborhood, which holds a huge urban park of the same name. It reminded me much of New York’s Central Park, but bigger and with more secluded pathways. During my morning walk through Tiergarten, the sunlight was piercing through the tall trees, creating laser beems of light all around me. It was beautiful.

On the other side of Tiergarten, I emerged in Mitte, the city center, at the foot of the Brandenburg Gate. I must say I was caught somewhat off guard by its lurking enormity, just adjacent to the tranquil Tiergarten.

Just through the Brandenburg Gate is Pariser Platz. It was certainly beautiful, but I was struck by the commercialization of the square. Just out of view, to the right of the frame, is a Starbucks and a retail train of tacky souvenir shops.

From there, I continued on to Museum Island. Kind of strange for a museum guy, but I didn’t visit a museum. Not enough time.

Walking back through Tiergarten, this discarded poster caught my eye. Having just spent several days interviewing Joachim about his work with found photography, I was compelled to document this find. Translation: Money for Grandma.

In the neighborhood surrounding our hotel, an artist is leaving bronze placemarkers at the residence locations of Jews who were removed from their homes during the Holocaust. As you walk the streets, you see these little memorials outside the doors of many buildings. I’d love to know who the artist is. If anyone has information, please leave it in the comments below.

I couldn’t leave Germany without taking in some of the tasty brew! Luckily, there was a fantastic Biergarten about a block from our hotel. I’m not sure which was better at this place, the beer or the food. Highly recommended if you’re in the neighborhood.

Vague, but Exciting!

Sat, 26 Jul 2014 13:00:00 -0400

I’ve spent the past few weeks traveling around Europe for work. While that may sound super glamorous and exciting, it really wasn’t. We worked nearly around the clock and that left very little time for exploring or sight-seeing. On a few occasions, however, we did manage to put down the work for some quality extracurricular experiences.

The first leg of our trip brought us to Geneva, Switzerland. The city itself was so picturesque. Almost too clean. You can definitely see it’s been a country that’s kept itself out of conflicts and military altercations.

Lake Geneva was simply breathtaking. Nestled up right next to the historic city center of Geneva, it provides an amazing juxtoposition to the jagged Alps that lurk out into the distance.

Our official business in Geneva brought us to CERN, the European Organization for Nuclear Research. Being a technologist, this was almost like making a religious pilgrimage. My mind was blown so many times during our time at CERN, I acually lost count. Here is a record of some of the most mind-blowingest moments:

We got to go 300 meters underground to film inside the ATLAS Detector.

An iPhone panorama shot from the observation deck inside ATLAS. It’s hard to see from these photos the enormity of this machine. It’s essentially the world’s largest camera.

The CERN Fire Brigade escorted us to the top of this water tower – the tallest point on the property – so we could get some arial/landscape shots. Only two people could fit in the elevator to the top, so we had to make several trips with the crew and equipment.

The view from up top was breathtaking. To the left is CERN, and to the right? Yep, that’s the French countryside. What’s that in the distant middle? Oh, just Mont Blanc, the tallest point in the European Union.

CERN is also the place where, in 1989, Sir Tim Berners-Lee invented the World Wide Web. I couldn’t leave this place without geeking out a bit. We got to see one of the world’s first two web servers. It’s just a NeXT desktop, but to think of the ripple effect this single machine caused is awe inspiring. We also got to see the office in which Berners-Lee worked on the project. Apparently his web project was described early on as “vague, but exciting.” Amazing.

Even though our work was in Switzerland, our hotel was just across the border in France. We got a tip one night from a local that there was going to be a Bastile Day party in the neighboring town of Ferney-Voltaire. Turns out, the party was taking place on the lawn at what was once Voltaire’s chateau! There was music, food, bocci and fireworks. A really great evening.

As usual, all my Geneva photos are up over on Flickr.

Viva la France

Fri, 04 Jul 2014 13:00:00 -0400

Jilly and I recently had the opportunity to spend a few days in Paris. One of the things we love to do together in a new city is set out early to walk, eat and drink our way through the unfamiliar streets. We usually tackle a different direction or neighborhood each day. This approach allows us to get a feel for the local culture and discover the pockets of communities that give a city its life. It’s amazing how quickly the streets become more familiar.

This recent trip to Paris was particularly wonderful. We were celebrating our ten-year wedding anniversary, the weather was perfect and some good friends from London made the trip across the channel to hang out for a bit.

I kept my camera close the whole time, and these are a few of my favorite shots from the trip.

A morning view of Cité, with the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

The Louvre was too crowded to enjoy or spend any quality time with the collection. This image captures that sentiment well. We saw the Mona Lisa because we felt we needed to, then promptly left to check out some other museums.

I didn’t realize how massive the Eiffel Tower was until we were underneath it. I mean, I knew it was big, but for some reason I was surprised by its delicate enormity.

I love this alley for some reason. It was super quiet and lovely. So Parisian.

The street art was great. Interesting stuff everywhere. I spotted these octopus pieces in a few neighborhoods throughout town. Anyone know who the artist is?

By chance, we stumbled upon 59 Rivoli, an amazing artist residence/squat in the beautiful neighborhood of Le Marais. There were so many great and friendly artists working when we stopped by. Reminded me a bit of the Mattress Factory.

A portable art gallery on the street of Montmartre. What a great part of town. It was quite a hike (we walked the whole way!), but well worth it.

And the Sacré Coeur! So beautiful. Quite a reward for making it all the way to the top.

The entire set of images is up over on Flickr. As usual, everything is CC BY-NC-SA.

From Crowdsourcing to Community Sourcing

Tue, 20 May 2014 12:00:00 -0400

The following is a talk I gave at the American Alliance of Museums conference in Seattle on May 20, 2014. It was part of a panel called Crowd Sourcing to Community Sourcing: Engaging Visitor Input.

Hi. My name is Jeffrey Inscho and I lead digital and emerging media efforts at Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA. For the past two years, my museum has been experimenting with new approaches to programming designed to harness community input, elevate visitors from passive viewers to active participants, and inform/disrupt our institutional concept of what gallery experiences can and should be.

My goal is to highlight two specific projects — one complete and formative, the other in-progress — that exemplify just how transformative this type of approach can be for an institution.

Before we get into the details of these particular projects, I think it’s important to begin with a bit of institutional context. The image you’re looking at now is from 1896. In it you can see artworks being delivered to the museum via horse-drawn wagons. I think this image says a lot about our institution. On one hand, it’s just that: an institution. And not only that, it’s one with more than a century of institutional tradition — processes, workflows and operations that have been ingrained into the fabric of the place. CMOA certainly isn’t alone in this respect, and I’m not speculating on whether this is good or bad. It’s just a fact and I’m just annotating it as an accepted truth.

On the other hand, my museum also has aspirations of achieving relevance in the lives of non-traditional museum-goers and diverse audiences. This increasingly means CMOA must operate in sync with — not in competition against — the fast-moving world around us.

Exhibitions not excluded.Reimagining our programming so it resonates with people on their terms and on their turf — that’s where these concepts of community sourcing and open authority come in for us.

This story begins in the fall of 2012, when we were presented with an interesting challenge by Lynn Zelevansky, our director. A slot was made available in our Forum Gallery for an open-ended experiment. The goals and specifications set forth for us were this:

Create an experience where visitors would engage with real artworks in a personally meaningful way. We had to use collection objects; This was an insistence of our director.
Make new connections and forge meaningful relationships with a target demographic (in this instance 20- to 40-year-olds), particularly by connecting real-word & online experiences.
Open up the museum to true dialog with the public and have that public actively impact content/display in the gallery.
Be clear that this was not an exhibition in the traditional sense, but that it was an experimental project.

And with those four directives in hand, a cross-departmental, cross-hierarchical group of colleagues were off to the races.

The working group tasked with making this project happen was diverse and broad. It included not only technologists like myself, but also museum educators, editors, art handlers, curatorial assistants and representatives from our registrar’s office. We met regularly over the course of approximately six months to wrestle around with our ideas, explore the adjacent possibilities, pursue what we thought were invigorating concepts and ultimately refine those concepts into a cohesive and full-featured project.

On the other side of all this ideation, we emerged with a concept we were all very excited about. The premise for our proposal was this:

We would utilize 13 recent acquisitions from our photography department as the launchpad for the project. Decisions about which works would be made democratically by the working group and we would display these objects in the gallery.
We would invite visitors to respond to these artworks in a visual or photographic capacity — via their smartphones or computers. - - We would use these responses and feedback to inform the presentation in the gallery during the run. While photos would be submitted and accepted digitally via the web, they would be physically represented in the gallery by their tangible, real-world manifestations.
We would make every attempt to bridge the digital and physical components of the project, from event programming to the submission experience. It was important to us that this project have real-world impact.
And finally, we would be institutionally okay if this project flopped. We were aware it was a substantial risk and we were (somewhat) cool with that.

All of this sounds super lofty and conceptual and full of museum-speak. We realized that for this project to succeed, we needed to accurately and effectively communicate the concept to our audience. Strike that, our co-creators. Our partners.

We settled on a short and memorable name: Oh Snap! We employed bold colors and fonts in the graphic design, and we made it as easy as possible for people to participate. Acknowledging the Oh Snap! concept was somewhat non-traditional and a bit abstract, we borrowed a page from the playbook of tech startups, and we produced a brief trailer to effectively convey the project’s personality and process. It’s about two minutes long and quite humorous, so I’ll play it now.

We built a responsive website that served as both the project archive, and also as the photographic submission vehicle. This was mainly an accessibility decision, but it also had budget implications because CMOA had the skill set to develop internally. Once we realized that the major mobile operating systems were loosening up to allow mobile browsers to access camera rolls, it was a no brainer. No app needed.

The rest was akin to a digital Rube Goldberg experiment. We daisy-chained several 3rd party services to facilitate the submission queue, approval process, website upload and participant notifications. Wufoo fed into Dropbox fed into IFTTT fed into WordPress fed into Mailchimp. Super hacky. A lot of variables were at play and I’m frankly surprised it worked.

But it did and the result was a participatory, community-sourced, open authority-infused project that blurred the digital and the physical.

I guess you’re probably interested in the results and how we determined whether or not the Oh Snap! project was a success.

During the 2 ½ months of the project, we received a total of 1,264 submissions. All of them, except for one, made it onto the walls of the gallery and the website. Some of them are really great. You should definitely have a look for yourself. They’re all archived on the project website: ohsnap.cmoa.org.

41% of all participants fell into our target age demographic of between 20–40 years old. That was by far the largest demo group, so I think we were successful in reaching the intended audience. The lion’s share of submissions came from the western Pennsylvania and tri-state area, but we did receive a good number of submissions from locations around the world such as Europe, South America and Asia.

We gave all participants (via email) a free pass to the museum to come see their work in our galleries. Approximately ten percent of those passes came back to us. That may seem low, but when compared to our average return rate of 3%, we were very happy with that percentage.

Fast forward one year. Oh Snap! was so transformative for us as a proof-of-concept and an institutional precedent, that we were able to leverage some of the velocity we created with it into an extremely large-scale project called the Hillman Photography Initiative. An incubator for innovative thinking about the photographic image, the Initiative aims to present a new programming model for the museum and revolutionize the notion of what a museum can be and do in the digital age.

Just to be clear, research and planning for the Initiative had been occurring for some time, but the notion of community sourcing became a valid option for us rather recently, only after the first cycle of projects had been solidified and the successes of Oh Snap! had been realized. You can learn more about all the projects that make up the Hillman Photography Initiative at nowseethis.org. For now, though, I’ll focus on a specific project that embraces this philosophy of community sourcing.

One of the projects in the initial cycle of the Hillman Photography Initiative is A People’s History of Pittsburgh. This is a very compelling project that parlays many of the things we learned with Oh Snap! into a cohesive experience that blurs the physical and the digital, and has its thesis rooted in community.

Through A People’s History of Pittsburgh, the museum is asking people to send in their Pittsburgh memories and become a part of a collective photo album for the people of Pittsburgh. Fueled by those who still live in the city, or those in the “Pittsburgh Nation,” this project invites people to contribute family-owned, found, or anonymous photographs. We’re also asking participants to share their unique stories about life experiences from the Pittsburgh region. A People’s History of Pittsburgh exists as an ever-growing online archive — filterable by date, geo tag, and theme — as well as an eventual print publication.

A People’s History of Pittsburgh has only been live for a few weeks, however we’re already starting to see some great participation.

Like this image, submitted by Matthew Newton, which depicts his grandfather manning his desk (broken arm and all) at the Mesta Machine Company, in Homestead, an industrial suburb just outside the city, in 1972. Matthew notes in his story about this photo that the back is inscribed with the affectionate description, “Sad Ass Hank.”

Or this photo from Kurt Tint depicting the Carnegie Danceland in the 1950s. His dad was the original proprietor.

Or even this recent image, circa 2011, from an anonymous user who captured a popular street musician known for performing in the Strip District.

A People’s History of Pittsburgh also manifests itself on-site at the museum. Because that’s the point of all this right? To impact the experience when someone is here with us? Throughout the run of the project, the museum will be displaying the images on-site, as well as hosting a series of “scanning days,” designed to help community members with little or no internet access be a part of the project.

I’ll leave you with this image. It’s one of many hand-written notes from visitors we received during the Oh Snap! project. Validation like this was important to both the working group as well as the museum, and it went a long way in affirming to us that we made something that meant something — not only to us, but to a community of participants who actively partnered with us to make the thing happen. Community sourcing projects are impossible without an engaged and invested community.

Thanks for listening. Everything I showed and said today can be found on my site at this link, and if you have questions please do holler on Twitter or email. Thanks!

A Week With Techno-Archeologists

Fri, 28 Mar 2014 12:00:00 -0400

I’ve spent the past week in Mountain View, California, hanging out with a group of Lunar Orbiter Image Recovery Project (LOIRP) hackers who are working out of an abandoned McDonald’s on the NASA Ames base.

For more than five years, LOIRP technologists (or techno-archeologists, as they prefer to be called) have been reverse-engineering analog tape drives and developing new software in an attempt to unearth some of the first images of the moon that were taken by unmanned lunar orbiters in advance of the manned Apollo missions of the late 1960s.

Upon entering the building (affectionately called “McMoon’s” by those who work within it) for the first time, I was greeted by familiar architecture. The drive-thru windows, menu light boxes, stainless steel counters, fiber glass tables and the ghosts of corporate brand ephemera all remain. However now they coexist under a jolly roger with a literal mountain of vintage 2-inch tape reels that contain trapped data, refrigerator-sized Ampex tape drives, an army of Mac workstations and a seemingly endless supply of analog tape decks, monitors, cables and soldering supplies.

A recurring theme running through my discussions with LOIRP hackers was a concept they coined called techno-archeology. The success of LOIRP hinges on the group’s ability to free image data housed within the obsolete medium of 2-inch video tape.

In order to do this, they were required to excavate and replicate the processes and hardware utilized by technologists more than 50 years ago. We’re talking about an era in which the world’s largest super computer housed a fraction of the power our consumer laptops now possess. One might think today’s computing power would make this task an easy one, however the team is operating completely at the mercy of five-decades-old tech.

The LOIRP team at McMoon’s is doing some amazing work and I recommend anyone interested astronomy and technology check out what they’re up to. Big thanks to Dennis, Keith, Austin, Ken and Marco for hosting us.

If you enjoyed the photos in this post, you can see the full set over on Flickr. For now though, I’ll close with an image that isn’t mine. This Earth Rise image is one of my personal favorites of the lot recovered by LOIRP. Seeing this image in this ultra-high resolution makes me long for outer space with childish abandon. It also makes me realize just how small our place in the universe is.

The Singular Museum Experience

Fri, 20 Dec 2013 13:00:00 -0400

There have been several articles published in recent weeks assaulting the role technology has grown to encompass with respect to art museum visitor experiences. All of these pieces take a similar tack: mobile devices distract us from thoughtful looking; visitor photography of artworks does nothing to improve memory; when it comes to museum tech, less is more; something something the sky is falling.

These articles all share a nostalgia for and vehement defense of “the museum experience.” They propose that museums are supposed to be quiet contemplative spaces where people can reflect and intellectualize around objects without distraction or interruption from the outside world. Anything deviating from this scenario is inherently negative. While this may be true for some, it is undoubtedly not the case for others.

The fundamental flaw with these arguments is that they make the false assumption that a singular, one-size-fits-all museum experience ever existed in the first place. Considering that there is, and has been, only one correct way to experience a museum is extremely narrow-minded, experientially short-sighted and ultimately antiquated.

I would argue there is no such thing as “the museum experience.”

Perhaps now more than ever (thanks in part to technology), we are in a position to craft meaningful experiences for a wide array of museum-goers and open up these experiences to those who might never set foot inside our institutions. We can certainly honor traditionalists with minimalist thoughtful looking, but we should also provide the tools, access to information and social interactions that allows the born-digital generation to have relevant and meaningful experiences. I like to think of this approach as employing technology that disappears.

I also wonder if this issue is particularly time- or era-sensitive. In episode 11 of Museopunks, Beck Tench said something I feel is pertinent to this discussion:

We are living in two worlds now. The thing our grandchildren will find most quaint about us is that our generation makes a distinction between the physical and the virtual.

Because we’re living in this unique and transitional time, our task as museum technologists is complicated. We need to offer a multiplicity of experiences along an extended spectrum of digital comfort levels. If we don’t, our future constituents will move on, leaving museums behind for experiences that are more relevant and impactful for them. It is possible to honor the past while embracing the future, but it takes institutional open-mindedness and a willingness to acknowledge that, as visitors, we all need different things from our museums.

Museums as Digital Citizens

Fri, 25 Oct 2013 13:00:00 -0400

In preparing for our Museopunks @ MCN sessions, Suse and I have stumbled upon an area of investigation I think warrants some real thought. After discussing it briefly in a conference session brainstorming call, my mind has been racing ever since. Our conversation centered around the concept of digital citizenship, particularly if (and how) museums should be actively participating in a greater societal discourse and digital dialog. Should we — and by “we” I mean our institutions — be working to become better digital citizens?

Citizenship is traditionally thought to be an individual ideal, one that people take pride in possessing. Digital citizenship, albeit a new concept, also grips onto elements of individualism. Edward Snowden, Julian Assange and Anonymous hackers are likely the most famous digital citizens in recent memory, and although they definitely skew political, they jump to the front of my mind when thinking about citizenship in the digital capacity.

Notable activists aside, there is much more to digital citizenship than activisim. In fact, DigitalCitizenship.net cites nine individual elements of digital citizenship: access, commerce, communication, literacy, etiquette, law, rights & responsibilities, health & wellness, and security (self protection).

Could museum interactive experiences not only provide access to rich content, but also help increase the overall digital literacy of users?

Might we design our technology initiatives with an eye toward vision health or mitigating repetitive stress syndrome?

Why shouldn’t our digital projects travel parallel paths in pursuit of both curatorial mission and digital good?

Thinking about digital citizenship in these terms convinces me that institutions — museums in particular — are doing well, but could be doing better. Access is certainly important, and it seems to be the focus of most digital efforts. While opening up content, publishing collection data and releasing open-source digital resources are all important, so are actively pursuing the other eight elements outlined above.

We’re still solidifying the themes of the three (!!) Museopunks @ MCN sessions, but I hope this topic makes the cut. There’s a lot to unpack here and I’m looking forward to diving deep on this with some smart people.

What do you think? Is it possible for cultural institutions to transcend the singular ideal of citizenship and play a larger role in digital society? If so, what are some ways museums can become better digital citizens?

Technology That Disappears

Tue, 01 Oct 2013 13:00:00 -0400

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been working on some pretty intense projects at work in anticipation of big exhibition opening this weekend. One of the projects shipped today and I’m extremely proud of the work my team did to bring this concept from a loose idea to a delightfully useable thing.

The CMOA companion app is loaded with some interesting features, but my favorite one is likely the simplest. While visiting museums, I’ve often wished I had a bookmarklet or a “Read Later” service through which I could revisit and deep-dive on the works I personally enjoyed in the gallery. I regularly want to know more about a work or artist, but don’t want the multimedia/technology/screen viewing to penetrate into my gallery experience. Sometimes I just want to enjoy the art, you know? Color me a purist.

A few weeks ago I was talking to a colleague about this idea and he matter-of-factly said, “Why don’t you just write bookmarking functionality into the app?” And like that, we did. It’s a simple idea, but I think it’s going to be the feature people find the most delightful.

Throughout the development of the CMOA companion app, I realized we were making conscious decisions to omit sexy functionality in favor of truly useable and helpful features. This meant we often pushed the technology to the background, making it a vehicle or an agent instead of a focus point.

I find technology that disappears or recedes into the background — only to reveal itself when called upon — to be some of the most interesting work currently happening in the museum context. There is certainly a well-deserved place for multitouch/kiosk/fixture interactive experiences and focal-point tech in the museum world, but there is also a growing appetite for light-weight, understated, personality-infused gems. I hope those who are hungry for this type of experience find value in projects like the one we just shipped.

Gone Fishin'

Wed, 26 Jun 2013 13:00:00 -0400

I turn 35 today. As a birthday present to myself, I’m currently on a plane headed far away for some much needed downtime. In the coming days I will live completely off the grid. I will read books made from paper and I will avoid glowing screens. I might even try to make something with my hands. Don’t call, don’t email and don’t tweet. I won’t hear you.

Let’s reconnect on the other side, yes? Yes. Over and out.

The Perfect Television

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 13:00:00 -0400

This post is a riff on Koven Smith’s A Secret Thread From MW2013: Design and inspired by a John Roderick rant.

Over the course of the past six decades, technologists have been building the perfect television. Black-and-white and vacuum tubes have evolved into internet-enabled and on-board CPUs. Pixel density is high, profile depth is low and HDMI connections flow with zero latency. Colors are bright and surround sound systems throw down some mean bass. We control these perfect televisions from remote locations via mobile devices and we live our lives unconfined to program schedules.

But for all the effort we’ve placed on building the perfect television, we have very little to show for it with respect to viewing experience. From network broadcasting to subscription cable to online streaming services, there are hundreds of content channels/streams available to us. Perfect televisions deliver unending content yet nothing is worth watching. We’ve iterated on the infrastructure to such a heightened level, the experience of watching television has fallen off the radar and remains virtually unchanged from its inception in the 1950s.

A compelling experience – one that keeps up with the technological advancements of the infrastructure – has not been designed for us.

In a way, I think this is also where we are with respect to museum technology. Koven’s thoughts fall into perspective when we consider content management systems, collections databases and institutional strategy as infrastructure (the perfect televisions) that can be not only built upon, but designed upon in interesting ways. We can see these elements of experience design taking shape in some of the projects Koven notes in his brief, thought-provoking post.

Innovation is nothing new. Museum technologists, like their counterparts working within other types of organizations, have been innovating for decades. It’s exciting, though, to think we may be in the midst of #MuseTech version 2.0, where institutions can stand tall upon the firm foundations of prior work and look confidently toward intentionally designed experiences that captivate, fascinate and delight users at every turn.

Now, where did I put that remote?

The Perfect Television

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 12:00:00 -0400

This post is a riff on Koven Smith’s A Secret Thread From MW2013: Design and inspired by a John Roderick rant.

A compelling experience — one that keeps up with the technological advancements of the infrastructure — has not been designed for us.

Now, where did I put that remote?

The Punk and the Museum

Wed, 03 Apr 2013 13:00:00 -0400

Describing something or someone as punk can elicit a wide range of responses. It’s a polarizing term. From punk music to punk culture, it seems we all have different opinions about what punk is and whether or not we identify with it. I’d suspect most people have no strong association and remain indifferent to the term, while some likely despise it.

Those who despise punk culture credit its sloppy facade, affinity for anarchy and ruthless idealism as touchstones for their dislike. Others simply point to Green Day or spiked dog collars. Touché. These critiques are warranted in my opinion, but I view punk culture in a distinctly different light.

The punk philosophy has impacted me dramatically over the years and it continues to inform the way I approach nearly every aspect of my life, from fatherhood to professionalism. Let me explain.

Innovation on a Shoestring Punks often operate with little-to-no monetary or material resources. The ability to see different angles and make new, interesting things out of existing materials is of extreme value in the punk community. This forward-looking, innovate-at-all-costs approach has been a huge influence on contemporary society, including the modern hacker and DIY movements.

Speed Matters

Speed is a valued attribute in the punk community. Being perfect is good, but being first is better. One only needs to look to the imitation waves following the emergences of influential bands like the MC5 or Minor Threat or The Pixies to realize the significance of shipping early. The same goes for the technology innovators of today. Punk’s unique combination of speed and vehement originality differentiates it from all else.

Discomfort is Necessary

True innovation happens when artists and technologists operate with urgency and uncertainty. If a project I’m working on doesn’t make me just a little bit nervous, I know I’m doing something wrong. That pressure to make the thing work in the face of my unease drives the work to fruition, and powers the new and different. Routine inputs lead to routine outputs and punk culture frowns upon both.

We Stop at Nothing

Punks disregard money, time, status and possessions in pursuit of their passions. They follow their hearts to the ends of the earth to create their craft and it’s evident in the results. Often these projects are audacious and unconventional. Sometimes they take the shape of a song or an app or a robot. The remarkable projects, however, are always steeped with a noticeable passion. It’s in the fiber of the thing. You can sense it.

Authenticity is Paramount

People can tell when someone is faking it and merely throwing shapes. Punk culture is built on a foundation of authenticity and anything half-baked will be called out as such. Truth, honesty and compassion, along with authenticity and transparency, are keystones of the movement.

Punk drove its fangs into me as a teenager and has followed me ever since. It’s present when I talk to my kids about staying true to who they are in the face of peer pressure. It’s present in the writing on this website and in the writers I enjoy reading. It’s an elemental piece of my being.

It’s also present in my daily work at the museum. While I would never advocate for museum anarchism (okay, maybe this kind), I think museums as a whole benefit greatly from the growing sect of MuseoPunks who think differently, experiment freely, challenge preconceived notions and embrace the ethos of punk culture in their life’s work. While they may not self-identify as MuseoPunks (yet!), the community is coalescing around a growing number of progressive practitioners creating projects that push the museum sector forward in interesting ways.

MuseoPunks has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? More on that to come.

The Punk and the Museum

Wed, 03 Apr 2013 12:00:00 -0400

The punk philosophy has impacted me dramatically over the years and it continues to inform the way I approach nearly every aspect of my life, from fatherhood to professionalism. Let me explain.

Innovation on a Shoestring

Punks often operate with little-to-no monetary or material resources. The ability to see different angles and make new, interesting things out of existing materials is of extreme value in the punk community. This forward-looking, innovate-at-all-costs approach has been a huge influence on contemporary society, including the modern hacker and DIY movements.

Speed Matters

Discomfort is Necessary

We Stop at Nothing

Authenticity is Paramount

Punk drove it’s fangs into me as a teenager and has followed me ever since. It’s present when I talk to my kids about staying true to who they are in the face of peer pressure. It’s present in the writing on this website and in the writers I enjoy reading. It’s an elemental piece of my being.

MuseoPunks has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? More on that to come.

Experimenting with Open Authority

Wed, 13 Mar 2013 13:00:00 -0400

Nina Simon over at Museum 2.0 invited me to write a guest post about our current photography experiment Oh Snap! and why I think it’s successful when most crowd-sourced exhibitions and photo-response projects fall flat.

Big thanks to Nina for allowing me to hijack her most wonderful site.

Instinct and Intuition

Sun, 13 Jan 2013 13:00:00 -0400

Looking back, I can point to many turning points in my life. I consider these instances to be times of great influence and they carry immense impact on the trajectory of my life. More often than not, these moments have been stark absolutes — either this or that, on or off, zeros or ones — and required me to make active choices about my future and the future of those I love.

Within each of these choices may have been middle ground or ways that avoided absolutes, but I overwhelmingly chose to address these decisions in visceral, almost impulsive ways. Those words — visceral and impulsive — carry negative contexts for me, however. I like to think my decision-making process is based on instinct and rooted in intuition.

Instinct has guided me well over the years. For as long as I can remember, my intuition has been strong and it has rarely lead me astray. I’ve left school, quit jobs, embarked on spontaneous travel, married the love of my life, re-enrolled and finished school, shipped risk-laden and unconventional projects, and followed opportunities I wasn’t completely sure I could win or fulfill. All based on instinct.

This isn’t to say contemplation and deep thought have no place in my personal decisions. It’s quite the opposite, actually. Instinct takes over for me after deep thought and contemplation have brought me to a place of insight. Intuition leads me when that fork in the road appears and the only options are to go one way, or the other. Instantly, I feel it deep down in my guts and surrender to the inherent notion about which way is right. I’ll follow that primal directive every time.

Following instinct over analytics might not be the most appropriate approach from a business perspective, but I think it certainly has its place at the conference room table. Professional intuition is an important element in any workplace environment where innovation is a priority.

Personally though, I’ll stay with what’s historically worked for me. I’ll listen to my instinct as the horizon approaches and the next of life’s intersections draws near.

Oh Snap!

Tue, 08 Jan 2013 13:00:00 -0400

This is a sneak peak at a cool project I’m developing at work. We have an exhibition of recent photography acquisitions opening next month and we wanted to experiment with ways visitors (on-site and online) can participate with the works.

We’ll be inviting visitors to respond visually to the works hanging on the walls. They will be able to submit a photo from their mobile device or workstation, and then that image will be posted to the web as photo response. Taking it a bit further, the photos will be printed and then hung next to the work that inspired the derivative. Pretty cool.

The best projects are those that blur the line between digital and physical.

This is also the most elaborate responsive site I’ve built to date. I look forward to sharing it with you when it’s ready. More to come.

Betterment in 2013

Mon, 31 Dec 2012 13:00:00 -0400

I struggle to understand the concept of the New Year’s Resolution. Every year, millions of people select an arbitrary date to start obsessively modifying lifelong behaviors and habits. They hedge their bets on a metaphorical flip of a switch and hope the current of willpower remains flowing in the face of temptation, vices and history.

Speaking from experience, it seems the game is rigged and the whole premise is setting us up for failure.

That said, the idea of personal development and productivity is near to my heart. Becoming better is something I think about daily. This year, however, instead of setting unrealistic goals to which I’ll fall short and, in turn, about which I’ll beat myself up, I’m identifying four focus areas of betterment in the coming year.

I am committed to fully pursuing these four directives in 2013 and beyond:

Be Here, Right Now

Pervasive technologies have their noted benefits, however they tend to take me out of the moment. They remove my focus from what’s right in front of me – the people I’m with and the tasks at hand. Starting today, I will make a conscious effort to remain present in the moment and dedicate my full attention to the people and things of importance before me.

This may involve disconnecting to an extent. Perhaps trimming the network. More appropriately, I think it may entail evaluating the limits and parameters to which platforms can claim my attention. Over the past few months, I’ve felt pulled apart by technology. Disjointed and off-kilter. I’ve made some small adjustments to address these issues, and will continue to modify this area of my life to reach a healthy balance.

Live Healthier

If we’re communicating freely here, I’ve let myself go in recent months. My hectic personal and professional schedules have all but eliminated any time for exercise or healthy eating. This needs to change. One year ago I was in the best shape of my life, on my way to running my first marathon. Then life took over and my health took a back seat to everything else.

I need to establish a system in which my personal health can assume a position of priority again. I have ideas about how this might be done and I’ll be enacting some of these tactics today. I’ll enact more tomorrow.

Create More

A few weeks ago after eating Chinese for lunch (see above), I received a fortune that read, “We are not here to merely exist. We are here to create.” Recently, my creativity has been exclusively professionally-channeled. The (lack of) activity on this site and the quiet end of the ZenGeek Podcast are a testament to that fact.

The fact is I’m extremely passionate about museums and technology. That won’t stop and I’m excited about a number of professional projects slated for 2013. I hope to infuse that passion into this site more than I have in the past.

I also believe creating outside of my professional track is very important. Creativity breeds more creativity. I hope to utilize my personal and professional creative streams to inform the other as a way of making new, interesting things.

Finish

Finally, I need to finish. I am an extremely great starter. I have some pretty good ideas and I start them with enormous enthusiasm and vigor. Just count the domains in my registrar account’s renew queue.

I am the worst finisher. Horrendous. Abysmal, even. I will work to change that in the coming year by saying “no” more than I have in the past and following through on these betterment focus areas.

I will track my progress throughout the year and measure my success. If you’re all open to it, I will share updates with you and perhaps dive a bit deeper into each of the four directives when the time is right and the data warrants it.

For now, though, I will enjoy a quiet end to this year. I will cherish the love of friends & family, and I’ll wake tomorrow ready to start attacking these goals. Happy New Year to you and yours.

The Greatest Threats Come From Within

Mon, 31 Dec 2012 13:00:00 -0400

Suse Cairns expounds upon her most dangerous idea about museums in the coming year: The greatest threats to museums come from within. On the surface this statement may seem pessimistic, but I feel the best part of the essay comes when Suse highlights the positive potential for the sector moving forward:

This is what I believe. We, as a sector, are in a hugely opportune place right now. We are incredibly well connected to one another, and to ideas from within and external to our own profession. A real energy has started emanating at many of the conferences I’ve attended. We drink about museums together, we talk, we share, and we work.

Social media, conferences, and the generosity of the people who work within the sector make it ever easier to forge strong relationships beyond the walls of our institutions, and hopefully also within them, and to share knowledge and vision with one another. Indeed, they also ensure that there are more ways than ever to speak to our audiences and communities, to invite them to be a part of our vision too. And this all gives us a strong position to build from.

I couldn’t agree more. The astounding passion and creativity and genius of the museum professionals I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know just in the past several months is jaw-dropping.

However, Suse is right. Insularity is the antithesis of progress. We need to look outside of the museum fishbowl for inspiration, collaboration and corroboration if we are to truly effect positive change within the sector. Adapting to shifting environments — be they technological, artistic, cultural or economic — is crucial, and we need to be embracing the examples of our counterparts outside the cultural sector.

Alternatively, we should be telling the stories of our own institutions on more complex levels. We need to share not just our own work, but also the work of others in the sector. We should be remixing the work of others, both inside and outside of the sector, and allowing for others to remix our own work. Innovation comes from the open flow of information.

It’s a great time to be working in a museum. I look forward to sharing some exciting projects from my own institution, as well as others, in the coming year.

Flickr is Dead. Long Live Flickr.

Sun, 16 Dec 2012 13:00:00 -0400

I created my Flickr account in March of 2005. It was relatively early in the image sharing platform’s lifespan and right around the time Yahoo! paid big bucks to bring Flickr within its portfolio of web services. At that time, Flickr was a revolutionary tool primarily used by bloggers to host and share photos.

Over the years, Flickr’s feature set became more robust. A passionate community of users circled around the platform and I counted myself among them. They embraced the concept of user privacy and pushed forward with progressive copyright by integrating Creative Commons licensing in its nascent stages. Flickr was on top of the Web 2.0 world.

Then something happened. The web exploded with competing platforms that were focused on making it easier for users to share information. The iPhone was released and the mobile revolution was underway. “Social Media” had arrived and platforms were predicated on innovating at rapid rates.

Innovation at Flickr, however, ceased. Lured by compelling experiences and growing user bases elsewhere, many loyal Flickrists migrated away to Facebook or Twitter or Instagram. The writing seemed to be on the wall for the once-great, now-stagnant service. Fearing the worst, I backed up my entire photostream and let my Pro Account expire in January of 2010.

I spent the next three years going about my business on the web without even a thought toward Flickr. Until this week when an update to Flickr for iOS was released to positive reviews.

Feeling nostalgic for my glory days of the web, I downloaded the app to see what all the fuss was about. And the fuss, in my opinion, is justified. With one fell swoop, Flickr has injected itself back into the conversation of web relevance. It’s not about the inclusion of Instagram-like photo filters or location services. Those features are great, but hardly leading edge. What makes this update so great is the combination of these features with a refreshed user experience, Flickr’s outstanding respect for its community of users and the promise of continued innovation from the platform.

This is all good news and exciting for someone who never really wanted to say goodbye. Needless to say, I’m back. It’s been great getting reacquainted with Flickr over the past few days and reconnecting with the community there. I’m curious to see where Flickr goes from here. New leadership at Yahoo! and a newfound energy are positive indications they’re moving in the right direction. That’s great to see.

Not Real-Time

Sun, 19 Aug 2012 00:00:00 -0400

Joshua Gross exploring the idea that the future of the web is not in real-time information flow:

The real-time web is a bit like a fire hydrant—either the valve is opened or closed, but there’s no filter to stem the flow; we become the filter for the massive flow of information. Content should always feel like a gift, not a burden. To turn it into a gift, we need to start focusing on ways to control the flow.

Agreed. To me, the future of the web is a better filtering system — a way to dictate what, how and when desired information makes its way through input channels. The future has yet to be written, but I think it’s in making sure meaningful content gets where it’s supposed to go in a way that’s dictated by the user. The plumbing, if you will.

Timeliness is good, but timelessness, relevance and control are better.

On Museums and Professional Callings

Thu, 16 Aug 2012 12:00:00 -0400

I can clearly remember the first time I set foot inside a museum. I was seven years old and it was with my second grade class on a field trip to the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia. I remember the building’s gigantic scale and the timeless nature of the artifacts on display. I remember the smell and the echo of the lobby. I remember leaving with more questions and curiosity than I had when I entered.

In the years since, my personal interests have skewed decidedly toward the arts, but my love affair with museums never left. Instead of becoming awe-inspired by dinosaurs and dioramas, I came to appreciate the delicate touch of paint on canvas, the intricate dance of melodies and harmonies, and the creative process as a whole. I will visit any museum anywhere and spend hours soaking it all in.

Not too far along into my professional career I was lucky to land a technology gig in a mid-size museum here in Pittsburgh. I made a lot of friends and took calculated risks with respect to technology and communication. I felt my work at that museum held meaning because it was helping tell compelling stories about dynamic artists and their work. We had a lot of fun along the way too. I looked forward to going to work each day in a creative environment surrounded by artistic expression.

I left that position in 2010. The story behind my decision to leave is complex and better suited for another blog post, but in short I moved on to a wonderful job in higher education at a university known the world over for its innovation. For the most part, all was well in my professional world.

Then I started to hear the calls. They started as daydreams of a blank white cube open for experimentation, but quickly progressed to visions of working full-time again in an environment surrounded by art, artists and creativity. I quickly realized how much I missed being immersed in a place of art and culture. The museum was calling me, just like it did on that spring Philadelphia day back in 1986.

This week, I acted on this calling by accepting a web and digital media position at the Carnegie Museum of Art, one Pittsburgh’s cultural gems and an international beacon of artistic excellence. The museum has a rich history and is strategically poised for great things down the road. There are some amazing projects on the horizon. I’m extremely excited about this next chapter in my professional life and I look forward to making new friends, as well as reconnecting with my museum colleagues across the globe.

That’s not to say I’m not nervous about this transition. The butterflies are certainly present. A wise woman once said, “If an opportunity scares you, you need to take it.” Change of this magnitude always comes along with an element of unease. However, I’m comforted in the fact that working in the art + tech space is my professional calling. I truly believe it’s what I’m supposed to do.

My experience during the past few weeks has shown me many things, but most importantly I’ve rediscovered how to follow my instincts and pursue the calling that is within me. My situation isn’t special, though. Callings are within all of us. You just have to listen and act.

Juxtaposition

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 07:04:00 -0400

Two years ago today, I experienced the saddest day of my life. It was a day I will never forget and a situation I hope no one else ever has to live through. Alternatively, eight years ago tomorrow, I experienced the happiest day of my life. It too was a day I will never forget, but in this case I truly wish everyone has a chance to feel the love that surrounded me on that day back in 2004.

Any time a juxtaposition of extreme emotions is compacted into a turbulent timeframe, it creates a great deal of internal tension for us. For me, these 48 hours embody a great conflict. I consistently find myself questioning the appropriateness of my feelings. How can I be simultaneously happy about this one thing and so very sad about this other thing? Why am I letting this cloud of negativity cast its dark shadow on my brilliant memories of pure joy? In all honesty, I don’t have the answers.

What I do have, though, is a vital macro-view of this 48-hour window — the ability to step back and analyze its essence. Through this window, I see the ebb-and-flow of the universe captured in a sort of time-lapse. This juxtaposition shows me the importance of mindful balance and non-attachment. It shows me that lives can be irreversibly altered in an instant and that nothing in this life is permanent. It wrangles up and presents to me the complete spectrum of all the possible feelings and emotions that exist in this world. It swallows me in an ocean of thought where tides bring and take without judgement.

This juxtaposition has taught that the past and the future do not exist. There is only this moment; there is only now. Nothing more and nothing less. Realizing this, I’ve learned to cherish every waking moment. I drink in my surroundings and live fully and completely in the present. I hold my friends and family close, and make sure they know I love them.

Only by living this way can I weather the most violent of juxtapositions and remain in a place of complete peace.

Emails to My Unborn Daughter

Wed, 25 Jul 2012 13:00:00 -0400

There’s been a lot of talk lately about email. The majority of this recent writing has been about Google’s acquisition of Sparrow, a much-heralded Mac and iOS email client. Bloggers, tech pundits and average dudes are waxing philosophical about the health of the independent developer community, sustainable business models and the relevance of email itself. Good times.

There’s no denying that email is broken. Some are writing about its inherently flawed nature and obsoleteness, while others are making things in an attempt to fix it.

Spoiler: This post is also about email. It’s about email in its most basic state, irrespective of the client or vendor. It’s about potential. It’s about privacy. It’s about the promise of an agnostic platform in an age of proprietary prairies.

Let me explain.

For the past five years, I’ve been writing emails to my son. Shortly after he was born in 2007, I created an email account in his name so I could write to him throughout his childhood and then turn the account over to him when he was of age. Upon opening the account for the first time, he’d be greeted with an archive of his childhood as seen through his father’s eyes.

To date, I’ve sent him a wide array of messages ranging from short one-sentence emails just to let him know I love him to photos of special moments we’ve shared together to diary-like entries that chronicle his developments and our family’s journey together. Our daughter is due to arrive later next month, and I just created an account for her, now that we’ve decided on her name. I sent my first email to my unborn daughter last night.

Why Email?

So why email? Why not a private Facebook page or maybe a shared Evernote notebook? For me, the answers are simple. Ownership and privacy. I want to ensure ownership of the content stays with my children and that the content remains private. I’m talking about privacy in the simplest sense of the word here, not the kind of privacy networks like Facebook lead users to believe is the new standard.

Yes, I understand email can be hacked and messages can be leaked. I don’t believe total information security exists, so given the alternatives, email seems to be the least of all evils. Once content leaves our brains and becomes formalized in the ether, be it in a Moleskine journal or online, the concept of total and complete security flies out the window.

The idea here is that I want this content to exist for my kids in the long-term — when they turn 12 or 14 or 16 or whatever age is appropriate to start tooling around on the internet. Hell, my kids may look at email the way I looked at my Dad’s bell-bottoms when I was 14 and want no part of it. The point though, is that my notes will be available should they desire to access them. And I think they will. They’re good kids.

A lot of users are placing a lot of faith in Facebook and Twitter and Squarespace at the moment, but who ultimately owns the content published on those respective platforms and where will that record of life moments be in five, fifteen or twenty-five years? I’d wager that email will still be around in some form. Facebook? Not so much. Good luck exporting that content from a walled garden.

For all the flack email has been receiving lately, its value is proven. Sure, it’s a pain to manage professionally and inboxes are exploding with spam and bacn for many. Efficiently managed, though, email can be a beautiful thing. Email can be a living portal to years of moments — all indexed, timestamped and contextual.

Dude’s Day

I took my son to a local amusement park the other day. Just the two of us on a “Dude’s Day,” as we like to call these excursions. The amusement park was hosting a Superhero meet-and-greet, where kids could meet Spiderman, Hulk, Thor and Captain America. My son is a huge superhero fan, so he was naturally excited. We were both looking forward to this time together for days leading up to the event.

What surprised me, though, was this: As we waited in line to meet the first hero, he asked if I could take his picture and send it to his email. In that moment I realized that he understands what I’m doing and wants to be a part of it. He’s excited and eager to have access to these notes down the road. I think that’s super cool and it makes my effort worthwile.

Email isn’t perfect. Nothing is. But in this instant, and for this purpose, it’s the most appropriate tool for the job.

You Shall Know Google by its Trail of Dead

Sat, 21 Jul 2012 13:00:00 -0400

Sean Gallagher at Ars Technica on Google’s acquisition of Sparrow:

Like most Sparrow users, the news caught me off-guard; the application had recently been updated in Apple’s App Store, and the latest version had widened its performance lead on Apple’s Mail.app and other Mac OS mail software. But the update turned out to be a final act instead of a prelude to something bigger—and the bow was an undisclosed payday for Leca and Kima Ventures, the French venture capital team that originally backed the company. This is the sort of exit that’s become common to software and Web companies in the current economy, where the only way to get the big payout is to be acquired by a Google, or a Facebook, a Microsoft or an Apple.

I use Sparrow on my desktop and iOS. I absolutely love the application. Sparrow makes email bearable for me, so this is naturally disappointing news.

It’s hard to fault Dom Leca and the Sparrow development team for making the choice to sell out, just as it’s hard to question the decision of Instagram brass to be absorbed into Facebook. What’s disturbing to me, though, is the unstable user environment created by such acquisitions.

I expect such developments when dealing in free apps and lottery ticket business models. It’s harder to stomach when it happens to a shop generating healthy revenue under a viable business strategy. No one saw this one coming.

When you’re hungry, make fire.

Tue, 19 Jun 2012 12:00:00 -0400

For three weeks, my family has been living without a kitchen. We are in the middle of a complete remodel that involves taking the walls down to the studs and the floors down to their joists. This project not only impacts our kitchen, but also the adjacent dining room. The heart of our home has been rendered unusable. While progress is being made, it is slow due to the complicated nature of many moving parts.

The kitchen, when complete, will be wonderful. In the interim, though, we are living with a refrigerator in our family room and our dining set — with all associated plates, glasses and kitchen supplies — filling our guest room. Our family routine has been eradicated and we have become very resourceful when it comes to preparing food and sharing family meals.

In a way, I feel like we’ve been camping in our own home. We don’t want to succumb to the unhealthy lure of convenience sold by TV dinners and fast food, so we’ve meticulously been planning our meals to fit our busy schedules. We’ve gotten creative with ingredients and resorted to an outside grill to cook mostly everything.

If it’s raining at dinner time, I cook in the downpour and try to notice each falling drop as it strikes me.

Living without normal modern amenities, however temporary, is a healthy wake-up call. Sometimes I think we become numb to the concept of convenience. Hot? Turn on the A.C. Need a gallon milk? Jump in the car and drive a few miles to the store. Need directions? Google it on the go. These are the times in which we live.

Technology promises progress, and with that comes convenience. But when technology and convenience are removed from the equation, we are left with same problems — problems that can be equally answered using lowest-common-denominator solutions. Sometimes the answer is so simple.

When you’re hungry, make fire.

Thoughts of My Father

Sun, 17 Jun 2012 12:00:00 -0400

I’m up early on this Father’s Day. The house is quiet with sleep and the rising sun is starting to cast sharp shadows in my back yard. It is peaceful.

In a matter of minutes, my son will likely rise and be excited to begin our day together, a day that will see a range of activities from fishing to laser tag. My thoughts in this quiet moment, however, fall not on my own experience of fatherhood, but rather on memories of my father.

This is my second Father’s Day without dad. While I think about him every day, certain days are harder than others. Birthdays and holidays are persistent reminders, but today — a day dedicated to the special love of a father — has come to be the hardest for me.

My dad was the kind of guy who would do anything for a friend or member of the family. He was so funny and playful, and had a good time no matter what he was doing. He was a random gift-giver, some amazing and impactful (my first guitar at the age of eight) and others slightly missing the mark (Christmas 1995: the frilly pirate shirt).

Dad was always looking to help. He would spend hours at the drop of a hat helping me fix something in my house or teaching me a useful skill that would get me out of a jam down the road. He built crazy things — lo-fi inventions — that served a purpose no commercial product could provide. He was a life hacker before there were life hackers.

My father also taught me about honesty and respect. He showed me through his actions the importance of hard work and always telling the truth, even if the truth was unpopular. Later in life, we fell on opposite sides of the political spectrum and our debates taught me how to have spirited conversations with the people who don’t agree.

He was able to singularly occupy that unique space of teacher, mentor and friend.

Dad was one-of-a-kind. And while he is dearly missed, I’ll take this day to reflect on these fond thoughts of my time with him. I’ll tell my son all about him and share some of my favorite memories.

Even though he’s gone, dad still guides me. When I find myself in uncertain situations I catch myself thinking, “What would dad do?”

That eternal guidance is the trait of someone special. Knowing this, I will continue to push forward (that’s what he would do) and work tirelessly toward becoming half the man he was.

The Nova Scotia Summer

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 12:00:00 -0400

I remember it being dark. Not eyes-closed dark, but complete absence-of-light dark. And cold. The unforgiving brisk that only the Nova Scotia summer can deliver. The pre-dawn chill cut straight through my coat down to my shaky, scattered bones.

We gathered in clouds of breath and the blinding glow of headlights as we prepared for our ascent. We were all here — some rested after an early night to bed, some having never slept, others the victims of that 4am in-between state of asleep and awake. The not-so-nuclear family. I had sick-to-my-stomach nerves, but I tried keep cool.

Sometimes letting go is harder than hanging on.

As we caravanned the winding stretch of road the passengers remained silent. Words were somehow not appropriate. Out of place, if anything. Memories instead filled the van with a web of thoughts words could never penetrate. The road winded and stretched upward to the cavernous hole that was the night sky. We were getting closer.

Up and up we rode until the trees got small and the lavender air became so pure it took my breath away. The night had almost expired. We didn’t have much time. Hurried and tentative, we found our place facing east. Eyes on the emerging horizon.

At first sight of the distant ribbon of light, my brother and I, forever bonded by our duty, stepped forward and released two souls back into the universe. This was their wish.

As the minutes passed, the sun raced toward us with furious velocity. It sprinted across the water and jumped the shoreline with reckless abandon. When it hit the mountain’s base I felt the wind shift toward our tearing cheeks. The line of demarcation grew closer and the brilliant angles of light met our tired eyes head-on.

The wind now took my breath away. Blinding bursts shot across the east-facing cliff like wartime bullets of hate. But there was no hate here. We became enveloped in the new day’s light, a blanket of bright comfort to strengthen us for the days and years to come.

As we emerged, we found ourselves in a place calm. A place of peace. A place of acceptance. There were no more tears. There were no more thoughts of sadness. There was only love.

Sweet, beautiful, warming love.

The Nest

Wed, 25 Apr 2012 12:00:00 -0400

It’s early and I’m still half-asleep. I’m in the midst of my morning coffee protocol when I suddenly catch movement out of the corner of my eye. A brown blur with a crest of red, she moves in fits and bursts delicately forming a bowl of earth and straw outside my window.

The days have just gotten longer and we are approaching our dodge with the sun. She is preparing; she is making a home.

Days pass and I watch her create this nest. Every now and then, she’ll catch me peeking out the window and stop for a moment. Our eyes lock and then release with an unspoken agreement that neither wishes the other harm. She is meticulous, as many mothers are with matters of the family. She works tirelessly for the future, flying nameless random patterns in search of material to craft her bed.

They’re coming. I can feel it.

I awake the next morning to find some additions to the nest. Three ocean-tinted, speckled, chalky eggs have arrived overnight. The mother is proud, there’s no question. In an instant she’s gone from scavenger of building supplies, to protector of her fragile packages. She settles in and incubates.

For several days, the mother stays with her eggs. A trait of protection, she only leaves for seconds at a time. The weather has also turned cold. She has become the furnace.

Each morning, coffee in hand, I peer out the window to see if our new flock has arrived. And each morning the mother sits in silence. She eyes me with the same look my mother used to have. “Patience,” she conveys. Just when I thought the shells were in penetrable and void of life, I notice new movement in the nest.

The first egg has hatched. With beak inverted toward the sky, the new chick greets the world with an open mouth. She is hungry for her first meal and anxious for her siblings to join her. The mother is absent, but only for a moment until she returns with some nourishment for the babe.

I almost consider taking the day off from work to watch the other two eggs hatch, but several meetings are scheduled so I have to leave. Several times that day, in those very meetings, I catch myself wondering if the triad is complete. When I arrive home that night, I find it to be.

Three perfectly fragile baby chicks. They were all beak and full of cute.

The next couple of days pass and the chicks grow slightly bigger with each sunrise and cup of morning coffee. As they get stronger, their chirping grows louder. They are now fully capable of elevating their heads above the nest. The peek left and right, but ultimately end up back in the all-too-familiar position of beaks in the air, mother providing. When she isn’t feeding, she continues to warm the home.

As the chicks grow, I imagine watching as they emerge from the nest with fresh feathers and take that unpredictable leap into flight. I imagine them soaring with beaky smiles and playing like flying children would.

But that would never be the case.

I’m not sure how many days it was after the chicks arrived that I came home from work to find the nest disheveled and disturbed. No chicks. No mother. There had been an incident. There had been a struggle.

“Hello? Mr. Inscho? There’s been an accident.”

I won’t let myself imagine or consider the circumstances that took the chicks away from this world, just as I can’t dwell on the darkness in areas of my past that are filled with loss and despair.

Sometimes life has plans other than our own intentions. We are only passengers.

What I will do, though, is hold close the way our eyes met during those first few days and the connection we experienced in those quiet morning moments. I’ll cherish the opportunity to be a part of this mother’s dedication to her family and I will forever remember my vision of them flying off into the powder blue sky.

We Are All For Sale

Tue, 10 Apr 2012 13:00:00 -0400

If we learn one thing from the Facebook – Instagram merger, it should be that we are all for sale and there is no such thing as FREE. These services we use every day are not free services. When we do not directly pay for a service with real money, we pay for it with our data. We pay for it when we broadcast our location, social graph and our status updates.

In the case of yesterday’s acquisition, we are the product being sold.

Facebookization of the masses has caused a morphing of social norms where sharing has become the default. This is obvious to many, but it doesn’t have to be the reality. In order for real change to take place, the curtain of “free service culture” must be lifted through a tipping point of user awareness.

Let’s Break It Down

We are all for sale. Just yesterday, I and 30 million other users were sold for about $33.00 each – a brilliant move for the Instagram folks. Regardless of whether or not this was a smart and strategic business move for Facebook, the reality is this: The images, location data and platform activity of all current and future Instagram users now have a new owner. This new owner happens to be a company I do not personally trust. Therefore, my user account and data are no more.

Maybe you’re completely comfortable with this acquisition. Maybe you don’t care. That’s fine, but you should at least be aware of what’s happening with your data. Often times, the concept of faux-free overshadows the reality that these services are profiting from our activity. While it is the nature of our times and it’s not going away, it should be out in the open.

High profile deals like the Facebook/Instagram acquisition can help with awareness, but with payoffs north of nine zeros they can also create an environment of copycat strategies. How many social startups now have the goal of becoming the next Instagram?

A Plea to Developers

I loved Instagram. The application lived in prominence on my Home Screen. I wrote about how it supplanted the native camera on my phone and I would have happily paid for the service. I’d wager a good portion of the user base, in some capacity, would have as well.

Developers of the next Instagram: please give users the opportunity to directly support your service by paying for it! Please take our money! Please have a sustainable business plan, or better yet, a platform philosophy!

Some platforms are doing it and it’s working. Look at Pinboard. Look at 500pixels. Look at Instapaper. All thriving with a paying user base. It’s time for us, as empowered users of technology, to start following the money.

The Instagram team would have been foolish to turn down a billion dollars. People play the Mega Millions for a reason. They play for a chance to win big. And winning big is a very rare occurrence. Facebook offer removed, Instagram could have leveraged their active user base to earn millions of dollars year over year had they pursued a sustainable revenue stream.

A lottery ticket is not a sustainable business practice.

In Praise of an Amateur Approach

Tue, 03 Apr 2012 12:00:00 -0400

There was a time in my life when I aspired for expertise and the notoriety that came along with it. Early on in my career, I read lots of books about best practices (whatever that term means); I attended professional development workshops led by marketing experts who shared tips, techniques and best practices (there’s that term again); and I worked tirelessly toward developing a knowledge base I hoped one day would lead others to describe me as an expert in my field.

As I look back, these goals were extremely misguided. My efforts payed off, though, and the phone started ringing off the hook with invitations to speak about my work. I traveled far and wide to conferences and universities and meet-ups, waxing technological along my way to becoming a sharer of practices, best or otherwise.

This was all well and good until I realized what really made my work special and why people wanted to hear about it. Quite simply, I was not the expert people thought I was and the projects I created were not templated best-practices. Rather, they were playful experiments that valued humans over technology and meaningful connections over metrics.

In the early days of participatory and/or social media, there were no experts (and I would argue there still aren’t). We were all flying by the seats of our pants in an exciting, reckless and lawless wild west now known as the Internet. I was lucky to be one of a small group of rogue non-profit technologists who formed a kind of professional collective, regularly swapping war stories about projects that worked out well, in addition to projects that ultimately crashed and burned. This neo-collaborative environment fostered a freedom to experiment in a space without limitations. It was extremely conducive to producing uniquely creative work.

We ignored marketing metrics and built initiatives that flew in the face of the newly emerging, self-inflicted gurus. On paper, the projects shouldn’t have been effective, but they were. We were operating in new territory — one that had no textbook, let alone textbook author.

Upon realizing I was no expert and the projects garnering most attention were essentially public experiments, I became extremely conflicted wearing the costume of an expert. Who was I to speak authoritatively about these emerging technologies?

Asking myself hard, inward looking questions caused my professional world-view to change overnight. I stopped accepting offers to speak about my projects, in favor of sharing my experiences with those who have specific questions. To this day, I’ll happily discuss my work with people who are interested or readers who email, but I will never again put myself in a situation that delineates between expert and non-expert. I’m happy to forever consider myself an experimenting amateur.

There is something to be said for approaching one’s work from the perspective of an amateur. They operate with curiosity, openness, and an undeniable aire of possibility. There are no limits to their creativity and ingenuity is engrained within them. Amateurs participate in activities for the simple joy of doing so, not for a paycheck. They ignore rules and are not intimidated by failure.

Just consider the progress that has emerged from ignoring rules and popular conventions. We would be without innovations like Post-It Notes, Corn Flakes, the Pace Maker, Penicillin and countless others were it not for free experimentation and happy accidents. I don’t place my work on the same pedestal that these developments stand upon, but I do feel the best projects are those that force us to adapt to new paradigms and think differently about our environment.

Experts, on the other hand, thrive on stable existence. They live inside convention, measurement, regulations and best practices. With respect to technology, experts believe their methodology is the stuff of authority — a prescription for replicated success — which is rarely the case and often times not.

I think it’s important to differentiate between a lack of expertise and a lack of desire for information. These could not be more different. While amateurs do not possess unparalleled expertise in a subject, their thirst for knowledge about the subject cannot be easily quenched. To an amateur, there is always something more to learn.

In my personal practice, I continue to employ an amateur approach. It’s why I hash out crazy ideas like this here on the site. It’s why I only work with partners who embrace this philosophy. It’s why I admire other people making crazy unique work in the space and invite them to be guests on the podcast each week. I want to know more. I want to grow as an artist. I want to soak it all in. While not an expert at anything, I am hungry for experimentation and greedy for the fantastic.

And that’s enough for me.

Smaller. Slower. Less.

Tue, 27 Mar 2012 12:00:00 -0400

Bigger, better, faster, more. These are the benefits technology promises us. They are promises of the future. A commitment toward progress.

Larger hard drives with ever-growing capacity appear in shiny new devices at every turn of the product cycle. Information flows at a rate that makes many feel as if they are wrapping their mouth around the end of a fire hose. We celebrates excess at a level never before experienced in western culture.

Our television screens have more surface area than our dining room tables. We walk around with pocket-sized personal computers that provide unlimited information at our fingertips, yet we no longer remember phone numbers. And thanks to GPS navigation, we have no idea where we’re headed until we’re well on our way.

Bigger, better, faster, more.

We suffer from elephantiasis of advancement. And we continuously crave even more. More friends. More disk space. More followers. More apps. More page views. More “Likes.” More pixels. More channels. More downloads. More data. More features.

More caliber per capita.

Bigger, better, faster, more. Of these four words, only one is truly qualitative.

Many believe we’re better off thanks to technology. I would be foolish to deny the progress made possible through technological advancement. Diseases have been cured, disasters have been reported and dictators have been overthrown, thanks in great part to technology. Those are all amazing things. I’m sure thousands of similar examples exist proving the benefits of advancement.

But what about us? Is technology making us better as human beings? I’m not so sure, but I suppose that depends upon your subjective definition of better.

Experiment: if you live or work in an urban or suburban area, take a look around you the next time you’re walking down the street or at the mall. Take note of the number of people staring at a mobile device. The next time you are in a café, count the number of people with a laptop accompanying their latté. There is now a generation that knows only the connected way of life. The attached life.

And I’m as guilty as the next person.

I have a difficult time believing the attached life is the better life. It is impossible to avoid the digital aspects of modern society, however non-attachment and the practice of living in the present can cooperate alongside digital culture. If we reject technology’s promise of excess; renounce the ideas of bigger, better and more; and focus on our own personal concept of what better is (and should ultimately be), we can live in harmony with technology.

Smaller, slower, less. And better. Those are the ideals to which I am working.

Running in Silence

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 13:00:00 -0400

I am a runner. I can say that today with confidence, but it wasn’t always so.

When I started running just over a year ago, it was a struggle. I’ve always considered myself to be in relatively good health, but I wasn’t the most athletic person. I was active, but not an athlete. Plain and simple, in the beginning, each stride was painful. A fifteen minute light jog was nearly unbearable, torture even.

During those early days, when I was fighting hard to finish an exhausting three-mile run, my personal motivators were largely technology-based. I brought my phone along with me on those cold winter wars to fire music into my ears that powered my feet to keep moving, step after step, mile after mile. I tracked my progress with Runkeeper, a GPS-enabled application that measures mileage, pace, calories burned and a slew of additional metrics. Runkeeper’s sultry-voiced narrator would occasionally chirp distance and pace updates into my earbuds, letting me know just how far I had gone, and how much farther I had yet to go.

With consistency came comfort. As the runs became easier, I upped my distance to include one long run per week. This caused my outings to last longer, sometimes longer than 90 minutes. On these longer runs I listened to a regular rotation of technology podcasts from the 5x5 and 70 Decibels networks.

While the music, tech musings and automated metrics kept my mind from focussing on the discomfort my body was feeling, I also discovered that this constant connectivity (even while in the middle of the woods on a trail run) was keeping my mind from appreciating my surroundings in those moments, following an exploratory train-of-thought around professional ideas and concepts, or simply experiencing the silence and patterns in my breath.

The technology had created a barrier. I was distracted, no longer fully aware and I became more interested in outcomes, results and metrics, than process.

Realizing this, I made the decision several weeks ago to eliminate technology during my runs. No music, no podcasts and no Runkeeper updates. I would leave my phone at home and become one with my path and my thoughts.

On my first run without technology, I remember noticing the discomfort was gone. I was several miles into the run and feeling fine. I let my mind wander to any thought that entered it and I explored those thoughts without limits. I was aware of the nature surrounding me and I was in tune with my breathing.

Distance didn’t matter. Pacing didn’t matter. Alternatively, my experience during the journey mattered. Process mattered.

Since embracing the silence during my runs, I’ve had a lot of time to think about Static Made (as a whole) and specific client projects in a setting that’s completely removed from a display screen. Pondering technology in the absence of it is liberating. It’s been refreshing and has allowed me to develop creative ideas in a way not inherently tethered to technology.

The lesson for me here is this: technology should never be a tether, but rather the vehicle through which tethers are cut. Outcomes are definitely important, but the process of exploration should enjoy equal footing. The process is journey to the desired result and space in which you can create without limits.

On Authenticity and Remarkability

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 13:00:00 -0400

For almost as long as I can remember, I’ve been enamored with artists who operate with authenticity and create work that I consider to be remarkable. It started early on for me with the likes of Fugazi, the beat poets and Jean-Michel Basquiat. During the pre- and early-Internet days it seemed like there was no shortage of musicians, writers and visual artists who were creating work of staggering genius. It took a great deal of effort on my part to discover, but that effort was worth it to me because the work was remarkable.

Since then, the Internet has taken hold. And due to the creative paradigm shift spurred by the web, I’ve found it difficult to discover post-Internet artists of the same authentic and remarkable caliber. While the benefits of the connected world (democratization of media, the enabling of real-time publishing, etc.) are regularly touted, I feel these same benefits are also the fundamental detriment of the world wide web.

The signal-to-noise ratio is completely inverted. There is too much collective and regressive output. Everything is instant and temporary. Meme culture and SEO and pay-per-click and the incessant self-promotion that comes along with the premise of social media is drowning out the amazing art I’m sure is out there. Somewhere. Beneath the din.

I am not alone in this view. Writer JD Bentley feels the same and is taking action. He writes in his fantastic essay, Our Secret Handshake is Not an Algorithm:

Mediocrity reigns supreme, the noise exceeds the signal, the best are drown out by the loudest because being loud is much easier than being remarkable. While sites of the past felt like secret clubs which demanded a secret handshake (that human connection), today’s sites are often mass-produced marketing nonsense, their secret handshakes being nothing more than an effortless algorithmic assumption on Google’s servers. It is this with which I’m fed up.

Quite a statement. And Bentley is walking the walk. He’s pulled his site from search engines, removed all social sharing features and is relying solely on reader referrals to grow his audience base. This emphasis on quality vs. quantity allows him to completely focus on his mission: Making remarkable art.

As someone who’s intimately involved at the intersection of mission-based messaging and new media, this approach is so refreshing. I’ve written about digital authenticity in the past. It’s something I’m borderline-obsessed with. I’m constantly thinking about ways to honestly, innovatively and authentically connect with audiences. It always boils down to the mission. Everything is driven by the mission. Aspire to be true with your message, not loud.

I’m excited to see a writer like JD Bentley take this step and I hope more artists and mission-driven organizations follow suit.

Word of the WeeK - Enthusiastic

Fri, 17 Dec 2010 13:00:00 -0400

Now I feel really old. Elliott brought home his first-ever homework assignment. The word of the week at preschool is enthusiastic and he was tasked with completing several statements describing how it feels to be enthusiastic. Jilly transcribed verbatim, but all the responses came straight from his mind.

When I am enthusiastic my eyes… feel loose. When I am enthusiastic my mouth… smiles. When I am enthusiastic my tummy feels… really loose. When I am enthusiastic my muscles feel… like they are jumping. When I am enthusiastic sometimes I… jump, dance and fall. These things can make me feel enthusiastic… the zoo, Chuck E. Cheese, hanging up Christmas decorations, computers and Dylan. When I am enthusiastic I can calm down by doing this… take a deep breath.

Back in the Saddle Again

Sat, 10 Jul 2010 13:00:00 -0400

Some of you may know that I lived a previous life as a songwriter and musician. Almost a decade ago, I gave up the recording and touring life for one that fosters stable relationships and is conducive to raising a family. During the past ten years, I’d pick up a guitar every now & then, or sit down at the keys whenever there was a piano around and play some songs. But that’s about it. And honestly, I didn’t miss it at all. Other things had taken music’s place in my life.

But yesterday I was invited to play some music with A Generous Act, a group of amazing musicians who are writing and recording an album here in Pittsburgh. I threw out a rough idea I had for a song and within an hour it had evolved into a beautiful tune with three-part harmonies and a building, transformational sing-along outro. The tentative title is Sound Came Falling. If it ends up making the record, I’ll be over the moon and will definitely post it here.

It felt really good to create again and I think this experience might be the shot in the arm I need to begin writing again. Thanks, A Generous Act.

Conversations with a 3 Year Old

Wed, 07 Jul 2010 13:00:00 -0400

ELLIOTT: Dad, did you get fired? ME: No. Do you know what “getting fired” means? ELLIOTT: Yeah, it’s what happens when you talk a lot at your job. Instead of doing work. ME: Daddy didn’t get fired. I resigned. ELLIOTT: Oh. What does “resigned” mean? ME: Resigning is the polite & courteous way to leave a job. ELLIOTT: Can I resign from school?

Day Two in Havana

Thu, 15 Apr 2010 12:00:00 -0400

This post originally appeared on the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette’s blog. That blog has since been deleted, but the original context is viewable on the Internet Archive Wayback Machine.

For our first full day in Havana, we wanted to get over to the Centro Wifredo Lam as early as possible to see how installation was going and meet in-person the artists we’ve primarily been dealing with via email. The Center is located just a few blocks from our hotel, on the Plaza de la Cathedral. We arrived to the sound of furious hammering and the hustling atmosphere that occurs two days out from an exhibition opening.There was a bit of confusion actually getting into the center, as our collective Spanish is horrible and the museum workers at admission did not speak any English. After a few minutes of trying our best to communicate, we heard a booming voice come from behind us, “You are from the Mattress Factory? I am Diago! Welcome!”

Juan Roberto Diago is one of the artists in the Queloides exhibition, but he prefers to go simply as Diago. Barbara and Michael had met him before on a previous visit to Cuba, but it was a first meeting for the rest of us. He was the perfect initial tour guide to the galleries of the Wifredo Lam Center, whose 3 floors of gallery space are sprawling in 360 degrees around an open-air courtyard that doubles as a sculpture garden. Diago energetically led us from room to room where canvases were being stretched, works were being installed, and empty rooms were beginning to resemble a fantastic art exhibition.

Needing to get back to his work of preparing his installation, Diago handed us off to Jorge Antonio Fernandez Torres, the Director of the Centro Wifredo Lam. Jorge gave us a behind the scenes tour of the facility, including the administrative offices, and then we chatted for a while around a conference table surrounded by black and white images of the Center’s namesake.

After exploring the galleries a bit more, we decided to let the artists and staff of the Centro Wifredo Lam get back to work. The show is going to be great and I’m very excited to see the Center full of people on Friday evening at the opening.

We took the rest of the afternoon to explore Havana on foot. Some highlights were the National Capitol, Chinatown, a locomotive graveyard containing dozens of rusted out steam engines (most were from Pennsylvania!), some interesting street art, and a walk along the Malecon, a boardwalk-style path that wanders along the north coast of the city.

Wheels Down Havana

Wed, 14 Apr 2010 12:00:00 -0400

This post originally appeared on the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette’s blog. That blog has since been deleted, but the original context is viewable on the Internet Archive Wayback Machine.

We’re here. Our flight arrived on time at the Havana airport to beautiful weather. Low 80s and blue, sunny skies. We scooted through customs after a moderate amount of questioning and jumped in a taxi to make our way to the hotel.

The landscape immediately surrounding the airport is rural and open. But we soon found the population growing more dense and the buildings growing taller. The next thing we know, we’re in the heart of Havanna, passing monuments to the revolution and the Capitol. A few minutes later, we arrived at our hotel, located in the Habana Viejas (Old Havana). This is a very interesting neighborhood - a unique mix of circa 1500s and modern architecture, residential and commercial, wealth and poverty.

Not having eaten anything since the early morning in Toronto, we were all very hungry. The restaurant in our hotel is located in an open-air courtyard in the center of the structure. We enjoyed a late afternoon light lunch and our first Mojitos.

After some nourishment, we hit the streets to take in some sights before our dinner meeting with Elio, Rene and Alexis (three artists in the Queloides Exhibition - more to come on all the artists tomorrow). The amount of art and culture in this city is astounding. Everwhere you look there is culture. My eyes were darting from side to side just taking it all in.

Noticing the time, we needed to head back to the hotel for our dinner appointment with Elio, Rene and Alexis. An evening of fantastic conversation followed. Plans for today: Visit the Centro Wifredo Lam to document artists installing. More to come tomorrow!

Gas gloves, Queen Street and Dim Sum.

Mon, 12 Apr 2010 12:15:00 -0400

This post originally appeared on the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette’s blog. That blog has since been deleted, but the original context is viewable on the Internet Archive Wayback Machine.

The drive to Toronto was great. As we got on 279 North toward Eerie, all three of us basically said in unison, “Wow. What a day for a road trip.” The sun was shining brilliantly and the road was almost ours alone. Conversation centered around to-do items on the Cuba check-list (museums and art, the Hemingway House, a trip to the beach to name a few), a discussion of the popular attraction to outlet mall shopping, and observances of nature as we passed through the western Pennsylvania and New York countryside.

We stopped for lunch at Azteca, a Mexican restaurant in Dunkirk, New York. It was good. MF Lesley can vouch for us – she’s from nearby. After enjoying our burritos and quesadillas, Claudia threw me the keys and I got behind the wheel. But before jumping back on I-90, we needed to get gas. I only bring this up because the gas station we pulled up to offered plastic gloves to wear while pumping so your hands didn’t end up smelling like gasoline. This was the first any of us had seen anything like this. This Dunkirk-area custom is a very nice touch. Owen was appreciative.

Then it was through Buffalo and across the U.S. / Canadian border. We met up with Barbara, Michael and Hilary a few hours later on Queen Street in Toronto. There were some really great antique shops, boutiques and restaurants along this strip. It reminded me a bit of South Street in Philadelphia. We cruised around Queen Street for a bit and then made our way to the Bright Pearl, a fantastic Dim Sum restaurant in nearby Chinatown.

After feasting on Dim Sum (something the culinary community of Pittsburgh lacks – let me know if I’m wrong, any places in the ‘Burgh to get good Dim Sum?), we all realized we were exhausted so we made our way back to the hotel to catch up on email, call our families and write blog posts.

This morning we’re off to Havana. Hasta luego!

And they're off

Mon, 12 Apr 2010 12:00:00 -0400

This post originally appeared on the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette’s blog. That blog has since been deleted, but the original context is viewable on the Internet Archive Wayback Machine.

As of 9:30 AM this morning, we’re headed north toward Toronto. Barbara, Michael and Hilary left bright & early to get a good jump on some culture & shopping north of the border. Claudia, Owen and myself, always in favor of a few extra minutes of sleep, are traveling in a separate vehicle. Exactly who will control the stereo on this trip is yet to be determined. However, one thing’s certain. A loaded iPod and a day full of sunshine make for good road trips.

After crossing into Canada this afternoon, we plan to meet up with the rest of the group at our hotel. Hopefully, the schedule will permit some exploration of Toronto before our flight to Havana Tuesday morning. More to come from our neighbor to the north this evening.

Havana, Here We Come!

Thu, 08 Apr 2010 12:00:00 -0400

This post originally appeared on the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette’s blog. That blog has since been deleted, but the original context is viewable on the Internet Archive Wayback Machine.

First and foremost, I’d like to thank the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette for hosting this blog. As a museum of contemporary installation art with a heavy focus on creative process, the Mattress Factory approaches most things as experimental undertakings. Such is the case with this blog, Viajes Artisticos (translated to mean Artistic Travelers).

This coming Monday, a group of six representitives from the museum will make our way to Cuba, by way of Toronto, to attend the opening reception for a new exhibition called Queloides/Keloides. The exhibit will run at Havana’s Centro Wifredo Lam through May 31, at which time several artists will travel to Pittsburgh to work in-residence and create new work at the Mattress Factory. Queloides/Keloids will open in Pittsburgh on October 8th. I’ll post a detailed entry specifically about the show (subject matter, artists, partner organizations, etc.) this weekend.

During the week we’re in Cuba, we’ll also meet with artists and visit artists’ studios. Of course, we also have plans to take in some of the sights and sounds the city of Havana has to offer. Rest assured, we’re legit and traveling with all the necessary stamps of approval from the U.S. Department of the Treasury. I’m really excited to share this journey with you, and I hope to post at least once a day during the trip. The posts will probably resemble journal entries – loose and informal – because that’s generally how I roll.

I understand internet connectivity in Havana is reliable, but slow. Sending text-based journal-style entries will be technically possible. Including large files such as photos or video in posts will most likely be impossible. I’ll do what I can while I’m there and follow up upon my return with content I was unable to publish. I’ll also post to Twitter when I’m able, so if you fancy shorter blasts of artistic info make sure to keep your eye on that stream as well.

Thanks in advance for reading. I’m looking forward to documenting our journey and sharing our experience with you here on Viajes Artisticos. Hasta Mañana!

Sadness, Sweat and Sometimes Blood

Sat, 27 Feb 2010 13:00:00 -0400

I used to make music quite regularly and for a (modest) living. I poured sadness into song, and spilled sweat and sometimes blood on stage for handfuls of people who paid a few bucks and honored us with their attention. We were often paid in booze and low percentages. I spent weeks at a time showerless and in a van, resting my head on a different floor in a different city almost every night. Toward the end we earned the privilege of Best Westerns and familiar faces.

I quit making this type of noise almost a decade ago.

People ask me all the time why I don’t make music anymore and I don’t really have a straight answer for them. I’ve been thinking hard about this lately. It’s bigger than family or responsibility, which both hold water as an argument. It’s bigger than burnout, which certainly played a part. The answer, I’ve come to realize, is happiness.

When I quit sadness, I inevitably quit this type of creativity. Out of the hundreds of songs I’ve written, all were driven by sadness. The best songs, in my book, were the saddest songs. They still are. But recently, an opportunity presented itself to make some music again. And I think I’m going to.

Father's Day #1

Sat, 16 Jun 2007 13:00:00 -0400

Rounding the corner to my first Father’s Day is kind of blowing my mind. All my life, Father’s Day has been something I’ve associated strictly with my Dad. Both Grandfathers passed early on in my life, so up until now, this day has been basically exclusive to my father. Granted, the last few years have entailed not much more than a phone call.

And now it’s kind of about me, too. The thought that Elliott will someday greet me on the morning of the 3rd Sunday in June with a “Happy Father’s Day” and a World’s Greatest Dad coffee mug makes my heart smile.

I can’t believe I never understood this stuff before.

So this should be a nice weekend. Don’t really have much planned – and I like it that way. Happy Father’s Day to any Dads who happen to read this. Enjoy the day. It’s all about you.

Girl, You're So Groovy I Want You To Know

Wed, 14 Feb 2007 13:00:00 -0400

I just had one of the most amazing experiences in my life thus far. We started playing music for the baby by putting headphones up to Jilly’s belly. We keep the volume low, making sure it wasn’t too loud. Everyone we’ve talked to has said that this is a great way to instill rhythm, melody and artistic taste – all while in utero.

Anyway, during the first chorus of “Debaser” by the Pixies, baby started rocking out. Taking a cue from dad, he/she landed his/her first rock ’n roll kick square to Jilly’s gut. And right at the perfect spot in the song, too. You know the place…right where Black Francis screams, “I Am Un…Chien.” The kick occurred right on the downbeat…perfect. That’s my boy/girl.

Mirrors

Thu, 27 Jul 2006 13:00:00 -0400

The day began like many others before it. A pulsating buzz married to an excruciatingly loud, painfully blunt Top-40 song sliced through sleep like it was never there to begin with. The room is dark, shades drawn, but the forcibly contrived scenario performed by the airtime-embellished voices now emanating from the dual 4-inch speakers on his nightstand illuminates the dungeon in which he retires.

A spotlight on a shallow soul.

He makes his way out of bed to the bathroom, stumbling over loose floorboards, walking with the tangled grace of someone much older than his twenty-nine years. With every step, a creak. With every creak, a pause, a promise to step lighter. His journey through the hallway is marked by a regiment of photographs. Framed, held captive behind panes of glass, the images depict someone other than the man walking the hall at this moment. The person in these photos appears young, healthy and at ease among friends.

Shortly after his feet exchange wide-plank knotty pine for the infinitely colder tile of the bathroom, he finds himself facing a familiar foe. As far as he’s concerned, mirrors are the tell-tale sign, the absolute reflection of self worth. Unfiltered and unadulterated, a mirror doesn’t lie. At least not the way people do.

As he’s fixed onto the transference of lines, colors and textures reflected in the smudgy glass that hangs above porcelain, he notices movements don’t match. He raises a hand upward, but the foil’s corresponding limb remains firmly planted on his side. A delicate tilt of the head results in a spiteful grin on a statuesque reflection. The lines sprouting from angled eyes are slightly deeper, even more sinister than his own. He is now aware that the subject staring out from the tainted glass is not himself. Someone different, but someone dangerously familiar. Abraham Crowley is not alone.

Rapunzel (Take #2)

Tue, 06 Dec 2005 13:01:00 -0400

Well, it’s long overdue, but here it is. The first new song in quite some time. I couldn’t figure out how to upload a file that was larger than 5MB, so I edited the song a bit. I think I like it better than the original version. I hope you enjoy it.

Digital. Fictional. Peyton Manning.

Tue, 29 Nov 2005 13:00:00 -0400

For some reason, at this moment, my mind is splintered in three directions, so this post will be three-pronged. There is something truly beautiful about a tripod. Like how if one leg were to give, the whole structure would come crashing down. But working together, all three legs support the common purpose - that of elevating, or keeping something up. A three-legged structure is also the most secure structure. With that in mind, think of this entry as a tripod.

First, the idea of writing a novel has been tempting me for quite some time. I have never really endeavored into writing fiction, but I’ve been compiling storylines for past few months or so. I think I’ve now got a pretty solid story, so I’ve begun character development and a draft of the first chapter. What I’m struggling with, however, is how to go about distributing the novel upon its completion. I know, I’m probably putting the cart before the horse, but in case you haven’t noticed, I like to make everything I write, music or otherwise, as accessible as possible - meaning free of charge. Distribution of the novel, will most likely be paper-free and internet-based. If anyone has a good idea about how to go about doing this in an efficient manner, please let me know.

Secondly, I’ve entered the world of digital music with the addition of an iPod. Some of you are probably thinking that it’s about time! Actually, I had been adamantly opposed to the gadget du jour until I was given one last week as a gift. I must say, I stand corrected about everything negative I’ve ever said about the iPod. Mine is being loaded with my Elliott Smith collection as I type this.

Finally, Peyton Manning is at the top of my shit-list. Forget Tom Brady. Forget Dick Cheney. Forget everyone. Peyton Manning, you are dead to me.

The Long, Hard Road

Wed, 04 May 2005 13:00:00 -0400

After too many years, off and on, my undergraduate college career came to a close this afternoon. I’ve written my last term paper, made my last commute, and taken my last exam. The time I spent at IUP holds many great memories for me. I made many lasting friendships, including meeting my wife, and essentially grew up on that campus. Looking back at my decision to finish what I started in the fall of 1996, I believe I made the right choice.

I begin my internship at a prominent Pittsburgh communications firm on Monday. If I told you I wasn’t a little nervous I’d be lying. I have the education, but as anyone in the field will inevitably warn you, I hope I have the “it” factor necessary to succeed in such a creative and competitive industry. I guess we’ll find out next week.

Jilly’s last day of class is also today, so we’ll be celebrating at the Pub tonight. Why don’t you stop by and buy us a beer? Cheers.

All Good Things

Mon, 14 Mar 2005 13:00:00 -0400

After a week off for spring break, I returned today to my normal routine. It was definitely nice not having class last week, although I worked like a mofo in a futile attempt to scrape together some scratch. Underpaid and overworked. The story of my life.

Today was a good day though. I received a phone call from an internship site I’m very interested in. They pay their interns extremely well and are THE prominent global PR firm. I’m going in for a writing test tomorrow afternoon. It helps that I have a contact on the inside. Networking is key.

We’re still waiting to hear back with respect to the offer we placed on the house. Hopefully we’ll know something very soon. Jilly and I are both new to the “home buying” process, so we’re taking it very slow and utilizing the expertise of my Grandma. In addition to being the world’s greatest Grandma, she also happens to be an awesome realtor and spiritual guru. Hi Nan!

Today’s Tip: Always change your shoes at least twice a day.

You Know You're a Grown-Up

Fri, 11 Mar 2005 13:00:00 -0400

You know you’re a grown-up when you find yourself considering the purchase of a home. Jilly and I found one we really like. This may be the one. A big part of me enjoys being a responsible adult, but at the same time a small part longs for the “fly by night” days of my youth.

Now that we’re completely stressed and nervous and excited and anxious all at the same time, we’re going next door for some relaxation cocktails. Oh, yeah. Tonight from 9-10:30 the Pub will be giving away free beer (Guinness, Harp, Smithwicks) for an Irish beer promotion. Don’t wait up.

Save Your Breath

Mon, 07 Mar 2005 13:00:00 -0400

This is a song that came together in a relatively short time. It’s funny how some songs take forever to mature and others just pour out in the matter of an hour or so. This song also marks the first time I’ve used inanimate objects for percussion purposes. I think I’ll definitely be using wine glasses again in the future. Here you go.

Canine Noir

Tue, 08 Feb 2005 16:15:00 -0400

I’ve been keeping this online journal for about four months now and I’ve never formally introduced you to my favorite non-human. Ladies and gentlemen, Monty Elliott. Jilly and I adopted Monty Elliott on August 26th, 2003 from the Humane Society of western Pennsylvania.

If you are considering getting a pet, I highly recommend adopting from a shelter. Monty was in pretty bad shape when we adopted him, but we nursed him back to health and the rest is history. A year and a half later, Monty is a healthy and energetic lab/terrier puppy.

I think of him as a son. I get proud when he does something good like piss really fast when its freezing outside. I get sad when he does something unacceptable like rip open a pillow from the Livingroom couch. For the most part he is very well behaved and listens intently.

He can be intense at times, and I like that. He loves people and gets so excited when new people come over, but makes for a great guard dog when someone attempts to enter uninvited. Living on the northside of Pittsburgh, this is a good trait to have. Our friend Katie made the mistake of coming in through our back door and he almost swallowed her whole.

Don’t worry, he didn’t bite her, but he scared her more than the Bush administration scares me on a daily basis.

And now a message from Monty: “For all you bitches out there, I like long walks through the park, Kibbles and Bits from the can (only every so often as a delicacy), playing fetch and licking myself in my nether-region. I’m single and looking for that special lady to party with. I’m fixed so I won’t knock you up. Interested parties can EMAIL me through my Dad and he will relay the message. I’ll hit you back. Word.

A Note of Thanks

Wed, 26 Jan 2005 16:15:00 -0400

I just wanted to thank everyone who came out to the show at Club Cafe last night. I had a lot of fun, although I felt my vocals were a little off due to this dreaded cold I’ve fighting for the last few days. It was really nice to see Jake and Arielle, old neighbors of ours that recently moved across town into swanky new digs.

I’m not sure when the next show will be, as school is really starting to pick up. The research papers, discourse analyses and interpretive theses are coming one after the other with no sign of slowing down. Graduation is on May 7th. I don’t know if I can make it.

Reclusive Ramblings

Wed, 19 Jan 2005 13:00:00 -0400

It’s cold. It’s cold and the snow is coming down. I haven’t left my apartment all day, and most likely won’t. The terrible driving conditions prevented me from making it to my early class this morning, as I was not about to risk life and limb for a discussion about social Darwinism. As fascinating a topic as social Darwinism is, it’s not worth the white knuckle experience.

I lied. I may just leave my apartment later today and head down to Blogfest at Finnegan’s Wake. Six o’clock if anyone’s interested. Luckily I don’t need to drive there because it’s only a few blocks away, across the park.

My favorite watering hole was in the news yesterday. The PGH Post-Gazette did a story on “Third Places” and they profiled the Pub.

The inauguration is tomorrow. The more I think about it, I can’t believe Amerika elected this guy. What’s worse is that the next four years hasn’t even started yet. I get really depressed thinking about it. The direction this country is headed toward is devolution. Regression rears its ugly head. I have some thoughts about how to reverse the cycle, but I’ll leave them for another day.

I tried to record a bit today but I was playing like shit. I have a new song that’s pretty complex, both rhythmically and melodically. I got frustrated and decided to do other things like vacuum, smoke cigarettes and stare at this computer screen. What a sexy life I live.

The Swallow

Thu, 06 Jan 2005 13:00:00 -0400

If this song sounds familiar, it’s because the demo version was on the “LeapYear EP” that Michael and I put out last year. This version is different in the fact that there is some piano and reed organ. I feel the vocals are stronger as well. Hope you likey!

New Music (Sort of)

Fri, 10 Dec 2004 13:00:00 -0400

Now that the semester is over, I’ll have much more time to concentrate on writing and recording new material. Because I haven’t uploaded new music in quite some time, I’ve decided to post a previously unreleased song that I recorded a while ago. It’s a completely different vibe than the new stuff I’m writing, as it is performed by the band I was playing with at the time. I hope you like it.

Credits: Words and Music by Jeffrey D. Inscho Recorded at Mountainside Studio Engineered and Mixed by Rich Ruscigno and Jeffrey

Dimebag Darrell RIP

Thu, 09 Dec 2004 13:01:00 -0400

Some of you may have heard by now about the shooting in Columbus, Ohio last night. The shooting, at a Damageplan (x-Pantera) show, left 4 dead and more injured. Among the dead was the influential and highly underrated guitarist, Dimebag Darrell. This is a sad occurrence and my heart goes out to all that were affected by this complete disregard for human life.

Those of you who know me well know that I love metal music, although I’ve evolved into writing and listening to a different genre. Early on in my musical journey I cut my teeth on the likes of Metallica, Megadeath and Pantera. When I was in the seventh grade, my first band ever covered the Pantera song “This Love” off of their 2nd album A Vulgar Display of Power. I remember that song being the highlight of the set at our first show, inciting a degree of moshing only exceeded by Pantera playing the song themselves. I was fortunate to have been able to see Pantera play twice. Each time the energy, emotion and technical skill were outstanding. Their ability to energize an audience goes unmatched.

Dimebag Darrell’s guitar style was aggressive, methodical and unrelenting, teaching me the importance of using intensity as a tool to convey emotion through music. This is a lesson that I’ve always remembered and taken with me into any project I’ve been involved with, regardless of genre. While I’ve been out of the metal loop for quite some time, I feel sad about the events of last night. My only hope is that this incident will not tarnish metal’s image of being a relatively non-violent method of expression. Rest in Peace, Dimebag. We miss you already.

Those Damn Latte Liberals

Thu, 09 Dec 2004 10:00:00 -0400

John McIntire writes a rather amusing article about the political orientation of the average Starbucks patron in this week’s Pittsburgh City Paper. As I live the dream each and every day, I can attest to the authenticity and accuracy of his words.

He hits the nail on the head (or should I say pours the perfect shots?) when he describes the way many customers confide in their barista. We are basically highly underpaid psychologists. Just yesterday, one of my regulars found out he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant and wanted MY opinion of what he should do. Within the past three years, I’d have to say that I’ve formed this type of relationship with about 20 regular customers. They are few and far between because most of my clientele doesn’t want to hear my opinion regarding the weather, let alone my 2 cents about their life. These few personal relationships that have emerged are what make dealing with the other shit worthwhile.

Can A Smart Person Believe In God?

Wed, 08 Dec 2004 13:00:00 -0400

I was watching Heartland w/ John Kasich the other night and an interesting topic was being discussed. The segment was entitled, “Can a smart person believe in God?”. Author Michael Giullen was the guest expert of the segment, having just penned a book of the same name. The discussion made me ponder the question. Is an intelligent person able to believe in a supreme entity that displays no physical proof of existing in the first place?

I first thought about the question subjectively. I consider myself somewhat intelligent, although some of you might disagree. I also consider myself a spiritual person, albeit not conforming to one specific organized religion. If I must be labeled, I would consider myself Tibetan-Buddhist, only because it falls in line with MY belief system. As to address the question stated above, I feel one would be a fool to not concede that there is some additional force at work in this universe other than that of humans. Be it nature, be it Allah, be it Karma, be it God, be it science. To suggest that a greater force does not exist displays ignorance, narcism and stupidity.

I think that religious people are deemed “not smart” or ignorant because the overwhelming majority condemn beliefs that are not in line with their own. This, in turn, makes them seem less intelligent because they are unwilling to understand a different point of view. I’ve been told many times that I will burn in hell because I do not accept Jesus Christ as my lord and savior. In my opinion, we mislabel religious people as ignorant. They are not ignorant because they believe, but because they are intolerant.

I understand that certain religions are less accepting of others. It shouldn’t be that way. If you look at a cross section of the major religions on this planet, they all teach tolerance, forgiveness and love. All religions are beautiful in their own right. It’s when intolerant fundamentalists hijack a belief system that religion gets a bad name. So to answer the question, I believe that a smart person can believe in a God-like entity, but it is a truly wise person that also realizes there are, often times, more than one answer to a question.

A Belated Weekend Wrap-Up

Tue, 07 Dec 2004 13:01:00 -0400

This past weekend was eventful. Friday and Saturday evening saw me working like a mofo ‘cause a brotha’s gotta pay rent. I was made aware on Saturday that, for the first time in the three years I’ve been working for the company, I’ll be receiving a X-mas bonus. Starbucks really does get a bad wrap when it comes to employee compensation. I may not agree with many of their business practices, but for the most part they’ve taken good care of yours truly.

On to Sunday. I actually had a day off and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Jilly and I started off with brunch then proceeded to fight the crowds at the mall. I now intend on doing all my X-mas shopping online, as I had my fill of the Amerikan retail orgy in the hour I spent in line to buy my aunt a gift.

After the mall, Jilly and I participated in the quintessential holiday activity, X-mas tree selection. There were many options, shapes and sizes. After careful consideration of these options, we emerged with a 10-foot Balsam Fir. Decorating the tree proved to be a fiasco, complete with tree-stand issues involving multiple runs to the hardware store. In the end, we got the tree standing upright.

Here is a picture of the final product. Notice how we’ve trained Monty to pose for the camera.

After the decorating festivities, I sat down to watch the most exciting football game I’ve seen in quite some time. The Steelers proved that they are THE best team in the NFL with their come-from-behind victory over the Jaguars. Rookie Ben Roethlisburger demonstrated poise and maturity during the hurry-up offense on the final drive of the game. This kid was a blessing for this team. I can’t wait to see the way he performs in three years. 11 and 1. Jacksonville, we’ll be back.

Shameless Plug

Thu, 02 Dec 2004 13:01:00 -0400

Wanna hire me to work a full-time internship at your PR firm? I’m available to begin interning on May 9th, 2005 and must log 480 hours by the first week of August in order to complete my 12 credits. Here’s to yet another extremely busy summer.

Higher Education

Tue, 30 Nov 2004 13:00:00 -0400

I apologize for the lack of updates over the last few days, but school is really kicking my ass. It’s getting down to the nitty-gritty, with only about two weeks left until the end of the semester. I have a ton of work to do, so I most likely will not be updating regularly until my finals are over on December 14th. Consider this a break to regain positivity, empathy and understanding ;) Hi Nan!

Alone on Stage

Tue, 19 Oct 2004 13:00:00 -0400

I just received word that I’ll be opening for the amazing Bob Mould. The show is on Tuesday, November 16th at the Rex Theatre on Pittsburgh’s southside. Hope to see alot of you there.

For those of you unfamiliar with Bob’s work, he was a member of two great bands before going solo. Husker Du was, and continues to be, an extremely influential group. They were one of the first to show that you could combine melody with intensity. Sugar, Bob’s band after Husker Du, continued where the Du left off. In my opinion, Sugar’s melodies and subject matter were a little more advanced than that of Husker Du. Two of my all-time favorite songs, “Hoover Dam” and “If I Can’t Change Your Mind”, come from Sugar’s Copper Blue album.