Mathew Lippincott’s blog on design and DIY aerospace
May 27th, 2009

Plant Something Edible This Year

…or meet someone who is. Not to sound like a kook, but farmers aren’t getting the loans they need to plant out all those amber waves of grain that our industrial food system is used to.

I answered defense theorist Shlok Vaidya’s call a few months ago to talk to anyone who who had worked on local food distribution, offering him my own minor experience. He has just posted an excellent video summary of his plan, and given me more credit than I deserve. All I did was help Adam Gordon’s Farmhouse Solutions plan a feasibility study for teaming local farms up with New York City restaurants over the spring and summer of 2008. We pitched the plan but couldn’t find any angel investors, just “matching funds” awaiting angels.

But during the process I was in the midst of reading The Box, all about the history of shipping containers and the rise of automated inventory and warehousing, which I passed on to Adam. As we stuffed our faces with all the fantastic fruits, vegetables, and specialty cheeses Adam brought home from the market, we formulated some dreams about local food distribution beyond simple farm-restaurant pairings.

The first problem we had was scale- Adam knew several farmers from roughly the same area whose egg production was far below the needs of a restaurant, but collectively their egg production was consistently above the restaurant’s needs. So the pilot test was to coordinate egg production and delivery between several farms and a restaurant in New York. But if the project was going to scale, there would have to be a better system than having all the farmers call Adam and tell him how much of every type of produce they had and when they thought it would be ready.

We got thinking about how useful it would be to create standardized “inventory tracking” tools for coordinated production on small farms. If cooperatives could be quickly formed for types of produce, then farmers could offer the same kind of supply-line consistency that large food suppliers deliver with minimal overhead. We sketched out some features of such a system.

Most farmers have a plan of when to plant, fertilize, weed, and harvest their fields. If they kept track digitally and aggregated their plans over a network, then they could coordinate directly with other local farms to create a steady harvest and supply stream. Many co-ops do this already, but co-ops are hell to get started. If farmers used a standardized farm plan format they could form ad-hoc networked co-ops as needed.

Farmers we spoke to were skeptical of this idea and already over-worked. They were not excited about the prospect of sitting in front of computers. So this is an idea that is really dependent on some simple system that works in the field.

I’d suggest interfacing via SMS with the farm plan, because all farmers have cellphones already. Besides calling from one side of the field to the other, cell phones are empowering farmers as business people- Now you can sheer a sheep and haggle about prices at the same time on a BlueTooth headset.

Such a plan and all the technology surrounding it was out of our league, especially without any capital to try the pilot.  But one day I’d like to get back to those ideas. This summer I’ll be learning Python and traveling on the West Coast with my girlfriend, contact me if you have a project and can use enthusiastic and multi-talented migrant labor. (mathew dot lippincott at gmail dot com)

May 17th, 2009

What the Butler Saw

In 1894 Herman Casler, a former engineer for Edison, brought to market a motion picture machine that avoided expensive and dangerously flammable nitrate film. Nothing more than a circular flipbook with a gear attached, the Mutoscope was immediately put to use filling bars and arcades with one to two minute doses of penny-per-play peep shows. In England the machine was known by the name of it’s earliest soft-core feature,“What the Butler Saw.” Middle Class Moralizers went bonkers, even though the names were racier than the content.

I saw my first Mutoscope in the fall of 2007, when Janine and I visited the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens. I loved the machine for a mechanical elegance directly embodying the process of animation. In a film machine the photo medium and the motion mechanism are separate, but the Mutoscope relies on the picture medium itself for the motion mechanics. In an age of bits, I was enthralled by the ambiguous line between player and content found in the Mutoscope.

Now I’m building an unusually large one for Fernando Renes. When I first went into his studio and saw stacks of 13,000 page-animations all watercolored onto 11″x 13″ paper I knew they needed a more appropriate container than some home-burned DVD. It took a year to get the project going, but now it is. I’ll post more as I work. My machine owes it’s origins to the card design of the Kinora, and the innovations of a mid-century pinball mogul. More on that later.

kinora-the_sphere_oct1911_pg14_thekinora_barry-anthony

Fernando loves making home movies, so the Kinora is appropriate place to start, being the first truly affordable home movie machine ever sold. In 1909 a Kinora home camera that printed directly onto punch paper monoprint reels was released. Although I’ve found no evidence, I bet the Butler saw a whole lot more than made it into wide distribution.  Two things sell video players- porn, and the promise of a better golf swing.

Read more on motion portraiture and advances in flipbook technology in this article I copied from History of Photography Volume 13 Number 1, January/March 1989. Stephen Hebert wrote it, he’s definitely the expert on this topic.

May 6th, 2009

1st Meeting, Chris Alexander Reading Group

So Molly and I started a Christopher Alexander book club, and after our first meeting on Monday we’re up to four people- me, Molly, Harry, and Helki.

Christopher Alexander is an architect working on lived systems of design that are appropriate and engaging to their users. Instead of guidelines for form he stresses process and community involvement. Architects should facilitate users to take ownership of their space through a stewarded design process centered around analysis of space and flexible building practices. As Harry put it, the architect “lets choices bounce around in rubber rooms where no one can get hurt.”

Underlying this whole process is a critique of scale and theory of fit outlined in Notes on the Synthesis of Form. Alexander uses graph and set theory to bolster his claims, but his clear writing and frequent use of diagrams keep things lucid even for those unfamiliar with these subjects.

And while the diagrams look great and make you look smart while reading the05062009_notesonthesynth book, you need not even open the front page to look awesome carrying it around. The ambiguous name and high-contrast white on black cover makes an intriguing accessory on the street and in public transportation. I’ve been sporting it on and off for a few weeks and definitely get checked out more often, even without a matching black eye. So if you only have a dilettantish and superficial interest in design, you should join our group anyways to look good. We won’t call on you.

Molly, Harry, Helki and I all have somewhat deeper reasons for joining. Personally I want to adapt his Pattern Language processes to small-scale manufacturing and the design of objects in communities that blur producer-consumer dichotomies. Molly is most fascinated by Alexander’s thoughts on keeping groups action-oriented. She wants to integrate his theories into the manufacturing process at the factory where she works. Helki is interested in a direct application of Alexander’s ideas- socializing urban spaces and bringing urbanism to a human scale. Harry’s interest is, as always, the most abstract- the coherence and context of abstract generative systems.

But together we’ve hatched a group project well within our understanding- analyzing parties using Alexander’s fitness criteria (starting with a set of all misfit variables, like not being able to escape bad conversations), and creating a pattern language and generative guidelines for enjoyment maximization. We will identify when it is time to party and, given the context, how to party precisely hard enough. Maybe we can get Andrew W.K. to sit on our thesis committee.

May 4th, 2009

Magnificent Flight, Failed Recovery

I spent the last two weeks of March in the SF/Bay Area, and while there decided to try a new balloon. My intent- record the sounds of California by air. I was inspired by the descriptions of listening to the world from in a balloon mentioned by gas balloon riders in Twenty Feet From Glory by John R. Goodwin, and other descriptions I’ve read from ballooning’s golden age.

This is the first large balloon (12ft tetrahedron) taped up using my meticulous step-by step how to guide instead of cribbed building notes. My mom surprised me with a visit the day I was planning on building the balloon, and although she is not inclined to geometry or building I convinced her to help me. With instructions in hand she was my best assistant yet- we built the balloon in an hour and a half. The seams were excellent and totally air -tight.

The new thing about this solar balloon was the blackening process and the launch process:

I taped the skirt up to the balloon without cutting excess material off the bottom until right before launch. In other words, until the launch there was nothing more than a dime-sized hole in the balloon. That way I didn’t get as dirty as I have previously when coating the balloon with charcoal, or in this case, black iron oxide pigment.

The method of blackening was new also- I dropped the powder straight into a centrifugal blower, which breaks it up and statically charges it. The result- a much darker balloon.

I also tested the wind with a tiny 5 foot “sounding” balloon before launch, which was advantageous to determining it’s path, a technique I adopted from the 19th aeronauts.

But there were two things I did wrong. Firstly, I did not check the line on my balloon before launching it, and there was a worn spot from previous launches. Secondly, the vent hole of the balloon was cut much, much too small (8 inches across) and so when the line broke it did not vent quickly. Result: my balloon landed in suburban Oakland, and I’m not getting it back.

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