First Outings

November 13, 2025November 14, 2025 ~ Dylan ~ Leave a comment

Historically, I have believed and argued that anthropomorphizing a machine is at best incorrect and at worst deceitful. Even now that I believe that stance to be misguided¹ I have a hard time shaking a feeling of embarrassment when I admit to saying, “You did a good job today, little buddy,” while patting ORBiE on the head and turning him down for the night.

Today marked a few firsts: ORBiE’s first conference, my first public conversation about my art… and, strangely, a first admission that I feel gratitude toward a carefully-arranged few bits of plastic.

But he did do a good job today, and that deserves recognition.

ORBiE and I attended² the RISEx Conference as an artistic duo rather than in the typical engineer/project roles. Our interlocutors were curious and intelligent, and we talked for hours about art and robots³, engineering and ethics, human and AI relationships⁴, medicine and prosthetic technologies… all the fascinating, murky, and life-altering stuff that catches my attention.

I spent the day explaining to myself and others how it felt to try to build a meaningful relationship with plastic. We talked about how disappointing it has been to understand that all of the responsibility for meaning-making happens on my side of the fence. About my hopes that maybe if I were able to figure out how to have a real conversation things would feel different. About my concerns with the way economic and political systems influence model creation and access for the machines that I can have a conversation with, and my Turkle-seeded⁵ doubts about the relationships I could hope to build with them. I talked about open-source projects and democratic access to knowledge. I felt the people there share my hopes and my worries, offer their own stories, and light up when ORBiE waved at them. He may not have participated in the conversations to any great degree, but certainly played a role in starting them.

Another recent update to my model of the world has been a sudden awareness of research-creation: a method of knowledge creation that works in an equally valuable but very different way to scientific research. Even just the first few chapters of Natalie Loveless’ “How to Make Art at the End of the World” were enough to cause me to question my understanding of epistemology. “But how can creating art create knowledge?” I had thought, “It makes a record, or an artifact, sure… even emotion. But knowledge?” I had assumed that art was a process of communicating already-held knowledge from the artist to the audience, in a similar way to a scientist communicating the results of an experiment in a published paper. I even wrote a short poem about that back in 2023:

{science | art} is a process of thinking with all you’ve got to see what no-one else has, and then communicating what you’ve seen

{science | art} communicates that which {can | cannot} be said precisely

So far I think this holds up okay. But I had been imagining the process of “thinking with all you’ve got” to be fundamentally similar activities between the arts and sciences. I no longer believe that’s always the case⁶. In many successful artistic methods, there is an emphasis on lack of, loss of, or release of control, which is not typically welcome in engineering⁷. But in art, a dearth of control does not imply a dearth of rigour. The act of making, of performing, of dancing are artistic modes of thinking. Humans think through action. Action takes place in all kinds of settings–not just those that are well-controlled⁸. So I’d like to propose an update to the poem⁹:

{science | art} is a process of thinking with ~~all you’ve got~~ your whole {mind | body} to see what no-one else has, and ~~then~~ communicating what you’ve seen

{science | art} communicates that which {can | cannot} be said precisely

To more clearly state one possible answer to my rhetorical question earlier: “how can research creation create knowledge? “By facilitating conversation. So thanks ORBiE, you did a good job today.

Explicitly, my gut feeling is that humans are hard-wired to anthropomorphize non-human things, making the avoidance of anthropomorphization at best impossible and at worst deceitful. As an example for yourself you can draw two ovals close together anywhere on the top half a circle. You’ve drawn not just a recognizable face but an entire character. Doing the same exercise with a triangle yields a different character. We anthropomorphize ink on paper without a thought, but somehow I had considered anthropomorphizing more animated forms childish. The anthropomorphization is inevitable; its ethical handling depends on that acknowledgment and an understanding of its practical boundaries. ↩︎
Thanks.to the Institute for Smart Augmentative Rehabilitation Technologies for sponsoring my ticket to the conference. ↩︎
Great examples of contemporary artists using robots as art rather than just to create art include: Marco Donnarumma, (artist, inventor, and theorist who uses dystopian prosthetic robots to confront normative body politics), Arthur Ganson, Jakob Grosse-Ophoff, and Zimoun, who use machines to create poetic expressions of human experiences, and PCZ, an artist collective which hosted a fascinating ritual of friendship for their robotic companion in the maple forest of Mont Royal, complete with tin foil hats (see pages 115-116 of their zine). ↩︎
Some great reads here include Sherry Turkle (see next footnote), James Bridle’s “Ways of Being” (2022), and Alač et. al’s “Talking to a Toaster” paper (2020). ↩︎
Sherry Turkle, “Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other“, 2011 ↩︎
The artist that had me thinking this might be the case is David Lynch, whose process I find very conducive to the sciences. So at least in his case, there’s some overlap. ↩︎
There, even uncontrolled variables are modelled with distributions so as to be predictable, and thereby controlled for. ↩︎
As Joseph might say, “free the robots!” ↩︎
I find it amusing that this seems to suggest considering Science a subprocess of Art, as mind is to body. ↩︎

Mentogeny

May 12, 2025May 12, 2025 ~ Dylan ~ Leave a comment

To-day before my mind did sprout
In tender, whitish green
A vision of the grandest pumpkin
I had ever seen.

Before too long that sprout did grow
And change into a vine
A-curling all around my thoughts
And running through my mind.

Compelled to act, I planted seeds,
And made a pact: to conquer weeds
And tend to all the varied needs
Of gourds and vines until…

“Behold my works ye mighty!”
I’ll declare unto the corn,
When a hundred pounds of pumpkin
From this musing has been born.

April 25, 2025

Alarm Clock Kintsugi

October 10, 2020October 10, 2020 ~ Dylan ~ Leave a comment

In the dark months of winter, when even the sun has a difficult time getting out of bed, Alex and I typically find ourselves groggily hitting the snooze button more times than good sense would permit. One possible solution: an alarm clock that offers “a unique combination of light and sound so you can wake up in a more natural way and feeling more refreshed”. It seemed like it might be worth a shot, so I had one drop-shipped in advance of Alex’s birthday.

In truth, I would say this light works almost exactly as advertised. The gradual sunlight simulation is quite effective and does prepare your body to wake up in advance of the alarm… the only trouble is that the “natural” alarm sound at the end of the sunrise sequence seems to have been sampled from a woodpecker attacking a squirrel.

Since learning about kintsugi a few years ago, I’ve been taken with the concept. The underlying idea is that when a thing is broken or not working right, there exists an opportunity to repair it in such a way that it becomes more beautiful or functional than it was originally, even before the damage was done. In the case of our alarm clock the damage was done by the designer—but there still exists the opportunity for artistry.

Initial Surgery

Sometimes to make a thing better you’ve got to do a little damage yourself. First things first, I had to take the clock apart to modify the internals. Thankfully, I wasn’t the first person whose ears were beseiged by the blistering beeping and decided to do something about it. This youtube video by Metatronic Mods was indispensable in taking the light apart successfully. Apparently, the designers spent much more effort in making the device impenetrable than they did in choosing a soothing wakeup sound. I had a sensible chuckle when the sticker hiding the screws told me there were “no serviceable parts inside”.

Once the clock was apart and the offending buzzer removed, I was able to solder on two signal wires, which then passed through a hole I drilled in the base of the clock.

Signal Modification

In order to make use of the signal coming out of the board, I used a low-pass RC filter, which changes the original signal into something usable by an Arduino. Since the filtered signal is always above the digital logic threshold, it will look to an Arduino digital pin as HIGH any time the alarm is on, and LOW otherwise. This means that Philips takes care of time-of-day, alarm settings, sunrise simulations, and everything else the clock should, but the alarm signal triggers the Arduino instead of the buzzer—and we can have the Arduino make whatever sound we want.

Control Code

Inspired by the way our yogi brings us out of Shavasana with three slow chimes, I decided it might be nice to wake up to a similar sound and cadence. Additionally, having an auto-snooze feature to save me from dragging myself to the alarm clock might be a nice reprieve. The pseudocode for the alarm sequence I decided on was

while (alarm activated):
    repeat 3 times:
        ring chime once
        wait 10 seconds
    wait 10 minutes
end

If you’re interested in recreating something similar for yourself, the full Arduino code can be found in my Github repository.

Wiring

The wiring here is pretty simple: RC filter straight from alarm signal to digital pin 2, and set up the brushed DC motor using a PWM-based motor driver on pins 4 (for direction) and 5 (for torque).

Mechanism

To recreate the soothing chime, I used a cheap DC brushed motor, which swings a 3D-printed hammer into a hole-saw. A surprising combination, to be sure—but actually sounds great. If you’re planning on recreating this build, you can find my 3D CAD files on Onshape, and I would warmly recommend a 2 1/8″ hole saw for a bell.

The whole unit sits atop a nice piece of aromatic cedar, rubbed with linseed oil.

Final Product

All in all, I’d say it turned out pretty well. A few weeks into waking up to this sequence, I’m still finding it quite pleasant. The only small change I might make in the future would be to replace the hard plastic hammer with a smaller chime on a rubber arm, that would add a pleasing harmonic to the sound and remove some of the harsher transients associated with the initial strike. To see a demo of the alarm cycle, check out this video.

Livestream Painting | Peinture en Direct

September 13, 2020October 10, 2020 ~ Dylan ~ Leave a comment

Note: This article describes an event that is now passed. To view the painting that resulted from this performance, click here.

I have the opportunity to perform a live painting, grâce à la galerie CAVA! The River City Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Armand Birk, will provide “exciting and emotionally satisfying” sounds from Rameau, Vivaldi, Finzi and Tchaikovsky; the dancers are ready to deliver energetic and dynamic performances; two other artists and I will express ourselves with paint and brush.

The livestream will take place on September 27 at 4 p.m. UTC-06.

J’ai l’occasion d’effectuer une peinture en direct, grâce à la galerie CAVA! Le River City Chamber Orchestra, dirigé par Armand Birk, fournira des sons «excitants et émotionnellement satisfaisants» de Rameau, Vivaldi, Finzi et Tchaikovsky; les danseurs sont prêts à offrir des performances énergiques et dynamiques; deux autres artistes et moi nous exprimerons avec de la peinture et du pinceau.

Le livestream aura lieu le 27 septembre à 16 h. UTC-06.

Preparing for a live painting has been an interesting experience, and I’ve had some insights along the way that I’d like to share with whoever’s interested.

When painting becomes a performance art, the process becomes part of the expression.

Typically we think of a painting as a very different endeavour from an orchestral concert, or a dance performance. One of the main reasons is that you only ever see the finished product, and there is very little (if any) temporal aspect in the way that you take it in. Listening to a concert or watching a ballet necessarily takes time, and during that time the performer can take you through a range of emotions. Each movement might tell a different story, and contain different themes, and only by taking them all in turn can you get the full effect the performer was going for. With a painting however, this usually isn’t possible. You see the whole canvas at once, and the artist isn’t there to reveal it to you in any particular way. But when the viewer is there for the creation of the painting, a whole host of new opportunities arise.

Artistic expression through performance is dependent on planning and practice.

I’ve done enough performing in my lifetime (though this is my first live painting) to know that you don’t just show up on stage and wing it. Typically, the people that are able to cooly improvise really well have spent an incredibly long time practicing and becoming comfortable both on stage and with their medium. Certainly, the jokes or the saxophone licks might be improvised on the spot, but you can be sure this isn’t the first time they’ve ever improvised.

I’ve been playing recently with a more improvised style, which I feel would be both fun to perform and fun to watch. But the nature of this style of painting is that you’re not sure how it’ll turn out. This is where the preparation comes in. I’ve spent the last few weeks turning over ideas, sketching things out, planning the composition, trying out colours, crafting stencils… Generally doing whatever I can to make sure that once I’m on stage I can just throw paint at the canvas (literally) and have a reasonable chance of having a good painting at the end.

Which reminds me… I need to find those drop-cloths.

Planning and practice are also good for refining ideas.

This painting has evolved a lot from first conception to what it will actually be on September 27. Usually when I have an idea that I’m excited about, it makes it onto the canvas in a few hours or days. But this time I’ve had to hold off and be patient—and since I’m carefully planning and practicing, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I’ve developed a few themes that I’m hoping the finished painting will convey (and that the process will be a part of expressing):

The interplay between free-form improvisation and careful planning
Similarities between painting and performance arts
- Colours and shapes can be thought of as similar to instruments in an orchestra. Each plays their part, which alone is beautiful but quite abstract; together they paint a complete picture that expresses the composer’s vision
Each performance is invisibly supported by centuries of human innovation and artistry
Seeing not only the performance, but also understanding all of the human effort that went into making it possible lends additional luminance to the art

We never work alone.

Even when I’m at home alone playing the piano, my artistry depends on other people. I depend on composers and performers that shaped musical theory and style, inventors that iterated on instrument design, scientists that discovered the physical principles that make them work, even the various political and societal structures that afforded these people the opportunity to do the work that they did.

Artists (of any kind) work to make the world a more beautiful place. Whether or not we work with other people, we never work alone. We’re only the end of this lineage so far.

DIY Mölkky Set

July 11, 2020September 13, 2020 ~ Dylan ~ Leave a comment

Step 1: The plan. Always a good place to start.

I looked up the rules and regulations, and poured a little bit of brain-juice out through my pen onto some paper. With that bit of compulsive engineering out of the way, I was ready to start pulling materials together.

Step 2: Procure materials.

The cut list in the plan lays it all out, and I’m happy to say the final result didn’t end up deviating from the plan in any major way. It also didn’t break the bank.

Step 3: Cut the skittles.

You’ll need a sharp knife and a steady hand. Oh wait, not that kind of skittles. First cut the dowel to six 10″ lengths.

Then cut those lengths directly in half at a 45 degree angle. This leaves the high side of the skittle at 6″, and the low side at 4″.

Step 4: Cut the Mölkky.

This step is pretty easy. One cut, 8″.

Step 5: Cut the box boards and the scorepad.

Nothing too fancy here. The 1″ x 4″ pieces are as follows: four at 10″, and two at 8 1/2″. From your larger piece (I used a 1″ x 10″ board), cut one scorepad to 8″ x 6″, and two box-sides to 7″ x 7 3/4″.

Step 6: Cut the handles.

Into the box-sides, cut a one-inch wide slot an inch down from the top of the board. Remember that the top side is the narrow (7″) edge. I started with two 1″ holes at the 2″ and 5″ marks, then completed the slot with a hacksaw and file combination. There are cleaner ways, but my scrollsaw was out of commission.

Step 7: Make some dust.

At this stage I sanded out all the major defects, tool marks, etc. and rounded all the sharp corners. Very glad I sprang for the belt sander a while back.

Step 8: Build the box.

Wood glue, clamps, and finishing nails were my tools of choice to put the box together. I set it up so that the bottom boards are held to the sides by nails in shear rather than pull-out tension. Not that the Mölkky set itself needs a lot of strength, but in my experience crates tend to get repurposed.

Step 9: Drill many many holes on the scorepad.

Mark it out, punch a guide, then drill… 362 times. If you do one a day, you’ll be done in less than a year.

Without a drill press, I needed a good way to consistently and quickly get the right depth, as these aren’t through-holes. I drilled through a short length of dowel, until my drill bit extended only as far as I wanted the holes to go. Then I drilled the holes with the dowel shrouding the drill bit, and keeping it from going too deep. I used 9/64″ holes to fit 1/8″ dowel pegs. The holes are 1/4″ on-centre from each other at a minimum.

Step 10: Cut the pegs, and make storage holes for them.

1″ long bits of 1/8″ dowel work for pegs, and holes in the sides of the scorepad serve to store them.

Step 11: Do a snazzy paint job.

I went for white on the box, bold colours on the skittles, and black for the Mölkky. All painted with craft acrylics and a paintbrush. For the detailed inking for the scorepad I pulled out the pen-and-ink. Are there faster ways to do this? Sure. But turtles live an awfully long time.

Step 12: Follow the rules.

I printed out a rule sheet, and pasted it onto the back of the scorecard with watered-down white glue. That way it’s always there when you need it for the inevitable dispute.

I’m not too happy with the wrinkles that came as a result of the water-and-paste method. I guess that’s what you get for going too fast.

Step 13: Spray a clear coat.

Last step is to spray everything down with a clear-coat, to keep things nice as long as possible.

And that’s a wrap.

It fits neatly into a the box, and has everything you need to play!

DIY PickleBall Paddle

July 5, 2020March 28, 2023 ~ Dylan ~ 3 Comments

Here’s a quick how-to recipe for making your own pickleball paddle! Bear in mind that, as much as I strive to stay within regulations, homemade paddles are not permitted for “official” play. But we’re just building and playing for fun anyway.

Step 1: Cut out paddle

Using a scroll saw, I cut out the main paddle shape from a scrap piece of 3/8″ plywood. Officially speaking, it seems like just about any shape is allowed, as long as the combined length and width don’t exceed 24″, and the paddle length doesn’t exceed 17″.

img_20200216_114421

Step 2: Cut out the handle

I fashioned a handle from an old hockey stick I found in the garage. 6″ does the trick for my hand.

Step 3: Cut the handle notch

I cut a notch down the centre of the handle, where the paddle slips in. I used a hacksaw for the cut, then cleaned it up with a flat file.

img_20200216_122700

Step 4: Attach the handle

I used a bit of wood glue between the faces, and two small nails to make absolutely sure the paddle doesn’t go flying off. That would definitely not be regulation.

img_20200216_183207

Step 5: Add a hook for the wrist strap

Just a simple hobby-store hook, screwed into the butt end of the handle.

img_20200216_183759

Step 6: Snazzy coat of paint

Of course, before painting, sand down everything smooth. And bear in mind for whatever type of finishing you do, the maximum roughness is 40μm peak-to-valley. If, like me, you made this with plywood you’ll never get to regulation roughness. However, if, like me, you made this yourself you’re out of regulation already anyway.

img_20200217_100200

Step 7: Handle grip and… you’re done!

A couple of layers of hockey tape, a bit of string for the wrist strap, and you’re off to the court!

img_20200217_164442

Hammock Philosophy

May 28, 2020September 13, 2020 ~ Dylan ~ 1 Comment

I was doing some thinking. Thought I’d jot down some thoughts here in an unstructured and largely unedited way, mostly just so that I wouldn’t forget them. Perhaps best to not put too much stock into anything.

Philosophy is best done from a hammock in the shade of an apple tree. Ideally with a cool beverage.

This one strikes me as a no-brainer. No explanation needed, no explanation offered.

Do it well, not fast.

The inspiration for this one, I think, comes from Robert M. Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Since I read it about two years ago, I’ve been thinking often about the concept of Quality, and what that means for me. I think it’s always been something I’ve held in high regard, but I never really had a name or a concrete conception of it until reading ZAMM. It’s a notion of taking the time to work with something until it’s right; understanding and accepting when it’s not, and continuing to work with it.

I also read through a good chunk of Analog Circuit Design: Art, Science, and Personalities, edited by Jim Williams (a surprisingly entertaining read). A number of the engineers that wrote articles for that compilation referred to an ancient electrical engineering analysis technique known as the “what if?” method. Essentially, to analyze a circuit, the engineer would consider “what would happen at point a if I applied voltage x at point b” for all possible combinations of a, b, and x. They would answer the question for themselves theoretically before running the test, and any discrepancy, even due to measurement error, had to be thoroughly understood and explained before the circuit was considered completely analyzed. The description of such a process made EE sound like a beautiful and pure form of the scientific method. There were many tales of engineers that would skip the process would have their ICs out the door quicker, but inevitably end up with unexplainable failures. Understanding every little detail of the system, and having the patience to turn over every stone before moving on to the next field seems to me to represent scientific inquiry in its highest and purest form.

Before closing this section, I’d like to breathe a word of caution against perfectionism. Here, when I speak of Quality, and doing things well, I speak of taking the time to truly understand the thing you’re building or doing. Iteration on an idea or prototype is not just a necessary evil–it’s a good thing. It helps build the understanding. And the understanding is, I think, what we’re really here for. Cogito ergo sum, and all that jazz.

Time is relative anyway; don’t let it push you around.

I’ve been reading Your Brain is a Time Machine by Dean Buonomano. A great read so far, and has really got me thinking a lot about time. Coincidentally, I’ve also been reading Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time, which also offers a number of mind-bending considerations. One note that struck me from Buonomano’s book, was a quote from the Roman poet Plautus, from the 2nd century BCE:

The gods confound man who first found out / How to distinguish hours! Confound him too / Who in this place set up a sun-dial, / To cut and hack my days so wretchedly / Into small pieces! When I was a boy, / My belly was my sun-dial–one more sure, / Truer, and more exact than any of them. / This dial told me when twas proper time / To go do dinner, when I ought to eat; / But, now-a-days, why even when I have, / I can’t fall to, unless the sun gives leave. / The town’s so full of these confounded dials…

If poets were lamenting the oppressive control of the clock and meeting schedules back in the 2nd century BCE, what hope do we have now that we can measure and break down our days with an accuracy of 10e-18 seconds? Well, as it turns out, when you can measure time that accurately you realize it’s actually relative. Even objective, scientific time depends on you–where you are relative to other massive objects and how fast you’re going. So don’t let it push you around.

You only control You. Only you control you.

The first half of this one I heard iterated many times from my 6th grade teacher, Mr. Manson. I recently read it echoed through Stoic philosophy, which I can only assume is where Mr. Manson got it from. I came across the Stoics in a particularly good read: A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy by William B. Irvine. Don’t let the title throw you off; it’s not actually cheesy. Essentially the crux of this one (for me at least) is that if you’re setting goals for yourself that are based on other people, you’re in for disappointment. While in the hammock this afternoon I realized that an implicit goal I had been working toward, and that had been giving me a lot of stress, was that I wanted to do meaningful work, and be respected for the contributions I make. Trouble is, how do you measure “meaningfulness” in your work, especially before it’s had a chance to do anything in the world? And how do you control whether other people respect your work? Bad goals. Much better would be just to focus on doing work of high Quality. Do that right, and meaningfulness and respect are sure to follow.

The second half of this one came to me as I was writing down the first half. I haven’t thought it all the way through just yet, but it seems like there might be something to it.

Let it come with time.

You don’t have to have all the answers right away. Jot it down, come back to it later. Or let someone else come back to it. The answers won’t all come even within your lifetime, so don’t worry about having them all right now.

One thing that struck me while reading A Brief History of Time was that it appeared that Einstein didn’t really grasp the full implications of his general theory of relativity when he published it. Only when other people read it did they make connections with other areas of physics, and realize the full implications. If Einstein doesn’t know it all, who does?

A thing born quickly dies quickly.

I was thinking about what the meaning of life might be.

My thoughts wandered back to the Musee Mechanique that I visited in San Francisco almost exactly a year ago. There you’ll find loads of wonderful antique arcade machines, music boxes, player pianos, etc. In a few places around the museum, tacked up with scotch tape, were inkjet signs on 8 1/2 x 11 paper, reading:

PLEASE BE CAREFUL. SOME OF THESE MACHINES ARE OLDER THAN YOU WILL EVER BE.

Something about the message hit me in just the right place. That means the machines are also older than their creators ever got to be. At the same time that I was in San Francisco, Alex was touring Japan. She had told me about some sacred floorboards that had been stained with the blood of samurai who had committed seppuku around 700 years ago.

This all lead me to thinking about how the actions you take in your life have effects and leave artifacts that last far longer than you do. So a thought that I’ve been rolling around but haven’t fully committed to is the idea that the meaning of life is to do meaningful work. A bit of a tautology here, and the idea hinges on a precarious definition of “meaningful”. But throughout our lives we spend our energy doing things. Bringing order out of the entropy. Entropy works to undo whatever we’ve done, and largely succeeds–except at unravelling the things that other people have found meaningful. Do a thing really well, and people will work to maintain it despite the natural destructive forces of the world. Have an idea that’s really good, and other people will work with it and riff off it.

In order to do a thing well, you have to take your time. In order for the thing to live longer than a short while, it has to be made well. So, in summary, a thing born quickly will die quickly also.

Pleasure has merit also. Its danger, like anything else, comes in arriving at it too quickly.

Having not found a satisfying answer for the meaning of life, I decided to consider the flipside of the coin to see if there might be anything useful over there. Maybe there’s no point in doing meaningful work. Any advances you make that aren’t disintegrated into entropy will be buried under still more thirst for development. If your life’s meaning is tied up in helping other people, you have to at some point wonder what’s the point of their lives? To help everyone else, or you? So the point of humanity is to help humanity? Maybe. But perhaps dissatisfying. What if the point of life is just to enjoy it?

If we take that to an extreme, and imagine a person living solely for their own hedonistic pleasures, we quickly conjure up a caricature of someone lying to, stealing from, and abusing other people, while maximizing the frequency with which they participate in drug abuse and sex. Quickly we can imagine this person living a short an unsatisfying life full of hatred and fear.

But what if we didn’t take it quite so extreme? What if a person maximized their long-term satisfaction and happiness, rather than a short-term hedonistic pleasure? How would a person do that? Cultivate meaningful relationships, work hard at things they’re passionate about, plan for the future, and take time in each moment to soak up all of the pleasure that it might contain. This seems not only not dangerous, but beneficial.

My takeaway here is to plan and be responsible for long-term pleasures and satisfaction. In the meantime, take some time to enjoy whatever comes your way. Spend some time in your hammock. It’s nice.

Turtles live an awfully long time.

That they do. Jonathan was born in 1832.

Splatter Painting

April 29, 2019September 13, 2020 ~ Dylan ~ 1 Comment

I’ve been working hard at loosening up recently, and let me tell you: there’s nothing quite so therapeutic as taking a piece of cardboard out behind the barn and giving it a good swift beating—with a paintbrush, of course. Barn Splatter.jpg

I’m starting to play around with ideas about the tension between chaos and order, and between raw and curated beauty; things that have been on my mind since I wrote The Silence Here. I think there’s a lot more gold to be mined here, and I’ve had a lot of fun already.

Untitled (Acrylic on cardboard)

Chester (Watercolour on paper)

I was surprised to find that a loose, dripping, splattering technique also worked quite well in watercolour, a medium which I always enjoyed because of the amount of control it affords. I was amazed to find how beautifully it works when you relinquish some of that control, and let the paint just do what it wants. This photo doesn’t quite do it justice, but there are some really interesting things happening with the colours, especially around Chester’s eyebrows.

In short, I suspect I’ll be playing around with my newfound techniques more; there’s a lot more fun to be had here.

Automatic Levelling of A Prosthetic Wrist

March 28, 2019September 13, 2020 ~ Dylan ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been saving this one up for a while… and it’s finally finished! An automatically levelling wrist to help reduce movement compensation in people who use prostheses:

Levelling_Wrist

There are a lot of details about how this device works and what effect it actually has on compensatory movements in my M.Sc. thesis that I don’t have the space to include here. For those of you not looking to casually browse a 105-page technical document, I’ll give you the quick run-down:

Motivation

Anyone who doesn’t have a fully-functioning wrist is forced to use the rest of their body to compensate for the lack of movement there. For people who’ve suffered from an upper-limb amputation, this constant compensation can lead to strain injuries in the back, shoulder and neck.

Commercially available prosthetic wrists don’t have enough degrees of freedom (and are generally quite difficult to control), making it nearly impossible to lift something to a high shelf while keeping it level. Allowing the prosthesis to take care of some of the control burden and keep the hand level on its own might be able to get rid of some of these compensatory movements.

How the Levelling Works

The secret ingredient is the addition of an inertial measurement unit (IMU) in the base of the hand. This sensor can tell which direction gravity is pointing, and gets the angles φ and θ. The control computer then uses two separate control loops: one that keeps the rotation angle φ =180°, and another that keeps θ to whatever angle the user sets.

Does It Help Reduce Compensation?

We did a study with 12 able-bodied people wearing a simulated prosthesis in a motion-capture environment, testing on two well-documented clinically-relevant tasks. One had a significant vertical component to it, while the other had motions mostly in the horizontal plane.

The brief summary is that we found that an automatically levelling wrist may reduce compensatory movements in shoulder flexion for vertically-oriented tasks, but doesn’t provide a statistically significant benefit on horizontally oriented tasks. Through performance metrics and user satisfaction surveys, we also determined that the reliability of an automatically levelling wrist is a major design criterion to consider for future research in this area.

To A Finished Thesis!v2