I’m looking for some humanity.
Over the last few decades, we’ve been told that our future will be dictated by advances in technology. Futurists have foretold a post-human society in which artificial intelligence achieves a Singularity that will change everything. They’ve predicted a metaverse that will make our physical bodies irrelevant. They’ve forecasted the arrival of Web3, a new version of online experience that no one can seem to define, except to say that it will be better than Web2.
I don’t know the future. I can’t pretend to foresee what twists and turns technology will take next. What I can observe is that despite all the predictions of technological revolutions that were supposed to transcend our humanity, we’re still here. Our human problems remain with us, and it doesn’t look like they can be solved by any new device.
My work is to research the human experience on its own terms. I study the stories, the rituals, the emotions and subjective beliefs that people use to make sense of their lives outside of what the data can describe. I’ve been doing this work for the better part of thirty years.
What have I learned? I don’t have any final answers, but I do have plenty of questions.
I’m ready to listen.
Human to Human
I came of age during the first decade of personal computing, and like most other people, I was excited about what digital technology could do. I welcomed each new generation of online immersive experiences, and took pleasure in increasingly seamless user interfaces.
Somewhere along the way, however, the dynamic took a darker turn. I noticed relationships between people and their electronic devices shifting from empowerment into dependence. Social media networks began filtering out friends’ messages in favor of advertisements. Private moments were converted into corporate property. Automated simulations of communication began replacing human-to-human interactions.
Although I still appreciate the positive contributions that digital innovation have made to our lives, my work now focuses on finding ways to counter the growing power of algorithmic industry. What I seek is the restoration of balance through a reassertion of the value of offline, physical, biological, human experience.
In pursuit of this goal, I ask questions. I never know what I’m going to hear.
In contrast to the operationalization and quantification of data-driven research, I cultivate communication at length through open-ended interviews that evolve spontaneously in response to what people are willing to share. My work is qualitative and subjective. I gather stories rather than facts.
I enjoy nothing more than the surprises that emerge when people take the time to speak at length with no particular idea of where the conversation may lead.