Chris Anderson and Bruno Giussani close out TEDGlobal 2010.
Chris Anderson and Bruno Giussani close out TEDGlobal 2010.
Among the negative reactions I’ve seen to our work on the TEDxOilSpill Expedition, and our work to bring awareness of how big this disaster is, many can be summed up as: “Well, if you don’t like it, stop using your car! Don’t drive to the grocery store. Stop enjoying all the benefits of modern…
The TEDxOilSpill Expedition team—Pinar Özger, Darron Collins, Kris Krüg, and myself—joins event organizer Dave Troy on stage at TEDxOilSpill. What we did out in the Gulf was a true team effort and I’m proud to be a member of that team. (image is a screen capture from the livestream)
Me on stage at TEDxOilSpill yesterday. Leave it to the photographer to pull a silly move and try to hide from the light on stage. It’s a move that I’ve seen other photographers make on stage because they want the crowd to look at the images, not themselves. Still, you’d think someone who had shot as many conferences as I have not to do it.
Duncan was awesome, no matter where he stands on stage.
(via duncandavidson)
:(
Yesterday, I tweeted and posted a Facebook status that I was going to the Gulf of Mexico to document what’s going on down there and to bring back images and stories to TEDxOilSpill. I’ve been ramping up for this for days, if not weeks, and you might have gotten the clue from my tweets and…
The Internet? Bah! - Newsweek in 1995 (via ojacko)
It’s humorous how narrow-minded and wrong the author was. Negroponte has a gift of looking 10 or 20 years down the road at what’s possible (he showed off multi-touch interfaces at TED in 1984), while this guy was looking purely at what currently existed.
However, most interesting was how ominously accurate the author’s final paragraph was:
What’s missing from this electronic wonderland? Human contact. Discount the fawning techno-burble about virtual communities. Computers and networks isolate us from one another. A network chat line is a limp substitute for meeting friends over coffee. No interactive multimedia display comes close to the excitement of a live concert. And who’d prefer cybersex to the real thing? While the Internet beckons brightly, seductively flashing an icon of knowledge-as-power, this nonplace lures us to surrender our time on earth. A poor substitute it is…
I feel like flow is ascendant these days, for obvious reasons—but we neglect stock at our own peril. I mean that both in terms of the health of an audience and, like, the health of a soul. Flow is a treadmill, and you can’t spend all of your time running on the treadmill. Well, you can. But then one day you’ll get off and look around and go: Oh man. I’ve got nothing here.
But I’m not saying you should ignore flow! No: this is no time to hole up and work in isolation, emerging after long months or years with your perfectly-polished opus. Everybody will go: huh? Who are you? And even if they don’t—even if your exquisitely-carved marble statue of Boba Fett is the talk of the tumblrs for two whole days—if you don’t have flow to plug your new fans into, you’re suffering a huge (here it is!) opportunity cost. You’ll have to find them all again next time you emerge from your cave.
Maybe there is hope for our ever-increasingly isolated and anti-social (no, Facebook is making us less social) society after all.