Introduction (teaser text)
Our knowledge, as they say, is built on the shoulders of Giants. That is to say, on the experience of past generations. We are products of our environment and the context in which we come into the world and make sense of it; and if we are lucky we can pass some of that on to the next generation. That is the purpose of this book, (that I am writing) and along with what I have learned, I will pass on some of the context of how and where I learned these things.
One of my earliest memories is sitting in the back of my parent’s sky-blue VW Beetle, watching the world go by, journeying from London passing under the majestic pillars of the Severn bridge and into the rolling hills of South Wales, and under the tree canopy of dappled light finally arriving at the sea of Cardigan Bay. Tired and happy arriving at my parents Cottage, and looking up at the redwood beams and slate roof as the fire crackled and fresh mackerel in breadcrumbs was grilled on under the elements of electric oven.
Why am I telling you this? Because the context is the mix of old and new technology that was prevalent when I was a child in the 1970s. Technology was still raw enough for folks to see into it and get a handle on how it worked. Cars with choke valve you had to pull out; radios with valves that could be replaced; televisions with electrics you could open up and fix; and a little later, computers you could build from kits.
I would say a world in transition. I remember my parents opening up the boot and replacing the fan belt; I could see how the red wood beams had been fitted together; I wondered in awe at the pillars of the seven bridge; and all around me was the smell of oil paint and the emergence of pictures on canvas, in my parents studios and those of their friends.
We travelled to visit our extended family in Birmingham, where my granddad was a tool maker; and my grandpa was a carpenter (who worked building cars) the earliest of which were based on wooden frames still evolving from horse drawn carriage technology.
A little later I recall a Christmas spent in Birmingham, family eating trifle around a valve television and watching Morecambe and Wise. Later as the adults retired to the other room for drinks, I took out my present. It was an Acorn Electron computer. It plugged into the television arial socket of the TV, bright neon colours springing forth and I typed from a book a basic computer programme (basic in a couple of senses); when I had finished, I took out my brother’s audio cassette player and unwrapped an audio cassette. Pressed record and hit send and the programme was recorded to cassette tape – with the same noises that a decade later folks would find familiar with modems.
My grandpa came in, and very practical engineering minded man. He looked at what I was doing and asked if I understood the electronics of a computer. I did not. He spoke with me for what was probably half an hour but felt much longer. A precious time with my Grandpa who I only usually saw when we travelled from London to Birmingham at Christmas time. It had something to do with switches, like light switches you flip on and off. The words I was typing was captured by switches, and the sounds I could hear were the patterns of those switches on or off. The conversation has stayed with me ever since. It formed the basis of a course I taught at the Royal College of Art, some twenty years later, and now I want to share this with you, perhaps forty plus years later; and build a bridge between the time you could see, hear and touch the innards of technology, to the time now when it feels more opaque and slips between your fingers like a will-o-the-whisp in a marsh at dusk.
Later, I remember visiting the Mill owned by the artist George Chapman, it was a magical place – full of beautiful objects such an old Victorian rocking horse. His son was fixing a motorbike, and I remember vividly picking up a book called Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, because I was interested in motorbikes. I would hear them at night approaching and leaving the valley below our cottage. But, I was mystified. I like the picture of the flower and spanner on the cover, but there seemed to be very little about motorbikes inside the book, certainly no pictures. It stayed with me, and I picked up a copy of the book at a second hand book shop in wales some few years later. It was obliquely to be my introduction to Buddhism and thinking about what was consciousness.
More updates soon on the projected publication date!
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“Some researchers, such as Igor Aleksander, were even describing their laptops as conscious.” Maggie Boden.
I am writing this book for generation z and generation alpha; but older folks are welcome. The book will provide an understanding of both how computers work, and how artificial intelligence works, along with insights around philosophy of mind, to give the kind of rounded understanding that I received at multi-disciplinary school of Cognitive Sciences (COGS) at Sussex University in the 1980s and 1990s. I will forever be indebted to Maggie Boden, for founding the school and being such an inspiration.
You can hear her story here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b04lpzyr
The book will also come with a bunch of links to resources and further reading.
The title comes from a course that I wrote and taught back in 1998 at the Royal College of Art, about how digital computers work. The course was : Masters’ Degree in Interactive Multimedia. It is all about how the electricity moves through the logic gates and creates the magic of software … read the book 😉