Everything You Are Looking For: TED Fellows Ryan Holladay and Alicia Eggert have a conversation about their new exhibit

art TED Fellows TED Fellows Ryan Holladay (left) and Alicia Eggert (center) have opened a new exhibit, called Everything You Are Looking For, with the help of Artisphere co-curator Cynthia Connolly (right). Photo: Artisphere

Alicia Eggert makes kinetic sculptures that investigate the nature of language and time. Meanwhile, Ryan Holladay is a musical artist who creates sound-specific installations and GPS compositions as part of the duo BLUEBRAIN. Just a week before TED2013, Eggert and Holladay made contact for the very first time.

See, Holloday is a curator of new media at Artisphere. And he was sitting in his office with how co-curator, Cynthia Connolly, when an inquiry came in from an artist — Eggert, of course. Holloday found her materials intriguing — he loved the way she modified simple household items and was enamored with her highly complex interactive sculptures. He explains, ”But this had me pinching myself: like me, Alicia was a 2013 TED Fellow and she, too, would be speaking at the conference the following week in Long Beach.”

Eggert and Holloday struck up a friendship at TED. The two began dreaming up something to work on together. And while Artisphere has galleries of many shapes and sizes, Holloday felt it was only right to set up an exhibit for Eggert in their flagship space, the Terrace Gallery, located just outside Washington DC.

“Alicia is one of the most talented and inventive artists I’ve come across in some time,”  Holloday tells the TED Blog. “She’s an artist with a highly developed vision, an artist who is ready for something big.”

This exhibit, called Everything You Are Looking For, opens on December 5th and will run through February 2nd. It is Eggert’s largest solo exhibition ever. To celebrate, the TED Blog got Holladay and Eggert together for chat — about their work, their process, their collaboration. Oh, and life. Below, read an edited transcript of their conversation and see some very cool images of the exhibition.

Holloday: So you’ve just finished a marathon of an install. Is that a process you enjoy?

Eggert: I have a love/hate relationship with the installation process. In some ways, it stresses me out, because so much of my work is kinetic, and I’m always afraid it’s not going to work properly. And there’s always the chance a neon letter will break if you just look at it the wrong way. But I really enjoyed the installation at Artisphere. Nothing broke or went wrong. But more importantly, it was fun to work with you and Cynthia, and to engage in a dialogue with the two of you about the work and where it should be placed in the gallery. It gave me a new perspective of my work.

Holloday: I can imagine with so many moving parts there’d be a level of anxiety — the feeling of anything that can go wrong will go wrong. But now that it’s all up, it must be a relief.

Eggert: Yes! Is your working relationship with each artist completely different?

Holloday: Every artist is different for sure. And with new media work, it gets a bit tricky sometimes. There are artists who have all their ducks in a row. Then there are others who may be experimenting with some new technology for the first time, and it doesn’t work exactly how they planned and we find ourselves in triage mode hours before an opening. I once had to do a Skype session with an artist in Japan as he walked me through taking apart and reassembling his work.

Eggert: That sounds incredibly stressful. But it’s great that Artisphere is willing to work with artists who are taking risks and exploring unfamiliar territories.

Holloday: I liked walking into the gallery and hearing you listening to that Haim record! Do you usually listen to music when you work?

Eggert: It depends. If it’s a familiar, repetitive task, I love listening to music or even watching a television show. For example, when I was working on the wiring all of the “Lost Gloves” in my recent artist residency at Sculpture Space in Utica, NY, I watched a few episodes of Breaking Bad. But when I’m doing work that requires any kind of problem solving, I prefer to work in silence.

Holloday: One of the things about making music is that you can’t listen to music while you’re working! I get jealous of painters or architects who can get to work and go through the entire Kate Bush catalogue on Spotify. Sometimes when I want to listen to NPR or a new record or something I’ll play Super Mario 3. I’ve played that game so many times, it kind of puts me in a trance where I can focus all my attention on what I’m hearing.

Eggert: I can totally relate. I can get into a similar trance-like headspace when I’m driving. I get some of my best ideas on long-distance road trips.

A look at the installation of Alicia’s work in the Terrace Gallery at Artisphere. Photo: Artisphere

The back of YAY (2011). Thirty two wall-mounted box fans are hidden behind rows of red and silver metallic fringe streamers. The large red letters dance erratically as the fans turn on and off. Made in collaboration with Mike Fleming. Photo: Alicia Eggert

Holloday: Language seems to play a big role in many of your pieces. You seem to play with our notions of how language is used and often overlooked. For instance, in “You Are (On) An Island,” in drawing attention to how removing one word from a simple sentence can change its meaning significantly. Do you  ever think about how your work might effect someone who isn’t a native English speaker? And have you ever considered working with other languages?

Eggert: I feel lucky that my native language is one that has become so universal. I often wonder how my work would be different if English wasn’t as widely spoken as it is, because it’s always been very important to me that my work is accessible to as many people as possible — something from my Evangelical Christian upbringing that I’ve carried over to my practice as an artist. I would love to be given the opportunity to work sculpturally with another language, especially one that’s completely different from English visually, like Arabic. But I don’t think that’s something I would pursue on my own without a specific reason, like a commission.

Holloday: Well, as the saying goes: “????? ??? ????? ???? ?? ??????? ?? ????.”

Eggert: I’m really curious about your collaborative process. I love collaborating with other artists on visual projects, but I wonder how the process is different with sound.

Holloday: Hays [his brother and BLUEBRAIN collaborator] and I are sharing ideas all the time. Now that we’re living in different cities, everything has to be done remotely. So whether that’s some conceptual art project or an actual melody, we generally have these open lines of communication over the phone, text, email and Skype where we bounce ideas off of one another. I think we look for a reaction from the other to see which ideas might have legs, and that’s usually how we start. But, you know, we’ve worked together since we were kids so I don’t really know any other way of doing it, honestly. It’s fantastic in some ways because you can move really quickly and it’s kind of like having two brains working at once. But on the flip side, if a disagreement turns into an argument, it goes nuclear very quickly. Siblings know exactly what buttons to press. How does it work with Mike [Fleming, Eggert’s partner] when you two collaborate?

Eggert: For Mike and me, every project seems to evolve out of a conversation. “Eternity“ started with a car ride. We drove past a church that had a big sign out front saying something about spending eternity in heaven, so we started to talked about that word and what it actually meant. We decided it would be a fun word to mine for an art project. Then we just started brainstorming, bouncing ideas back and forth about it. I forget who came up with the idea to use clocks to spell it, but I remember us both saying, “YES! That’s it!” And then it took months to figure out how to actually do that.

Holloday: Isn’t that the best, when you can’t remember who actually came up with an idea? I feel that’s a sign of a healthy collaboration, where your brain has sort of relinquished the need for ownership or something and who initially birthed the concept or a part of it seems unimportant.

Eggert: I totally agree. You have to totally let go of your ideas, and completely give them to the other person to see where they can take them. But having a collaborative working relationship with someone you love can be challenging. It’s important for Mike and me to maintain a part of our relationship that doesn’t have to do with our work, so it doesn’t feel like we’re just business partners, so we can salvage some romance. Do you and Hays have to worry about similar things, or no?

Holloday: Well the romance died years ago with Hays and me. No, but to be serious, I think there was a period of time when I wasn’t sure if we were going to be able to work together in the future. We were always able to get down in the dirt and argue about ideas and have that be separate from our friendship. But there came a point where that seemed more and more difficult, and the distinction between our personal and working relationship became less clear. And I felt like, as much as I loved working with him, it wasn’t worth damaging what had always been a really close relationship. What changed, I think, was when we started working on these location-aware compositions, because we were starting from scratch and creating something completely new that neither of us knew anything about. We were learning about software development, about landscape architecture, about interface design and so on. And so it became this feeling of discovery that I think had gotten lost somewhere along the way.

Eggert: You were in new territory together. I can see how that would change the rules. I think that’s when collaborations work best. Can you tell me a little bit about what you’re working on right now?

Holloday: Well, as a curator at Artisphere, I’m working on a number of projects, including putting together a sound exhibition in the Terrace Gallery for next summer. I’m trying to bring TED Fellow Christine Sun Kim down for that one! As for Hays and me, we have about 10 projects we’re working on together right now, little ones and big ones. We’re finishing up a new record — a traditional, start-to-finish linear album — that I’m really excited about. But we’ve been talking about releasing it in a different way than we’ve done before. I feel like it’s a bit early to explain much more, but I’m really excited about it. We’re also starting to transition into a slightly different way of doing these location-aware composition apps, doing them as commissions for spaces and museums, which has been fun. Hopefully we’ll have three of those done in the next two years.

Egger: Wow, and I thought I was busy! It sounds like you have your hands full. I can’t wait to hear your new album.

Holloday:  Considering how carefully you chose words and how prominent they are in so many of your pieces, the pressure to pick a great baby name must be high.

Eggert: You would think so, right? But I’ve been so busy working on this show at Artisphere that I regret to say I haven’t had much time to think about what’s coming next. I still can’t believe I’m having a baby! But it will certainly be my most exciting collaborative project with Mike to date.

Holloday: My money’s on Eternity Eggert. Has a nice ring to it.

Everything You Are Looking For (2012). A neon sign whose jumbled letters slowly reveals the phrase “Everything you are looking for is invisible.” Made in collaboration with Amy Jorgensen. Photo: Alicia Eggert

Another view of Everything You Are Looking For. Photo: Alicia Eggert

Present Perfect (2013). A rock sits on the keyboard of an open laptop, typing the letter Y into in infinity in Microsoft Word. Photo: Alicia Eggert

And a bonus image: Ryan Holladay and his brother Hays perform at the Sweetlife Festival wearing masks of one another’s faces, designed by Kashuo Bennett. Photo: Margot MacDonald

Everything You Are Looking For has its  opening reception on Thursday, December 5th, and will run until February 2nd. Artisphere is located at 1101 Wilson Blvd. Arlington, VA 22209.

Want to know more about Eggert and her work? Check out her Fellows Friday profile »

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The moon’s path is full of thorns: Fellows Friday with Johnson Urama

Culture TED Fellows

Nigerian astronomer Johnson Urama wants to promote the future of astronomy in Africa by looking deep into history. With his African Cultural Astronomy Project, he is gathering the lost ancient astronomical traditions and stories of indigenous Africa, hoping to show modern Africans that the science of the skies is relevant to their past, present and future.

The TED Blog interviewed Urama to find out much more. An edited transcript of our conversation follows.

So, tell us about yourself.

I’m from the southeastern part of Nigeria. By training, I’m an astronomer, and teach astronomy at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. But I have a passion for indigenous astronomy — the ancient cultural astronomy of parts of Africa. Our forefathers had some knowledge of astronomy but it was, unfortunately, not written down, so much of it has been lost. My organization, the African Cultural Astronomy Project, is trying to recover part of this knowledge and use it to create awareness and interest in modern astronomy — and science in general — among Africans today.

How old are African astronomical systems? Have they been dated?

African astronomical systems are as old as the people themselves, because our forefathers depended on the skies for navigation, for agriculture, for their calendar, for their rituals. Practically everything revolved around the sky. The calendar, largely based on astronomy, determined farming periods, and everything was organized around that. Before the advent of the modern calendar, the African calendar was lunar. And even now, in some parts of Africa, calendars are still based in lunar systems.

How was the information lost?

The information was passed down orally in folk tales from generation to generation, and the present generation has no time to give for such folk tales. People are migrating to urban centers, and they’re just interested in Western education. Nobody talks about our indigenous knowledge.

A typical ancient wall painting in southeastern Nigeria, which portrays astronomical information. Photo: Johnson Urama

Give us an example an indigenous African astronomical practice or story.

Among the Hausa speaking people of West Africa, for example, they have it in their folk tales that the moon and the sun were friendly until the sun gave birth. Then the sun called the moon and asked him to hold her daughter while she went and washed herself. The moon took the sun’s daughter, but was not able to hold it, for it burnt him, and he let it go, and it fell to Earth — that is why humans feel hot on earth. When the sun returned, she asked the moon where the daughter was, and the moon replied, “Your daughter was burning me so I let her go, and she fell to Earth.” Because of that, the sun pursues the moon. Another variant is that the moon’s path is full of thorns, while that of the sun is sandy, and because of that the moon cannot travel as quickly as the sun. So when the moon can proceed no farther, he gets on the sun’s path, and the sun catches him. When the sun has caught the moon, the people take their drums and ask the sun to spare the moon. This “catching-up” occurs during an eclipse of the sun — usually partial or annular.

Also, among the Igala speaking people of Nigeria, when an eclipse happens it is believed that the world wants to come to an end, so the people start beating drums, buckets, plates and bowls as a plea to their god to spare the world. And when the eclipse is over, they start chanting, “Thanks be to our gods, for they have heard our prayers.” It is also believed that the moon has two wives — and these are the brightest stars that stay very close to the moon when it appears in the night, the most loved one staying closest to him.

On a practical level, how do you go about gathering these traditions? Do you approach community members for knowledge?

Some of the traditional practices are what we grew up with, and we are just trying to interpret them in scientific or astronomical ways. We also have some works of earlier ethnographers who studied the practices of different African ethnic groups many years ago — and some of these archival materials are now interpreted in terms of modern astronomy. Sometimes we also interview very old people who possess knowledge of ancient practices and traditions that are still unrecorded. Our cultural astronomy conference held in Cape Coast, Ghana, in 2006, had a training workshop component. Our 2014 may also incorporate a training workshop.

Ezeja Atama, the atama (chief priest) Ugwuojome of Nsukka, sitting inside his shrine. Such priests would traditionally examine the motions of heavenly bodies to come up with the calendar of the people. Photo: Johnson Urama

What will you do with the information that you gather? How will you store it or disseminate it?

Probably we’ll publish some as books, and some just as articles in academic journals. After the Ghana conference, we published a book on African cultural astronomy. There is also another book project about cultural astronomy worldwide. I made a contribution to that, but it was just about Nigerian perspectives.

I’ve heard you speak about some of the constellations over Africa. You said that as an astronomer, it’s interesting to be in Africa because of its dark skies.

Yes, Africa still has access to a good portion of dark skies. There’s simply not as much light pollution, or even radio pollution, as in some other climes. It’s not just only light; all this radio communication stuff is a problem for observing in radio frequencies. So Africa is still largely dark, and that is a plus for astronomy. Also, we have access to the center of the Milky Way galaxy, where you have lots of interesting stuff — star-forming regions, for example. In the northern hemisphere, there are a number of places that don’t have good access to that region of the sky.

Do you encourage other astronomers from around the world to come to Africa and bring equipment, knowledge and education?

There is an Office for Astronomy Development, located in South Africa, whose major goal is to facilitate the development of astronomy in a number of places like Africa, parts of Asia and a number of other places like the Caribbean islands, where modern astronomy is not yet well-developed. And there are a good number of people currently working on promoting African astronomy. Like TED Fellow Hakeem Oluseyi, who leads the One Telescope Project – he’s working toward having at least one telescope in every nation in Africa. There are also educational initiatives like Universe Awareness, Global Hands-on Universe, and so on.

The Odegwoo shrine in Lejja, Nigeria, is associated with fertility. Its worshippers sit at the north and south sides. The north-south orientation is based on the local philosophy that the “ingredients” needed for procreation are very fragile and should not be exposed to radiant heat from the sun (on the east-west axis).

Do you want to get young people interested in indigenous astronomy because it’s part of their history and culture? Or is it also important on a practical level?

I am invested in this because I’m an African. I understand some of these practices, some of the language, some of the stories. And I find it a good vehicle for communicating modern astronomy. The feeling among most of us — especially in equatorial Africa — is that we have no stake in astronomy. If you go towards the southern and northern tips of Africa, you find a higher level of interest and participation in modern astronomy. But closer to the equator, maybe plus or minus 20 degrees, there is lack of interest.

Part of the problem here is that people don’t find it easy to relate to astronomy. Many African people see astronomy as something that is very foreign; there is an attitude that the average African has no business with astronomy. In Nigeria, for example, people are just interested in oil, on the Earth. We don’t talk of anything in the skies. But I try to use indigenous, cultural astronomy to help them understand that our forefathers had knowledge of this for thousands of years. This has been an essential part of our lives. It’s just that we lost it somewhere, and we need to get it back. Astronomy should not be something foreign to us.

Given that interest in astronomy is low, how many students do you have in your astronomy program?

We have two levels. At my university, astronomy is a compulsory course for physics students, so every student is exposed to it. I got involved in astronomy through that course, which I took in my third year. And the other level is post-graduate. In a typical year, we have maybe maybe five to 10 students admitted to do an MSc in astronomy and maybe another one or two for a PhD.

There must be many different traditions throughout African cultures — a very rich body of knowledge.

Of course; it’s quite diverse. In Nigeria alone, we have over 200 ethnic groups. And when you talk about all of Africa, there are several hundred. That is why we’re also trying to encourage more people to come into this cultural astronomy project: it is always better if there is somebody from a particular ethnic group wanting to study their own indigenous astronomy. If you don’t understand the language, it’s difficult to research astronomy practices. Africa is quite vast, so we are trying to get as many people as possible involved. The hope is that, as we work in different regions and different ethnic nationalities, we’ll be able to see how we can begin to fit all the knowledge together.

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More to life than DNA: Fellows Friday with Sheref Mansy

Science TED Fellows

American synthetic biologist Sheref Mansy is working on constructing artificial cells that mimic — and “talk” to — biological cells. In this fascinating conversation, Mansy weaves through the question of what does and does not constitute “life,” the possible practical applications for his work, and how conversations with artists have opened up concepts that feed into his research.

How would you describe what you do?

My laboratory — the Mansy Lab at the University of Trento — builds artificial cells, or cellular mimics. What distinguishes us from other people in this field is that, typically, people begin with something that is already alive and then they try to change the behavior of that already-living thing by changing its genes. What my lab does is a bit different. We start with things that are not alive. So, protein by itself is not alive, DNA by itself is not alive — but somehow, when you put these things together, under the right conditions, you get life. Nobody knows how that is, and so that’s what we’re trying to figure out. I guess you’d say we are exploring the boundary between living and non-living. What does it mean for something to be alive?

So if DNA in itself is not alive, what is it?

It’s just a molecule, which scientists can build in the lab. That was one of the nice things that the Venter Institute showed: you can build an entire synthetic genome, and it’ll function like a natural one. But what his work didn’t really show was what exactly is needed to get that DNA to sort of kickstart life. It’s nice work, I have no criticisms of it. But it leaves a lot unknown.

For example, the genome that was synthesized by the Venter group was relatively small. But still, approximately one-third of the genes of this genome provided unknown function. So it’s a very black-box approach. We know this stuff is needed, but we don’t know why. With the approach I’m taking, in which we build from the bottom, piece by piece, I hope that we will, in the end, get to a sort of cellular lifelike system in which we know why every single component is needed.

Can’t you go backwards and take out one gene at a time?

Many people do that as well. It’s a legitimate approach, but there are a couple of limitations. First of all, evolution is extremely complex. It’s not a linear process that can always be easily traced. You can go back a bit, but it’s hard to really get back to the beginning.

I think building an artificial cell with biological parts and studying the origins of life are two separate fields. I try not to talk about the two at the same time, because I think it’s confusing. A lot of times people assume that by going backwards — going back in time by knocking out genes — you’re making a simpler organism. But in fact, you’re perhaps only going a bit back in time. The simplest organism you could theoretically reach with this approach is still extremely complex, too complex to reach in a single step from a collection of molecules on prebiotic Earth. There must have been much simpler, living or lifelike things in between that we don’t have a trace of, and we haven’t figured out yet how to build in the lab.

Non-living cellular mimics built in the laboratory. Photo: Paola Torre

What is the difference between life and not life?

This is actually something that there’s no clear answer to. “Life,” in many ways, is not a scientific term, or at least there is no scientific definition of it. This is one of the obstacles or challenges that we face in this field. I often contrast what we are doing with traditional engineering, because people like to say that our field is a field that engineers life. If you ask engineers to make a plane, or to build a car, they know exactly what to build. To build life — it’s an ambiguous term. To give one classic answer, many people say life is something that can self-replicate. But there are sterile animals, and none of us would say they’re not alive. There are salt crystals. Even table salt, under the right conditions, can form multiple salt crystals. So it’s a form of replication, but nobody would say that table salt is alive.

What about plants that can’t pollinate themselves?

You can find lots of examples like that. This is what happens with every definition: Every time somebody says “life is” the following, you can find living things that don’t fit, and non-living things that do fit.

So DNA, by itself — I mean, you could say DNA plus maybe some proteins can replicate, but, you know, is it self-sustaining? There are so many different characteristics of life we could go through. To be honest, I find it both interesting as well as frustrating, because when you go to conferences in this field, sometimes you get in a situation where people are just fighting: “Well, but that’s not really life! Why are you building that?” The thing I find frustrating about that attitude is that there’s not enough good science in this field, so one wants to sort of systematically try to make progress. That’s hard to do if all you do is fight over definitions.

What is the field called?

A very good question! I think, broadly, we do fit into synthetic biology, but typical synthetic biologists do what I said before, which is start with something that’s alive, and they tend to really focus on technological applications, such as how can you engineer E. coli or yeast to make diesel for your car. Practical things like that.

People in my field do try to do some practical things, but we’re often more concerned about fundamental science questions. We are broadly within the field, but we’re not in the mainstream part of it. Some people like to use other terms, like artificial life, for example. If prebiotically plausible molecules are used, then it falls under origins of life, of course.

Are you thinking about applications for what you do?

I do think that there are applications. So right now in my lab, we are building artificial cells in a way inspired by the artificial intelligence community. I guess I like to refer to it as trying to build a cellular Turing test. All living things communicate chemically, so we’re trying to build an artificial cell that can speak the same chemical language as a natural cell, and then we want to ask whether natural cells understand that ours are artificial, or do they think that they are talking to other natural friends, a natural neighbor? So can we trick E. coli, for example, into thinking it’s talking to another E. coli.? If we keep getting better and better at this, then perhaps they will become indistinguishable, not only to a bacterium, but to us.

But while this is a fundamental science question, I think it could have technological applications. Cancer cells secrete different molecules from non-cancer cells. So, in the future, we should be able to not only identify target cells, but perhaps we even could get our artificial cells to synthesize drugs in response to it. Perhaps it could even use local resources that are already provided in the body, so you wouldn’t have to actually, you know, take medicine, but have a little artificial cell that just manufactures it when needed, in the proper place, so you’re not flooded with toxins. Those are the kinds of things that I could see as applications.

Photo: Sheref Mansy

How did you get into this field, and end up going from Ohio to Italy to pursue it?

I had the fortune of doing my post-doctoral work in the laboratory of Jack Szostak at Harvard. When I was there, I was researching the origins of life, which is the idea of building a cell from chemistry, restricted to the kind of molecules that could’ve existed on Earth before there was life. It was a lot of fun. I mean, it was amazing to me how much lifelike behavior you could build with simple chemistry, with a small number of molecules. I often liked to say that with just four simple chemicals, you can begin to get a chemical system that feeds and replicates and potentially even divides.

This was fascinating to me, and the time I spent working with Jack made me realize that it should be possible in the not too distant future to build cells from scratch, by starting from basic chemistry and physics. I mean, why not? This is what has inspired me ever since. In fact, I think once you start working on origins of life problems, it’s difficult to completely leave it behind. Thankfully I get to continue such work through the Simons Collaboration on the Origins of Life.

While I was at Harvard, I discovered that there’s a fantastic organization called the Giovanni Armenise-Harvard Foundation, which funds a lot of science at Harvard Medical School. They also have a career development award, and if you win this award, you get a nice startup financial package to build a laboratory in Italy. I found out about this opportunity, I applied, I got it, and I was happy to take the adventure. It’s been a great experience.

There are lots of people at TED who are generally interested in the concept of how life could have begun, the definitions of life, and how to distinguish non-living from living. One of the pleasant things about TED is you really have people who have very broad interests who have thought about it a lot, and it’s fun to hear these perspectives. In fact, and I’ve realized this now for some time, but the first time I spoke with artists about this topic, I was shocked at how much artists think about it, and it’s been fruitful.

Really? How?

I was involved in working with artists in the past, and one of the things that struck me from those conversations is that they often do think of life in a different way. Scientists, for example, have a definition that they like to quote: “Life is a self-sustained chemical system capable of undergoing Darwinian evolution” — which is a very precise definition. It’s nice, because it gives us something to work towards. But I remember the first time I started speaking with artists, I really started to realize how much the definition doesn’t resonate with anybody except for us. That had an effect on me. In fact, I would say that several of the concepts in my work now — trying to deceive natural cells with artificial cells — were formulated by talking with people who are outside of the field, but who think about life and think about science.

None of them actually told me, “What you’re saying is wrong.” But they weren’t fixated the way scientists seem to be on DNA and RNA. I think it makes sense in many ways, but it’s a very narrow view of life. There’s a lot more to life than just DNA. And I found that artists don’t fixate. They don’t obsess over this single molecule.

That’s not to say that there isn’t good reason to thoroughly explore nucleic acids. DNA and RNA are the means with which evolution works and are responsible for all of the life on Earth. Also, we know well how to work with these molecules in the lab, so the research is more easily accessible. And of course you’re going to exploit what’s available. Artists don’t have that constraint, right? So I think they’ve thought about it a little more broadly.

Photo: Sheref Mansy

Are you having conversations with the other Fellows who are looking for life on other planets, like Louisa Houcke or Lucianne Walkowicz? Houcke is looking for analogs to life on Mars in extreme Earth environments, and Walkowicz thinks about habitable planets. She has brought up the problem that “life” on other planets might not look anything like “life” on Earth.

I’ve not spoken to them yet, but I would like to. Again, I think that scientific bias is a problem with many of these searches. I believe that NASA puts some effort into looking for extraterrestrial RNA sequences based more or less on the kind of RNA sequences that we have, so it’s difficult. What can you do? I certainly am not trying to criticize. It’s a difficult problem. But, we tend to focus in on narrow slices, and there’s a lot more out there.

How will you know when you’ve succeeded?

We’re trying to do something that hasn’t been done before, so we’re starting at the really most simplistic levels. We’ve designed our system to work in a way in which our artificial cells turn green when they ‘hear’ E. coli speak, and E. coli turns red when it hears our artificial cells speak. So we’re just looking for a green-red cycle.

And so therefore it will be alive?

I absolutely would not say it’s alive. I would just say that we’ve mimicked one feature of life. Speaking of finding life on another planet, life is social. We will never find just one cell or one person on another planet, right? Life occurs in a community, and I think communication — coordinating group behavior — is fundamental to life.

I once worked with an artist named Sascha Pohflepp, and we discussed a lot of the differences between life and a machine. A machine keeps sort of chugging away, without worrying about its environment. But a living system has to. An automobile doesn’t care how much it pollutes the environment. A living system changes its environment, and the environment affects whether it’s going to live or die. You have to be able to sense and respond to your environment, and you can’t screw up the environment too much, or else you die.

So there is this communication aspect, whether it’s among cells, or between cells and the environment. And again, I think this is something that’s often ignored. But I think it’s a critical feature of life.

When you succeed in creating artificial life, you will let us know, right?

Of course.

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Online censorship, life on Mars and tiny robots: 20 TED Fellows give talks in Whistler

News TED Fellows Usman Riaz at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

Our office might be closed for summer vacation, but the TED Fellows are hard at work at the very first TED Fellows Retreat, happening now  in Whistler, British Columbia. Because the Fellows have proliferated since the program officially launched in 2009, many of these extraordinary thinkers have never had a chance to meet and conspire. And thus, the TED Fellows team created a four-day program “of, by and for Fellows” which includes workshops, art installations, tech demos … and talks. Twenty Fellows took the stage on Sunday morning to address a packed house with updates on their latest projects. The talks veered from charming to poignant to hilarious to chilling; TED’s Helen Walters and Karen Eng were there to capture what happened. First, Pakistani guitar virtuoso Usman Riaz set the tone with his beautiful piece, “Boneshaker.” Then, on into the program:

Chelsea Shields Strayer at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

Chelsea Shields Strayer asks us to remember our most poignant moment. Might it have had something to do with our social environment? Most people raise their hands in acknowledgement. Shields Strayer isn’t surprised… that’s precisely why she is working to analyze the impact of social interactions on both individuals and society at large. After all, she points out, humans have evolved to be dependent on those around us, and we are extremely susceptible to external influences. She tells the story of observing a doctor in Ghana who told a boy with a broken arm not to cry, not to be a baby. The pain in the boy’s arm diminished, purely because of the psychological impact of that advice. This placebo/“nocebo” effect is powerful, and Shields Strayer warns us to be mindful of its impact.

Gabe Barcia Columbo at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

American artist Gabe Barcia Colombo, known for his penchant for encasing video projections of people in jars and blenders, describes how he has taken a step towards packaging — and selling — the actual stuff of life. After experimenting with extracting strawberry DNA with fellow Fellow, biotechnologist Oliver Medvedik, he joined Medvedik’s public biotech lab Genspace to learn how to extract human DNA. Becoming somewhat obsessed, he began holding “DNA extraction dinner parties” with friends, documenting the results. Then he hit upon the idea of selling such specimens as limited edition art items. His DNA Vending Machine dispenses a small white box containing a vial of a DNA specimen and a small photo portrait of a random donor. Charming, quirky … and raising serious questions about the ethics of ever-increasing access to biotechnology.

Walid al Saqaf at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

Yemen-born, Sweden-dwelling scholar Walid al Saqaf wants to talk about freedom. In particular, the ability to communicate across borders in a free way — and the inability of 700 million people globally who are affected in some way by internet censorship. Al Saqaf founded alkasir.com as a means to “map and circumvent cyber-censorship.” So far, he says, there have been some 85,000 installations of the software worldwide. Activists used it in Iran in 2009, in Egypt in 2011 and most recently in Syria. It’s a way of digging beneath technological blockades to find a way through to open access to the rest of the web. Al Saqaf quotes Tim Berners-Lee, who once described the internet as “humanity, connected” and who provides the inspiration for the project.

Christopher Soghoian at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

How nervous should we be about the world’s governments’ ability to tap into our lives? Researcher and online privacy activist Christopher Soghoian introduces us to a chilling world of slick private companies developing off-the-shelf hacking tools that allow direct access and control of PC webcams and microphones, browser tracking, even private documents. After the Egyptian revolution of 2011, for example, activists found in government offices documents from Gamma, a German company that manufactures surveillance software and sells it to governments, including those with atrocious human rights records. Soghoian’s research has also confirmed that the FBI has a team dedicated to hacking surveillance targets. He notes that the growth of hacking as a law enforcement technique is ripe for abuse. After all, criminals use phones and computers to communicate — and so do journalists, activists and private citizens. The only way to protect ourselves, he concludes, is to have an informed public debate.

James Patten at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

James Patten wants to challenge us to think about moving the computer’s power off the screen and into the physical world. He makes his case by showing some of his projects, such as an interactive display of Christian Louboutin shoes for Barneys New York, or the robotic harp he helped to design for Bjork’s Biophilia tour. Or “Create a Chemical Reaction,” designed for the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago. But such projects are just the beginning of Patten’s work combining physical objects and software  to encourage social collaboration and learning. He shows a more recent project building off his work at MIT, for which he designed “an army of tiny robots” to blend the speed and efficiency of physical control along with the flexibility of software systems. Potential applications include a mapping system for coordinating emergency response, gaming, even scientific research. It’s early days, he acknowledges, but the computer of the future might well embody no obvious technology or touchscreen at all.

Adital Ela at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

Israeli designer and artist Adital Ela is obsessed with incorporating nature into her Terra designs–practical artifacts made from organic agricultural and construction waste, easily returned to Earth at the end of their useful life. But it wasn’t until recently that Ela discovered something poignant about her grandmother, a powerful figure in a deeply patriarchal Kurdish family who had died when Ela was 12. When Ela showed her latest work to her father, expecting to be dismissed once again as “odd and hopeless” (she was expected to become a lawyer), he observed that her grandmother used to make stoves out of straw and clay. This revelation took Ela on a journey of discovery about the women of her culture, who built homes from Earth. For Ela, it was a profound affirmation of both her cultural identity and her most authentic path as a designer.

Christine Lee at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

Growing up in Texas, bioarchaeologist Christine Lee was not Chinese enough at home, and yet not American enough at school — a rejection by two cultures that drove her to search for belonging in faraway places. From her family’s “name book” — a record of ancestors along a male lineage — she learned she was descended from the eighth son of the emperor and a concubine whose story included political conflict and suicide. On archaeological digs in China, she sought her own face in the remains of ancient peoples, but was perplexed to see that the skulls she examined looked nothing like her — nor did the modern-day Chinese. It turned out the truth was far more complex: her genetic origins likely include a rich mixture of Mongolian, Tibetan and native Taiwanese and, along with emperors and concubines, her identity is connected to nomads, silk traders and Polynesian headhunters. “I have spent most of my life letting other people tell me who I am and what I am,”  says Lee. Instead, we should take the time to look and listen more deeply.

Gautam John at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

In India, 20 children must share just one book. Add to that the fact that, of the 25,000 children’s books published each year, 50% are written in English or Hindi when many children speak neither, and many, many children are being left behind. Through his work with a non-profit book publisher, Gautam John is attempting to rewrite the rule book and put a book in every child’s hand. First, by throwing issues of copyright out of the window and producing books through an entirely open platform. Readers, teachers, parents are encouraged to co-create, translate, download, print, share and rethink any of the company’s original content. So far books have been viewed 1.2 million times, and published on every digital platform. And while John acknowledges that limited access to networks and the high expense of devices are still both real issues, he believes that India is “on the cusp of a tipping point where these two factors will not remain barriers any more.” When that happens, he says, “We’ll be ready.”

Juliana Machado Ferreira at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

In Brazil, the culturally accepted practice of keeping wild birds as pets drives much illegal wildlife trafficking. But it’s not just birds. Forensic biologist Juliana Machado Ferriera says 38 million animals of all kinds, worth $2 billion a year, are extracted from Brazil. (See also her previous TED Talk, The fight to end rare-animal trafficking in Brazil.) The removal of the animals affects seed dispersal, disrupts predator/prey systems, reproductive cycles and genetic diversity — setting off a chain reaction of imbalances across the ecosystem. Some have suggested commercial captive breeding as a way to supply the demand for wild bird pets. Ferreira argues that arrangement could inadvertently make wild animals even more valuable to poachers. Her solution: a limited number of breeding licenses, compulsory paternity tests and breeding done only in association with research institutions. Above all, she calls for changes to Brazilian laws to criminalize and severely penalize wildlife trafficking.

Aparna Rao at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

Aparna Rao is an Indian artist who creates entirely charming works marrying technology and whimsy. (See her TEDGlobal 2011 talk, High-tech art with a sense of humor.) She’s here to show some new works, including “Imperial Monochromes” in which a viewer walking into a room triggers a jumbled group of panels to snap into perfect order. Inspired by 15th century altar tablets and the stark graphic work of Kazimir Malevich, it’s remarkable how much emotion can be imparted by simple shapes. In “Handheld,” a large piece of paper is tremblingly held by a pair of tiny hands (the shake is programmed). “Decoy” consists of a human-like creature frantically waving to get a viewer’s attention. “Clappers” comprises 996 small figures in an audience, each one programmed to clap at will. They’re triggered by someone stepping out in front of them; that person might get a rapturous ovation, or earn only feeble applause … a twist of judgement that adds a delightful layer to the piece. Anthropomorphism is again on display in “Framerunners,” in which tiny “creatures” bounce back and forth on a window grid, and rush to hide if they detect any kind of human presence. The blend of technology and humanism is utterly lovely, the perfect send-off for the first session of talks.

Meklit Hadero, accompanied by Usman Riaz at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash

Usman Riaz is back at the beginning of the second session, this time accompanying the Ethiopian-born, San Francisco-based singer Meklit Hadero, who sings her original composition “Far Away.” Gorgeous.

Angelo Vermeulen at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

Only a few days back on Earth from his 2,800-hour stint in isolation with five other crew members on Mars (actually a built simulation on Hawaii’s Mauna Loa volcano) artist, biologist and crew commander Angelo Vermeulen shares his initial insights on what humans might need in order to live in deep space. First, food. The crew of NASA’s HI-SEAS mission examined the possibility of “autonomous cooking” in space using shelf-stable ingredients, which offered such benefits as collaboration and meal sharing, increasing crew cohesion. Freedom was also important: the mission allowed the astronauts to pursue individual research projects and follow a cooperatively arranged schedule — good for morale. A diverse crew with a balance of genders, cultures and skills made the group resilient problem-solvers. Finally, the role of creativity played a huge part in keeping up the crew’s spirits: one of Vermeulen’s most gratifying experiences was sprouting seeds for food, as well as working on a photography project documenting the experience. He hopes these insights will contribute to our knowledge of how to create well-rounded human life — not just survival — in deep space.

Sharmistha Ray at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

“Growing up gay in a traditional Indian family in an Islamic society in Kuwait, I experienced oppression very early on in my family and society,” says Sharmistha Ray as she takes the stage. Ray describes her evolution as an artist, from drawing self-portraits in charcoal to creating abstract paintings (such as Forbidden Pleasures) intended to evoke the beauty, nature, color of India. This year, she explains, she returned to painting human figures, in an attempt to try and understand the “terrifying narratives about women” being propagated within her native country. “I wanted to find a way of representing a woman that counters mainstream representations of her as an object, a trophy, a victim,” Ray explains. “I want to create empowered narratives.” She shows some images for the first time. In one, a naked woman reclines in a pastoral landscape — a setting, Ray says, that is a metaphor for freedom. “It’s the kind of freedom I’ve been flighting for my whole life as a gay Indian woman,” she concludes. “That kind of freedom should be the birthright of every single woman.”

Michelle Borkin at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

When applied physicist and data visualization scientist Michelle Borkin recently compared a newly developed data visualization tool to an older one from the Harvard School of Engineering and Applied Sciences, she found something surprising. Male and female scientists performed with similar aptitude with the new tool, but men outperformed women on an older tool. Borkin began investigating the field of studies in gender differences in computer science, learning that small cognitive differences between men and women lead them to solve problems and process spatial information differently, affecting how we interact with software. Why is this important? Borkin points out that for the last 50 years, computer software has been written by and for men — yet we all now live in a digital world. How might unintentional gender bias be affecting us? It’s something we need to be aware of; she concludes by asking software designers to involve women in the design and development process.

Richard Move at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

Dancer and choreographer Richard Move has spent the last five years making a documentary of the dance company, The Gimp Project. He shows off some of the clips from his film, which features those we wouldn’t normally imagine being able to play much of a role in the world of dance — those who are disabled. Move passionately shows how the work of these dancers helps to destigmatize common preconceptions of the disabled by challenging our concepts of what’s beautiful and what’s possible. “Each of these dancers is deeply aware of the effect they have on others,” he says. “The dancers look back at the audience and invite them to stare.” It’s powerful work, and reminds us of the importance of questioning our reactions. “The dancers of Gimp triumph over stigma,” he concludes. “They teach all of us how to look, by showing us all how they look.”

Ryan Holladay at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

When he was growing up, artist Ryan Holladay used to dig holes in his garden, dreaming, as many children do, of getting “all the way to China.” Sadly, even if you could dig through Earth’s core, the opposite point from anywhere in the continental United States is the Indian Ocean. In fact, only 2% of Earth’s land mass would actually tally up with land on the opposite side of the planet. Whatever, science. Adult Holladay resolved to use communication technology to dig an imaginary tunnel, completing an idea virtually that could never be done physically. His proposed project, Antipodal, asks us to imagine a hole in the ground with a live-feed screen linked to a matched-up hole and screen on the other side of the world. This way, someone in Beijing could peer down to connect with someone else in Buenos Aires in real time. Why create such a permanent, location-based installation in the age of constant communication? Such projects remind us of our shared humanity, says Holladay. And what’s more human than looking through the planet to see another person waving back?

Francis de los Reyes at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

People have talked crap on the TED stage before, and university professor Francis de los Reyes is here to add himself to that number. The engineering professor focuses on human waste, namely the way in which we deal with it. It’s a chuckle-worthy topic, he acknowledges, but it’s not a trivial one. After all, 2.5 billion people in the world don’t have access to adequate sanitation, and that has huge health implications. He shows photographs of how current systems (don’t) work, including workers immersed in waste pits, cleaning them out while wearing no protective clothing. Really, the pictures are shocking. But then again, flush toilets aren’t the answer; they can’t be. Many of these regions lack the water, energy or infrastructure necessary to install sewage lines. Not to mention, a system wasting fresh water simply makes no sense. Instead, we must reconsider the entire sanitation chain, from initial ”human interface” to how feces are collected, stored, treated, and not just disposed of, but reused. Who will pay for this? Governments, he says. NGOs can help, but they won’t be enough. “Access to adequate sanitation is a basic human right,” de los Reyes concludes. “We must stop the practice of lower caste and lower status people being condemned to emptying waste pits.”

Tanzeem Choudhury at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

Bipolar disorder affects around 5% of the world’s population. Captive to severely fluctuating moods, bipolar people are less likely to be able to maintain stable relationships and jobs and more likely to commit suicide. Research has shown that that keeping track of mood, sleep and social interaction can help detect early warning signs of a mood episode. To help make this task easier, computer scientist Tanzeem Choudhury demos an app that allows people to use a smart phone to track daily routines by entering information about mood and energy levels. The phone’s sensor infers and fills in information such as sleep patterns and social interaction invisibly and automatically. The app synthesizes the data to provide user feedback, showing where someone’s routine is either stable or disrupted — and offering actions to prevent relapse. Meanwhile, an animated information graphic shows overall levels of wellbeing.

Alex Macdonald at the TED Fellows Retreat 2013. Photo: Ryan Lash.

NASA economist Alex Macdonald concludes the second session of talks with an uplifting history lesson, connecting the tales told by three figures of 19th century American history. Edgar Allan Poe, Edward Everett Hale and Dr. John Leonard Riddell might not have had much in common on paper, but in fact, they’re bonded by one extraordinary shared distinction: “They independently developed concepts for human spaceflight.” Macdonald shows how: an 1835 story by Poe stars a depressed character who creates a balloon-based carriage to get to the moon, Hale described a space station and space civilization, while Riddell wrote in 1831 about sending an expedition to the moon. Why does this matter? Because these authors wrote their stories despite the technical limitations of their day, meaning that no such thing was in any way possible. And the stories resonated long after the writers had shuffled off this mortal coil. They plant seeds for projects of “technological and institutional transformation.” What stories are we writing to inspire later generations in a similar way? It’s an uplifting, inspiring way to conclude the two sessions of talks.

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A ray of hope: Fellows Friday on Renée Hlozek’s new mentorship program for South African women scientists

Science TED Fellows

TED Fellow Renée Hlozek — currently a postdoctoral research fellow in the Department of Astrophysics at Princeton University — recently established a fund and mentoring program to bring young South African female science undergraduates to the US for summer research. The mentorship’s first recipient, Julia Healy, just completed four weeks working alongside Hlozek at Princeton. Here, the two tell us about the experience.

What is the Hope Network, and the Hope-Princeton Exchange?

Renée Hlozek: The Hope Network was started by me and some female friends a few years ago in South Africa as a way to encourage female students in the physical and natural sciences, engineering and medicine. We realized that by making a small contribution each, we could actually start a scholarship! The program assists female students in their fourth (and final) year of undergraduate studies. I realized that while I can help financially, I could also help in the mentoring aspect of the fellowship. So together with the Hope Network, I started the Hope-Princeton exchange, which funded Julia’s trip to the US to work with me for four weeks over the US summer — or South African winter — holiday. It is something I hope to be able to continue in years to come, and to expand to other institutions in the US. I’m lucky to have the support of my department in this, and my hope is that other institutions will also see this as a great opportunity to mentor students from South Africa.

Tell us about the student you brought over. What was the process, and how did you choose Julia?

RH: Once I realized that I could fund one trip, the next stage was putting out a call through my contacts in South African universities for students who wanted to work on astronomy projects over the summer. We put out the call to third and fourth year students, and got applications from such fields as engineering and mathematics. There was a requirement on the grades of the applicants, to make sure that the student could handle the mathematics and discussion required over the summer, but what was important for me was also the personal statement. Julia expressed her enthusiasm for learning and astronomy very well, and her initiative shone through too — she has worked on and led many projects both within and outside her academic environment.

What did you work on together?

RH: We decided to do a stacking analysis in the recent maps from the Planck satellite, to look for the signal from dusty galaxies detected in other wavelength bands. This project is important because it will teach us about the properties of these galaxies which live far away from us, through the light they give off in the microwave regime of the electromagnetic spectrum.

Julia came to work with me during the astrophysics department’s undergraduate summer research program, which I run with Dave Spiegel and Emily Rauscher, two other postdocs here in Princeton. So there was a group of 10 other students who were also doing research projects for the first time. I think this made a natural environment for her to fit into, and also meant that she made her first international colleagues — something I really appreciated when I was starting out my research career. My hope with this exchange is that South African students are reminded that the research world is international, and that they form an integral part of the global network.

Julia Healy, the Hope-Princeton Exchange’s first recipient.

Julia, tell us about your experience.

Julia Healy: The four weeks I spent at Princeton were a great learning experience. I am working on a project with Renée looking for dusty red galaxies in the cosmic microwave background. There were so many different opportunities for me to learn: listening to the discussions about the latest research papers over coffee, I was able to absorb a little bit about the content however it often went over my head. And I was able to pick up how to write a good research paper. The seminars held on Tuesdays at lunch exposed me to ongoing research in the Princeton astrophysics department as well as taught me some invaluable skills, such as how to present a research paper to a group of people.

I learnt a lot about conducting science research and the environment in which it is conducted — lots of the myths surrounding what the typical researcher is like have been broken. I had lots of fun learning new things every day, and am more certain now that I want to continue into postgraduate research. By the end of the four weeks, I did not want to leave — I was quite happy to continue working. I am continuing with the work now that I am back in Cape Town.

And Renée, how did this initial experience inform how you plan to run this exchange in the future?

RH: This pilot was super useful to me, and gave me a lot of insight into how to organize things. I was pleased that Julia had a group to work with, and I will continue to include the students in our summer program. The only challenge is that for Julia it is the South African winter holiday, and so she had to leave after four weeks, rather than experiencing the full nine weeks that the US students get in our program. We are continuing to work together now, though. Personally, I felt enriched by this experience and only hope we can bring more students over next summer!

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Unreasonable at sea: Fellows Friday with Cesar Harada, who circumnavigated the globe with Protei

Technology TED Fellows

In January of 2013, TED Fellow Cesar Harada, inventor of an open-source sailing robot, set sail on a four-month, 14-country round-the-world journey with Unreasonable at Sea, a global innovation accelerator on board a boat. Here, he tells us about how this extraordinary voyage helped crystallize his vision for how his open source sailing robot Protei will contribute to cleaning up the world’s ocean and freshwater environments.

What is Unreasonable at Sea, and how did you come to join this expedition?

The Unreasonable at Sea is an accelerator for global innovation in social entrepreneurship. It’s a program for 10 entrepreneurs hosted on a floating university that sails around the world for four months while being mentored by a group of 20 of the world’s most potent entrepreneurs. On the ship we developed our strategy and business models — in port we met with potential investors, governments, academics, nonprofits and the local startup scene.

The program was started by Daniel Epstein, co-founder of the Unreasonable Institute, and George Kembel co-founder of the Stanford d.school. Several of my friends recommended that I apply to this program. At first sight, it was very attractive, but when I found that they would take 6% equities from our company Protei, Inc., I became hesitant. Fairly close to the deadline, the TED Fellows program organisers encouraged me to apply, so I finally did and decided to go with Gabriella Levine, Protei, Inc.’s COO, on this life-changing adventure. The program went beyond my expectations, changed me as a person and helped us define our business future.

What was the mission of the journey, and how did it dovetail with what you’re doing with Protei?

About 1,000 companies applied to this program shy of 100 different countries of origin, and only 11 ended up being selected. The main criterion is that you have to be a for-profit startup providing a technology that has the potential to impact positively the lives of millions of people. The core belief of the program is “entrepreneurship can change the world” — quoting George Bernard Shaw: “The reasonable man (/woman) adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man.”

Even though the program is taking place on the seven seas, Protei was the only company which was actively connected to the ocean. Our company designs and manufactures open hardware — shape-shifting sailing robots to explore and clean the ocean. Think maritime drone to transport environmental sensors and clean-up payload. The range of applications for a fleet would be to skim oil spills, collect plastic trash, measure radioactivity around Fukushima, patrol natural reserves and fish populations, mapping coral reefs, providing data connections between underwater robots and satellites. We have decided not to support weaponized applications.

Tell us about a few of your most crucial stops and what you learned in each. How will these inform your future work with Protei?

In Hawaii, we learned how Protei could help aid plastic pollution research. We met with Dr. Henk Carson, Marcus Eriksen and Anna Cummins who are among the pioneers for plastic pollution research. We journeyed to Kamilo Beach and sampled plastic from the multicoloured beach made of pretty much only plastic. Pessimists estimate hundreds of millions of tons of plastic trash are currently breaking down into the ocean and slowly coming up the food chain back to our plates; the other estimate only tens of tons: the scientific community fails at agreeing on the actual amount of plastic pollution in the ocean and its destructive effect on the life in the ocean due to the lack of data, frequency and resolution. Protei could carry optical sensor similar to plankton counter and measure plastic debris in the ocean.

In Ghana, oil pollution is threatening traditional fisheries. In 2007 large oil reserves were discovered, and intensive exploitation started in 2010 near Takoradi shore, since renamed “oil city,” where western and Chinese oil companies have rushed. Traditional fisheries are suffering pollution, and the oil spill response capacity seems very inadequate, following the bad example of the Nigerian oil industry. We met representatives from the ministries of energy, environment and fisheries and universities, and also went fishing with local fishermen. Protei is a modular sailing robot, so we could carry fish counters as well as oil detection equipment to evaluate the impact of oil pollution on fish populations.

In Japan, we investigated radioactive water leaking into the Pacific Ocean. With the Safecast volunteer network we built an underwater Geiger counter and measured radioactivity on the seabed in the exclusion area near Fukushima. Recently 120 tons of contaminated water used to cool down the melting nuclear power plant have leaked, and nobody knows the long term consequences of such pollution in the ocean. Around 300,000 Japanese are still refugees in their own country, unable to return to where they used to live in places that were either devastated by the earthquake and tsunami, or that are currently contaminated. We plan to return to Fukushima in September and deploy underwater Geiger counter-equipped Protei around the Fukushima power plant.

In the cases above, Protei can be a part of the solution. Protei will also be useful for general oceanography and water-quality assessment, especially in Vietnam and India, where we witnessed terrible river and lake pollution. In Morocco, we organized a hackathon that was so successful, some of the participants have now set their own permanent Hackerspace in Casablanca.

What did you achieve?

As a company, Protei progressed on the community level, in that we now understand much better what our customers and developers from around the world want, and how much they are willing to spend to address which ocean issues. In terms of technology, we did testing in the field on specific applications, which led us to make many important design decisions, define our initial feature set and a plan to develop the technology in the future. And we also developed our business strategy: we are looking for corporate partners and sponsors interested in ocean research and protection.

In the short term, we want to provide high-quality oceanographic instrument transport at the price of toys. We aim to manufacture 1,000 Protei (small, 1 meter-long units) by the end of the year with a simple feature set based on an Arduino microcontroller that can be upgraded with a Raspberry Pi or fitted with an Android-powered phone to control a fleet of Protei anywhere in the 3G range with high environmental data feed. We’re already in the process of building a new community and retail website for the date of public release.

It sounds like this journey crystallized many things for you, both in terms of what Protei can do and where it needs to go, as well as personally. You decided during the journey to move to Hong Kong. Why?

As a business we are trying to imagine how capitalism can be used for the environment first. We believe that if a technology is good for the environment, it should be made available for everyone to use, modify and distribute. This is why we are installing ourselves in Hong Kong and manufacturing in Shenzhen, where we are most likely to be copied. The problems in the ocean are too immense for us alone. The Hong Kong-Shenzhen combination is amazing for the speed of prototyping and testing, with immediate access to parts and affordable manufacturing. The future of copying will benefit the environment.

On the personal level, I found a home at sea. That’s where I want to live. And being exposed to so many forms of aquatic pollution and experiencing how it affects people’s lives has confirmed the relevance of our work, stimulates our creativity and increases my sense of urgency. I’m excited to transition from prototype to product, and build a community to explore and protect the ocean.

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Young gun: Fellows Friday with Ed Ou

Award-winning Canadian photographer Ed Ou fell into photojournalism as a teenager, while studying political science in Jerusalem. Since then, he has blazed a trail of cinematic images covering the Egyptian revolution, the Somali Civil War, victims of radiation poisoning in the Soviet Union, and beyond, capturing moments of beauty and humanity in the midst of suffering and violent revolution.

How did you get from Canada to being a photojournalist in the Middle East at such a young age?

I was born in Taiwan, and my family moved to Canada long before I can remember. I grew up in Vancouver, a very multicultural city where more or less everyone I knew were immigrants who came from a far-flung corner of the world. In university, I studied languages and international relations, and so my focus in school was the Middle East, as all eyes of the world were on the Muslim world after 9/11. As part of my studies, I ended up in the Middle East as a political science student studying Arabic and Hebrew and trying to academically understand the forces that lead us to conflict. It was a time of intense turmoil in the region, so it didn’t take long to get caught up in the news.

I got into journalism because I found there was a disconnect between academia and the realities of what happened on the ground. In school we would study histories and political systems with such dispassionate analysis that the human toll of politics and conflict became lost in statistics and academic nomenclature. Seeing the troubled outcome of poor political decisions firsthand in the Middle East made me want to report on human stories, and look at how everyday citizens are affected by conflict. I began to shoot images for news wires — the Associated Press and Reuters — covering breaking news and feature stories. While I did not officially train as a photographer, I was lucky to be shooting next to some of the best photographers in the world, many of whom took me under their wing and taught me how to chase news, hone my personal vision and tell stories. I’ve been working in the Middle East, Africa, and Central Asia for the last few years, continuing to shoot news and long-term documentary projects, often working with The New York Times.

ABOVE: Mohamed Farah Abdi, a twelve-year-old Somali fighter for the Transitional Federal Government, holds a government position on the front lines between the Shebab in Mogadishu, April 24, 2010. BELOW: Women in Gaza mourn for their relatives during a funeral for a militant who was killed in an Israeli airstrike. Photo: Ed Ou

Even when you photograph harrowing subject matter, your images are visually very artistic. How do you balance aesthetics and narrative when you’re reporting on a story?

The perfect photo has the ability to take a singular moment and make viewers connect with the people in the frame. We live in a world where we are inundated by imagery, but strong photography balances aesthetics with storytelling value, which gives us information but draws us in to ask more questions. While we may come from different cultures, speak different languages and practice different religions, at end of the day, we are all human. So wherever I make photographs, I try to find moments that show not what makes us different, but universal moments that anybody can relate to, regardless of background. In my storytelling, I try to spend time building intimacy with subjects so the essence of their characters, their hopes, dreams, or flaws and insecurities come out — so they become the ones who are telling their own stories.

The most important thing about journalism is that our photographs serve as evidence that these events we have captured occurred. Whether it is to hold governments and armies to account for their actions, inform the public on injustices and exploitation playing out in our communities, or to create a time capsule of the defining moments in our history for future generations to look back on, they must represent the truth. Of course, “truth” is so subjective, so I spend a lot of time trying to be objective, to photograph people without judgment and without my own personal politics. It is often difficult.

Tell me about the images in Under a Nuclear Cloud. This strikes me as a quietly powerful, hidden story.

I started reading about Central Asia in university, and I realized that I knew very little about the region. The more I dug, the more I was taken aback by the scope of injustices that occurred during the Cold War. In the Semipalatinsk region of northeastern Kazakhstan, hundreds of nuclear weapons were test-detonated by the Soviet military, exposing millions of civilians to nuclear radiation and poisoning the land. Many are still affected to this day, with babies born with a high number of birth defects and conditions linked to radiation.

So I went to document the city and villages surrounding the test site. I was quickly struck by people’s perseverance and compassion, tirelessly caring for their children born with severe birth defects and handicaps. It was a very underreported issue, but an important cautionary tale that shows what happens when governments and militaries worry more about their political and military might than their own people — something that unfortunately plays out in so many ways to this day.

ABOVE: Nurse Larissa Soboleva holds two-year-old Adil Zhilyaev in an orphanage in Semey, Kazakhstan, Nov. 24, 2008. BELOW: Mayra Zhumageldina pushes her 16-year-old daughter, Zhannoor on a wheelchair in Semey, Kazakhstan, Nov. 27, 2008. Zhannoor was born with microcephalia and sixth-degree sclerosis — a twisted spine — because of exposure to high levels of radiation. The defect harmed Zhannoor’s brain development as if she were in a permanent vegetative state. Photo: Ed Ou

You were a young journalist in Egypt reporting on revolution amongst peers. Was it difficult not to become caught up in their cause so that you could report objectively?

Reporting on youth in Middle East, there is a very fine line between being an objective observer, and a peer going through the motions with them. It is one of the paradoxes of journalism, where we must report the truth with objectivity and no bias — but in order to have intimate access to people’s lives and the struggles they are going through, we need to be able to gain their trust, and live their lives with them exactly as it unfolds. By doing that, we become invested in their stories. It definitely becomes harder to be objective, which is why it is sometimes important to take a step back, or take a break from stories, so you can look back with more of a distance.

Do you think that youth generally have greater power to effect world events than those of previous generations? And what role does technology play?

I think youth movements have always been idealistic and emotional — whether they actually contribute to any kind of meaningful change is another story. Technology is definitely creating a more united front, and it is showing youth around the world that a lot of the grievances that we have are universal ones. That said, technology alone isn’t enough to create change — it merely lights the fire. It is up to youth to translate that to changing institutions from within through protest, voting a certain way or taking an active part in politics, and contributing to building a civil society that they would like to be a part of.

ABOVE: Egyptian youth (left to right) Mustafa El-Kashef, 16, Hanin Tarek, 18, Ziad Tarek, 19 (holding laptop) and Amor Eletrebi (with cigarette) use laptops, posting video they shot earlier in Tahrir Square in Cairo, Egypt, on Feb. 7, 2011. BELOW: Crowds erupt in jubilation at the news of Mr. Mubarak’s resignation in Cairo, Egypt, Feb. 11, 2011.

You were recently in Gaza reporting on the conflict there. What did you take away from that experience?

In Gaza, protracted conflict is a fact of life. Reporting in Israel/Palestine as a whole is very frustrating, because you see the extremes of how set people on both sides are in their ways, and their fear of “the other.” I am myself very torn about the politics of the situation — I can see the grievances of both sides of the conflict, Israeli and Palestinian. Neither justifies many of the actions that happen, but what’s for sure is that civilians on both sides end up paying the price for the often misguided decisions of politicians, military leaders and militants.

What is it like to be photographing in a war zone? How does this work, on a practical level?

Photographing in places of turmoil can be difficult, and there is a lot of preparation that one has to make. Safety is the top priority before heading into any conflict zone. You have to consider every variable, and imagine every situation that may occur, and have a plan in case something happens. Every situation is different, and you just need to be able to quickly adapt to anything that comes up.

I try to carry around as little as possible so I can move around quickly. In breaking news situations, I often have to photograph and send off images as quickly as possible so they can be used in print the same day, or often the same hour on the internet. It can be intensely stressful at times, juggling personal safety, being where the key moments are happening, and also being able to send off your photos. But it is also quite rewarding and humbling when your images are used to show things as they happen, and add to our collective consciousness and inform the world.

How has the TED fellowship had an impact on your life and work so far?

So far the TED fellowship has been an amazing opportunity to connect with likeminded individuals, and to find drive in inspiration through other people’s passions — even if it is in no way related to my field. While we may have been in disparate professions, I found we had a lot in common, a lot of the same aspirations, goals and, oftentimes, insecurities. It was a kind of group therapy for geeks and overachievers. I left the conference with a newfound sense of conviction in what I do, and couldn’t wait to get back to work.

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