As the co-founder of online networks and creative communities, such as Space Collective, Cargo, and but does it float, Gorter's perspective on the Internet is deeply influenced by the '60s-era counter-culture in which the early web's artist-engineers were immersed. The design projects he regularly features on but does it float—in addition to his own quite stunning photographs—often feature other-worldly landscapes, surreal geological forms, computer-generated geometries, and more, as if part of a visual quest to uncover the programming and code beneath the forms of the world, the frustratingly inaccessible HTML behind planets, continents, oceans, and skies.
Mohr, meanwhile, comes to programming from a lifelong background in drumming and sound art; he pointed out, after our interview, that he had more or less grown up inside a recording studio. Like Gorter's formal interest in extreme landscapes, Mohr's musical tastes veer toward patterns, mathematics, and code, finding unexpected polyrhythms through experiments with wires, electricity, and back-of-envelope calculations.
Our conversation ranged from psychedelic science fiction to scroll bars and the future of skeumorphism, all the while asking what it means to inhabit virtual space.
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Geoff Manaugh: Folkert, we were joking on the way here about something you said in an interview once on Los Angeles, I’m Yours. Back in 1994, apparently, you had the realization that you were going to dedicate your life to the Internet.
Folkert Gorter: [laughter] I can’t believe you read that!
Manaugh: Where did that realization come from? What made you want to work in online design?
Gorter: I was at the School of Art, Media and Technology in Utrecht, one of the first schools in Europe that took the virtual, digital revolution kind of seriously—although it wasn’t a revolution yet, but its emergence. They brought in a lot of conceptual thinkers to talk about—well, it was not really the Internet back then. It was more like CD-ROMs, multiple-ending films, parallel storylines, and so on.
It was interactive thinking—where information technology meets interface design meets art and education. The more conceptually inclined people who were professors at these schools were almost psychedelic, I think. They came straight out of the sixties and seventies counterculture in California.
Many right-wingers on Twitter are saying the debate was awful for Trump. As usual, one hesitates to make such a claim given the track record of such predictions. The winnowing of the field does seem to have put more focus on him. Nobody fades into the woodwork in a 6-man debate the way they do when there are 10 of them on stage.
For a long time, Republican voters have managed to live with the cognitive dissonance of thinking that George W. Bush made a mistake by going into Iraq, where there were no weapons of mass destruction, but that he is also a good president who "kept us safe.” Tonight, Donald Trump declared not only that Bush erred by going into Iraq, but that he lied about WMDs and failed to keep us safe because 9/11 happened on his watch. How will today’s anti-establishment Republicans respond? What will South Carolinians think? I confess that I don’t know. But the answers to those questions would go a long way toward determining how this debate will affect the Republican race.
The GOP presidential candidate—and at least two of his rivals—are acting as if the meaning of the Constitution changes depending on the timing of the next election.
Antonin Scalia is dead. Is it legitimate for the Republican-controlled Senate to refrain from confirming a replacement for the late Supreme Court justice until a new president is elected, as Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio, Ben Carson and others on the right have urged? Or does the Senate have an obligation to approve a qualified nominee put forth by President Obama, as many on the left argued as soon as news of the death broke?
The debate on Twitter was instantaneous. “The Democrat-controlled Senate confirmed Ronald Reagan's nominee to the Court, Anthony Kennedy, in his last year in office: 1988,” the liberal journalist Glenn Greenwald observed. Jim Antle, a paleoconservative, retorted with a Robert Bork reference, writing, “And it wouldn't quite have been in his final year if first choice had been confirmed in 1987.”
The current moment in politics came about slowly, not suddenly, but it doesn't make it any less of a national emergency.
When I was a kid, all I knew about Michael Jackson was that he was crazy. He had a monkey named Bubbles and some kind of oxygen chamber and he used to be black but he made himself white and he was nuts. That was Michael Jackson in full. Wacko Jacko.
After all, as a kid, you know you are changing, but the world seems static. If Michael Jackson is crazy it is inconceivable that he was ever not crazy in the same way it’s hard to imagine your parents as children because they’ve always been so old. One of the hardest lessons of childhood is reckoning with the instability of the world. And the earlier it comes, through death or divorce or whatever upheaval that can be visited on children, the harder it is to take. Maybe that’s all it is to grow up in the end.
Fredrickson, a leading researcher of positive emotions at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, presents scientific evidence to argue that love is not what we think it is. It is not a long-lasting, continually present emotion that sustains a marriage; it is not the yearning and passion that characterizes young love; and it is not the blood-tie of kinship.
Rather, it is what she calls a "micro-moment of positivity resonance." She means that love is a connection, characterized by a flood of positive emotions, which you share with another person—any other person—whom you happen to connect with in the course of your day. You can experience these micro-moments with your romantic partner, child, or close friend. But you can also fall in love, however momentarily, with less likely candidates, like a stranger on the street, a colleague at work, or an attendant at a grocery store. Louis Armstrong put it best in "It's a Wonderful World" when he sang, "I see friends shaking hands, sayin 'how do you do?' / They're really sayin', 'I love you.'"
A passionate, complex conservative, Scalia forever changed how Americans think about original intent. Both liberals and conservatives now play by Scalia’s rules.
In 1996, Antonin Scalia assessed the legacy of the great liberal Justice William Brennan: “He is probably the most influential justice of the century.” Depending on future events, the legacy of the great conservative Scalia—who died Saturday at 79—may eclipse that of Brennan.
Scalia’s death is a monumental event; a Supreme Court without him is difficult to imagine. His legacy is so large and complex that it will take weeks simply to catalogue the questions he leaves behind.
By all accounts, in private Scalia was a figure of considerable charm to liberals and conservatives alike. As a public man, he was by turns impish, saturnine, quarrelsome, and penetrating. He set the terms of debate in the law in not one but two areas: the interpretation of statutes (which is the bulk of the Court’s docket) and the application of an 18th-century Constitution for 20th- and 21st-century needs. In statutory construction, he emphasized the text and the text alone. Before his ascendancy, it had been customary to infer the “intent” of the legislature from committee reports and statements by the measure’s sponsors. Scalia would not have that—only the words of the statute were law, he insisted; a reviewing court should apply only them. Though Scalia called his approach a modest one, the austere textual creed had the effect of placing judges at the center of the complex world of federal statutes. That said, it must be added that his background in the law of administrative agencies made him a careful reader—which a textualist ought to be. In cases with no ideological valence, it was clear that his colleagues often looked to him for legal guidance.
The passing of Antonin Scalia roils the presidential campaign and could leave the Supreme Court deadlocked until 2017. Will the Senate even consider a replacement nominated by President Obama?
The sudden death of Antonin Scalia, an associate justice of the United States Supreme Court, on Saturday morning will shake up American politics like few events in recent memory, reshaping the 2016 presidential campaign and potentially leaving the Supreme Court deadlocked for more than a year.
In the short term, President Obama will have to decide who to nominate to replace the voluble conservative jurist, and the Republican-led Senate will have to decide whether to even consider the president’s pick in the heat of the election campaign. Majority Leader Mitch McConnell immediately signaled that an Obama nominee would not get a vote this year. “The American people should have a voice in the selection of their next Supreme Court justice,” the Kentucky Republican said in a statement. “Therefore, this vacancy should not be filled until we have a new president.” CNN reported Saturday evening that Obama intends to nominate a new Supreme Court justice, setting up a potential confrontation with Republicans that would play out both on Capitol Hill and on the campaign trail.
The president called the late Supreme Court justice, who died Saturday, a “brilliant legal mind,” and said he plans to name a successor—likely setting up a fight with Senate Republicans.
President Obama called Justice Antonin Scalia, who died suddenly on Saturday at the age of 79, a “brilliant legal mind with an energetic style, incisive wit, and colorful opinions,” and said he intends to fulfill his constitutional responsibility and nominate a successor in due time.
“He influenced a generation of judges, lawyers, and, students, and profoundly shaped the legal landscape,” Obama said of Scalia. “He will no doubt be remembered as one of the most consequential judges and thinkers to serve on the Supreme Court.”
And, the president added: “Obviously, today is the time to remember Justice Scalia’s legacy. I plan to fulfill my constitutional responsibilities to nominate a successor in due time. There will be plenty of time for me to do so and for the Senate to fulfill its responsibility to give that person a fair hearing and timely vote.”
The number of American teens who excel at advanced math has surged. Why?
On a sultry evening last July, a tall, soft-spoken 17-year-old named David Stoner and nearly 600 other math whizzes from all over the world sat huddled in small groups around wicker bistro tables, talking in low voices and obsessively refreshing the browsers on their laptops. The air in the cavernous lobby of the Lotus Hotel Pang Suan Kaew in Chiang Mai, Thailand, was humid, recalls Stoner, whose light South Carolina accent warms his carefully chosen words. The tension in the room made it seem especially heavy, like the atmosphere at a high-stakes poker tournament.
Stoner and five teammates were representing the United States in the 56th International Mathematical Olympiad. They figured they’d done pretty well over the two days of competition. God knows, they’d trained hard. Stoner, like his teammates, had endured a grueling regime for more than a year—practicing tricky problems over breakfast before school and taking on more problems late into the evening after he completed the homework for his college-level math classes. Sometimes, he sketched out proofs on the large dry-erase board his dad had installed in his bedroom. Most nights, he put himself to sleep reading books like New Problems in Euclidean Geometry and An Introduction to Diophantine Equations.
Today’s empires are born on the web, and exert tremendous power in the material world.
Mark Zuckerberg hasn’t had the best week.
First, Facebook’s Free Basics platform was effectively banned in India. Then, a high-profile member of Facebook’s board of directors, the venture capitalist Marc Andreessen, sounded off about the decision to his nearly half-a-million Twitter followers with a stunning comment.
“Anti-colonialism has been economically catastrophic for the Indian people for decades,” Andreessen wrote. “Why stop now?”
After that, the Internet went nuts.
Andreessen deleted his tweet, apologized, and underscored that he is “100 percent opposed to colonialism” and “100 percent in favor of independence and freedom.” Zuckerberg, Facebook’s CEO, followed up with his own Facebook post to say Andreessen’s comment was “deeply upsetting” to him, and not representative of the way he thinks “at all.”