Reading the New York Times yesterday I discovered a magical way of taking the innovation that lives in our minds, tacit innovation, and make it real, workable...useable. The process is called 3-D Printing.
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/14/technology/14print.html?th&emc=th
3-D printing is the process of layering materials, such as plastics or metal, one on top of each other like thin layers of cake. Through this process, those inventors who normally have to raise huge amounts of capital to see their creations come to life, can create a prototype of their inventions and test their work. Now, new companies have spouted up to use 3-D printing for everything from designer furniture and hotel fixtures to clothing. This is a great use of innovative technologies, and provides the opportunity to quickly learn how a new design will (or will not) work.
This exciting technology is allowing inventors to reach for the moon, and then build the bridge to get there. Or the space ship. Or a flying space suite. I could not wait to blog about this great technology and to think about the possibilities.
Is it possible we have taken not just a step but a leap toward removing barriers from bringing our ideas and wildest dreams to life? Companies like Freedom of Creation and Contour Crafting are using it to create models of buildings and artistically colored artifical limbs.
What an amazing way to take what we know, what we have learned from each other, stretch that knowledge to the limit and create whatever comes to mind. Innovation just got another leg up.
Showing posts with label New York Times. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York Times. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Monday, October 01, 2007
You say tomato, I say tomato
Today's New York times had an interesting column written by Verlyn Klinkenborg titled 'Watching the Full Moon Rise Over the Northeast Corridor'. Verlyn wrote about taking the Acela up the Coast from Washington D.C. to New England, something I am familiar with. Though the column's focus was the rise of the full moon during that trip, the first paragraph is what truly caught my attention.
'Riding on the Acela I was surrounded by the sounds of business—the young women whose voices ring out like high heels on marble, the false laughter of a young executive talking to a headhunter on his cellphone. (He makes 175, going up to 200 in December, and is happy to relocate.) Everyone around me was speaking managese, that strange dialect used among the shepherds of other humans to communicate an enthusiasm for communication.'
Well said. Especially that last sentence.
I write in this blog often about being authentic. Yet, communication is simply so much more complicated. Your words can be profoundly authentic, but if not heard that way by those around you, miscommunication will reign. There is so much more to our communication, and to sharing knowledge, than simply telling the truth. We must also consider the listener, the receptor. Where are they in their own experience? Can you be heard, at that moment? Is there a way to describe what you need to say in the language of the receptor, instead of your own language? Is there a more opportune time or location to share what it is we need so desperately to share?
Our work, as knowledge sharers, as communicators, as humans on an authentic path, is complex. We need to identify what it is that is critical to share or to illuminate, how to do so, where the listener is, what language they use, how the message might be perceived, risks involved, risks involved in not sharing and how the information can be shared more broadly. And even this list is simplistic.
We expect much of ourselves and others. Yet, we can not give up. We must strive to clearly communicate, to seek first to understand before being understood, to drive towards sense making. We are the Shepards Verlyn refers to. Let us never stop being the best we can be at what we do.
'Riding on the Acela I was surrounded by the sounds of business—the young women whose voices ring out like high heels on marble, the false laughter of a young executive talking to a headhunter on his cellphone. (He makes 175, going up to 200 in December, and is happy to relocate.) Everyone around me was speaking managese, that strange dialect used among the shepherds of other humans to communicate an enthusiasm for communication.'
Well said. Especially that last sentence.
I write in this blog often about being authentic. Yet, communication is simply so much more complicated. Your words can be profoundly authentic, but if not heard that way by those around you, miscommunication will reign. There is so much more to our communication, and to sharing knowledge, than simply telling the truth. We must also consider the listener, the receptor. Where are they in their own experience? Can you be heard, at that moment? Is there a way to describe what you need to say in the language of the receptor, instead of your own language? Is there a more opportune time or location to share what it is we need so desperately to share?
Our work, as knowledge sharers, as communicators, as humans on an authentic path, is complex. We need to identify what it is that is critical to share or to illuminate, how to do so, where the listener is, what language they use, how the message might be perceived, risks involved, risks involved in not sharing and how the information can be shared more broadly. And even this list is simplistic.
We expect much of ourselves and others. Yet, we can not give up. We must strive to clearly communicate, to seek first to understand before being understood, to drive towards sense making. We are the Shepards Verlyn refers to. Let us never stop being the best we can be at what we do.
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